The Journey, Book 3: Chapter 19 - Previous Chapter
Chapter 20: Elvina
Elvina stood on the ramparts of Edena, her hands resting against the cool stone as she overlooked the main entrance to the city. Below, the gates stood open beneath heavy guard, merchants filtering in and out beneath watchful eyes.
Edena was no longer the city it had been.
Guards moved with purpose now, not idle conversation. Patrols walked in disciplined pairs along the walls. Archers remained in the towers, scanning the horizon even in daylight. Beyond the gates, in the outer fields, soldiers trained in formation—shields locking, breaking, reforming under shouted commands.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was no longer soft.
Since her father’s death, Elvina had stripped away complacency piece by piece. Training had doubled. Rotations tightened. Civilians drilled for emergencies. Supplies counted, then counted again.
Her gaze drifted, as it always did, toward the far horizon.
The Black Tower stood there, distant but unmistakable. A jagged spike against the sky, wrapped in thick, unmoving storm clouds. It didn’t belong to the world around it. It pressed against it.
Elvina’s expression tightened.
She never looked at it for long.
That was where the man lived who had murdered her father.
And her uncle.
A sharp, familiar whistle cut through the air.
Without turning, Elvina lifted her arm.
A swallow dropped from the sky and landed lightly on her bracer, wings folding neatly at its sides.
“Meera,” Elvina said quietly.
The bird chirped once.
Then the air shimmered.
Feathers seemed to dissolve into light, folding inward as the small form stretched and shifted. In the space of a breath, the swallow was gone—replaced by the petite figure of an elf woman stepping barefoot onto the stone.
Meera straightened, brushing her long brown hair back over the shoulder of her naked body as it fell down her back. She didn’t seem bothered by her state in the slightest. She never was.
Elvina didn’t react either. She simply unfastened her cloak and handed it over.
“You could at least aim for somewhere with less wind,” Elvina said.
Meera smirked faintly as she took the cloak and wrapped it loosely around herself. “And miss the dramatic entrance? Never.”
Elvina allowed the smallest hint of a smile—but it faded quickly.
“You didn’t come for theatrics.”
Meera shook her head, stepping up beside her on the rampart. Her expression shifted, eyes scanning the land beyond the walls.
“There’s a travelling circus,” she said.
Elvina frowned slightly. “That’s hardly unusual.”
“No,” Meera agreed. “It isn’t.”
She leaned her forearms against the stone, staring out at the distant road.
“They’ve got everything you’d expect. Performers, animals, wagons painted bright enough to be seen from a mile away. Music, laughter… even from a distance.”
Elvina said nothing, waiting.
“They look normal,” Meera continued. “I watched them for two days. People gathering when they pass through smaller villages. Children running after them. No one afraid. No one forced.”
Elvina turned her head slightly. “But you are.”
Meera hesitated.
“…Yes.”
Elvina studied her now.
“Why?”
Meera shook her head, a small, frustrated movement. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
She exhaled slowly. “There’s nothing I can point to. No hidden wagons. No cages. No soldiers pretending to be something else. I looked for all of that.”
“And found nothing.”
“Nothing,” Meera said. “Everything is exactly what it should be.”
The wind moved across the ramparts, catching the edge of the cloak around her.
“That’s what’s wrong,” she added quietly.
Elvina’s gaze drifted back to the horizon.
The Black Tower loomed far beyond sight, but it felt closer now.
“When will they arrive?” Elvina asked.
“About a week,” Meera said. “Maybe less if they pick up pace.”
Below them, the city carried on—unaware. Traders calling out prices. Children weaving through the crowds. Life continuing as if the world beyond the walls wasn’t shifting.
Elvina watched it for a long moment.
“A circus brings crowds,” she said. “Distraction. Noise. Open gates.”
Meera nodded faintly. “Exactly.”
Elvina was quiet for a moment, then made her decision.
“We let them come.”
Meera glanced at her. “You’re sure?”
Elvina’s expression hardened—not reckless, not naive, but deliberate.
“If there’s something wrong,” she said, “I’d rather see it inside my walls than wonder about it outside them.”
