━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

CHAPTER 01

━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

My eyes wandered down the empty hallway until they stumbled upon Thomas's radiant smile. My best friend since diapers walked through the double doors, strutting his prominent figure while ruffling his wavy, chestnut hair with one hand. He stopped in front of me and raised his thick eyebrows in greeting as he whispered, "Peace."

I smiled back, and both of us leaned against the lockers, observing the other students starting to circulate through the hallway.

"Zara, have you heard of the Circus of Death?" he asked, and I scoffed.

I didn't understand why he brought up the topic. I never thought he would be drawn to that kind of thing. But I had heard of it once, even though I wasn't interested in made-up old legends, until I heard the word "death" in his interpretation.

"Why is it called that?" I asked, curious.

He turned towards me, letting his left shoulder rest where his back had been. He tilted his head up towards the ceiling, searching for my eyes, and smirked cunningly. I was taller, at least an inch above his six feet.

"They tell the legend of a Norwegian circus that, about half a century ago, was known as Stjerne Circus, or as its translation suggests, The Star Circus. It traveled on its old railway across a large part of Europe, from one port to another. The problem started when they arrived here, in Sweden, in Port Fallen, the place where the unknown incident occurred, which ended up incinerating the tent with the owner inside. Since then, every time they tried to put on a show during its absence, some member of the cast, whether it was a trapeze artist, juggler, acrobat, or tightrope walker, would either fall from great heights or suffer fatal accidents. Hence, the nickname. It is believed that the owner claimed his dominion and all his participants. And now, this legend is referred to as the Circus of Death. Because no one knew anything more about it, as if it had disappeared, swallowed by the earth."

"And?" I scolded. I usually wasn't credulous when it came to stories that seemed ridiculous to me, but my skin was already crawling. I had never had the opportunity to dig so deeply into that story.

"Look at this," Thomas said, scanning his surroundings as if it were a top-secret matter that he wouldn't allow anyone else to hear.

He pulled a golden coin the size of his palm from his pocket. Its appearance was quite pitiful. A piece of the edge was corroded, and part of the yellowish material had darkened. It even had some dirt clinging to its engravings.

"I found this medallion among the items stored in my dad's basement," he indicated.

Thomas's father was a policeman, just like his great-grandfather and a few other men in his family tree. They all shared a terrible and fascinating flaw: being impulsive collectors of historical objects that had been passed down from generation to generation. For them, these were old memories, ranging from ancient, now useless weapons to Grandma's worn-out slipper, which she had used as a defensive weapon against a thief who broke into their home one night. Her bad aim made the slipper bounce off a shelf, knocking down pots that knocked out the intruder. Amazing luck to turn it into a trophy.

I didn't know whether to laugh or pay attention to the unsettling feeling that had settled in the pit of my stomach. However, I found myself examining the embossed figure in the center. It had the peculiar shape of an inverted and curled cone, as if it represented a circus tent, and on top of it, the name Stjerne Circus was written in cursive. Several stars decorated the surroundings.

I looked at Thomas. He gave me an elegant, smug smile.

"You'll get scolded for taking it without permission."

"I don't think he'll mind. Besides, there's something I'd like to check." His eyes sparkled. "You're my best friend, and I must emphasize that I would do the same for you. Well, if I could. Anyway, it's nothing extraordinary."

"What is it, then?" I crossed my arms. "What are you hiding?"

"It's nothing special." He took a moment to carefully choose his next words. "Listen, I need you to hide it for a while, that's all."

"You've gone crazy," I argued, turning my gaze in another direction.

"Are you scared?" he joked.

"No, not at all. I just don't want to have more trouble with the police, at least not this time, and not because of your immaturity."

Everyone in the port knew me, but not because of my actions. My older brothers, Josef and Vincent, were always causing trouble at school. It was normal. What made the pair of twins stand out was their incredible pastime, which involved stealing the underwear of the friendliest neighbors from laundromats and hanging them on the traffic lights in strategic areas of Port Fallen.

"I'm just asking for this small favor," he pleaded, giving me puppy-dog eyes while poking my ribs and repeating the word "please."

"Fine. Okay, stop it!" I started squirming while laughing without much desire. "Do I just have to keep it?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Fine," I reluctantly agreed.

"I love you!" he shouted like a tone-deaf rooster. As everyone's gaze turned towards us, I hit him in the stomach hard enough to deflate him a bit.

