━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

CHAPTER 24

━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

I didn't give my mind enough time to finish processing the information, and I began to force the ring off, but I couldn't take it off. Within a short time, I became desperate, and the pressure only made my hand hurt more.

"It's stuck."

"Why me? Why did they suddenly start giving me all kinds of magical objects?"

"It's the same," he asserted. "Each circus has its magic granted by some artifact. This is one of theirs. Just like there are medallions, there are rings, pendants, bracelets, earrings... Objects are easy to carry with you."

At the fair, when I woke up in that storeroom, I saw the puppeteer moving his fingers as if playing a phantom melody, and he wore identical rings.

"I don't want to deal with more gadgets and magical circuses. I can barely forget for a moment that my family and Thomas are..." I didn't finish. My voice broke, and I felt a lump in my throat.

"It's not that easy."

"I know."

"I mean, you won't become responsible for it just because you received one of their rings. The owner must give you all of them at the same time and in their presence. If that happens, each one will allow you to do incredible things, but they need to interact with each other as a cohesive process; otherwise, it would be a disaster."

I looked at the ring, and then at his face.

"To explain it better, let's use the medallions as an example. Each one allows you to do incredible things, but you need all three together as a process for them to work correctly. This one you have has a tent engraved on it; it will let you shape scenarios and move objects. The second one, with the figure of a man, will enhance the abilities of each circus member. As for the last one, with a monkey engraved on it... We had animals, but they were mere holograms controlled by magic."

"I'm not getting the point."

"As an example for Mikkel, imagine he has an object in front of him: a gas lamp. Thanks to the tent medallion, he can lift it without touching it, and with the one with the man's figure, he'll give it the appearance of an animal engulfed in flames. Then, using the one with the monkey, he'll control it to make it fly. That's how the three medallions would be used in an ordered and coordinated manner."

"Then, the horse from the other night..."

"Someone must have created it," he said. "It wasn't a shadow."

"Which medallion do you think he could have used?"

"The one with the monkey to create it. That's why it was out of control. He skipped all the previous steps. The gadgets have side effects when used individually, in addition to the curse of the shadows."

"What about Mikkel's performance just now? The one with the man's figure is supposed to enhance your ability. His was to control fire, right?"

"Yes, but what you saw was just a minimal sample of what he would have been capable of if he had worn the man's figure medallion."

"This leads us to the possibility that there is another living member that we have no idea about." I raised an eyebrow, hoping he would finally admit it. Those old twins didn't seem so bad.

"It's possible. But we can't forget that Dad entrusted one medallion to Reidar, and look at everything that happened."

"I also want to ask him about that." Before he emphasized his distrust of the circus members again, I decided to change the subject. "What does this ring do?"

"The puppeteer has his collection. I don't know how many he possesses or what specific effect each one produces. However, I know that some can manipulate, others can hypnotize, and another can delve into minds, exploring the most cherished memories and the depths of dreams, as he knows that's where the reflections of the soul and the most hidden desires reside. Each ring functions in an ordered sequence of processes. What I don't know are the side effects that could be generated if they were used separately. The same goes for the medallions; using the tent one, for example, doesn't allow me to lift living beings for too long, suggesting that each one has its own limitations and particular consequences."

Through a small window, I could see the thick fog advancing over the water.

The avalanche of information was overwhelming, but I understood that everything was interconnected through logical cause and effect. No gadget could be used in isolation; the medallions had to be together, just like the rings. Each set worked as a well-defined sequential process, in perfect harmony.

"Tell me what you think about all this," he said.

"I think this ring could help us, but I'm not entirely sure about the side effects."

"You can't use it."

"Magic in stories isn't that complicated."

"That's because real life is not an invented story, Zara." He laughed.

"But we have to take risks," I murmured. That's what Vincent would have said, and I bet the twins, in my place, would be delighted to help Ashton. "So, can you take it off with the help of the medallion?"

I touched the pocket of my hoodie, just to make sure the gadget was still there.

"I tried a moment ago, but it rejected me. Let's hope we don't have to turn to the puppeteer for help. I also wouldn't like to show up at his fair in the dim light and run the risk of maybe not finding him."

"But why did he give it to me?"

"I don't understand either," he confessed, and I cleared my throat. "Does it hurt?"

