Chapter Twenty-Four
Aurelia
No flashing cameras. No cheap masks or popcorn in greasy hands. Instead, rows of pristine figures sit in tailored suits and floor-length gowns, every one of them elegant, silent and composed like statues carved from pearl.
Diamonds glitter at throats and cufflinks glint like little knives under the lights.
But their stillness unsettles me. The entire atmosphere tonight is thrumming through me.
As my eyes sweep across the crowd, they catch on someone staring straight at me. That strange man, the one who claimed to be Wrath’s godfather. His eyes are locked on mine, dark and unblinking, like he’s dissecting me from the inside out. I hold his gaze, refusing to flinch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing fear.
Weirdo.
When I first met him, I had the strangest feeling like I knew him, and I’d seen his face somewhere before. Maybe back when I was with my foster family or maybe at Kyro’s.
But the moment he opened his mouth, the connection slipped away. His voice didn’t match whatever memory tried to surface. But to be honest, too much has happened in the last few years and some of it feels like a blur.
When Madame stands alone in the center ring, bathed in red and white light, I turn my focus to her. Her vintage gown is the color of blood, the fabric trailing behind her like spilled wine. She doesn’t move much, she doesn’t need to, her presence fills the tent in an instant.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” She says, her voice curling through the tent like smoke, “welcome toDark Night. Our most sacred tradition. Tonight, fear will not hide in the corners,” she purrs. “It will take center stage. It will speak and it will bleed.”
The crowd stirs, intrigued and now I see a few small smiles.
“You’ve come to witness justice. Raw, undiluted and final.”
“Tonight, the betrayers, the traitors you once trusted, will meet their end beneath our tent.”
Polite clapping follows, but it’s brief and cult-like.
“But don’t mistake this just as vengeance,” Madame continues, her tone deepening. “No, this is something purer. This ispurification of the Shadows. We don’t just punish—wecleanse. We peel back the skin of respect and show the real, twitching truth beneath.”
She raises her arms, slow and elegant.
“Oddity isn’t just a stage. It’s an altar. And inside it, all falsehood burns away. What remains is pain… and clarity. Tonight, death won’t knock quietly. It willdragitself across this stage, screaming. It will wear a face you recognize. And it will not stop until every last gasp is torn from a throat that once begged for mercy.”
My chest tightens as I feel it again—that cold thing crawling beneath my ribs. But the crowd? They’re leaning forward, captivated. It’s starting to become more clearer that this is like a night of vengeance, which makes me interested, given I’m on my own revenge journey, but also horrified by what I’m about to witness.
“You, our honoured guests, have chosen who will suffer tonight,” she says, her demonic smile sharp as broken glass. “And we, the Oddity Cirque, will deliver. Not trickery or an act. But a macabre spectacle. Carnage sculpted into art.”
Madame lowers her voice, like she’s sharing something holy.
“But remember,” she whispers into the mic piece chillingly, “once Dark Night begins… no soul remains untouched by its clutches.”
There’s a few snickers in the audience before she continues.
“We areslayerswrapped in glitter. We are monsters masked in face paints. And this... it’s our sacred ground…”
Her arms stretch out in front of her, and they sweep across the crowd.
“At Oddity, we don’t shy away from madness—we crown it.”
“Here, being twisted is admired, and the broken are free. Insanity isn’t a flaw, it’s a force, a trick of our strength. What the world deems wrong, we worship as right. Because chaos isn’t a curse; it’s a calling. For only the strong dare to lose their minds.”
She glances around the grandstand, taking in each and every face with dark eyes.
“You will witness the unthinkable. Thetrue beauty of horror. A performance unlike any before it, where the line between life and death is nothing but a tightrope… ready to be sliced at any moment.”
She breathes before finishing, dropping her arms.