Thomas pretended to be in pain and smiled widely, offering me the medallion. I snatched it from him and, with a strange chill running through me and a peculiar electricity coursing through my body, I tucked it deep into my backpack. I already had a new excuse to have him indebted to me.

When the bell for the start of classes rang, we both walked toward our respective classrooms.

"We can meet at the old station; I need you to give it back to me," I grumbled, remembering the message I received from Thomas.

What a waste of time. That's what I thought as I discreetly jumped over the sidewalk, playing a game of not stepping on the cracks.

And why did it have to be at that place? I started to investigate with suspicions when a classmate of Thomas handed me the little message written on a stupid piece of paper, catching me by surprise as I left the library at the end of the day.

"Teenagers have little real research to do and a lot of free time for social media," my history teacher said before assigning us an extensive project for the following week. Luckily, I liked to do things in advance, and I finished it this afternoon.

Thomas and I were sixteen years old, but we didn't share all our classes, which, I guessed, was the reason he didn't dare to give it to me in person. That, and the fact that he's a coward.

The streetlights flickered on, illuminating the old, senile, cracked streets of the town. It was starting to get dark, so I hurried my walk.

Near the entrance to the old station, there was a crossing of railway tracks, where a couple of rusty wagons lay buried amidst tall grass and abundant weeds. I stopped next to the group, and at a bad time, I started to remember the story Thomas told me in the morning. The night had fallen, and a bad feeling intimidated me. No matter how hard I looked around, there was no sign that he would arrive soon.

I pulled out my cellphone and dialed his number, but again and again, it went to voicemail.

"I'll leave your stupid prank between the rails if this is some damn joke!" I locked the screen, and when I planned to leave, the silhouette stood out in the nonexistent light. It was standing behind a curtain of darkness. "On time," I muttered. "I'm getting old."

I wanted to approach him, but I had the slight impression that every step I took towards him pushed him further away from me.

A knot formed in the pit of my stomach, twisting my insides.

"I'm not laughing!" But he was, and the sound, like a deep, weak echo, gave me goosebumps. His laughter was usually louder. I abruptly stopped. "Enough, Thomas, I'm serious."

Nervously, I gripped the straps of the backpack hanging from my shoulder and tried to force my sight, but I still couldn't see him clearly.

"Zara."

I squealed as I felt his breath brush against my neck, and I turned around to face him in a jump.

"For heaven's sake, Tom!" I placed a hand on my chest, making sure everything was in order and that my heart hadn't escaped from fright. He doubled over, stifling his laughter.

"How did you get here so fast?" I asked irritably.

"I just did," he laughs. "You should have seen your face."

"Buy you..." My voice rose too loudly in the silence surrounding the old station. "A second ago, you were there," I pointed out, looking to where I could swear I had seen him moments before. But instead of it being as dark as before, one of the old lanterns hanging from a metal column turned on.

I blinked rapidly, not understanding what had happened.

"You probably started hallucinating out of fear," he interpreted with amusement.

"Here, I'm returning your stupid thing." I rummaged inside my backpack and tried to hand him back the medallion, but Thomas didn't take it back; instead, he stared at it and then at me.

"Zara," he said more seriously.

"What?"

"Well..."

"What?" I exclaimed, my patience on the verge of running out, and his lips trembled. He seemed to be laughing at me.

"Nothing, calm down." He raised his hands in the air when I was about to throw a punch. "Don't get mad."

A vein on my forehead throbbed with anger, and I spoke before he could say anything else.

"Fine! Change of plans. If nothing happens, I'll put it back where it belongs, and that's the end of the story."

My intuition began to take shape. Thomas must have planned everything since this morning, and I fell for it like a complete idiot.

"What are you talking about?" I mumbled.

"Listen, there's something more behind that legend. Supposedly, there were three medallions similar to this one. And they say that one of them belonged to the circus owner, the one who died in the tent fire."

My eyes widened.

"Take your shit back!" I pressed it against his chest, but he raised his arms again.

"I don't believe in any of this stuff, but like I said, if I could, I would have done it myself."

"What's stopping you from doing what?"

Thomas fell silent and pressed his thin lips together, forming a perfect straight line. He kept thinking too much about what he was about to say.

"I'm not a woman," he blurted out suddenly, and I stifled a laugh.

"You're pulling my leg," I said wearily.