"No, unless I make a fist. I'll take care of the splinters in the morning when the sun rises."

"Okay," he sighed and walked back behind me.

I was exhausted, and the bench became less comfortable after several minutes of sitting on it. I decided that the floor would be a better option, so I chose the spot where the fishing nets were intertwined. It seemed more comfortable and cozy in that spot.

Just before sitting down, the nets spread out and arranged themselves, forming a makeshift mattress.

"You need to rest."

"Thank you." I took a seat and used a box for support. I hoped to be able to sleep for a while, but there was too much on my mind.

Ashton joined me after a few minutes and patted his thigh twice.

"Come here." He stretched his arm to reach me, and I tensed up when my cheek pressed against his chest. "You've tried too hard."

I didn't complain, nor did I try to distance myself. He was indeed more comfortable than any wooden box.

I curled up a little better, and he wrapped his arms around me.

"I may be cold, but I'll help you stay warm." The fishing nets folded over my legs. "And this..." he added, taking my healthy hand and intertwining his fingers with mine. "Wait a couple of minutes, and you'll see that your warmth will spread to my body. Then I won't be so cold anymore."

He seemed delighted, so I let him be. I didn't even ask how he discovered that, though suddenly, I felt nervous about holding hands like that.

I closed my eyes to drive away negative thoughts and tried to relax, but it was impossible. There was also his heart and its peculiar way of functioning, and mine, which raced faster in comparison.

I remembered his confession about it and decided to rest my head on his shoulder.

Later, his fingers got entangled in a lock of my hair, caressing or toying with it, but I didn't dare to check.

"I don't want to expose you to the pain of loss," he whispered. His voice almost sounded like a melody. He would think I was asleep. "I know there are many things I haven't told you before, but there's something special I must redeem. I won't hide anything else from you, starting with the most important thing."

With tenderness, the tip of my nose received the soft and icy touch of a caress. When I opened my eyes just a little, I confirmed it was his lips. But like a coward, I closed my eyelids again and stayed there, with a hitch in my breath and a pang in my chest.

After a while, when he distanced himself, I found myself caught in a roller coaster of emotions. I felt slightly dizzy but also excited. I couldn't move a single muscle, while a playful tingle fluttered in the pit of my stomach.

"You're curious," he said. "I saw you open your eyes." Embarrassed and not daring to say anything, I decided to return to my place against his chest. It now seemed like the perfect hiding spot.

"But it's often me who gets surprised. I thought you'd hit me."

He was right. It would have been a normal reflex for me, but I didn't do it.

I opened my eyes, and the first image I captured was our still intertwined fingers.

"You just kissed me on the nose." I pointed out the obvious.

"I plead guilty." He brought my hand to his lips. "But you said it yourself; we have to take risks, right?" He placed another kiss on that spot, and he was right when he confessed that contact with me warmed his skin. His lips were no longer icy.

At that moment, so many things came to mind that I could say to him, all negative and a bit cruel. However, I didn't utter them because I wasn't really upset; instead, I was surprised that he had taken the liberty to do it. But what puzzled me, even more, was that I didn't completely dislike it.

Maybe I was unsettled by what had happened in such a short time. Sorrow invaded me whenever I thought about my family and Thomas. And now, Ashton was about to become someone I might not want to lose. I didn't like that idea. What could I do if he, in comparison, was in greater danger? My family and Thomas at least had a chance to come back, but what would become of Ashton if, due to a careless by mistake, he was hit by the light? I wouldn't find him again.

I couldn't visualize a clear future without considering the possibility that he might eventually disappear.

Although I didn't show it, I was weak, and suddenly, I didn't want to choose between my family or Ashton.

The next morning, I didn't feel like opening my eyes; however, the insistent glow forced me to lift my eyelids. I glanced around, and the reflection of the sun on a metal sheet hanging on the wall momentarily blinded me. I rubbed my eyes, and the pain in my injured hand snapped me out of the reverie. I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, but despite my enthusiastic efforts, I couldn't recall the exact moment I lost consciousness.

The sun had risen, and Ashton was gone. I found myself entangled among a pile of fishing nets, unable to move my legs. I struggled to free myself and stood up. After securing the door of the shed, I walked to the edge of the dock and leaned over the lake. My reflection was disheveled, with messy hair and lazy eyes.

