Lucas followed the narrow forest path just a few steps behind Elizabeth, his hands tucked into the pockets of a plain jacket that smelled faintly of mint and charcoal. Just the sound of the wind brushing through leaves and the occasional call of some unseen bird. Leaving Haven behind and strolling into the mortal world.
...
The city air hit Lucas like a warm fog; thick with noise, food smells, and distant music. Elizabeth led the way through the crowded streets of Brooklyn with the kind of confidence only someone who'd never needed a map possessed. Her eyes glittered with mischief.
"Have you ever been to a carnival before?" she asked.
Lucas gave her a side glance. "Does playing hide and seek in a street fair with some killer hellhounds count?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then no." Lucas shrugged, remembering the time. Thalia had led the group of four into a nest of hellhounds, thinking they were just dogs, which caused a chase before they eventually managed to escape.
They rounded a corner and were immediately bathed in the multicolored glow of a pop-up carnival. It clung to the edges of an empty lot like it had grown there overnight, all blinking lights, mechanical music, and the smell of cotton candy soaked in more sugar. A rusting archway declared, A Fool's Fair, and Lucas had no idea what that meant.
Elizabeth turned and grinned at him. "Today, we play and have some fun, no training, no thinking of the future; just crowds, scam games and deafening, annoying music, sprinkled with some sugar."
He tried to frown. It came out as a laugh.
They wandered between booths, played ring toss with questionable rules, and ate fried dough so sweet it made Lucas' teeth ache. He lost a duck race and won a plastic crown, which Elizabeth wore for the rest of the day. She strutted through the fair like royalty while Lucas trailed behind her, pretending not to notice the stares.
Somewhere between a mirror maze and a ride that Lucas suspected was held together with divine duct tape, they passed a woman in layered scarves sitting beneath a tent of purple velvet. A small hand-painted sign read: Tarot: Know Thy Fate.
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "Wanna tempt destiny?"
Lucas smirked. "She's a scammer."
"Of course. That's the fun part."
They ducked into the tent. The inside smelled of wax and old tea leaves. The woman's accent changed three times while introducing herself, but her deck was real enough, aged and worn with use. She waved her hands dramatically and invited Lucas to draw.
He pulled a card.
The Fool.
The woman, ever the performer, blinked. Then recovered. "Ah... the Fool! A beginning, a journey... risk and wisdom."
Lucas watched her with a blank face as she spouted her rehearsed lines while amused at the card he drew.
"Seems right," he murmured.
After Lucas draws The Fool, the reader turns to Elizabeth, still trying to sell the mystique.
"And you, brave one. Perhaps fate has something to reveal to you as well?"
Elizabeth sighs like she's indulging a child, but reaches out and draws a card. Lucas rolled his eyes at this act. Elizabeth was the only child here.
Justice.
A balanced scale. A raised sword. A blindfolded figure who saw more than she let on.
The reader nodded solemnly. "Justice. Clarity, truth, and the weighing of all deeds. A symbol of fairness and consequence."
Elizabeth blinked, a smug smile adorned her face. "That's... right, I have always been a symbol of justice and truth."
Lucas deadpanned, "Hecate told me about the goat incident."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "It was cursed."
"You fed it fermented figs and convinced a village it was a prophet."
"It spoke to me."
"It sneezed."
The reader made a vague blessing motion with her hands, encouraging them to leave after their readings, clearly unsure if she was being mocked, so she dismissed them.
They didn't stay long. Outside, the carnival had begun its final act. A small troupe had gathered at the center stage: acrobats flipping through the air, dancers moving in sync with a silent rhythm. Lucas leaned on the railing, watching with eyes that didn't blink.
He saw grace. Control. Precision masked in chaos. He saw himself, just a little, in the way the ringmaster shifted attention from act to act, the way the juggler turned small tricks into wonder.
And then a mentalist took the stage.
A thin man in a dark coat stepped into the light, his eyes hidden behind smoked glasses. He spoke gently, pulling secrets from volunteers: a lost name, a forgotten object, the word someone dreamed the night before.
Lucas's smile faded; he sensed something was amiss.
Then the ground shook.
A low rumble at first. Then louder. The mentalist paused. Screams rang out as the earth cracked beneath the stage. Lights snapped and fell. Before either could react, the ground beneath Lucas and Elizabeth gave way entirely.
They fell.
Darkness surged up like a tide, swallowing light, sound, thought.
...
Somewhere deeper, beneath, a figure felt the descent of Lucas.
The masked man from Lucas's dreams, lounging on a carved stone bed.
"There you are," he whispered to himself.
His voice was soft. Joyful. "Not long now. Let the child come, it is time to end this performance."
He smiled beneath the mask.