Christi sleeps on the festival bench, she groggily wakes up to Alex grinning at her. She rubs her eyes.

“Rise and shine sleepyhead, jeez you sure do snore, you had the whole place looking at ya. Here I was thinking the old man was bad” he snidely says.

“Shut up, you’re so annoying” she snaps back.

Alex feigns a gasp, “I’m shocked, no snarky comeback? Did sleeping beauty not get enough rest?”

Christi sticks her tongue out at him mockingly and blows a raspberry, Alex laughs.

“You know sometimes I forget you are just a kid, I remember when Ratchet first brought you in, all covered in dirt and you were a scrawny kid at that. You used to be so nice and quiet back then ya know?”.

“And you used to be less annoying back then ya know?” Alex places his hands on his heart and pretends like he’s just been stabbed, he lets out a grunt.

“Oh you wound me so! I don’t think my fragile little heart can take much more.”

They both smile at each other and laugh candidly. Alex stands up and turns to Christi, his face is devoid of colour now.

“Well that’s enough reminiscing for one day, eh Christi?”

A bright light blinds Christi, she’s no longer sitting on the bench but standing in the middle of a large circular vivid light. Alex is nowhere to be seen. Beyond the circle nothing but a theatre of darkness is found. Christi looks around, she hears people screaming and crying out for help.

“Why didn’t you help me?” a woman’s voice rings out.

Stepping out from the darkness, a woman with two of her limbs severed and torn off stands in front of Christi.

“You just watched me die, why didn’t you help?! Why didn’t you?!” her cries are cut short when a tendril, like a Vaudeville hook drags her off the stage and back into the sinister black veil.

Christi falls back, she starts hyperventilating, she hears a dripping sound, she turns to her left not wanting to look but unable to command her body to resist. Her left arm is missing, only a bloody stump remains. The light suddenly dims red and the ground beneath her is now sticky and wet. She lifts her right hand up only to see a hand caked in blood.

She hears a ticking noise, quickening by the second, another flash, large symbols and glyphs flicker brilliantly for a moment. A giant mechanical spider looms over her. A cluster of cogs, gears and rusted shards hissing fits of steam, all cluttered together in the shape of this cruel metallic arachnid.

She looks around, the crushed corpses beneath the clocktower rubble, the vociferous screams of those being trampled by the first mechanical monster, flames ignite around her and soar higher. The spider steps through the wall of fire, roars loudly, brandishes its jagged tendril and motions violently to impale Christi. She winces, closes her eyes and lets out a scream.

She wakes up in a cold sweat, her breath is ragged and shaky. She glances at her left arm, a bronze mechanical arm consisting of a rudimentary structure of cogs and gears clicking and clacking in tandem, much like the model she admired at a gear venue in her youth. She stares at it for a couple of seconds before sighing, wiping the sweat from her forehead and brow, rises out of bed and forces open the rigid wooden shutters to her room.

Light beams through and she gazes out onto the small lively town of Barakat, the streets are jam packed with vibrant parasols and open air cubic clumps of stalls, it was Friday, Barakat’s weekly designated market day and the streets were bustling with merchants and customers alike. Fresh fruit and vegetables garnished the wares and trinkets on display, this was a simple market town. A nice change of pace from the urban jungles they often visited.

Christi leans out her window and breathes the morning air in before retreating back into her room to get fully dressed. She rifles through her carrier bag, wrestles out a black shirt and trousers and lays them on her bed. She enters the bathroom, runs the tap and splashes some cold water onto her face. She observes her round youthful face, baby blue eyes peek out beneath stands of shoulder length murky green hair.

She bites her lips and ties her hair into a high ponytail before re-entering her room. She buttons her shirt up, pulls her trousers up and grabs her leather fasteners from the hook on the edge of the bed. She tightens them, grabs her leather knee high boots and pulls them up. She then grabs a grey short cloak and wraps it over her shoulders and torso.

She exits her room and descends downstairs, strolling over to her smartly dressed companion Sam enjoying his breakfast. A dark handlebar moustache perched above his lips, he sported a black top hat fashioned with a raven feather atop the flat crown.

If Christi had to describe Sam’s appearance in a simple manner she could do so in two words; Victorian Aristocrat. Christi plops herself down on the chair in front of the man, he looks up and smiles widely.

“Ah Christi! How is the little miss on this lovely morning? Did you get much sleep?” he chirps enthusiastically.

Christi folds her arms, slouches back and sits in silence. Sam sighs,

“Still as quiet as ever I see, it’s hard to believe you’re the same girl I met four years ago at the festival exhibition in Chrodrift”.

This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Sam pushes a plate of food towards Christi.

“Go on eat, you have to keep your strength up, you’re still a growing girl after all.”

Christi stares at Sam, remaining silent, Sam sighs and rescinds the plate. He begins indulging in the platter of food, he picks and dissects his food neatly with his fork and knife like a surgeon.

“Well then let’s get down to business I suppose, Master Piotr wishes to see you, he has an matter of importance he wishes to discuss with you. He’s currently at the exhibition booth in the town centre attending to business of course.”

No sooner had he finished his sentence did Christi rise out of her chair and taking off, Sam watched her leave.

“Be careful little miss!” he shouted after her, Christi turns and nods. Sam waves down the nearest waitress and smiles gleefully.

“Pardon me but could I bother you for a second helping of that exquisite lunch plate.”