I dipped my hands into the icy water and watched my fingers move slowly. Then, my attention focused on the ring I was wearing on my thumb. The silver band had an intense turquoise-colored stone. Memories of the previous day resurfaced, parading in my mind like on a runway, and stopping at the moment of the kiss. I splashed water on my face, trying to evade those intrusive images.

Now, my heart was pounding like crazy. I hurried to tame my hair as best as I could and dried my face with the gray sleeve of my sweatshirt. I mentally reviewed the plan I would follow to deal with the splinters in my hand. Although I didn't think they would get infected, they were bothersome. I decided to pretend that I would attend classes, hoping it wouldn't be a problem after what happened with Natale.

On the way to school, despite my efforts, I couldn't stop replaying that kiss in my mind. It was like an endless loop that repeated itself without pause. Moreover, it was unnecessary because it came accompanied by the painful memory of what happened to my family and Thomas. I couldn't afford to indulge my feelings for that guy when everything else was so messed up. Besides, I had to remind myself that he was a ghost.

Upon arrival, I was surprised to find no school buses or the usual number of students. I entered the school, feeling scared, and walked through the hallway. After checking a couple of classrooms, I found most of them empty. The few students I encountered near the lockers, some accompanied by their parents, glanced at me and murmured in low voices, probably discussing what happened with Natale. Thomas's warning about it led me to that conclusion.

But I was just passing through. I had no intention of attending classes or provoking the coach. I hurried along and stopped behind the group of people anxiously inspecting the information board. When there was an opening, I approached to take a look.

"Classes are suspended due to unexpected events. Those who need to report someone missing should go to the principal's office. Until further notice, students are ordered to stay at their respective homes or, in cases of urgency, with a relative or acquaintance. Dir. Lars Gustavsson."

It was a notice, and there was no need for further explanation. Many had gone to the fair, so my family wasn't the only one trapped. Being a small town, the school seemed deserted. What surprised me was that they hadn't found the fair yet, but Thomas said that the police would also be present. The situation was a big problem, and chaos was beginning to unfold.

I headed to the medical department. I knocked on the door, and fortunately, I didn't have to wait too long. "Come in," said the doctor, motioning for me to enter. "What happened?"

"Could you take them out, please?" I asked, showing her my hand while taking a seat at the examination table.

Her eyes looked at me with horror, though it didn't seem like something to be exaggerated. I would have removed them myself if I could, but because of the lack of the necessary tweezers, I didn't even try.

"I need you to take off the ring," she requested.

"I'm sorry, I can't."

Up until that moment, she had been acting normally toward me. But her face twisted, and I preferred to look at the door.

"It's not that you're at risk of infection, but I'll bandage it just in case," she said, getting up from her chair and searching for new material. I watched her from the corner of my eye as the door opened slightly. I focused on the opening more closely. Nobody entered, but someone walked away down the hallway: Thomas. He was unmistakable.

I jumped off the examination table and took advantage of the doctor's distraction to slip away. I left the medical room, and with a racing heart, I chased his footsteps as fast as I could, but there were times when I lost sight of him, especially when he turned a corner. Then, I didn't see him again.

I wondered if it was just my imagination when suddenly "Where Is My Mind" by Placebo started playing. It was my favorite song and, unfortunately, also my cellphone ringtone, contributing a macabre impression to the desolate atmosphere.

I approached the double doors of the gym and pushed them open to peek inside. The sound was coming from there. In the center, white acetate fabrics were hung, arranged for acrobatics. They all touched the ground and remained close together, creating an enigmatic and fascinating environment.

The sound of my cell phone rang again. I advanced carefully, only up to the basketball court's boundary line marked on the floor. I couldn't see anything, but I knew my phone was lying among all the fabrics.

I refused to enter, sensing it could be a trap. But suddenly, I heard moans and a voice, "Zara," calling me and sounding like it was in pain. "Thomas?" I shouted.

"Help me, Zara."

It was a risk, but what if it wasn't?

I ventured in, pushing aside the light material with the help of my arms.

As I progressed, the maze seemed endless, and I decided to slow down when I reached a section where the fabrics parted, creating a gap where a silhouette crawled.