"No. Look, it may sound ridiculous, and maybe it is." He paused, and I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. "You just have to say a phrase in the place where it all happened, and that's it."

"The old station," I reasoned. "That's why you summoned me here. You said I had to hide it for a while, not that I would have to recite poems about all this."

I pushed him again to take it back.

"Coward," he said.

I looked at him, my feet rooted to the ground.

"I'll lend you some clothes and a wig; no one will even notice the change."

"Bah!" Thomas was truly enjoying the situation. "I dare you. Nothing will happen; I can guarantee that."

Something told me I shouldn't, but I had no other choice. Thomas was usually very persistent and wouldn't leave me alone. Since I had the opportunity, I had to get rid of it.

"What do I say?"

"Velkommen til Stjerne Circus."

I furrowed my brow.

"What language is that, and what does it mean?"

"It's Norwegian. It means 'welcome to the Star Circus,'" he explained.

I lowered my head to look at the ground and try to grasp the situation a little.

"Ridiculous, considering the name of the circus. You don't even know Norwegian. I'd like to know what name they gave to the owner," I mocked.

At this point, I was convinced that it was all just a made-up story. A bad story. Like the classic game of telephone, where you whisper a phrase into someone's ear, and they pass it along until it ends up turning into nonsense that bears no resemblance to the original phrase. Something that was never even mentioned.

"Ashton, his name was Ashton," he revealed, and I couldn't hide the impression it made on me. Somehow, it sounded beautiful. "Now say it."

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath as I clenched the medallion between my fingers. The words echoed in my head, and for the next few seconds, my mouth hesitated. Thomas did nothing but watch me. He eagerly waited to hear me utter the magic words.

Finally, ready to kick him if this clowning around was just meant to make fun of me, I opened my mouth and said:

"I don't remember. Repeat it."

"Velkommen til Stjerne Circus," he emphasized slowly. The seriousness with which he was taking this was astonishing.

"Velkommen til Stjerne Circus," I repeated, enunciating the best I could.

Then, we fell into a deep silence and looked around, as if expecting a trapeze artist to fly in on a magic carpet or something similar. But even though several minutes passed, nothing happened.

"I hope I said it right."

"Yes, you did better than I thought." He took the medallion back and examined it with disappointment. "Maybe this wasn't the right one."

"A cheap copy. Well done, genius!" I faked excitement. "Now, can we get out of here?" I pointed my thumb towards the exit behind me.

The cold was starting to pierce my bones, and I hugged my elbows. I couldn't overlook the fact that we were in a cemetery of railways, tracks, and containers. The view wasn't very charming.

Thomas cursed the piece of metal, putting it back in his pocket.

I took the opportunity to kick him in the shin, and without further ado, I headed home while Thomas limped toward his own.

Upon entering our home, I noticed that nobody had arrived yet due to the lights being off.

It was a Friday night, so it was normal not to find any trace of my parents, who stayed in their offices until late at night. And don't even mention the mischief the twins could be up to. Nobody spent more time at home than necessary to eat, freshen up, and sleep.

I closed the front door and locked it. Then I felt along the wall until I found the light switch.

Once the lights were on, I went upstairs and threw my backpack onto the bed. Several items jumped out of it, but I didn't pay much attention. I was tired, and in a way, I also felt ridiculous.

"The Circus of Death? Sounds like nonsense."

"Ashton," I thought, trying out his name on my lips. "Ashton," I repeated, but this time it sent shivers down my spine. It was at least curious and extravagant. It wasn't a common name, either.

Brushing it off, I headed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. After a fifteen-minute shower, I emerged with the towel wrapped around my body. I searched for my pajamas in the closet and turned towards the bed, only to be left speechless.

Without thinking, I reached for my phone on the mattress and dialed Thomas's number.

"I'll smack you with your grandma's stinky slipper!" I warned him.

"And now what did I do?" he asked, halfway through a yawn.

"You hid the damn medallion among my things!"

I was about to fall off the bed when I glared at the object with anger and a certain apprehension.

"Wait, what?" A static sound could be heard, as if he were settling onto the bed or something similar.

"I'm serious!" I shouted. "You better not ask me for another stupid favor again."

"I'm serious too, Zara. I just came up from the basement; I put it back in its original place."

A persistent chill crawled up my spine, announcing the arrival of incoherent thoughts and the dread that threatened to make me lose control.

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