She turned slightly, already thinking ahead.
“I’ll have eyes on them from the moment they’re within sight. Quietly. No panic. No accusations.”
Meera gave a small nod. “And if it’s nothing?”
Elvina looked out over Edena once more.
“Then the people get a show,” she said.
A pause.
“And if it isn’t…”
Her voice didn’t rise, but it carried a quiet certainty.
“…then we’ll be ready.”
Elvina didn’t leave the ramparts immediately after Meera finished speaking. Instead, she watched the training fields below until the morning drills ended and the soldiers began rotating duties.
“Come on,” Elvina said. “If a circus is coming to my city and you have a bad feeling about it, then I want Torti watching before they even reach the gates.”
Meera smiled faintly. “Torti will love that. Spying, warm roofs, and kitchen scraps.”
“And pretending to be lazy while listening to everything,” Elvina said.
They made their way down from the walls and into the city. Edena’s streets were alive with movement — bakers, smiths, cloth merchants, children running messages, soldiers moving through the crowds in pairs. The city felt alert now, like a creature that no longer slept too deeply.
They turned down a narrower street, then another, until the stone roads became uneven and the buildings leaned closer together. Elvina stopped outside a sun-warmed courtyard where several cats lay sprawled across the stones, soaking in the heat.
Most of them didn’t move when Elvina and Meera entered.
One did.
A tortoiseshell cat lifted its head slowly, green eyes sharp and far too intelligent for an ordinary animal. The cat stretched — slowly, deliberately — then hopped down from the wall and walked toward them with the unhurried confidence of something that knew it belonged wherever it stood.
“Torti,” Elvina said.
The cat sat in front of her, tail curling neatly around its paws.
“You have work,” Elvina said.
Torti blinked once.
Meera crouched down slightly. “Travelling circus. One week away. We want eyes and ears before they reach the city, and then inside the city once they arrive.”
Torti stared at her for a long moment, and then yawned dramatically while stretching.
“A circus?” Torti said. “You woke me up for a circus?”
Meera rolled her eyes. “You sleep eighteen hours a day.”
“Nineteen,” Torti corrected. “I’m very dedicated.”
Elvina stepped forward slightly. “Meera has a feeling about this one.”
Torti’s expression changed immediately. The laziness didn’t disappear, but something sharper appeared behind his eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “One of those feelings.”
Meera nodded.
Torti sighed. “Fine. I’ll take a look before they arrive. Then I’ll sit on a roof, look like a cat, and listen to everyone’s secrets like I usually do.”
“That’s exactly why I want you,” Elvina said.
Torti grinned slightly. “I know… Bring me fish when I get back,” he said over his shoulder.
Then he was gone, slipping between buildings and vanishing into the city like he’d never been there at all.
Meera watched him go. “He’s very good at what he does.”
“He’s the best listener in Edena,” Elvina said. “No one notices a cat.”
The caravans rolled steadily along the western road, bright fabrics fluttering from their sides, painted boards depicting lions, stars, dancers, and flames. Music drifted between the wagons as one of the performers played a fiddle while walking, the tune light and quick, carrying across the fields.
It looked like any other travelling circus.
Inside the moving world of colour and canvas, Margarette walked beside the twins, watching them closely as they carried a small crate together between them.
“What do you say when someone gives you something?” Margarette asked.
“Thank you,” Olivia and Christopher said together.
“And if someone asks you to move?”
“Of course,” Christopher replied. “Or, yes, sir. Yes, ma’am.”
Margarette nodded. “Good. And if you bump into someone?”
“Apologise,” Olivia said. “Even if it wasn’t our fault.”
Jonathan, walking just ahead of them, glanced back with a faint smile. “You’d be surprised how far good manners get you. People see polite children, they don’t ask questions. They don’t look too closely.”
Christopher adjusted his grip on the crate. He was stronger now than he had been weeks ago, his arms no longer thin and shaky. “So being polite is part of staying hidden.”
“Exactly,” Jonathan said. “Most people see what they expect to see. Well-mannered children with a circus are invisible in the best possible way.”
