The next morning,

Azter and Lucille sat together on the edge of the flying circus, their legs dangling over the earth far below. The morning sun bathed the floating platform in golden light, but it did little to ease the unease settling in Azter’s chest. He finished recounting everything he’d overheard the night before, his voice low and steady.

Lucille’s brow furrowed as she absorbed the details. “The Cavernous Maw… Azter, isn’t that the place where people go missing?”

He nodded, his expression grim. “That’s the one. And now the ringmaster thinks it’s the perfect place to hold a show.”

She hugged her knees, her purple eyes flickering black. “This isn’t just about putting on a show. Five million Aurels… what kind of deal did he make?”

Azter shook his head. “I couldn’t hear everything, but whatever it is, it’s bad. The Maw isn’t just dangerous—it’s cursed. I don’t think even the ringmaster fully understands what he’s getting us into.”

Before Lucille could respond, a loud chime resounded through the circus. Signaling the ringmaster's call.

“Attention, my loyal performers! Gather round!”

Azter and Lucille exchanged a wary glance before shifting to a better vantage point. From their perch, they could see the performers gathering below, forming a loose circle around the ringmaster. He stood on a raised platform, his silver cane glinting in the sunlight.

“I have an important announcement regarding our next performance,” he declared, his tone booming with practiced authority. “Due to… unforeseen circumstances, we will not be performing in the royal capital.”

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“Instead,” he continued with a theatrical flourish, “we will be holding our show at the Cavernous Maw!”

The crowd’s reaction was immediate. Gasps, shouts of disbelief, and outright protests erupted.

“That’s madness!” one acrobat shouted. “The Maw is a death trap!”

“This can’t be serious!” another performer cried.

A few of the braver ones stepped forward. “We’re not going! Contracts or not, we’re leaving!”

The ringmaster’s smile didn’t falter. Instead, he spread his arms in a placating gesture. “Of course, you are free to leave.” His voice turned cold, cutting through the noise like a blade. “But know this: if you do, you leave with nothing. Not a coin, not a scrap of clothing. Everything you have belongs to the circus. Walk away, and you walk into the wilderness with empty hands, no clothes, and empty stomachs.”

The threat hung in the air like a noose. The rebellious performers faltered, their resolve crumbling under the weight of the ringmaster’s words.

“But for those who stay,” he added, his tone softening to a conspiratorial whisper, “you will be part of something extraordinary. The greatest show this realm—or any other—has ever seen. And for those who perform the best…” He paused for dramatic effect, his grin widening. “You'll have a chance to receive a year's worth of payment and the freedom to cancel your contract!”

The murmurs shifted. Doubts lingered, but the promise of glory—and fear of destitution—began to sway the crowd.

Azter’s hands balled into fists as he watched. “He’s manipulating them. This isn’t about a show; it’s about his greed.”

Lucille nodded, her expression unreadable. “But what can we do? We’re not like the others, Azter. We can’t just leave either.”

The crowd began to disperse, the performers returning to their training with renewed, if hesitant, energy. The ringmaster stood alone for a moment, a satisfied smirk on his face, before heading back to his quarters.

Azter and Lucille slipped away to their usual corner, the familiar worn-down rags and broken wooden crates offering a semblance of safety.

“We need to figure out our next steps,” Azter said, his voice low. “If this show actually happens, I don't think we'll make it.”

Lucille sat beside him, her hands resting lightly on her lap. “Do you think he’ll follow through with it?”

“Of course he will,” Azter replied bitterly. “He only cares about money and fame. As long as the Maw doesn’t swallow him whole and he makes a single Aurel of profit, he’ll call it a success.”

Lucille was quiet for a moment, her gaze distant. “Then we need to do something.”

The two sat in silence, their thoughts racing as they tried to piece together a way to navigate the storm that was coming.

Azter and Lucille huddled together in their corner, their whispered voices blending into the ambient noise of the circus. They were sketching out ideas for how to survive—or even escape—this madness.

“We can’t just run,” Azter said, glancing toward the performers practicing nearby. “The ringmaster has too much control over us and these damn collars. And even if we do, neither of us know anything about survival.”

