The bell outside tolled. Leanna released her hands that she gathered at her lap and rose. She glanced at the mirror and swallowed deeply. The dress she wore was breathtaking, as were the others that now hung in her wardrobe—gifts from Minerva.

In returning to her tent after rehearsals, Leanna found Yelena hanging up the trunkful of dresses in her room. Minerva had made them before going to sleep. Never in her life had she seen so many gowns! There were gold and silver muslins, some embroidered with threads made to sparkle under the moonlight. There were gorgeous walking gowns—even her morning dresses were made of fine material. There were wide scoop necklines, low squared ones, modest and some that made Leanna blush. She'd never worn dresses so... revealing. Just the thought of Finvarra seeing her in one of them made her a little dizzy. All in all, it was a wardrobe fit for a Queen...

But it was the black gown and glittering veil Leanna now wore that had been set out on her bed, waiting for her—to bring her back to the devastating reality that the bonfire that night was also a funeral.

Leanna exhaled. The last time she'd worn mourning attire had been after her mother's death. Clad in black, all the time since that horrible day evaporated, leaving a very present pain.

Swallowing the ache, she lowered the sheer veil, walked to the curtains and parted them.

"As beautiful as I imagined." Minerva's lips curled to a half smile, her red lipstick replaced by a coal tint. She too abandoned color and wore black, as did all those who walked past behind her, heading toward the open field. With the light of the pixies gone, it seemed all color and life vanished from the circus. The air smelled of nothing, scents of brine and woods fading to the numbing void of death.

Though gladdened to see Minerva, a hollow ache invaded Leanna's heart. She lowered her eyes and cursed the childish hope that led her to believe it would be Finvarra escorting her that night. Surely he wouldn't want to be near her after the previous night and afternoon. How could she expect it when she'd nearly taken his heart—twice?

Leanna frowned. Silently ashamed of her confession of love and its consequence, she slid her fingers into Minerva's waiting hand. It had been a foolish thing to say—perhaps too much, too soon. But in looking to the melancholy hanging thick in the air, Leanna's frown deepened. The previous night's declaration didn't matter. Her and Finvarra's problems and confusion would be waiting come morning light. That night was not about them.

"Finvarra asked if I would see you to the ceremony," Minerva spoke through Leanna's glum thoughts. She adjusted her lace scarf over her silvery hair. "Luna is taking it particularly hard, and he wished to escort her."

Leanna deflated. "Of course, of course—yes. As he should." There was disappointment in her voice. She didn't mean for it, but—Leanna sighed—her heartfelt what it felt. How did one behave after a kiss, after all? This was all so new and foreign. The thought of him—of his lips, of his hands made her blood whips of fire, castigating her from within. It was so much easier missing a figment of her dreams. But Finvarra had proven himself to be very real...

Minerva hummed, her grin widening. She didn't say anything, however. Neither did Leanna. It all seemed so futile considering the reason for the ceremony. Leanna twined her arm around Minerva's and they joined the quiet procession.

Night was fully settled now, and torches flared between the tents, all the way to the open field. The pyre stood in the distance, marking the empty meadow. Slow steps drew the crowd forward and they gathered around the pyre, encircling it. Leanna looked to the piled logs, where words were carved in strange symbols, like the ones that marked the Big Top.

"They are prayers," Minerva said quietly, then reciting the words.

"Through this burning fire,

Follow the path of our tears,

Past the snows of Forever,

To a land of infinite rest.

We pray our Father,

We pray our Mother,

Bless thy spirit and thy journey home."

They were beautiful words, and while waiting for the ceremony to begin, Leanna committed them to memory.

All murmurs ceased at once and the crowd parted. Leanna's breath caught in waves of sadness and guilt at the coming sight. Under the light of the ever circling fire dragon, Tomas and Kioyo approached, led by Kia. They entered the mourning circle, carrying a wooden gurney between them.

Leanna's heart panged. The pixies.

Minerva's gloved hand took hold of Leanna's as the gurney passed by them. Upon it were countless small casings made of leaves laid upon a bed of moss. The small sleeves were bound closed with rings of daisies and a sprig of vanilla. Leanna chest caved, the sight like thorns piercing her heart. She held onto Minerva's hand tighter for added strength.

Finvarra walked in behind them, his gloveless hand cupped before him. A small pinkish light pulsed at his palm, the faint light seeping between his fingers—a little pixie too heartbroken to fly.

His black cape billowed in waves behind him, whipping the winds that moaned past. To their laments, the remaining pixies floated in behind him. Performers held out their hands, giving each grieving orb of light a place to rest their weary wings and hearts. Some settled on shoulders, others on the bells of skirts.

