"Well that was weird," Gwen said.
"Tell me about it," Chad replied, rubbing the back of his neck like he could shake the moment off. "What was all that about, you know, mate?"
I didn't answer immediately.
We had stopped just far enough from the tent for the noise of the circus to start filling the space again, like something eager to overwrite what had just happened. Laughter. Music. The sharp crack of something metallic in the distance. Normal sounds, layered thick enough to pretend nothing had shifted.
But it hadn't settled.
Not for me.
"I don't know," I said finally.
And it was the truth.
But it didn't feel like enough.
Because the question wasn't just what she did.
It was why.
I couldn't help but think something was wrong with her. I'd never believed in fortune tellers or mystics. I'd always put them in the same box—deranged, delusional, or phonies trying to squeeze money out of people who needed something to hold onto.
That explanation had always been enough.
Simple. Clean. Safe.
But Madame De L'Ombre—
she hadn't looked deranged.
Or delusional.
Fraud, maybe.
But even that didn't sit right.
Because frauds don't panic.
Frauds don't shut things down before they get paid.
She had.
And not subtly.
Not theatrically.
She had wanted us out.
Fast.
Gwen crossed her arms lightly, glancing back toward the tent like she was debating whether to laugh it off or not.
"She sounded… actually worried," she said, quieter this time.
I didn't respond.
Because that was the part that stuck.
Not what she said.
How she said it.
I shifted slightly, glancing down at myself without really thinking about it.
My hands.
My sleeves.
My reflection caught faintly in a warped piece of metal from a nearby stall.
I stared at myself properly, like I might catch something if I looked hard enough.
Something off.
Something different.
Something that would explain the way she had looked at me.
But there was nothing.
Same face.
Same expression.
Same everything.
I still felt like me.
And somehow—
that felt worse.
Outside, things were almost the same. The laughter was still there, music threading through the air, people brushing past in that restless, constant motion. But it all felt thinner now, like it had been stretched over something else—something quieter, heavier, waiting just beneath the surface.
Nothing much was said after that.
Then the group started breaking apart without anyone announcing it.
One of the girls wanted food.
Another wanted to check out a ride.
Chad suggested something louder, brighter, easier—something to stitch the mood back together.
Gwen stayed in the middle of it, smiling when needed, responding when spoken to—but something about her felt… off-beat. Like she was slightly out of sync with the rhythm of the group.
I didn't stay close.
I drifted.
Not fully leaving.
Not fully present either.
The tent lingered in my mind.
The way the woman had looked at me.
Not like a stranger.
Like a mistake.
I exhaled slowly, walking a few steps behind the others.
Then my thoughts shifted.
Not to the tent.
To Gwen.
It came without warning.
The image.
Her laughing earlier.
The way she had looked at me when I arrived.
Then—
Chad.
Standing beside her.
Close enough.
Familiar enough.
The word slipped into place before I could stop it.
Boyfriend.
My jaw tightened slightly.
I hadn't expected anything.
I told myself that.
Repeated it enough times that it should have held.
But something in me had still… moved toward it.
Toward the idea.
And now—
now it sat wrong.
I tried not to think about it.
Didn't want to.
But my mind didn't listen.
It filled in the spaces anyway.
Chad's hand brushing hers.
Chad leaning in.
Chad saying things I had never said.
Things I had thought.
Kept.
Not acted on.
My chest tightened.
Not sharp.
Just steady.
Uncomfortable.
I exhaled through my nose.
Stop.
It didn't.
Because now it was worse.
Now it wasn't just the idea.
It was the certainty.
Someone else already existed in the space I hadn't even stepped into yet.
And something inside me—
quiet, buried, and unfamiliar—
shifted.
A thought slipped through.
Unfiltered.
Unwanted.
I wish something would just happen to him.
I froze slightly mid-step.
The thought didn't feel like mine.
Or maybe it did.
That was worse.
Ahead of me, Chad laughed at something Gwen said, turning slightly—
And then—
something moved above them.
Fast.
Wrong.
A metal fixture, half-loosened from a nearby structure, tilted sharply as if something had nudged it out of place.
I saw it before anyone else.
"Chad, watch out!" I screamed.
Before it fell.
Before it became real.
Time didn't slow.
It snapped.
