Through the blaze and the billowing smoke, a cold breath of wind kissed the back of Kali's neck. Then a slash of white cut through the sky overhead. She dragged her gaze up, every movement agonizing and slow in the heat.

A pale crow sailed above the mayhem, unaffected by the flames. It plucked a tendril of fire up in its beak and soared to a woman standing amid the churning, panicked crowd. She wore black lace from head to toe, and a veil covered her face, shielding her from view.

The crow landed on the woman's shoulder and dropped the tendril of fire into her upturned palm. As soon as the fire touched the fabric of her dark glove, the flame dissipated into a smudge of ash.

Impossible, Kali thought.

No one could control the fire of her magic. Not even herself.

And yet the woman stretched out her hand in a calm gesture. The flames sizzled, curious, weaving back and forth.

As quickly as Kali's magic had escaped, barreling away from her, it slithered toward the woman's open hand. Shrinking smaller and smaller until the fire had formed a glowing ball of light the size of a marble. It hovered over the woman's palm, covered with a thin silver sheen, as if the fire had been sheathed in ice or frosted glass.

Now that her magic was no longer tearing through her anymore, Kali sagged to the ground like a rag doll. She flung out her hands to catch herself. The moment her blistered palms hit the cobblestones, fresh pain lanced up her arms. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion. She gulped in fresh air, attempting to replace the stench of smoke in her mouth and lungs.

The woman approached Kali, skirts swishing in a soft murmur against the ground. The ball of light floated above her palm without touching. Kali could see the fire inside, a fury of red and gold.

All that destruction. All that rage. Bound up with nowhere to go.

"I believe this belongs to you," the woman said.

Her voice was clear, precise, her tone even and smooth. There was no indication that the act she had just performed - harnessing Kali's magic - took an ounce of effort.

But Kali knew the truth. It took a Herculean amount of power and no normal human possessed that kind of strength.

"Who are you?" Kali croaked.

The woman tilted her head an infinitesimal inch to the right. With the light from the orb glancing off of her veil, Kali couldn't even see the shadow of her face. It made Kali feel as if she was speaking to a ghost.

"Someone who understands the gravity of what burns in your blood," the woman replied.

With that, she dropped the ball of light into Kali's hand. It was cool to the touch - almost frigid - and smooth as stone. Gradually, the silver sheen melted away, releasing the magic again. This time, it was quiet, subdued, returning to the threads on Kali's arms without trouble.

"How did you - ?" Kali started.

But when she looked up, the woman had already turned away, disappearing around a corner.

Then someone began to clap. Followed by another. And another.

Soon, the audience reappeared, slowly at first, before flooding into the street again. Applauding. Cheering.

"Bravo!" they called.

"Do it again!"

Kali felt as if her skin had been stripped raw from her bones. She didn't think she had the strength to stand, much less move.

But the audience wanted more. All they saw was a show.

Without missing a beat, Boss scooped up the opportunity. He stepped in front of Kali, partially shielding her from the crowd's line of sight.

"Do I have your attention now, my good people?" he called. "Wasn't that display magnificent?"

The audience let out a wild whoop in response.

Boss basked in the moment with a smile, his teeth too-white beneath the dark shadow of his mustache. He reached down and cupped Kali's elbow.

"Get up," he said, his smile never wavering.

Kali struggled to her feet but her legs wobbled. When she leaned against Boss's shoulder for support, he pushed her upright to stand on her own.

"Don't do that," Boss said, his voice pitched low enough for only her to hear. "Don't let anyone see you've been weakened. We have this crowd hooked and we're not letting that go to waste." He paused, then added, "We'll talk about what happened later."

Was he angry? Kali couldn't tell.

Her magic had only slipped like that once. Before the circus. Before Boss had offered to sign her name on the dotted line of Pandemonium's contract. He had known the risk - adding a witch child to his crew. Did he finally regret his decision?

"Smile for the audience," Boss whispered. "You're here to entertain, remember?"

Kali didn't feel like entertaining anyone. She wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until her aching body stopped hurting. But she grimaced anyway in what she hoped was an approximation of a smile.

Boss glanced sideways at her. He tugged the red kerchief from his breast pocket and stuffed it into her palm.

"Get back to the wagon," he said, a little softer this time. "And clean yourself up. Your forehead is bleeding."

Kali touched her temple, self-conscious. She'd been too preoccupied with the burns and the heat to bother with the cut above her eye, let alone remember where it came from in the first place. She pressed the handkerchief to her forehead as she shakily made her way back to the wagon.

Meanwhile, Boss clasped his hands in appreciation of the audience's approval for his circus.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "You have witnessed merely a portion of our witch's magic. Imagine what marvels await your discovery beyond the gates of Pandemonium."

Then Boss stuck two fingers in his mouth and let out a piercing whistle.

Shadows spilled from the cuffs of his sleeves - thin, reedy patches of darkness, hissing with laughter. They raced across the ground, twisting and twining over each other like snakes. Circling in the street, the shadows grew wider in a black, yawning pit of darkness.

Kali crawled into the wagon, ignoring the whole spectacle. When she pulled the door closed, the shadows that settled around her were quiet, soothing. The threads of her magic pulsed with a faint red light. Heatless. Silent.

For now.

In the dark, the pain in her hands only seemed magnified. Pounding away at her thoughts to serve as a reminder that her magic was still alive with a raging appetite.

Outside the wagon, the shadows were climbing. Higher and higher. Stretching into the clouds.

Until they snapped into place.

Between one blink and the next, the shadows solidified into iron. Where the pit had been a moment ago now stood a fence, with skeletal spires slashing at the sky and firm to the touch.

An arching entrance took shape, with looping letters of Pandemonium Circus sparkling in a cluster of stars. Tiny acrobatic figures tumbled up and down the gate, swinging, soaring from one band of iron to the next with the whining groan of metal in motion. Black vines studded with roses twisted up each entrance pillar, pop-pop-popping with a rainbow of iron flowers.

Perched at the top of the gate sat a marionette, nearly as large as a toddler. Crafted from plates of iron with hollow eyes and jointed fingers, it sat suspended by delicate iron strings that disappeared into thin air. It beckoned endlessly, come in, come in.

In the distance, beyond the hush of the ocean, a calliope could be heard, plinking out a waltzing tune. Eerie in its faintness. As if it existed in another world entirely its own.

Boss bowed, gesturing to the audience to enter.

"Let the circus begin."