Bertrand was the last to enter, a bright flame cupped in his hand.

As Kioyo and Tomas set the gurney on the pyre, Finvarra approached Leanna. Her eyes fixed on his and she braved the pain that roused once their stares met, the need to open her arms and welcome his heart. Noting Finvarra swallow, she knew he felt the same. But their hearts knew better that night, and Leanna held herself very still. This wasn't about them, and the closer he came, the more the pain eased.

Finvarra stopped before her and held out his cradled hand. Numbing and terrible cold rushed through Leanna as she gazed down to where Luna barely glowed. She lifted her lashes back to Finvarra, but not her hands. How could she hold Luna when she was responsible for the death of her people? Leanna bit her trembling lips, her eyes pleading please no. No, she couldn't do this.

"She does not blame you," Finvarra said. "None of us do."

Doubt warred, and Leanna cast a tentative glance along the crowd. Sadness clouded every stare, but not one was of anger. Like marionettes, they all seemed tied to a common string of composure that frayed with each quiet sob. Perhaps later the thread would snap and they would hate her, but there was no room for anything else in any heart that night, only woe.

Finvarra opened his curled hand and Luna moved to the edge of his fingers slowly. Leanna met the tip of his cool hand, holding her breath to keep hers steady. Though lighter than a feather, when Luna stepped onto Leanna's hand, the weight of guilt pressed on Leanna's chest and the first tear fell.

Leanna cupped Luna close to her heart, just as her mother had done so many times for her. The little pixie nestled close against her, blanketing her small body with paper thin wings that quivered like the last leaf on a vine. Leanna's soul heaved. How much more would she bring upon this circus?

The gurney lay upon the pyre now. Finvarra stepped forward and slid his gaze along the crowd in silence, making contact with every eye as if to bolster them in this hard time. His voice came in low, a melodic lullaby to soothe every heart.

"We know that death is but a door to everlasting life. While we will mourn that the Pixies are no longer with us, we must never mourn their life. May our tears carry them gently from us, but may our cries never drown the light they bestowed upon us in our darkest of times." Finvarra nodded to Bertrand. "We light this fire in their honor. May it illuminate their path to the arms of our father, to their rest in the Otherworld. We pray our Father, we pray our Mother, bless thy spirit and thy journey home."

The crowd replied in a low chorus, and Leanna closed her eyes, whispering the beautiful words. "We pray our Father; we pray our Mother, bless thy spirit and thy journey home."

Finvarra stepped back beside Leanna and Luna. Bertrand looked down to the cupped flame before him, the fire illuminating his sadness in hues of crimson and blue. Hauling in a deep breath, he exhaled, and the orb of fire floated from his fingers slowly, entering a small parting in the logs. With every tear shed, Bertrand trickled his fingers and the flames intensified until a roaring blaze eclipsed the light of the dragon above.

Fire clawed at the logs, sparking a swirl of light with each pixie it devoured. Luna burst from Leanna's fingers with a pitched cry. The winds howled, wrapping her in its ghostly fingers. They aided her retreat, carrying her away from the mourning circle in a cloud of ice scented of vanilla.

Leanna moved to go after her, but cool fingers twined with hers, halting her steps.

"Let her grieve," he said.

It hurt to think of Luna crying alone, but Leanna pressed her lips together and nodded. Stepping back beside Finvarra, she trained her glittering gaze on the flames. He never let her go. They stood like this, facing the fire together, until lights no longer sparked from the flame, all the pixies having found their way home.

After a quiet moment, Finvarra said to the assembly, "Though with heavy hearts, we must all perform tomorrow. Do so keeping in mind those we have lost and those on the other side of the crystals..." He paused and glanced down at Leanna, eyes full of sorrow before turning back to his troupe. "Perform knowing that freedom will soon be yours, not at the claws of Machina, but at the hands of forgiveness and snow."

Leanna extended a blink, clutching her dress and Finvarra's hand as the horrid shakes of truth seized her body. Indeed, their forgiveness would come at the hands of forgiveness, snow... and death—his death. Leanna squeezed his hand tighter. This was bigger than the both of them.

Finvarra concluded the assembly with a nod. As the multitude broke away, their eyes lingered. Not on the pyre or on Leanna, but rather on her and Finvarra's entwined hands. The bonfire chased out the darkness, but it was their joined hands that sparked hope and seemed to lift every spirit. All now stood a little taller, glowing a little brighter as if magic were infused back through their veins.

And so Leanna and Finvarra stood like this until the last member of the troupe walked away, him a pale angel and she his Black Death.