The puppeteer raised his head, but his eyes and smile were just drawings. His appearance was even worse than I remembered, not only because he was burned and missing some limbs, but also because of his rough and uneven texture. He looked terrible.

My phone's ringtone was coming from his pants pocket, and I realized he must have taken it from me at the fair, maybe when I almost fell from the box. It was the only time we had been so close to each other.

He turned around to lie on his back and pointed up to the ceiling with his one remaining arm. I looked up, and my phone's ringtone stopped at the exact moment I discovered the puppeteer hanging from the ceiling.

I couldn't scream, say anything, or move. I didn't even look away. He was there, and although I could see the mark causing his suffocation on his neck and his head slightly tilted to the side, there was nothing entangled in him. He was suspended in the air by an invisible rope.

Suddenly, his eyes opened, bloodied, and he stared at me. His body shook as he moved his trembling fingers, trying desperately to breathe and reaching out to me.

The pain in my thumb intensified. I knew I was crying when I saw everything blurred, and sobs escaped from my lips.

If he died, what would happen to my family and the rest of the people? What would happen to the ring on my hand?

And as if he could read my mind, his voice echoed in my head, telling me, "Use it."

The pain in my thumb intensified.

I took a step back, holding my hand, stumbled, and fell to the ground. But I didn't feel the impact. Everything seemed to spin around me, and I recognized that enveloping sensation.

I was about to relive another memory.

I find myself lying on my back on a bed of dry leaves, the stars being the only things shining in the night sky, forming a glittering tapestry. The whisper of the wind through the trees accompanies the scene, creating a magical atmosphere.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps breaks the silence of the night. Someone runs past me, their steps echoing in the quietness and fading into the distance. Curiosity awakens within me, wondering who could be out in the middle of the night and what could be so urgent to make them run at that speed.

Aware of a new crackling sound, I diverted my gaze to the small tent situated a few meters away. The fire is consuming it, but something calls me from inside with a steady heartbeat like mine.

The footsteps head in the opposite direction of the red tent, which is being devoured by the flames. Right behind it, there's a larger tent. It has the shape of an elongated cone, its colors white and red spiraling from the base to the top. It seems to be in full swing, as indicated by the claps and the music.

The contrast between the chaos of the fire and the lively celebration in the other tent is perplexing. As best as I can, I stand up, feeling a mix of intrigue and concern as I approach, too slowly, the tent engulfed in flames. My heart beats faster with each step, and my body feels heavy, struggling for air.

When I reach the entrance of the blazing place, I feel terrible. The heat is almost unbearable, and smoke emerges from all sides. The curtain that serves as the door suddenly falls like melted caramel, opening the way for me. The palpitations still resonate in my ears, but they fade away little by little.

I enter.

The heat is infernal, so much so that I start sweating profusely in no time. Choking on the smoke, I continue forward, unsteadily. Dresses, suits, strange objects, and toys. There are all kinds of props piled up and burning rapidly, except for a secluded spot in the corner where the heartbeats come from.

I head over there, but a giant column collapses in front of me, blocking my way and grazing a part of my face with its burning claws.

Screaming in pain, I recoil. A second later, above the flames, I spot the trunk. From inside, someone desperately beats on the lid. They're trapped, and I can also see the massive padlock keeping it shut.

"Help!" Ashton scream from inside the trunk. His voice, filled with anguish, triggers a surge of powerlessness that makes my hands tremble.

He's trapped in there, and it's his heartbeat that I can barely hear.

My desperation to be on the other side drives me to get too close to the blazing column. The burning sensation in my hands is terrible, but I continue trying nonetheless. However, the flames grow stronger and stronger until, suddenly, Ashton's heartbeat stops.

Everything inside me breaks at witnessing the tragic moment. Part of the tent collapses onto the trunk, and the image fades away, plunging me into profound darkness.

Only the glow from my hand remains, from the ring whose stone now seems to be made of greenish electric waves, forming the distinct design of a man with a cowboy hat that I already know quite well.

The puppeteer rushes forward, raising both hands as his fingers move through the air.

Inside the trance, it takes a moment for me to realize that the rings have disappeared. His hands are empty. Where did his tricks go?

As if he knows what I just thought, the puppeteer gestures toward my hands, answering my bewildering question.

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