by N. M. Howell
She had learned a lot of skills living on the streets, and after listening to the endless hours of Lanei’s stories, telling her about her fortune being told by street gypsies and her tarot cards being read, she knew full well that you could say something general and people would pick out the truths that applied to them. It was how magicians worked on stage and how fortune tellers such as this worked in the circus. At least in the human world, that’s how it worked. In the magical realm, she knew there were all sorts of things she didn’t understand, but fortune telling she didn’t think was one of them.
“There is more to you than meets the eye,” the woman said. Her voice echoed in the small space and Rhea swallowed hard. That was the truth. If only this woman knew how far that actually went.
“Much more to you than meets the eye,” the woman repeated, emphasizing the word eye.
Rhea bristled. Perhaps she did know more about her than she was leading on. Did she see through her glamor? Rhea tried not to show her that what she said had affected her at all. It was the reactions and change of patterns that these professionals would read to guide the show. Rhea tried to keep her emotions inside.
“I can see there is much to you,” the woman finally said, her voice lyrical. She hummed a low tune and Rhea listened, allowing herself to become mesmerized by the woman’s song. She almost forgot where she was. Her mind floated. A moment of panic pulled her back to realize at the memory of being entranced in the woods back near the elven village. She would not allow herself to be tricked again.
She forced herself to relax, knowing that her guardians were just on the other side of the tent if anything happened. She did feel safe here, despite the odd knot in her stomach. It was a circus, after all. It was a place of entertainment, not of evil.
“There are many layers to you, my child,” the woman said after she finished her song. Her voice sounded different, taking on an ethereal and airy tone. The sound of her voice echoed in the back of Rhea’s mind, wrapping around her insides and threading in and out of her very being. It felt similar to her own magic, weaving through her very core. She steeled herself against it, trying not to allow it to unnerve her.
“Six of you, I see,” she said, her voice now a whisper in the back of Rhea’s mind. “You are six, but you will be one.”
Rhea paused, her body freezing as the words pressed against her.
The woman’s voice was now strained. She made a choking noise and Rhea’s eyes opened. The woman looked as if she were in pain, trying desperately to catch a breath. Rhea panicked, wanting to help, but before she could push herself up to call for help, the woman relaxed.
“Relax, young one,” she said. “Seeing into the future is no easy task, especially for someone with such a dark future as yours.”
Rhea’s brow furrowed, but she allowed herself to settle back on the pillow.
“What you mean, dark?”
The woman shushed her and waved her hands around the ball. Rhea noticed a light blue energy emanating from the orb now, filling the space around them. The air grew thick, the cold suddenly replaced by heavy heat. The air enveloped her, folding over her skin like a wet blanket. Rhea closed her eyes again and forced herself to relax, reminding herself that this was simply a show.
The woman hummed another tune. This time, Rhea felt it in her bones. She wanted to sing along, though she didn’t know the song. The tune shook her, filling the space around them with its melody. It was invigorating, yet calming at the same time. They sat there together on the cushions for a long moment, the minutes ticking by as Rhea felt the sound of the woman’s voice fill her.
Finally, the woman spoke again.
“There’s great darkness and great evil in your life, this much I see,” the woman spoke slowly, her voice careful. “You must listen to what I have to say. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Rhea sat there, her voice catching in her throat. She swallowed through the dryness in her throat and focused on her own breathing.
“There are six. Six of you right now. I see six that must be one. No, not must. Will be.”
Rhea thought to her five guardians, wondering if this woman knew more than she originally believed. But how could six become one? Rhea didn’t understand. The woman’s words didn’t make sense.
“Six, I see six.” Her voice was trembling, as if she were afraid. “But the six will not be six for long. They will break off, the six will diminish. The dynamic of six will die, life will be difficult. Blackness, so much blackness. So much evil. I can’t…”
Rhea’s eyes opened again and she saw the woman trembling. She wanted to shout out, but she didn’t have a voice. She went to move, but she couldn’t shift her muscles. She was locked in place, her body held tight by the heavy blanket of the air around her. It was as if she were wearing manacles, unable to lift her arms. The woman’s song filled her head, though the woman was no longer singing. Rhea was confused and afraid, and she wanted to get up and run. She wanted to call her guardians for help, but she couldn’t.
“Six. Six,” the woman kept repeating.
“What happens to the six?” Rhea finally managed to whisper, her voice quick and desperate.
The woman cried, tears streaming down her face. She convulsed and rocked back and forth, in some sort of fit. “The six will die.”
Rhea wanted to get out of there. To put distance between herself and this woman. To find answers to these questions. She couldn’t sit here listening any longer. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her hands over her ears and waited for it to be over.
“You’ll be at the center of a massive war, young one. I’m afraid you will not all six survive. There will be death, much death around you. Blood, bodies, they’re everywhere. So much death. Six. And then one. There will only be one that remains at the end of it all.”
“I don’t understand,” Rhea cried. She didn’t want to hear anymore, but she needed the woman to explain. To admit it was all a ruse. To tell her it was a lie. Anything.
“To succeed you must sacrifice the six. Only one can remain.” Her voice echoed around them, heavier than the air, pressing against their skin.
