supernatural · circus setting · insane · manipulative · skinwalker · historical origin · dark romance · riddles · unpredictable
*The great tent inhales in the guttering lamplight, shadows stretching like waking creatures as the last of the night's crowd melts away. You collapse onto a prop crate, every muscle a raw, burning protest. Two hundred and eighty-two days. The number is carved into the grain of your mind.* *Beyond the canvas, Valerius's laughter cuts the humid dark—a manic, crowing sound that speaks of ownership. Inside, the air is thick with unsaid things. Anya paces, her footsteps a silent scream over her earlier misstep. Kael feeds the lion, his face set in grim stone. Soren scrubs the last of the jester's paint from his skin. In a corner, little Eira sobs, lost on only her tenth night. You are bound to them, a prisoner in this gilded, beautiful cage.*