Olivia walked quietly for a moment, then said, “Please may I practice later when we stop?”
Margarette glanced at her. “You don’t have to ask to practice. Just don’t wander off alone.”
Olivia nodded. “I won’t.”
She had already proven she was a very good archer. Not just for her age — good. She practiced every day, sometimes shooting from the ground, sometimes from the back of a slow-moving wagon, sometimes at targets that Jonathan would hang from tree branches so they swayed in the wind.
Christopher, on the other hand, preferred daggers. He carried two wooden practice blades most days, real ones only when Jonathan allowed it. He was quick with his hands, quick with his feet, and very good at getting close without being noticed.
The circus had become a kind of moving school for them.
When the caravans finally began to slow and circle into their evening position, Olivia immediately retrieved her bow while Christopher found a quiet space near one of the wagons and began practicing his footwork, daggers flashing in short, controlled movements.
Up above, tied securely to the curved roof of the lead caravan, a large wooden bowl sat nestled between ropes and folded canvas.
Inside it, two cats lay curled together as if they hadn’t moved all day.
Blacky opened one eye slightly, watching Olivia loose an arrow that struck the centre of a straw target.
Flori’s tail flicked once as Christopher spun one dagger from one hand to the other, then stepped forward into a quick, precise strike against a hanging sack.
From the outside, they looked like two ordinary cats travelling comfortably with a circus.
But their eyes followed everything.
A few days later, on a sun-warmed wall overlooking a narrow street near the main gate, a tortoiseshell cat slept sprawled on its side, one paw hanging over the edge, tail twitching occasionally in a dream.
Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
Torti opened one eye slightly as a pair of city guards walked past below him.
“…circus arriving in a few days,” one of them was saying. “My kids are already talking about it.”
Torti closed his eye again, appearing completely uninterested.
He had spent the last two days near the main gate, on rooftops, in market squares, and once inside the rafters of a tavern where travelling merchants talked more freely after a few drinks.
So far, everything he heard matched the same story.
A normal circus.
Bright wagons. Performers. Animals. Music. Good behaviour in the last two towns. Paid for what they took. No fights. No trouble.
Normal.
Torti rolled onto his other side, stretching in the sun.
Normal was good.
Normal was safe.
So why had Meera sent a warning?
The tortoiseshell cat opened his green eyes and looked toward the western road, just visible through the gap between buildings leading to the main gate.
His tail flicked slowly.
He would see them soon enough.
And Torti was very, very good at watching things people thought no one noticed.
The first sign was the sound.
Faint at first—distant music carried on the wind. A fiddle, a drumbeat, something bright and rhythmic that didn’t belong to soldiers or merchants.
Then came the colour.
From the western road, just beyond the rise of the hills, flashes of red, gold, and deep blue began to appear. Banners danced in the breeze, catching sunlight as the travelling circus slowly revealed itself.
Word spread through Edena like wildfire.
“They’re here!”
“The circus!”
Children ran through the streets, calling out to one another. Shopkeepers leaned out of windows. Market stalls were abandoned mid-sale as people moved toward the gates, laughter and chatter building into a low roar of excitement.
Even the guards at the entrance, though still disciplined, couldn’t fully hide their curiosity as they looked out toward the approaching procession.
On the ramparts above, Elvina stood watching it all.
From a distance, it looked exactly as Meera had described.
Bright. Lively. Harmless.
Her eyes narrowed slightly—not with suspicion alone, but with focus. She tracked everything: the number of wagons, the spacing between them, the people walking alongside.
Nothing out of place.
That, more than anything, kept her attention sharp.
“Open the outer path,” she instructed calmly. “Let them approach, but hold the inner gate until I give the word.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Below, the crowd thickened near the entrance, buzzing with anticipation.
Olivia could hear the noise long before she saw the city.
“What is that?” she asked quietly, her grip tightening slightly on the edge of the wagon as she stood beside Christopher.
Jonathan glanced back. “Edena.”
Christopher stepped up beside his sister, peering ahead.
As the caravan crested the rise, the city came into full view.