My body moved without waiting.
I stepped forward—hard—and shoved Chad sideways.
"What—"
The word barely formed before the metal crashed down where I had been standing.
The impact rang sharp against the ground.
Too loud.
Too sudden.
Everyone froze.
For half a second—
no one moved.
Then the voices rushed back in all at once.
"What the hell—" Chad said.
"Are you okay?" Gwen came running.
Chad stumbled slightly, catching his balance, his expression shifting from confusion to something closer to realization.
He looked at the spot where he had just been standing.
Then at me.
"You just—" he started, then stopped, shaking his head once like he needed to reset the moment. "You saw that?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because I had.
But not the way I should have.
Not the way anyone else would have.
Gwen stepped closer.
"Are you okay?" she asked, eyes flicking between us.
"I'm fine," Chad said, still staring at me. "He pushed me out of the way. I was done for. You saved me."
Her gaze shifted—slowly, like something in her was recalibrating.
Landed on me.
Held.
For a second longer than normal, her gaze lingered.
"How did you know it was going to fall? And how did you even get here that fast?"
"Instinct," I said.
"Good reflexes," Gwen said quietly. "Noah here is quiet, athletic. You'll find that out."
I nodded once.
"Yeah."
But the word didn't sit right.
Because that wasn't what it had been.
Not exactly.
I hadn't just reacted.
I had… known.
No.
Not known.
Felt.
And something else—
something worse—
sat underneath that realization.
The thought.
The one that came before it.
I looked at the fallen metal again.
My chest tightened.
No.
That wasn't—
It couldn't be.
"Probably loose," someone said nearby. "These things aren't exactly safe."
Laughter followed.
Too quick.
Too eager to smooth it over.
The moment dissolved.
Like it hadn't almost been something else.
Chad clapped me lightly on the shoulder.
"Still," he said, a small grin returning, "good save."
I forced a slight nod.
But I didn't stay.
Didn't move with them when they started walking again.
Because something had shifted.
Not outside.
Inside.
The thought replayed.
The wish.
The timing.
Too close.
Too aligned.
My stomach tightened slightly.
And then—
the voice came back.
Not loud.
Not clear.
Just… there.
You're starting to understand.
I stopped walking.
The noise of the circus continued around me.
Unchanged.
Unaware.
"—Noah?"
Gwen's voice.
Distant now.
I didn't respond.
Because something else had my attention.
A pull.
Subtle.
Not physical.
But undeniable.
I turned.
Not fully aware of deciding to.
My feet moved.
Slow at first.
Then steady.
The crowd shifted around me without resistance.
People stepped aside without noticing why.
Lights blurred at the edges of my vision.
Sound dulled.
The further I walked—
the quieter everything became.
Until the circus was behind me.
Or maybe just… gone.
The tent stood ahead.
Exactly where I remembered it.
And yet—
not the same.
The fabric looked darker now.
Heavier.
Like it wasn't just hanging—it was holding something in.
I didn't hesitate.
Didn't question how I got there.
I just stepped forward—
and entered.
Inside, the air felt colder.
Not by temperature.
By presence.
The lantern still burned at the center.
Unchanged.
Unmoving.
And she was there.
Waiting.
Standing this time.
Not seated.
Not passive.
Her eyes found me immediately.
Not surprised.
Not confused.
Like she had been expecting exactly this.
"You came back," she said.
I didn't answer.
Because I didn't remember choosing to.
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
Studying me.
Not my face.
Something deeper.
Then—
quietly—
almost to herself:
"It's not my time yet."
The words didn't make sense.
But they didn't feel wrong either.
I frowned slightly.
"What does that mean?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes flicked briefly toward something behind me—
or through me.
Then back.
"You're his new pawn?" she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Eventually, the Devil comes to collect his due. There are no exceptions. He will come for you too."
She almost smiled, but there was a sadness in her eyes I didn't understand.
And for the first time—
there was something else there.
Not just fear.
Not just recognition.
Urgency.
"You need to leave," she said.
But this time—
it didn't sound like she was talking about the tent.
Or the circus.
Or even tonight.
It sounded like she was talking about something much larger.
Something already moving.
Something that hadn't arrived—
yet.
And outside—
the circus lights flickered once.
Sharp.
Brief.
Gone.