The inside of the tent didn't match the outside.
It should've been cramped.
Fabric walls. Foldable chairs. Cheap props trying too hard to look mysterious.
But the moment I stepped in, something felt… off.
Not bigger.
Just deeper.
Like the space stretched in ways it shouldn't, like the corners weren't sitting where they were supposed to. The air felt heavier too—thick in a way canvas and rope had no right to be.
A single lantern sat at the center of a low table.
It didn't flicker.
It just burned steadily, unnaturally still.
I noticed that first.
Then the smell.
Something herbal.
Burnt.
Sweet in the wrong places.
"Okay," one of the girls muttered behind me, her voice dropping without her meaning to. "This is already creepy."
Gwen stepped in anyway.
Of course she did.
I followed.
Chad came in last, ducking slightly, his eyes already scanning the place like he was deciding if this was worth his time.
At the far end of the tent, someone was already sitting.
She hadn't moved when we entered.
Not even a glance.
She just sat there, hands resting lightly on the table, fingers long and still, wrapped in layers of fabric that didn't seem to settle on a single color.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
Not surprised.
Not curious.
Just… aware.
"Sit."
Her voice wasn't loud.
But it didn't need to be.
It settled into the space like it belonged there.
We sat.
The table between us felt like a line drawn too cleanly to cross.
A deck of cards rested at the center.
Worn.
Softened edges.
Used.
She reached for them without looking, her fingers moving with a familiarity that didn't feel like shuffling.
It felt like remembering.
"Who is first?"
One of the girls volunteered immediately, dropping into the seat with a nervous laugh.
"This is just for fun, right?"
The woman didn't answer.
She just dealt the cards.
Three.
Then two more.
Her eyes moved across them—not reading.
Recognizing.
"You worry too much about things that haven't happened yet," she said calmly. "And ignore the ones that already have."
The girl blinked, then laughed.
"That's… kind of true."
The tension eased a little.
Just enough.
The next reading followed.
Then another.
They all sounded normal enough.
Vague truths wrapped in mystery. The kind of thing you could agree with if you wanted to.
The kind of thing you could walk away from.
I didn't watch them.
I watched her.
Because something about her didn't fit.
She wasn't performing.
Wasn't adjusting her words to get reactions.
She wasn't even really paying attention to them.
She was waiting.
For something.
When Gwen's turn came, she hesitated for a second before sitting down.
The woman's hands paused over the deck.
Barely.
But I saw it.
She dealt the cards slower this time.
More deliberate.
Her eyes dropped—and stayed there longer than before.
Something shifted.
I felt it.
"I see…" she started.
Then stopped.
Her eyes flicked up.
To Gwen.
Then—
to me.
Just for a second.
Then back to the cards.
"I see love."
Gwen blinked.
"What kind of love?" someone asked immediately.
The woman didn't answer right away.
Her fingers hovered over one of the cards, not touching it.
"Complicated," she said finally. "Close enough to touch… but not held."
Gwen let out a breath that sounded like a laugh.
"Yeah… that sounds about right."
Chad leaned back slightly.
"Fortune's working overtime tonight."
I didn't react.
Because something had already started to feel wrong again.
The woman gathered the cards quickly this time.
Too quickly.
"Next."
I don't remember deciding to move.
But suddenly I was sitting across from her.
The chair felt colder than it should have been.
The air heavier.
Behind me, the others shifted, their voices quieter without realizing it.
The woman didn't speak.
Her hands rested on the deck.
Still.
Waiting.
For me.
Then—
she started.
The shuffle sounded different.
Not smooth.
Sharper.
Like the cards didn't want to move.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
She laid them out in a clean line.
Her eyes dropped—
and froze.
Not subtle.
Not controlled.
Completely.
I felt it before I understood it.
The shift.
The air tightening.
Like the tent itself had leaned closer.
Her fingers hovered over the center card.
They were trembling.
Slowly—
she turned it.
The Devil.
For a second, the image didn't look still.
Like the ink wasn't fully settled into the paper.
The woman inhaled sharply.
Her hand pulled back.
Not part of the act.
Her eyes lifted—
and locked onto mine.
And just like that—
whatever this was supposed to be—
it broke.
There was no performance left in her face.
Only fear.
Real fear.
Not confusion.
Not curiosity.
Recognition.
"You—"
She stopped herself.
Looked back at the cards.
Then at me again.
Faster now.
Like she was trying to prove herself wrong.
"No," she whispered. "That's not… no."
Her chair scraped back slightly.
Too loud in the silence.
No one spoke.
No one laughed.
Chad shifted behind me.
"Hey, it's just a—"
"Quiet."
It wasn't loud.
But it cut straight through him.
The woman moved quickly, gathering the cards—not finishing the reading.
Hiding it.
"You need to leave."
No performance.
No mystery.
Just urgency.
"Wait, what?" one of the girls laughed weakly. "We just—"
"Leave."
Sharper.
Her eyes never left me.
Gwen stood first.
"Okay… yeah. Sure."
Even she didn't argue.
Chad hesitated, but only for a second.
Something about the way the woman was looking at me made it hard to push back.
They started moving.
Chairs scraping.
The tent felt smaller now.
Or closer.
I stood last.
Didn't rush.
Didn't turn right away.
Because something in me—
something I'd never had a reason to question—
felt… familiar.
Not the fear.
The way she looked at me.
Like she knew me.
Or something connected to me.
As I reached the entrance, the fabric shifting as someone stepped out ahead of me—
Her voice came again.
Lower this time.
Just for me.
"You shouldn't have come."
I paused.
Just for a second.
Then—
"It's already looking at you."
Something cold slid down my spine.
I didn't turn back.
I stepped out into the noise of the circus.
But it didn't sound the same anymore.
And behind me—
the tent didn't feel closed.
It felt like something inside it knew exactly where I was.