The fire burned steady now, the fairgrounds eerily quiet. Leanna curled up at Finvarra's side, watching the mist slowly fade into the night, revealing their circus to the world. Finvarra too looked toward the white vapors, his gaze was clouded by thought.

"You're worried about Krinard," Leanna spoke softly against his coat, smoothing a hand over his heart.

"Amongst other things," he murmured. His cool hand covered hers, stopping her affection. "I saw the Constable."

"Did he agree to help find Inara? Kioyo tells me it seems she doesn't want to be found."

"I am starting to believe that he is right." Finvarra sighed, his chest collapsing. He slid his hand from hers. "But for the Constables cooperation, I agreed to meet his son... and his son's betrothed."

Eyes wide, Leanna brushed away from him. "Finvarra, you didn't! Dr. Luther can't come here! And with his betrothed..." Leanna paused. "Oh, no! He's to marry my double! No, no, heaven forgive me—oh, Finvarra, is that even... right?" Her heart pounded fiercely now, timing her flooding thoughts. "How will you explain it? How will I explain it? I must perform, and they will see me. Surely my sisters will be there, and oh—why'd I have to advise you to go to him?" Leanna pinched her eyes shut a moment, cursing her meddling.

Her hands fell away. Finvarra looked to her, blue eyes shaded in helplessness. "He would only cooperate to have men look for Inara if I agreed for them to come and meet the troupe. He made it blatantly clear that he intended to come and inspect the circus anyway. It wasn't exactly an offer." He shrugged. "I thought to refuse, but the rest of us must be here to perform. Having constant patrolling of the field should keep Machina away a measure. I don't dare move the circus in case Inara returns. I had no other choice."

Leanna pressed cool hands to her cheeks. What an impossible situation. "I knew they would come, but..." She sighed. "Seeing my doppelganger there, will be..." She let out a heavy breath as words could never voice her sentiments. "And engaged to Dr. Luther?" Leanna shivered. "Thank heavens I left when I did."

"It will be good for you to see them," Finvarra said with a curious certainty.

Leanna arched a brow. "This coming from the man who said I could never see them again." She meant to tease, but Finvarra's jaw tightened at the words.

"Yes, well, that was before... before everything." He was quiet a moment then turned a firm look on her. "You need to see them."

"I suppose," she said carefully, nearing him. "It will make things more real, and remind me that this isn't all a dream—that you're not a dream anymore." She curled at his chest, and was gifted a quiet kiss at her temple. "And I'll get to see them one last time. Goodness, it feels like months since I last saw them, and I do miss them. We parted under such terrible terms. Even if they don't know who I am, it will be good to say goodbye."

Finvarra stiffened. "That isn't what I meant."

His arms slid from around her and he moved closer to the pyre. He leaned his head back, looking up into the shadowed clouds. An exhale brought it back down, and he stared down at his boots. His mood darkened, as did his tone. "A woman on her own in this world is a dangerous thing, Leanna. You will need for nothing; I will make sure of that. But Dr. Luther has good standing in this town..." Finvarra lifted his eyes to her. His mask down and his eyes illuminated by the fire, Leanna saw every truth there.

She gasped. "Surely you're not implying..."

Finvarra stood still, wordless.

Leanna's mouth opened, but no words came. Flabbergasted, she stared at him. How could he possibly consider such an outrageous thing? For her to marry another—Dr. Luther of all people! She huffed out a breath.

"Being a doctor's wife would give you the protection of his name once I..." He trailed off, his hands clenched at his side. The word remained unsaid, yet hung thick in the air. Once I die...

"But we haven't lost yet," she rallied. "And I won't accept this. You still have life and we can't give up hope."

"Hope is a dangerous thing." He shook his head slowly and looked away back toward the pyre. "Especially after last night."

Leanna drew in a quiet breath. Yes, her confession may have been too soon, "But we are standing here now, and have controlled our hearts. As long as they remain within our chest, there is hope."

Finvarra said nothing, and a sinking awareness settled in Leanna's stomach. "Unless there is something I don't know... something you're not telling me. Did something happen last night?"

"I'm just making provisions," he replied, much too quickly for Leanna's liking. "Whether we accept it or not, the end is coming. And there will be death."

Leanna swallowed. She knew he lied. She could have fought this, and argued with him, demanded the truth.... what for? Deny and argue as she liked, they couldn't escape this.

"This is supposed to be your punishment," she said softly. "Yet, it appears I have offended the elders as well. I've lived beside you in spirit my entire life, yet now you are here in body and I can't have you."

