The red velvet curtains had just fallen. Smoke still curled in the air, thick with sweat, powder, and perfume. Distant applause was fading, like waves retreating from shore.

Livia sat before a cracked mirror, wiping black tears from beneath one eye. Her corset was half-unlaced. Her crown of twisted silver lay discarded on the table, tilted like a tired joke.

Alden stood behind her — not reflected, by design. He never stepped into the mirror’s reach unless he had to.

Alden (casual):
“They adored you tonight.”

Livia (flat):
“They screamed.”

Alden (smirking):
“Same thing, in some circles.”

He stepped closer, brushing a speck of glitter from her shoulder. She didn’t flinch — but her eyes slid toward him.

Livia:
“You didn’t come back here to flatter me. Say what you came to say.”

Alden:
“Greymount is hosting an autumn gala. Aristocrats, landowners, legacy families. One of them is opening a new theatre wing. I’ve arranged for you to attend.”

She didn’t move.

Livia:
“Arranged.”

Alden (gently):
“They’re not just rich. They’re bored. You’ll fascinate them. And once fascinated—”

Livia (cutting in):
“—they’ll want to own me.”

Alden:
“No. They’ll want to sponsor you.”

Livia (turning to face him):
“And if I don’t play nice?”

Alden (with a cold smile):
“Then you remind them why the circus has no cage.”

A beat.

Livia:
“I’ll need a new dress. And a funeral procession for my patience.”

Alden (bowing slightly):
“Done.”

She rose, towering and regal even without her heels.

Livia:
“When do we leave?”

Alden:
“Dawn. We’ll pass through Grimharrow.”

She paused.

Livia:
“Grimharrow… the laughing woods?”

Alden (briskly):
“A local superstition. Fog and ghost stories.”

Her grin widened slowly.

Livia:
“Perfect. Let’s give them a story worth fearing.”

The air outside the circus was thick with evening mist, the kind that clung to the skin like a wet, oppressive blanket. The lights of Laughteria flickered behind them as the carriage wheels began to roll, their destination set for Greymount. The journey had begun.

Alden sat across from Livia in the spacious carriage, looking out through the window at the retreating silhouette of the circus. The world beyond it was a blur of shadow and smoke.

Alden (casually):
“Greymount will be different. You’ll find their world... dull. But it’s a stepping stone.”

Livia (smiling softly):
“A dull stone, you say?”

Alden:
"That's why you must make them feel it—make it sparkle even in the dark."

As they passed through the outer streets of Laughteria, they left the theater district behind. The city’s cheers and whispers were quickly drowned by the sound of the carriage’s creaking wheels.

Alden’s mind seemed far away, plotting for the next move. Livia, however, stared out the window, already thinking ahead to the game she’d soon play in Greymount.

The fog had thickened faster than usual, swirling and twisting unnaturally around them. Just as Livia began to stretch her legs, the driver’s voice cut through the air.

Driver (shaky):
“Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s another route. We don’t have to pass through Grimharrow.”

Alden raised an eyebrow.

Alden:
“And why’s that?”

Driver (pausing, eyes darting nervously):
“Dark stories. I’ve heard them from traders, the locals... strange disappearances, whispers in the fog. People say it’s cursed. That town’s only fit for... those who seek darkness.”

Livia turned to Alden, intrigued.

Livia (with a smirk):
“Isn't it charming when men talk about things they don't understand?”

Alden (leaning forward, voice firm):
“It’s a shortcut. We will take the usual path.”

Driver (hesitant):
“Sir, with all due respect, it’s not just superstition. The last two carriages to take that road—they didn’t come back. No one knows what happened to them.”

Livia’s eyes gleamed with interest as she leaned closer, her voice like silk.

Livia (mockingly):
“Do you hear that, Alden? A perfect setup for a story.”

Alden’s lips twitched slightly, a rare smirk appearing, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

Alden (calmly):
“We’ll keep going. If there’s something worth fearing, I’d rather face it than avoid it.”

The driver remained silent, but the tension was palpable in the air. He cracked the reins, urging the horses forward despite his visible unease. The fog pressed in tighter as the carriage wound its way toward the dreaded Grimharrow.

Livia (softly, almost to herself):
“Let’s see who’s lurking in the dark...”