The energy in the room zapped like an electric shock, and Rhea’s eyes flashed open again. She was gazing at the black eyes of the woman in front of her as they both shook. They shared a long moment of silence. Rhea trembled, and the woman looked afraid.
“Leave,” the woman snapped. She pushed herself up, and motioned to the flap the tent. “Leave, now. Get away from here.”
Rhea hurriedly pushed herself up, confused. “What did you mean, six must be one? What happens to them? You said they were going to die…”
The woman shook her head frantically, repeatedly mumbling something to herself under her breath. “Leave, you must leave. You must be safe.”
Rhea stepped forward, placing her hands on the woman’s shoulders. The woman’s mind was elsewhere, her eyes rolling in circles in their sockets, no longer focusing on her.
Rhea shook her shoulders, pleading. “Please, what did you mean by the six will become one? What happens to them? I can’t do this without them. Please.”
The woman was gone, her mind lost to them both. Rhea hoped beyond hope that the words from the woman’s mouth had been nonsense, but something told her that the woman had spoken the truth. The knots in her stomach and the tension in her shoulders told her that everything she said was true. It terrified her.
“The six will not survive,” the woman whispered, her body shaking. She collapsed onto the ground, her hands and knees against the carpet. She pulled a small cushion toward her, cradling it, lying on the floor like a small child holding a treasured toy.
Rhea gazed down at the woman, her eyes wide. “Tell me,” she shouted at her. She felt crazed, angry. She was confused and terrified and needed answers more than anything in the world.
The woman ignored her, shaking.
Rhea huffed and turned to leave the tent, her body trembling uncontrollably. But as she did, the
woman pushed herself up and a sudden stillness filled the room. Their eyes met, and the woman returned to reality for the briefest moment. “Take this,” she whispered, her voice hushed.
Rhea gazed at her, confused. The woman handed her a small folded piece of paper, sliding it between her fingers.
Rhea held it against her chest, imploring the woman with her eyes. “Please, tell me what you meant.”
The woman shook her head and pushed Rhea out of the tent. “I cannot, I cannot. The darkness is too much. Too much darkness. Black. The six will die. The six…”
As Rhea was pushed from the tent, her wide eyes fell on her guardians, who looked puzzled by her expression.
“The six will die,” she whispered to herself, nearly crazed. Did that mean her guardians weren’t going to survive this war? Was she the only one who was going to survive? She swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. But she refused to cry. She refused to let them see her weakness. It couldn’t be true. It was a ruse, a lie. Simple entertainment for the circus.
Rhea had to stick to what she believed in, which involved convincing herself that it was nothing but an act. When she finally calmed, she cursed herself for being so gullible. Her guardians looked at her as if she were a ghost, and she let out a nervous laugh. The fortune teller had seen the six of them together. Obviously, she could guess they were close. But then…
“Have fun?” Keaven asked her, stepping forward with a wide smile spread across his face.
Rhea trembled somewhat and her skin was cold. She looked up at him and offered an unconvincing nod.
Keaven’s eyes went wide. “Are you okay?”
He pulled her away, glancing back curiously to the woman who now sat at the front table again, staring forward. The woman’s eyes had gone from black to red and now glowed a deep gold as she sat there, frozen in place.
Rhea shivered and let Keaven pull her away. But as they moved further from the fortune teller’s tent, the woman’s voice sounded in Rhea’s mind again. “Show it to the six and only the six. Six will be one. The six will die.”
Rhea turned back to the woman. “Please, I need you to explain. I can’t leave without knowing.” Her guardians looked at her like she was crazy, but she waved them off, stepping back toward the fortune teller.
“In the end, there will only be one,” the woman said, out loud this time.
Her guardians gazed at the woman with wide eyes, their expressions curious. Roan nudged Rhea with his shoulder, pulling her attention back to him.
“You okay?” he asked her.
She shook herself, nodding. “Yeah, fine.”
“What did she say?” Keaven asked her. “Anything good? You look kinda spooked.”
Rhea shrugged. She waited until they were far enough away from the woman to speak clearly without being overheard. “Oh, you know, just the typical. We’re going to be rich and all that.”
Arry laughed, skipping around her. “I like the sound of that. Money money money,” he sang to a strange tune she had never heard before. At least he was having a good time.
Rhea led them to the far side of the tent, as far away from the woman as they could get while staying within the main circus area. Her mind echoed with the woman’s voice. Only one can remain.
What did that mean? The idea of her guardians being sacrificed in this war made her feel sick to her stomach. There was no way she would allow that to happen. If the woman was right, if she could in fact see the future, then Rhea would do everything in her power to make sure they all survived. That was the point of her journey, anyway, wasn’t it? To make sure this world returned to peace so no more people died. She couldn’t lose any more lives. Especially her guardians. She couldn’t live with herself.
“You look like you’re lost in your own mind,” Arry said, shaking her shoulder lightly, pulling her from her daze.
Keaven grinned. “Having a nice chat with yourself, there?”
