━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

CHAPTER 20

━━━ ꧁ད ✶ ཌ꧂ ━━━

Ashton took the liberty of flying us close to the ground, above the streets, skillfully avoiding any lights. He trusted that our flight in the darkness would go unnoticed by people. But that thought faded into the background when the electricity cables hanging from the poles began to sway and the streetlamps that were left behind turned off one by one.

The trees whispered together as autumn's dry leaves lifted and spiraled upward. A gust of wind had been unleashed, as intense and ominous as the breath of death approaching.

Sparks jumped from the poles, and Ashton decided to lift us higher. The wave of blackouts overtook us, and we began to catch up with it.

"Are you causing it?" I asked.

"We're being followed," he warned, and I didn't dare look back a second time.

We turned one corner, then another. I recognized the path. We were heading towards the school. But suddenly, Ashton changed direction again.

"There's no way out on this street," I announced.

"I'm not following them either. Would you believe me if I told you the medallion is guiding us in this direction?"

Now, it seemed that the medallion had a mind of its own. But from the basement, it was true that it still glowed brightly. Its light pulsed like an alarmed heart.

"Do you trust what that thing is telling you?" I questioned. Loneliness must have driven him insane.

"Blindly," he replied.

I looked towards the avenue of restaurants and, at the end, past the park, the church with its high walls.

"I think I know where it's taking us," he revealed. And so did I.

We passed by the church. The windows were enormous compared to us.

The view widened to a park, a street, and an abandoned lot, and finally, the old station came into view with its well-known metallic and eerie tones.

"Thomas," I whispered as we approached, feeling a knot in my stomach as I recalled how I had spoken to him earlier. "Will he be trapped like my family?"

"It's possible," he replied.

I dared to glance back. The night appeared normal in this place, but my eyes were witnesses, so I couldn't be sure of what might be hiding in the darkness.

We landed by the circus railway. There were only lamp posts without light.

I stopped squeezing the backpack against my chest and hung it over my shoulder.

Because I felt the need, I sought support from Ashton's arm, and he didn't move when I hugged him.

"Don't ask," I preempted. "Give me a moment."

"Take all the time you need."

I needed to compose myself. My legs were shaking, and the image of Thomas being dragged away still haunted me.

Time passed, and seeing that my problem didn't seem like something that would be resolved soon, in the silence, I thought of asking:

"The Circus of Dreams. Is it related to yours?" I hoped he would cooperate with the information.

He squeezed my arm intertwined with his and patted the back of my hand, as if his purpose was to say, "Calm down. It's over."

He began to walk, guiding me through the pair of derailed carriages.

"Not at all. We're like oil and water," he answered. "In the past, there was quite a competition. Each circus had its magic, and each one was responsible for making it shine. But only a few knew how to unleash its full potential. I remember that, in those days, there was a circus in England; I didn't know its name. But the owner could manipulate people's minds, so they could see and experience wonderful things, just like in their good dreams. And he had a son my age."

"The Circus of Dreams. Mind manipulation, like in dreams... The puppeteer must have been that boy, but since so much time has passed, he grew up," I concluded.

"It seems so," he agreed with desolation.

"He knows about you." I felt the need to take him out of the sad thoughts he was having. "And why do you think he's looking for us? At the fair, he let the medallion return to me."

"I thought about that too, which led me to believe that he used one of them to give life to the puppets. It made sense until I wondered how he could have made the medallion respond to him if only designated people could use it. I doubt my father would have allowed it."

But if the puppeteer had one medallion and Reidar had the other, as Ashton had supposed in the past, we had to recover them to restore everything to normal.

It sounded easier than it was, but we could start with something.

"You see, it's not so difficult to talk about things. You should have started telling me about it earlier." With the hand that was still wrapped around his arm, I lightly tapped his chest, just as he had done moments before.

He stared at me, and thanks to the medallion's glow, I could decipher his expression for the first time in a long while.

His gaze was intense, of intense and pure green. He made me feel transparent and unable to hide anything with such ease.

On his cheek, a muscle twitched, and I wanted to unravel what was going on in his head. He didn't seem angry but captivated and confused at the same time.

He kept looking at me that way, and I didn't want to interrupt whatever was happening. I hoped to discover more about him.

Under my hand, the muscles of his chest tightened, and I snapped out of the trance.

Our eyes, guided by magnets, went to his vest, and I moved away immediately.

I had finally found a way to stand on my feet without his help, but I didn't expect it to be for something embarrassing.

I used to act that way with Thomas because our relationship was incomparable, and we had known each other for a long time. But with Ashton, it was different. We didn't have that level of intimacy.

It had been unconscious on my part, and that made me feel like dying of embarrassment. A wave of heat concentrated on my cheeks, and I turned ninety degrees, facing one of the circus wagons.

It was just as I remembered it, except it was meters behind the one with his father's portrait.

It was very dirty, but I could make out the painted skirt. The lace seemed to bloom at her waist and fluttered like living fire around her thighs.

"I wasn't sure about many things, but it's time for you to know the whole truth," Ashton said from behind me. "Do it. I sense you're curious to know who's hiding under that layer of dirt. To tell you everything, I suppose it's best to start with the reason for my silence."

I took a deep breath. He didn't have to insist, especially because I had given it so much importance.

I scratched at the layer of dirt and had to clear away some vines as well. Immediately, my reflection appeared, but it was impossible. No mirrors were hanging from the containers, nor were they made of any reflective material that would cause that effect.

On the other hand, I hadn't learned to put on makeup yet, and I wouldn't have thought of using such vivid colors as the red on her lips. Nor would I tie my hair with bicolor ribbons. My thing was to use a simple elastic without any grace.

The portrait of that person was physically identical to me, but it was also a very different version.

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