Christi steps outside, pushing her way through a sea of people talking, chatting, trading and enjoying their carefree quaint life. A flock of small giddy children brush past her nonchalantly, not a care in the world. She spots a little boy sitting alone on a door step messing around with an assortment of cogs, gears and keys, she stares at him for a moment remembering her time with Ratchet and Alex as a young child.

The child notices her stares and waves at her whilst smiling, she waves back with her left mechanical arm, her mind flashes back to the spider’s piercing scream. She clutches at her head and begins hyperventilating, the floor starts to spin hypnotically, the crowds begin to look like colourful blurs. Her ears ring at a constant pitch. An old man approaches her.

“Whoa there miss are you ok?” extending a helpful hand, “you’re alright now, here follow me I have a stall nearby where you can catch your breath.”

He leads her to a stall overflowing with flowers of all colours, pink, blue, red, whatever you wanted. He pulls over a wooden stool and sits her down.

“You can rest here a moment miss, these crowds can be awfully suffocating,” his voice begins to fade away.

Like an echo it reverberates again and again until the ringing is all Christi is left with. She looks up at him and sees Ratchet the man who raised her standing there engulfed completely in flames.

The old man is concerned, he reaches out to her.

“What’s wrong? You don’t look too-”

Christi slaps away his hand and sprints off slipping through the crowds of people.

“I was only trying to help” the old man sighs.

Christi ducks into a nearby lone alleyway, her breath is ragged and quick. She slides against the damp wall and pulls her knees to her chest. After a few minutes in this position her breath begins to slowly regulate, she stares at her mechanical arm, twitches her fingers, makes a fist and opens it once more.

A small ember burns in the palm of her hand, she recalls the festival and her brother Alex doing the same. She remembers that faithful day four years ago that robbed her of her family, she was all alone now. Tears well up in her eyes before she wipes them away, she extinguishes the flame and sits up. She sighs loudly and once again sets off to pursue her original objective, finding Piotr.

Piotr is as always, notoriously easy to spot, he sticks out like a sore thumb, though a lot of this attention is due to the fact he wears a clock which encloses his whole head like a helmet.

Christi makes her way over to him, she can already hear him from ten metres away, the usual loud and exuberant sales pitch as always paired with complaints of false accusations. He is talking to an amputee missing an arm similar to Christi.

“My good man I assure you my product functions exactly as I described!” he protests loudly.

The amputee scratches his head, “I don’t know, seems like a load of horse shit to me, kind of stuff that’s make believe ya get me?”.

Piotr reels back stunned at this man’s comments.

“Make believe?! My good man what do you take me for? Some underhanded thief or a sleazy con man?! I am the furthest thing from such devious titles. I am an entrepreneur and a honest one at that, there is no greater pleasure in this world than faithfully serving my clientele. So I ask you again- Oh Christi! Christi my dear!”

Piotr begins frantically waving at Christi as she approaches. “Why what marvellous timing! Christi here is my protégé and wouldn’t you know it a practitioner of my very product."

Piotr gestures to Christi to perform her usual party trick. “Christi dear if you would be so generous to treat this man to a demonstration of what my product can offer."

Christi rolls her eyes and creates a small flame before enlarging it and whipping the flame around her arm, tightening the flame like a constricted thin snake. The amputee stares in disbelief before returning to Piotr with a disapproving look.

“Hold on a minute, couldn’t you have just told this chick to use her own magic to create that flame.” Piotr is prepared for this of course.

“Why how astute, well how about this we’ll have you test the arm yourself, that way you can determine yourself whether I am deceiving you or not”.

Piotr offers the man a mechanical arm identical to Christi’s, he reluctantly fits it to his right stub. After some slight adjustments it fits perfectly.

“Feels a bit weird, alright what now?” he asks Piotr.

“Now sir close your eyes and picture a small ember in the palm of your hand. The man looks at Piotr confused.

“Huh?! Do ya think I’m stupid or wha?!” Piotr remains calm.

“Please sir if you would comply for a moment.” The man relents.

“Alright fine whatever.” He closes his eyes and sure enough after a moment a small ember fizzes to life in the palm of his new hand.

He opens his eyes and is justifiably taken aback.

“What? But.. how? I have close to no magic at all… how is something like that?”

Piotr chuckles lightly, always the same reaction. He shoots a look at Piotr.

“Hang on a minute ere how come I can’t do what that chick just did, ain’t I supposed to be able to do the same thing?”

Piotr chuckles.

“As I mentioned earlier my good man Christi here is a practitioner of this product, she has been honing her magical craft for four years now. I have records and proof of Christi’s progress if you require further validation.”

Piotr unpacks a leatherback journal and showcases the man documentation and photographic evidence of Christi’s magic evolution.

“Have your doubts been cleared now?” he remarks.

“Ha! This is something alright, I’ll be sure to tell my buddies all about this.”

“Oh please do sir, the more the merrier after all.” Piotr says candidly.

After some discussion on payment the amputee leaves with his newly acquired product, he waves goodbye to Piotr and Christi.

“Well, another successful transaction Christi my dear, my gratitude once again for aiding with the showing, I’ll be sure to treat you to-“

A voice cuts him off.

“Excuse me are you by any chance?”

Piotr and Christi both spin around in unison. Christi cannot believe what she’s seeing, a large burly man with a wild grey beard stands before her. A tear streams down the side of disbelief plastered across his face.

“I... Christi is that you?”