As I climbed the steps to my trailer, my thoughts were a mess of unanswered questions, tangled and stubborn. Still, I felt relief settle over me. The air inside carried the faint scent of my own perfume and the familiar musk of sawdust and paint — the smell of home. At least here, I could wash off the layers of makeup, sweat, and the lingering stares of the crowd.

I had just begun stripping out of my clothes when a voice came from behind me.

“I was a little worried when you didn’t visit my tent, little Nix.”

I froze mid-motion, recognizing her tone instantly. “My investor came,” I said flatly, not bothering to turn toward the sound.

“Ah, yes. Your new investor.”

Of course, she knew. Prophet always knew things she shouldn’t — things no one else could. I didn’t even try to ask how anymore.

“So,” I sighed, “are you here for a reason?”

“I did say I’d cast you another reading, didn’t I?”

“You seem awfully insistent about this reading,” I said, arching a brow toward the sound of her soft, knowing chuckle. “Is there something I should know, Prophet?”

“There are many things you should know,” she said with amusement. “But none that I can simply tell you.”

I snorted. “Of course not. You never tell anyone anything straight, only those stupid riddles. You’re lucky I can make sense of you at all — anyone else would’ve stopped dealing with you by now.”

Either my jab wasn’t sharp enough, or she just didn’t care. “Sit down, girl. I’m going to do your reading.”

I sighed and sank into a seat near her voice. “Alright, fine. But if this one’s the same as the last, I’m kicking you out and never speaking to you again.”

She ignored me completely — as usual — and began her work.

I’d never actually seen what she did during her readings, and everyone who described it to me told a different story. Some said she used cards, others bones, smoke, or mirrors. I’d come to believe her method changed for everyone, the tools bending to the soul she read. All I had were the sounds — and I remembered those vividly.

Whispers layered with the faint scrape of something against wood. The soft clatter of beads or stones. The rhythm of her breathing, measured and low. And then, the words — words that slipped through my ears like dark water, impossible to grasp. They weren’t her riddles; they were older, heavier, something from a place no human or demon tongue should reach.

The air grew thick with it, pressing close around me, humming against my skin. I could almost feel the vibration in my bones before it stopped abruptly. Silence. Then Prophet’s voice returned, calm and sure.

“Your future is hazy,” she said, “but what isn’t hazy is quite clear.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered. “Why don’t you tell me the clear part?”

She chuckled again, the sound like dry silk brushing over stone. “I’d tell you to have patience, but you’ve never known the meaning of the word, little Nix.”

I fell quiet. I knew better than to interrupt when she was in her rhythm.

“A deal is broken,” she said slowly, “but another will be made. If you succeed, you will protect the one you care about. If you fail, they’ll take your place. You’ll have a choice — join the rebellion or stay the obedient little freak you’ve always been. And through it all, three males will be fighting for your attention.”

She stopped then, letting her words settle in the air like dust. I didn’t bother asking her to explain. If I did, she’d just give me another riddle or tell me to wait and see what the path reveals.

“Well,” I said dryly, “it’s better than your last reading. But I seriously doubt three men will be fighting over me. Athris, maybe. But the other two? I don’t see it.”

The fabric of her robes whispered softly as she stood. “I’ll be in my tent if you want to chat. Like we used to.”

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. “I might take you up on that, Prophet. Might even come by so often it starts to annoy you again.”

That earned a genuine laugh — low and genuine. “So we’re friends again, are we now, little Nix?”

I smiled faintly. “If I say yes, will you finally tell me your age? Because I still don’t think you’re old enough to call me little anything.”

No answer. Just the faint rustle of her leaving.

I waited until the soft thud of the door closing echoed through the trailer before I finished stripping. My clothes fell in a heap at my feet as I made my way to the shower, feeling my way by habit — the cool edge of the counter, the smooth wall panel, the click of the faucet under my fingers.

The water roared to life. I tested it with my hand, adjusting the temperature until it was perfect — warm enough to soothe the ache in my muscles but not enough to sting.

When I stepped under the spray, the first breath I took felt like freedom. Warm rivulets slid over my skin, tracing the lines of my body, washing away the grime, the glitter, and the ghost of Athris’s scent clinging to me.

That last part — his scent — made my stomach twist. I tried to brush the thought away.

Once, when we were young, we’d been promised to each other. Not out of love, but necessity. Two abominations, paired together to keep our kind’s embarrassment neatly contained.

Female demons weren’t meant to be born with power like mine — too much for comfort, too much to control. My parents had whispered about me behind closed doors, the same way they whispered about Athris and his family. Half-demon, half-dragon, he was something the world wasn’t ready for.

And so they thought, maybe, if they bound us together, the stain of what we were would be easier to hide.

But stains don’t fade that easily.

The water ran down my face, and I tilted my head back, letting it erase everything for a while — the Prophet’s words, the riddle of my future, the ache of something half-remembered between me and Athris.

For a few fleeting moments, there was only warmth. Only the sound of water and breath. Only me.

His mother had been a demon—beautiful, sharp-tongued, and proud—before the dragons stole her away to ignite a war between their kind. Or at least, that’s what everyone believed. When she returned years later, she wasn’t the same. Her scent carried smoke and storm, her hand held that of a dragon, and at her side walked a child born of both bloodlines. She told the elders that it hadn’t been the dragons who took her—it had been one of their own. A demon elder, hungry for war, had stolen her to spark the chaos that would rid the realm of dragons forever.

Even with her proof, the court didn’t believe her. They called her tainted, a liar, a traitor. My parents were the worst of them. They smiled at her when she passed, polite as always, but behind closed doors, their words dripped like acid. They whispered that she’d gone willingly, that her son was a curse.

That son was Athris.

And even though we’d once been arranged to marry—two abominations bound together for the sake of convenience—it didn’t mean we would ever end up together. I grabbed my washcloth and began to scrub harder, as if I could wash the thought of him off my skin.

It had been so long since I’d thought about my childhood, about the world before I came here at ten years old. The circus had burned away most of those memories, replacing them with the sound of the crowd’s applause and the sting of the ringmaster’s commands. I let the water run down my body, hot and endless, whispering to myself that it was washing away everything—the memories, the fears, the ache that had taken root somewhere deep inside.

When I turned off the water, my fingers were wrinkled and soft. I slipped into the silk nightgown I kept by the shower, the hem brushing over my calves, and ran a towel over my hair. The trailer smelled faintly of sawdust and old perfume, the scent of the circus clinging to everything.

Then I heard his voice.

“Nix, get dressed and come out here.”

I froze mid-step. The ringmaster never asked. He barked, commanded, and punished. This—this sharp, controlled tone—meant he was furious. Usually, he’d have stormed in, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me out himself.

I hesitated even though I was already dressed. Every instinct screamed at me to stay put. But there was no hiding from him—not when he was in this mood. I forced myself to move, one careful step after another, until I was in the main room.

He didn’t say a word. I couldn’t tell where he stood, so I just stood there too, waiting for him to strike or speak.

When he finally did, his voice was low and venomous.

“Your new investor seems to want you to himself,” he said. “Which, as you know, Nix, makes our deal null and void.”

“I know,” I replied quietly. “So you’re going after Hearth?”

“I was thinking of doing just that.” He sounded almost amused. “It would upset my friend to lose his favorite demon to torture, but you, Nix—you’re still the circus’s darling. The crowd adores you. You make me more coin than anyone else here. So I’ll offer you a chance. If you and the twins can craft a new performance that earns me more than what my friend and his partners pay for your time, I’ll spare your brother—for now.”