High stone walls.
Watchtowers.
And beyond the gates—
People.
So many people.
A crowd had gathered at the entrance, far larger than anything the twins had ever seen. Voices blended together into a single overwhelming sound, movement constant and unpredictable.
Olivia’s breath caught slightly.
Christopher’s shoulders stiffened.
“That’s…” he started, then didn’t finish.
“A lot of people,” Olivia said quietly.
Margarette moved up beside them, her presence steady. “Yes,” she said gently. “It is.”
Olivia swallowed. “They’re all looking at us.”
“Of course they are,” Jonathan said, but his tone was calm, not dismissive. “You’re something new. Something exciting. That’s all this is.”
Christopher shifted his weight. “What if we do something wrong?”
Margarette crouched slightly so she was level with them, her voice soft but firm. “Then you say ‘sorry,’ and you keep going. That’s all anyone expects.”
Olivia nodded, though her fingers still tightened slightly.
Jonathan added, “Stay close to us. Speak when spoken to. ‘Please,’ ‘thank you,’ and don’t rush. You already know how to behave.”
Christopher let out a slow breath. “Okay.”
Margarette offered a small smile. “You’re not the children you were when we found you. You’ll be fine.”
Olivia glanced at her, then back at the city. “…Okay.”
The caravan slowed as it approached the gathered crowd.
Cheers broke out as the first wagons came into full view. Children pointed excitedly at painted panels and caged animals, performers waving as they passed.
Music grew louder, more confident now, feeding off the energy of the crowd.
At the front, the lead wagon came to a gradual stop just before the gates.
The crowd quieted slightly as a figure stepped forward from within the city.
Elvina.
She moved with calm authority, her red cloak shifting lightly behind her as she approached. Guards flanked the area, not aggressive, but present—watchful.
The leader of the circus stepped down from the front wagon to meet her, offering a respectful bow.
“My lady,” he said smoothly. “An honour to arrive in Edena.”
Elvina inclined her head slightly in return. “You are welcome here.”
Her eyes met his, steady and unreadable.
“You’ll be permitted to set up on the western field, just outside the gates,” she continued. “You may trade within the city during the day. Gates close at sundown.”
“Of course,” the man replied. “We are grateful for your hospitality.”
Elvina held his gaze for a moment longer—just long enough to remind him whose city this was.
Then she stepped aside.
“Open the gate.”
The heavy wooden doors creaked as they shifted inward.
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd as the path opened.
The circus began to move again.
As the caravan rolled forward, Olivia and Christopher stood close together, trying not to stare too obviously—but failing.
There were so many people.
Faces everywhere. Voices overlapping. Movement from every direction.
It pressed in on them in a way the open road never had.
Olivia’s hand found Christopher’s briefly.
He squeezed it once. “Stay close.”
“I am,” she said.
Margarette walked just ahead of them, Jonathan just behind—a quiet barrier between them and the crowd.
“You’re doing fine,” Jonathan murmured.
Olivia nodded, though her eyes darted slightly as someone laughed loudly nearby.
Up above, unseen by most, a tortoiseshell cat watched from a sunlit ledge near the gate.
Torti’s green eyes followed the caravan as it passed beneath him.
His eyes fell on the twins, noticing their nervous state, but what he noticed more than anything was the boy's blue aura and the girl's red aura.
His tail flicked once.
He kept watching.
Outside the city, the western field began to fill as the circus set its foundation—wagons circling, canvas being raised, ropes pulled taut, poles driven into the ground.
The show would begin soon.
Inside the walls, the people of Edena buzzed with excitement.
On the ramparts, Elvina watched the setup from a distance, her expression calm, controlled.
Everything looked exactly as it should.
She didn’t trust that.
Not yet.
A soft voice tried to enter Elvina’s mind, and failed because of her strong mental barriers. Meera perked up a little and then whispered the elf, “Torti said twins, blue and red aura’s… strong aura’s”
Elvina nodded and looked at the members of the circus again, she noticed Blacky curled up on one of the awnings of a caravan.