He turned a solemn gaze to her. "Indeed." Without further words, he walked back to her and gathered her into an embrace.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, trying to think around this. "If I were to decide to help you—which I'm not saying I will... will it hurt you?"

Finvarra's hands tensed at her waist. "No more than what I deserve."

"But how will it work? What exactly am I supposed to do?" The word lover stood out in Leanna's mind, and she blushed at the thought. "I know the Leanan Sidhe inspires her lovers, but we are not lovers, and it appears our hearts need little to abandon us."

Finvarra exhaled, his breath skimming her hair in a soothing wave. His hands took off on a journey of her back, an affection that came so easily. "There are no conventions. We let things develop as they will, as they have been since you arrived." A chuckle rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending a warm shiver down Leanna's spine. "I daresay you started driving me mad the moment you snuck into my circus. I threatened to feed you to lions just to get you to stay, remember?"

Leanna lifted her eyes to find a small smile tugged at his lips—a sad smile of trying to make things a little easier to bear.

"You also said you'd take my heart if I didn't return..." She smiled faintly, grateful for his attempt.

A sparkle of mischievousness danced in Finvarra's eyes. "I did say that, didn't I?" He smiled. It was a genuine smile that crinkled the sides of his eyes.

For Leanna, withholding a smile to that youthful playfulness was impossible. "You said a lot. You called me a witch, a troll, a banshee, a spy..."

The cadence of Finvarra's laughter surprised her and strummed her heart. It was a rich sound, warm and free, and equally contagious. Leanna's giggles soon underscored his, and together they shared this intimate mirth.

The iciness in Finvarra's stare thawed, and for the slightest moment, his eyes glittered with the after-happiness of laughter. Hypnotized by the beauty, Leanna's own smile lingered. How long had it been since he'd laughed that way? A part of her, the part that was bound to him, knew not for a long, long time.

As if remembering their time and place, Finvarra's ease faded, and his previous torment rolled in like storm clouds over a clear day's sky. It was here Leanna saw the toll all the years of curses and loneliness took on his life, on his joy.

"You also called me a liar," she said, wishing to hold onto this reprieve of happiness, even for just a moment longer. "But I wasn't lying. I really did lose my ticket."

"I know," he murmured. Breaking their embrace, he reached into his inner breast pocket and retracted the familiar ticket.

Leanna's eyes widened. "You had it all this time!"

"After you informed me it was missing, I had the men search the outer fields. Krinard found it by the crystals you snuck through, thankfully. This ticket in the wrong hands could have been very costly. The spell Inara put on it allows anyone to enter at will."

"Oh," Leanna breathed, a blush mounting her cheeks. "Dangerous, indeed. Why haven't you destroyed it, then?"

Finvarra gazed down at the ticket pressed tightly between his fingers. "At first, I meant to, but then I thought that if you left me, there was a chance you'd change your mind and come back." He shrugged. "Now it is simply too late as Inara is the only one that can destroy it. It is her magic."

Warmth gathered in Leanna's chest. He hoped she'd return. The pride was overwhelming—he was hers. The infamous Ringmaster Finvarra tamed by the girl with the broken heart.

Leanna took the ticket from his hands. She studied it as she'd done so many times before. The paper felt strange in her hands, no longer having a purpose. "I'm here now," she said. "And I'm not leaving."

She closed the space between them, parted his coat and slid the ticket back into his inner pocket. Closing it, she gazed at him and lifted a hand to his cheek, a gentle caress. "Once Inara returns, destroy it."

Finvarra's brows lowered with an exhale. His face leaned into her hand, surrendered to her touch. "Leanna, we can't," he breathed as she trailed her hand along the line of his jaw. But his restraint was crumbling and the words were weak.

With each caress, the world bowed out to this stare between them. Not one between a Ringmaster and his Leanan Sidhe, but between a man and a woman finding one another in little light, in little hope.

He lowered his lips to hers, hands winding around her waist. The winds gust, as if the hands of consequence pulling them apart. There were ramifications in a kiss. Leanna knew this, as did he. But how would she ever resist when he made her feel like this? Made her blood hum and the world vanish? Made her feel whole? Gifting caution to the wind, Leanna met his lips.

Finvarra stiffened. At once, Leanna broke their kiss and shifted back. Her eyes darted to his chest, her hands gathered at the crystal. His heart didn't glow; neither did the crystals grow cold. Yet something was wrong and Finvarra tilted his ear toward the open air as if listening for what.

The answer came from the trees. In a contagious wave, they began to shiver and the ground trembled. A horrific shriek scratched the air, one of rage and pain, of blood and murder. Leanna flinched, curling closer into Finvarra as dead leaves fell from skeletal branches. She looked up to him, but he looked past her. And in his stare, heartbreak.

