Darkwood: Circus Inferno

Broken Ties

Achelios stilled, his glowing golden eyes narrowing as he turned his head toward the faint energy radiating beyond the twisted tent walls. A slow, predatory smile crept across his face. So, they’re close. Perfect.

Without turning, he called out into the shadows. “Maverick. Ringmaster.” His voice echoed like a serpent’s hiss, curling into every corner of the tent.

From the dark, Maverick stepped back into the light, his usual cocky demeanor forced into place despite the earlier encounter. “What’s the plan, boss?” he asked, adjusting his hat to mask the unease in his eyes.

The ringmaster followed silently, his ever-present grin twisted with malice. “I do love a good game,” he said, his voice dripping with anticipation. “What’s your play, Achelios?”

Achelios glanced at them over his shoulder, his smile widening. “Position yourselves. The group is near—desperate, frantic, and oh so predictable.” He began pacing the tent slowly, each step deliberate, as if orchestrating a grand performance. “We’ll let them come. They’re so eager to play the hero, after all. We’ll simply... guide them.”

The ringmaster chuckled, his skeletal fingers clapping softly in approval. “Oh, how I adore it when they stumble into their own demise. It’s almost poetic.”

Achelios ignored him, his focus sharpening as his golden eyes flickered. “Maverick, station yourself in the shadows near the entrance. Make sure none of them escape once they’re inside. Ringmaster, you’ll hold the center stage. Keep them entertained.” His lips curled into a wicked grin. “I’ll take the finale.”

Maverick gave a curt nod, the grip on his pistols tightening. “Got it. Won’t let a single one of ‘em slip away.” He strode toward the tent’s edge, disappearing into the thick shadows like a wraith.

The ringmaster bowed theatrically, his grotesque hat tipping forward as he gestured with an exaggerated flourish. “As you wish, my lord.” He moved toward the center of the tent, the dim light catching on his ghastly features, casting eerie reflections off his cane.

Achelios stood still for a moment, basking in the stillness before the chaos. He extended his hand, feeling the threads of despair, determination, and anger radiating from the group just beyond the tent.

“Come,” he murmured, his voice barely audible yet resonant with power. “Let’s see just how far you’re willing to go.”

The tent seemed to shift and warp at his words, the space beyond twisting into a maze of impossible corridors and flickering shadows. A soft hum of sinister energy pulsed through the air, drawing the group closer like moths to a flame.

Achelios smirked to himself, his golden eyes gleaming. Soon, they’ll learn why this circus is a place of nightmares.

The group stepped cautiously into the dimly lit tent, the air heavy with an oppressive energy that made every breath feel like swallowing smoke. The eerie glow of flickering lanterns painted long, shifting shadows across the warped fabric walls, and the silence inside was deafening.

Ren was the first to spot him. “Onyx!” he called out, his voice tinged with equal parts relief and urgency.

At the center of the tent, Onyx sat in a kneeling position, his head bowed low, arms bound tightly behind his back by thick, knotted ropes. His limbs drooped lifelessly, skin and veins darkened as if coated in soot. The sight was jarring, a sharp contrast to his usual strength.