Chapter 20: Elvina
Elvina stood on the ramparts of Edena, her hands resting against the cool stone as she overlooked the main entrance to the city. Below, the gates stood open beneath heavy guard, merchants filtering in and out beneath watchful eyes.
Edena was no longer the city it had been.
Guards moved with purpose now, not idle conversation. Patrols walked in disciplined pairs along the walls. Archers remained in the towers, scanning the horizon even in daylight. Beyond the gates, in the outer fields, soldiers trained in formation—shields locking, breaking, reforming under shouted commands.
It wasn’t perfect.
But it was no longer soft.
Since her father’s death, Elvina had stripped away complacency piece by piece. Training had doubled. Rotations tightened. Civilians drilled for emergencies. Supplies counted, then counted again.
Her gaze drifted, as it always did, toward the far horizon.
The Black Tower stood there, distant but unmistakable. A jagged spike against the sky, wrapped in thick, unmoving storm clouds. It didn’t belong to the world around it. It pressed against it.
Elvina’s expression tightened.
She never looked at it for long.
That was where the man lived who had murdered her father.
And her uncle.
A sharp, familiar whistle cut through the air.
Without turning, Elvina lifted her arm.
A swallow dropped from the sky and landed lightly on her bracer, wings folding neatly at its sides.
“Meera,” Elvina said quietly.
The bird chirped once.
Then the air shimmered.
Feathers seemed to dissolve into light, folding inward as the small form stretched and shifted. In the space of a breath, the swallow was gone—replaced by the petite figure of an elf woman stepping barefoot onto the stone.
Meera straightened, brushing her long brown hair back over the shoulder of her naked body as it fell down her back. She didn’t seem bothered by her state in the slightest. She never was.
Elvina didn’t react either. She simply unfastened her cloak and handed it over.
“You could at least aim for somewhere with less wind,” Elvina said.
Meera smirked faintly as she took the cloak and wrapped it loosely around herself. “And miss the dramatic entrance? Never.”
Elvina allowed the smallest hint of a smile—but it faded quickly.
“You didn’t come for theatrics.”
Meera shook her head, stepping up beside her on the rampart. Her expression shifted, eyes scanning the land beyond the walls.
“There’s a travelling circus,” she said.
Elvina frowned slightly. “That’s hardly unusual.”
“No,” Meera agreed. “It isn’t.”
She leaned her forearms against the stone, staring out at the distant road.
“They’ve got everything you’d expect. Performers, animals, wagons painted bright enough to be seen from a mile away. Music, laughter… even from a distance.”
Elvina said nothing, waiting.
“They look normal,” Meera continued. “I watched them for two days. People gathering when they pass through smaller villages. Children running after them. No one afraid. No one forced.”
Elvina turned her head slightly. “But you are.”
Meera hesitated.
“…Yes.”
Elvina studied her now.
“Why?”
Meera shook her head, a small, frustrated movement. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
She exhaled slowly. “There’s nothing I can point to. No hidden wagons. No cages. No soldiers pretending to be something else. I looked for all of that.”
“And found nothing.”
“Nothing,” Meera said. “Everything is exactly what it should be.”
The wind moved across the ramparts, catching the edge of the cloak around her.
“That’s what’s wrong,” she added quietly.
Elvina’s gaze drifted back to the horizon.
The Black Tower loomed far beyond sight, but it felt closer now.
“When will they arrive?” Elvina asked.
“About a week,” Meera said. “Maybe less if they pick up pace.”
Below them, the city carried on—unaware. Traders calling out prices. Children weaving through the crowds. Life continuing as if the world beyond the walls wasn’t shifting.
Elvina watched it for a long moment.
“A circus brings crowds,” she said. “Distraction. Noise. Open gates.”
Meera nodded faintly. “Exactly.”
Elvina was quiet for a moment, then made her decision.
“We let them come.”
Meera glanced at her. “You’re sure?”
Elvina’s expression hardened—not reckless, not naive, but deliberate.
“If there’s something wrong,” she said, “I’d rather see it inside my walls than wonder about it outside them.”
She turned slightly, already thinking ahead.