Leanna trailed his gaze. As if ghostly fingers delivering a gift, the waves of smoke curled back to reveal a bloodied centaur stumbling through the crystals alone—Krinard. Large gashes of crimson were raked across his chest, curling his skin outward. Fixing his eyes on Finvarra in the distance, Krinard trot forward a step before his knees gave way beneath him and he fell forward, revealing a dagger stabbing him in the back.

Time slowed to the spaces between seconds. Finvarra was in Leanna's arms, and then he wasn't. He took off toward Krinard in a blur of black to the sound of crunching ice. Finding her breaths, Leanna ran after him, as fast as her magic-less humanity allowed.

She meant to help, but closer to the crystals, her steps stopped... so did her heart.

Under the light of the fire dragon, a woman stood embraced by the remaining mist, her red hair scratching at the white smoke in slow waves. The mist parted for a moment, and the torn white dress she wore came into view, the stains of blood separating her from the fog. One of her sleeves was ripped, and the metallic patches stitched onto the smooth, porcelain skin of her arms glinted in the hue of the flames. She was a horrible beauty, a fascinating nightmare; a paradox Leanna's human mind couldn't comprehend.

Coal brown eyes fixed on Finvarra. In childlike fascination, Machina tilted her head, brows gathered with centuries old yearning as she watched Finvarra put pressure on Krinard's wound. Like a slave to her stare, Leanna followed Machina's eyes to Finvarra, who attempted to form webs of ice along Krinard's injury and freeze it shut. As quickly as the webs formed, however, they melted—over and over again. It was Finvarra who then grew rigid. He lifted his bloody hands before him.

"No," Leanna whispered as Finvarra's realization struck her like a whip. His magic was fading.

Finvarra snapped from this awareness and slid his arms under Krinard's body.

As if Finvarra were the moon and Machina the ocean, when Finvarra dragged Krinard's body away, Machina stepped out of the mist and neared the crystals. She lifted metallic fingers, reaching out toward him. A white wave rippled between them as her iron fingers touched the invisible boundary formed by the crystals.

Finvarra's head snapped back. Seeing Machina, he spun to Leanna, his eyes very blue. His mouth moved, and Leanna heard his scream far away in her mind, ordering her to go back to his tent. All she heard, however, was the forest humming with the familiar taps and rasps of Machina's mechanical creatures. In her soul, she heard the trees cry as the metal legs stabbed their bodies, just as all those girls cried when they lost their lives to the metallic demon. The sounds brought back all the vacant eyes and blood that filled her slumbers, until Finvarra slipped into her dreams to save her. But now Machina was here—not a nightmare, but a waking dream of hate and metal.

In her peripheral vision, Leanna saw Tomas and Kioyo brush past as if materializing from thin air. Kioyo gestured for Leanna to go, but numb, she looked back to this was the nightmare that plagued her dreams all of her life. She'd pitied her before, but a furious flush burned at Leanna's cheeks, and she clenched fists tightly at her sides. It was this monster that stalked, that destroyed, that killed... that threatened her home and her love, and it now had a face.

Machina's brows dipped. In her obsession with Finvarra, she hadn't seen Leanna standing there. But as if feeling the hate of Leanna's stare, she turned her head. Her eyes fixed on her in an instant. She retracted her iron fingers slowly, parceling Leanna body part by body part. Her face contorted, twisting angrily with every second passed.

Her eyes fell on the crystal dangling from Leanna's neck, and her scrutiny stopped... as did the taps and rasps.

Stillness.

Awareness smoothed the lines of Machina's face and she shook her head slowly, understanding now in her black stare. Her blue lips quavered and tears of blood stained her moonlit glow. Lifting trembling fingers to her face, she trailed the tears with her nails, clawing her skin open. It was a terrible sight, but Leanna remained still, letting her image torture Machina the way she'd tortured so many others.

Gathering iron fists against her temples, Machina screamed—a feral scream that shook the forest back to life. The trees shivered, the air howled, and the taps stabbed at the trees desperately.

Leanna's sight was eclipsed by a larger figure—Tomas who lifted a hand toward the crystals. The stones grew a slight brighter, their wintry hue streaming out toward Machina. Her eyes widened and fisting her hair, she skittered back into the retreating mist like a cornered animal. A black cloud curled around her, folded and unfolded, and with an echoing hiss, she vanished.

Frozen, Leanna watched the fading fog realizing that she was wrong. Death would not come dressed in black, but in white fog and metal.

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Thank you for reading!

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