Dark Circus

Beneath the canvas of the traveling circus, the line between wonder and dread begins to blur. When strangers gather under the dim glow of lanterns and firelight, they find themselves caught in stories older and darker than the show itself, stories of curses that cling to the land, of prophecies whispered in smoke, and of destinies shaped long before they were born.

Appomatix stands unshaken in his crown, master of the pride whose roar steadies the sawdust ring. At his side, Vaidya weaves fire and shadow, her chants feeding both wonder and fear. And from the forest emerges Lazare, a youth half-feral, half-royal, the living echo of Henrik’s final prophecy, a ringmaster born of blood, music, and myth. Together they forge a power both enthralling and dangerous: the crown, the fire, and the voice. But the line between spectacle and fate grows thin, and what is born in the ring may yet consume them all.

A word of caution to decent folk and God-fearing travelers: there walks among us a man not born to honor nor to law, but to spite and cruelty. He is called Douglas Flannery O’Kemp, though most know him simply as the Bastard O’Kemp. He was sired by a planter of ill repute and a servant woman of northern stock, pale as snow and marked by heathen tales. From his first breath he was raised on blows, and from his fifteenth year he carried his father’s scalp to market for coin. Since that day, he has known neither home nor mercy.

A mother’s lie crowns one son and hides another. Seimouir Dunn is laurel-crowned, the golden child marked as the seventh son of prophecy. But Pawlucee, crooked, footless, and forgotten, is the true seventh, scarred by fire yet unbroken.