━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

CHAPTER 15

━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

"It's, it's," he stuttered. Intrigued, I approached to see. "A box," his enthusiasm diminished, and he looked at me with boredom, "I can almost imagine how much fun I'll have with it."

Part of him was right. The box was simple, old, and had a dark pearly hue. It didn't awaken any desire in me to open it. The lid was rectangular and made of wood, with details that could have been hand-carved. At each corner, there was a flower whose stems intertwined like ropes and curled up to meet at the center, forming a spiral around a star.

"Zara," he said, and when I turned, I stumbled upon what was orbiting on the floor, very close to my feet.

The ribbon that kept the gift closed coiled like a worm, and it continued to spin until it created a perfect circle. After a while, one of the two ends lifted, tracing a spiral in the air, and I heard a soft beep that made me recoil and fall back onto the mattress. After reaching the highest point on the ceiling, it exploded, releasing a festive burst similar to the sound of party horns. The small fragments that fell looked like confetti but vanished before touching the ground.

However, the show didn't end there.

My comparison of the wrapping with a flower turned out to be accurate. The petals, alternating between white and red, slid under the box, moving it toward the edge of the bed. Then they folded with precision as if they were origami, taking the shape of perfect stars that rose above our heads. Shortly after, they exploded one by one and disappeared.

"Wow!" Thomas exclaimed. "The medallion." He pointed to where I had left it the night before. The object emitted a recognizable glow that confirmed my suspicion: it was his doing again. "It's magic! This circus is truly magical!"

I didn't understand how he could get so excited. For my part, I felt relieved that I hadn't peed myself in fear when something fell at my feet.

Thomas approached, and I dared to look.

It was the box. Due to the fall, I assumed the lid had opened, and from then on, it made snapping noises.

Inside, there was a mirror reflecting a female figure suspended on a horizontal bar. Below, the floor was lined with the same design as the gift's wrapping. The snapping sounds came from the gears struggling to get moving. I confirmed this by looking through the front glass.

"It's a music box."

"Damaged," I emphasized. He picked it up from the floor, his fascination seeming excessive. "Thanks to its charming magic, my family is trapped at the fair." I extinguished the joy from his face as if I had revealed to a child that Santa Claus doesn't exist.

"Are you talking about the fair that recently opened? A lot of people from the town were going to be there, even the police," he revealed, sitting up next to me.

"Did your father also attend?" I pulled my knees against my chest and hugged my legs.

"That was the plan, but something came up, and another officer ended up replacing him. Do you have any idea why this happened? How did they do it?"

"I don't know. I don't understand what's going on. All I know is that it's all the medallion's fault. And now I have to deal with a broken music box too. Nothing could be more perfect."

"Do you think it hides any secrets?" Thomas examined it closely.

"I hope not, but I don't rule out that possibility either."

"Perhaps at my house, we can figure something out. You have to admit that my father knows a lot about ancient objects. Besides, this place is no longer safe. What better refuge than a police officer's house?"

He was right but on the other hand...

"I don't want to involve anyone else."

"You won't be involving him, Zara. He'll just help us examine this object." He closed the box's lid and rotated it in his hands.

"But then, what will happen after that?"

"That remains to be seen," he exhaled, and I admitted that his energy was contagious.

"Come on, I'll help you, and we'll find a solution."

"All right. But I'll leave your house before nightfall."

"We'll do it together." He included himself in the equation. "And then you'll fill me in on what has happened."

On the way to his house, I told him everything that had happened after I called him furiously the first night I found the medallion among my things. Of course, I omitted the bathroom scene with Ashton.

Thomas listened in silence. For the first time, he didn't make any of his usual silly jokes. Upon entering his house, I sensed the classic smell of dust. It was always just him and his father, so tidiness was not a priority.

Like Thomas, I never knew his mother. Her death during childbirth was a delicate subject that his father avoided, even keeping her photographs somewhere in the basement. The only one that remained was of Thomas' grandfather in his military uniform, resting on the fireplace for years. From what I knew, he was a much-loved person. However, Thomas once mentioned that his grandfather had a fear of the dead, though I never knew why. As he closed the door, I approached the stairs that led to the second floor and, in turn, to the place where the entire historical collection of Port Fallen was kept: the basement, although we were never allowed to enter. I knew every corner of his house by heart, except for that last space.

"Go ahead," he said. "I'll prepare something to eat."

I was truly grateful. I hadn't eaten anything since last night.

"And your father?" I asked before venturing upstairs.

"He should be sleeping in his room."

Careful not to make any noise, I went up.

Thomas' house was entirely rustic, built with wood and brick blocks.

On the second floor, I secured the backpack where I had brought a few personal items and tiptoed forward until I entered the second-to-last door.

It stank, and it was a complete mess. Clothes were scattered on the floor, dirty plates on the desk, not-so-innocent magazines peeking out from under the disordered bed, and soda cans lying outside the trash bin. Messiness had always been a common feature of his room.

I looked at the thick Ochre-colored curtains behind the desk, preventing light from entering. I never understood his special taste for dark places.

I left my backpack there and opened the window, allowing fresh air to circulate. Then I admired the mural covering the entire wall behind the bed's headboard.

On the dark chalkboard paint, Thomas had drawn the constellations long ago. When they began to fade, he would redraw them. Although I never understood his fascination with them, I always found it incredible.

"Betelgeuse," he said behind me.

"Damn it!" I exclaimed, placing a hand on my chest. Ashton was contemplating the mural.

"Achernar, Procyon, Rigel, Capella, Vega, Arcturus, Rigil Kentaurus, Canopus, and the most important one: Sirius." He was speaking to himself. "They are the ten brightest stars in the night sky. In the circus, they represented the stage names of each main cast member."

The medallion on my chest glowed, but he hadn't lifted his cane this time.

I looked around, and the only movement was my backpack jumping on the desk.

Suddenly, there were clicks and a shrill sound that forced me to quickly unzip it.

"How did you get it?" he asked, noticing the music box in my hands. The noise came from its interior, from the gears.

"Do you recognize it?"

"It belonged to someone in the cast."

I tried to remember the names he had just mentioned, but I could only retain a few.

"Who was it?" I asked, irritated by the squeak.

"Sirius."

"And who is Sirius?"

The lid suddenly opened, revealing a surprising scene. The figure inside began spinning around the horizontal tube with astonishing agility, like a gymnast performing a routine or a trapeze artist flying through the air. As it spun, a distorted, syncopated, and defiant melody began to play. Even the two-tone upholstery joined the dance, spinning rapidly and causing a dizzying sensation in my head.

Despite my efforts, I couldn't look away. A strange drowsiness invaded me as if I were suddenly falling towards the box or inside it.

The upholstery seemed to form a tunnel around me, with an uncertain destination at the end. But apparently, there was an entrance.

I didn't need to wonder where it led. The cheers of an audience cheering a name resonated from inside the box.

"Sirius! Sirius! Sirius!" The enthusiasm and applause of the crowd came from that very place.

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