“I’ll have eyes on them from the moment they’re within sight. Quietly. No panic. No accusations.”
Meera gave a small nod. “And if it’s nothing?”
Elvina looked out over Edena once more.
“Then the people get a show,” she said.
A pause.
“And if it isn’t…”
Her voice didn’t rise, but it carried a quiet certainty.
“…then we’ll be ready.”
Elvina didn’t leave the ramparts immediately after Meera finished speaking. Instead, she watched the training fields below until the morning drills ended and the soldiers began rotating duties.
“Come on,” Elvina said. “If a circus is coming to my city and you have a bad feeling about it, then I want Torti watching before they even reach the gates.”
Meera smiled faintly. “Torti will love that. Spying, warm roofs, and kitchen scraps.”
“And pretending to be lazy while listening to everything,” Elvina said.
They made their way down from the walls and into the city. Edena’s streets were alive with movement — bakers, smiths, cloth merchants, children running messages, soldiers moving through the crowds in pairs. The city felt alert now, like a creature that no longer slept too deeply.
They turned down a narrower street, then another, until the stone roads became uneven and the buildings leaned closer together. Elvina stopped outside a sun-warmed courtyard where several cats lay sprawled across the stones, soaking in the heat.
Most of them didn’t move when Elvina and Meera entered.
One did.
A tortoiseshell cat lifted its head slowly, green eyes sharp and far too intelligent for an ordinary animal. The cat stretched — slowly, deliberately — then hopped down from the wall and walked toward them with the unhurried confidence of something that knew it belonged wherever it stood.
“Torti,” Elvina said.
The cat sat in front of her, tail curling neatly around its paws.
“You have work,” Elvina said.
Torti blinked once.
Meera crouched down slightly. “Travelling circus. One week away. We want eyes and ears before they reach the city, and then inside the city once they arrive.”
Torti stared at her for a long moment, and then yawned dramatically while stretching.
“A circus?” Torti said. “You woke me up for a circus?”
Meera rolled her eyes. “You sleep eighteen hours a day.”
“Nineteen,” Torti corrected. “I’m very dedicated.”
Elvina stepped forward slightly. “Meera has a feeling about this one.”
Torti’s expression changed immediately. The laziness didn’t disappear, but something sharper appeared behind his eyes.
“Ah,” he said. “One of those feelings.”
Meera nodded.
Torti sighed. “Fine. I’ll take a look before they arrive. Then I’ll sit on a roof, look like a cat, and listen to everyone’s secrets like I usually do.”
“That’s exactly why I want you,” Elvina said.
Torti grinned slightly. “I know… Bring me fish when I get back,” he said over his shoulder.
Then he was gone, slipping between buildings and vanishing into the city like he’d never been there at all.
Meera watched him go. “He’s very good at what he does.”
“He’s the best listener in Edena,” Elvina said. “No one notices a cat.”
The caravans rolled steadily along the western road, bright fabrics fluttering from their sides, painted boards depicting lions, stars, dancers, and flames. Music drifted between the wagons as one of the performers played a fiddle while walking, the tune light and quick, carrying across the fields.
It looked like any other travelling circus.
Inside the moving world of colour and canvas, Margarette walked beside the twins, watching them closely as they carried a small crate together between them.
“What do you say when someone gives you something?” Margarette asked.
“Thank you,” Olivia and Christopher said together.
“And if someone asks you to move?”
“Of course,” Christopher replied. “Or, yes, sir. Yes, ma’am.”
Margarette nodded. “Good. And if you bump into someone?”
“Apologise,” Olivia said. “Even if it wasn’t our fault.”
Jonathan, walking just ahead of them, glanced back with a faint smile. “You’d be surprised how far good manners get you. People see polite children, they don’t ask questions. They don’t look too closely.”
Christopher adjusted his grip on the crate. He was stronger now than he had been weeks ago, his arms no longer thin and shaky. “So being polite is part of staying hidden.”
“Exactly,” Jonathan said. “Most people see what they expect to see. Well-mannered children with a circus are invisible in the best possible way.”