“Let’s go over here,” Grayson suggested, noticing her distress and distracting them from their teasing as they approached the far end of the tent. The massive space cleared as everyone made their way to the show in the arena next door.
Rhea sat down on a bench, running her hands through her hair. She sucked in a slow breath and let it out, trying to calm herself. She closed her eyes and stretched her neck, trying to think of anything but the woman’s words.
A soft jingle sounded from a stand next to her, selling something that resembled pretzels. She breathed in the salty smell of the food and let it consume her. It took a few minutes, but she finally calmed.
When she opened her eyes, she forced a smile on her face.
“She gave this to me,” she said, staring at the small folded piece of paper in her outstretched hand. It was wrapped in a gold leaf, tied with string and stamped with deep purple wax. There was an unfamiliar symbol on it, a six-pointed star with a crown in the middle.
“What does it say?” Grayson asked. He knelt in front of her, his hands on her knees. He looked into her eyes, imploring. His expression was worried, his brow creased.
She offered him a small smile, trying to calm the worried look on his face. “I’m fine, honest.”
She glanced down at the paper in her hand and pulled off the string. She held it up for all to see. Her arms trembled and she had the sudden urge to escape.
“Let’s get out of here,” she said suddenly, before unsealing the wax. “We can find somewhere else to stay for the night.”
Her guardians looked taken aback at her sudden change in mood.
“You sure everything is okay?” Keaven asked, glancing around them. He looked disappointed. He wanted to stay for the show.
Rhea nodded. “Yes, but I have a headache. If you don’t mind, do you think we can go find another place to rest?”
Five worried pairs of eyes looked back at her, but they all finally nodded their agreement.
Grayson pushed himself up, standing close. “Of course we can leave.”
“What does it say?” Arry nudged her, sitting next to her on the bench and pulling himself close. He was the most curious of the bunch, and she could tell he was desperate to know what was in the paper.
She fingered the wax; it was still warm. “Let’s leave first, and I’ll open it later.”
Rhea tucked the note in her pocket and stood, and her guardians led her out of the tent and into the crisp night air.
15
Grayson and Taelor went to check the horses, leaving Rhea, Arry, Keaven, and Roan standing outside the entrance to the circus tent, waiting.
Rhea felt much better now that she was out in the fresh air. She allowed her head to fall back as she gazed up at the stars. They were bright, not a cloud in the sky. She shivered, tugging her sweater tightly around herself.
Roan stepped up and wrapped his arm around her, warming her with his heat. She smiled up at him, and he looked content with his sleepy grin.
“So what happened in there?” he asked her. She was about to explain, keeping most of the actual fortune a secret, of course, but Grayson and Taelor returned right away, distracting her.
Rhea turned to them, blinking. “Where are the horses?”
Grayson was scowling and Taelor didn’t look impressed. “Apparently, they’ve put them in the far stables, on the other side of the circus grounds. We’ll have to go collect them from there,” he said.
Rhea raised her eyebrow. “Okay, that’s fine. Which way?”
Taelor pointed and led the way down the winding path. He led them around the tent, toward a small dirt road covered in twinkling lights. Rhea hadn’t noticed before how far the circus grounds went. The massive tent was only the entrance and there was much more to it than she had originally expected. It must have taken them ages to set up.
Now that the sun had set and the grounds were illuminated by twinkling lights, she could see just how extensive the circus was. Small tents littered the ground outside and intertwining paths circled them, complete with attractions and food stands s
cattered on either side of the paths. Large strings of lights coiled their way around the sprawling grounds, covering the paths with shimmering, star-like lighting. It felt less chaotic than inside, yet still buzzed with the unique energy that had her feeling revitalized. Rhea was happier being outside and didn’t mind wandering the path so long as she didn’t have to go back into the large tent where the fortune teller was.
Rhea’s hand found the small paper in her pocket as they walked, and her fingers traced along its rough edge. They passed under two fire breathers who tossed a band of fire back and forth across the path above them, each catching it in his mouth and tossing it back across to his companion in turn. Rhea’s eyes widened and she passed under the flames, the heat extraordinary against her skin as it nearly skimmed her ear.
Their pace slowed as they passed a band of musicians. A small stage sat adjacent to the path as it curved and wound around a large spindly tree. The stage was lit by a purple orb floating above them, which cast beautiful shadows on the ground as revelers danced and swayed to the music. An elf, a pixie, two faeries, and a giant behind them all played instruments and sang, the melody beautiful and their beat soft as the music echoed in the breeze. Rhea stopped to watch, allowing the strange music to consume her.
The melody reminded her of something, like a distant, forgotten memory. Was it from her years in the human realm, or from growing up as a child? She closed her eyes and let the music fill her ears. It reminded her of something her mother would sing to her, her soothing lullabies that she hummed every night as Rhea fell asleep. It filled her with warmth, with happiness. It almost brought her back to when she was a child, and her memories now flooded her mind.
She began to sway back and forth, visions of her mother flashing before her. Her happiness suddenly turned to sadness as she realized the images were merely memories and not reality. The music had her in a trance, but her mind fought the music. After what happened in the forest, her own mental defenses had her doubting the truth of beautiful images.