“Then we need to know more about this new act,” Lucille suggested, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes. “If we can figure out what he’s planning, maybe we can avoid the worst of it.”

Azter nodded, appreciating her pragmatism. “Agreed. We’ll need to keep our heads down and stay out of sight while we—”

Their conversation was interrupted by the sight of a flying carrier descending toward the circus grounds. Its massive metal frame gleamed in the sunlight, the sound of its engines thrumming loudly.

The ringmaster stood at the forefront, flanked by a few performers, as the carrier released several large crates onto the ground. Each crate was carefully sealed, and a few had strange glowing symbols scrawled across their sides with one even being a large cage covered by a tarp.

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“Move these to the back,” the ringmaster barked, pointing toward a secluded part of the circus. “Handle them with care. These are for tomorrow's show.”

The nearby performers obeyed without question, hauling the crates away under the ringmaster’s watchful eye. Azter and Lucille exchanged a glance.

“That’s suspicious,” Azter muttered.

“Very, the ringmaster doesn't use outside equipment. He hates how much they cost.” Lucille agreed.

"Then we got to check it out," Azter said.

They waited until the coast was clear, then slipped through and away from the main area, moving stealthily toward the secluded storage space. After weaving through tents and equipment, they reached the area where the crates had been deposited.

Making sure there was no one around, Azter carefully pried open the lid of one of the crates, his muscles tensing as he lifted it just enough to peek inside. His eyebrow raised in confusion.

“It’s… rope,” he said softly.

"That bastard already has tons of rope. Why did he need more from outside," he added.

Lucille leaned over to look. “That’s not normal rope,” she whispered. The fibers glistened unnaturally, and when Azter ran a finger over them, they felt slick and oily.

“The rope is slippery and slimy,” Azter murmured. “Imagine the tightrope walker using this. One wrong step…”

Cautious, they moved to another crate and found heavy weights and other large objects, but these were far from ordinary. Each one was designed to be ignited, flames licking at the edges of their polished surfaces. Not to mention they were also spiked.

“These are for the strongman,” Lucille said, her voice trembling. “But why make it so dangerous? This could kill him!”

They rushed through different crates and noticed the same formula, much more dangerous versions of the equipment the different acts used.

Azter’s jaw clenched. “This whole show is designed to be dangerous. This is that bastard's whole plan.”

Their exploration came to a halt when they reached a large cage covered by a thick tarp. The label on the side read “Unkillable Warrior.”

Azter hesitated, then carefully lifted the tarp just enough to see inside. His heart nearly stopped.

A monstrous creature lay curled in the cage, its body a grotesque amalgamation of different beasts. It had the head of a lion, the wings of a bat, and the tail of a serpent. Even in its slumber, its presence exuded menace.

“What is that?” Lucille whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I don't know but—” Azter said, his voice hollow. His instinctual fear gripped him, and a chilling realization hit him. “This… this is what I’m supposed to face tomorrow.”

They backed away from the cage, their breaths shaky. They turned to another crate, this one marked with a warning symbol. When they opened it, they found a tall, iron contraption with spikes lining its interior.

Lucille gasped softly. “An Iron Maiden,” she said.

Azter frowned. “What’s that?”

“It’s a torture device,” she explained, her voice unsteady. “They used to trap people inside and close it, letting the spikes impale them.”

"How'd you know all that," Azter asked.

"When I read through some of the ringmaster documents."

"When the hell did you get the chance to do that?"

"It was a while back and I was alone so..."

"I never left you alone, once. You only follow me around, eat, and sleep."

"Hey! I don't do only that. I—"

Before they could continue, the sound of approaching footsteps sent their hearts racing. They quickly hid behind a stack of crates, their breaths shallow.

From their hiding spot, they watched as the ringmaster entered with his right-hand man, the clown.

“Do you understand the risks of these contraptions, boss?” the clown asked, his tone urgent. “They’re too dangerous. If anything goes wrong, it could destroy the entire circus.”