Olivia walked quietly for a moment, then said, “Please may I practice later when we stop?”
Margarette glanced at her. “You don’t have to ask to practice. Just don’t wander off alone.”
Olivia nodded. “I won’t.”
She had already proven she was a very good archer. Not just for her age — good. She practiced every day, sometimes shooting from the ground, sometimes from the back of a slow-moving wagon, sometimes at targets that Jonathan would hang from tree branches so they swayed in the wind.
Christopher, on the other hand, preferred daggers. He carried two wooden practice blades most days, real ones only when Jonathan allowed it. He was quick with his hands, quick with his feet, and very good at getting close without being noticed.
The circus had become a kind of moving school for them.
When the caravans finally began to slow and circle into their evening position, Olivia immediately retrieved her bow while Christopher found a quiet space near one of the wagons and began practicing his footwork, daggers flashing in short, controlled movements.
Up above, tied securely to the curved roof of the lead caravan, a large wooden bowl sat nestled between ropes and folded canvas.
Inside it, two cats lay curled together as if they hadn’t moved all day.
Blacky opened one eye slightly, watching Olivia loose an arrow that struck the centre of a straw target.
Flori’s tail flicked once as Christopher spun one dagger from one hand to the other, then stepped forward into a quick, precise strike against a hanging sack.
From the outside, they looked like two ordinary cats travelling comfortably with a circus.
But their eyes followed everything.
A few days later, on a sun-warmed wall overlooking a narrow street near the main gate, a tortoiseshell cat slept sprawled on its side, one paw hanging over the edge, tail twitching occasionally in a dream.
Or at least, that’s what it looked like.
Torti opened one eye slightly as a pair of city guards walked past below him.
“…circus arriving in a few days,” one of them was saying. “My kids are already talking about it.”
Torti closed his eye again, appearing completely uninterested.
He had spent the last two days near the main gate, on rooftops, in market squares, and once inside the rafters of a tavern where travelling merchants talked more freely after a few drinks.
So far, everything he heard matched the same story.
A normal circus.
Bright wagons. Performers. Animals. Music. Good behaviour in the last two towns. Paid for what they took. No fights. No trouble.
Normal.
Torti rolled onto his other side, stretching in the sun.
Normal was good.
Normal was safe.
So why had Meera sent a warning?
The tortoiseshell cat opened his green eyes and looked toward the western road, just visible through the gap between buildings leading to the main gate.
His tail flicked slowly.
He would see them soon enough.
And Torti was very, very good at watching things people thought no one noticed.
The first sign was the sound.
Faint at first—distant music carried on the wind. A fiddle, a drumbeat, something bright and rhythmic that didn’t belong to soldiers or merchants.
Then came the colour.
From the western road, just beyond the rise of the hills, flashes of red, gold, and deep blue began to appear. Banners danced in the breeze, catching sunlight as the travelling circus slowly revealed itself.
Word spread through Edena like wildfire.
“They’re here!”
“The circus!”
Children ran through the streets, calling out to one another. Shopkeepers leaned out of windows. Market stalls were abandoned mid-sale as people moved toward the gates, laughter and chatter building into a low roar of excitement.
Even the guards at the entrance, though still disciplined, couldn’t fully hide their curiosity as they looked out toward the approaching procession.
On the ramparts above, Elvina stood watching it all.
From a distance, it looked exactly as Meera had described.
Bright. Lively. Harmless.
Her eyes narrowed slightly—not with suspicion alone, but with focus. She tracked everything: the number of wagons, the spacing between them, the people walking alongside.
Nothing out of place.
That, more than anything, kept her attention sharp.
“Open the outer path,” she instructed calmly. “Let them approach, but hold the inner gate until I give the word.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Below, the crowd thickened near the entrance, buzzing with anticipation.
Olivia could hear the noise long before she saw the city.
“What is that?” she asked quietly, her grip tightening slightly on the edge of the wagon as she stood beside Christopher.
Jonathan glanced back. “Edena.”
Christopher stepped up beside his sister, peering ahead.
As the caravan crested the rise, the city came into full view.
High stone walls.
Watchtowers.
And beyond the gates—
People.
So many people.
A crowd had gathered at the entrance, far larger than anything the twins had ever seen. Voices blended together into a single overwhelming sound, movement constant and unpredictable.
Olivia’s breath caught slightly.
Christopher’s shoulders stiffened.
“That’s…” he started, then didn’t finish.
“A lot of people,” Olivia said quietly.
Margarette moved up beside them, her presence steady. “Yes,” she said gently. “It is.”
Olivia swallowed. “They’re all looking at us.”
“Of course they are,” Jonathan said, but his tone was calm, not dismissive. “You’re something new. Something exciting. That’s all this is.”
Christopher shifted his weight. “What if we do something wrong?”
Margarette crouched slightly so she was level with them, her voice soft but firm. “Then you say ‘sorry,’ and you keep going. That’s all anyone expects.”
Olivia nodded, though her fingers still tightened slightly.
Jonathan added, “Stay close to us. Speak when spoken to. ‘Please,’ ‘thank you,’ and don’t rush. You already know how to behave.”
Christopher let out a slow breath. “Okay.”
Margarette offered a small smile. “You’re not the children you were when we found you. You’ll be fine.”
Olivia glanced at her, then back at the city. “…Okay.”
The caravan slowed as it approached the gathered crowd.
Cheers broke out as the first wagons came into full view. Children pointed excitedly at painted panels and caged animals, performers waving as they passed.
Music grew louder, more confident now, feeding off the energy of the crowd.
At the front, the lead wagon came to a gradual stop just before the gates.
The crowd quieted slightly as a figure stepped forward from within the city.
Elvina.
She moved with calm authority, her red cloak shifting lightly behind her as she approached. Guards flanked the area, not aggressive, but present—watchful.
The leader of the circus stepped down from the front wagon to meet her, offering a respectful bow.
“My lady,” he said smoothly. “An honour to arrive in Edena.”
Elvina inclined her head slightly in return. “You are welcome here.”
Her eyes met his, steady and unreadable.
“You’ll be permitted to set up on the western field, just outside the gates,” she continued. “You may trade within the city during the day. Gates close at sundown.”
“Of course,” the man replied. “We are grateful for your hospitality.”
Elvina held his gaze for a moment longer—just long enough to remind him whose city this was.
Then she stepped aside.
“Open the gate.”
The heavy wooden doors creaked as they shifted inward.
A ripple of excitement passed through the crowd as the path opened.
The circus began to move again.
As the caravan rolled forward, Olivia and Christopher stood close together, trying not to stare too obviously—but failing.
There were so many people.
Faces everywhere. Voices overlapping. Movement from every direction.
It pressed in on them in a way the open road never had.
Olivia’s hand found Christopher’s briefly.
He squeezed it once. “Stay close.”
“I am,” she said.
Margarette walked just ahead of them, Jonathan just behind—a quiet barrier between them and the crowd.
“You’re doing fine,” Jonathan murmured.
Olivia nodded, though her eyes darted slightly as someone laughed loudly nearby.
Up above, unseen by most, a tortoiseshell cat watched from a sunlit ledge near the gate.
Torti’s green eyes followed the caravan as it passed beneath him.
His eyes fell on the twins, noticing their nervous state, but what he noticed more than anything was the boy's blue aura and the girl's red aura.
His tail flicked once.
He kept watching.
Outside the city, the western field began to fill as the circus set its foundation—wagons circling, canvas being raised, ropes pulled taut, poles driven into the ground.
The show would begin soon.
Inside the walls, the people of Edena buzzed with excitement.
On the ramparts, Elvina watched the setup from a distance, her expression calm, controlled.
Everything looked exactly as it should.
She didn’t trust that.
Not yet.
A soft voice tried to enter Elvina’s mind, and failed because of her strong mental barriers. Meera perked up a little and then whispered the elf, “Torti said twins, blue and red aura’s… strong aura’s”
Elvina nodded and looked at the members of the circus again, she noticed Blacky curled up on one of the awnings of a caravan.