The ringmaster waved him off with a laugh. “You worry too much. The danger is exactly what makes a show unforgettable. The audience will eat it up.”

“But the performers—”

“Are negligible,” the ringmaster said coldly. “But a show like this? It’ll make me immortal. Plus after the money we make from this, we can retire peacefully”

Azter and Lucille exchanged a glance, their fear deepening. The ringmaster didn't care if anyone survived after this, he was planning for this to be his last show.

The ringmaster pulled back the tarp with a theatrical flourish, revealing the sleeping chimera fully. The creature's massive frame twitched slightly as it dreamed, its muscles rippling under its patchwork hide of fur, scales, and leathery wings. Its snake-like tail coiled and uncoiled lazily, the faint glow of its scales catching the dim light.

"Magnificent, isn’t it?" the ringmaster said, his voice tinged with giddy admiration. "I can’t believe they actually gave me one of these for the act."

His right-hand man’s face went pale as he stepped closer to the cage. "This… this thing is real? What are you planning to do with a manticore?"

The ringmaster shot him a sly grin. "Isn’t it obvious? This beauty will star in the Unkillable Warrior act."

The right-hand man’s eyes widened in horror. "You’re throwing that thing at the boy? Are you insane? That’s—"

"Not just any Manticore" the ringmaster interrupted, pointing at the creature's neck, where a strange metallic collar adorned with glowing runes was fastened. "This is a Predatyr."

The right-hand man staggered back as though he’d been struck. "A… a Predatyr? Are you trying to get us all killed? Those things are living destruction!"

"Relax," the ringmaster said, waving a dismissive hand. "The collar lets me control it. They assured me it’s foolproof. Besides," he added with a smirk, "what do I care about the boy? He’s expendable, just like the rest of them. If he dies, it’ll only make the act more memorable. Think of the headlines, The Unkillable Warrior Bested By A Predatyr! "

"But what about the performers? The audience? Predatyrs are dangerous" the right-hand man pressed.

"The audience loves danger," the ringmaster replied smoothly. "And as for the performers… well, they’ll do their jobs. Or they won’t. Either way, the show goes on."

The right-hand man’s gaze shifted to the Iron Maiden standing ominously nearby. "And that? Are you really planning to…?"

The ringmaster’s expression turned cold. "The girl? She’s a slave, the same as the boy. If she dies, so what? It’ll be a spectacle. Imagine the crowd’s reaction to watching a Witch burned and impaled in the same breath. They’ll pay top dollar for that kind of drama."

"But she’s just a child—"

"Don’t grow soft on me now, Carlion." the ringmaster snapped. "You helped me buy them in the first place. Also, this isn’t about them. It’s about me. My name will be written in the history books after this show. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave. Though I doubt you’ll find anyone else willing to accept you, especially with your record."

The right-hand man fell silent, his jaw tightening.

"Good," the ringmaster said, his grin returning. "Now, let’s get everything ready. We’ve got a lot of work to do before the big day."

The two men turned and walked away, their voices fading into the distance.

Azter and Lucille remained hidden until the area was silent again. Then, with hearts pounding, they emerged from their hiding spot.

Lucille’s face was pale, her hands trembling. "What’s a Predatyr?" she asked in a shaky whisper.

Azter shook his head. "I don’t know. But if it’s bad enough to scare the clown like that…" He trailed off, his stomach knotting.

"We’re going to die," Lucille said, her voice breaking.

Azter clenched his fist, his other hand on her shoulder "No. We won’t. Take a deep breath and we’ll find a way out of this."

Lucille took a deep breath, her trembling slowing as determination flickered in her eyes. She glanced at him, her expression hardening. "We have to do something."

Azter nodded. "We will." Then a thought surfaced in his mind.

"If we sabotage the equipment, the show won't be able to go on."

Lucille's eyes brightened as she looked at all the crates around them.

The two kids locked eyes, and the silence that stretched between them was heavy with understanding. Slowly, they began whispering to each other, their words too quiet and fast to catch. Whatever they were planning, it was clear they were laying the groundwork for something they hoped would save their lives.