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The golden light intensifies, wrapping around us like a cocoon. I feel something shifting inside me, something fundamental changing as our bodies and souls intertwine. Kenan makes a sound of surprise, his movements faltering for just a moment before resuming with renewed intensity.

“What’s happening?” I manage to ask between gasps.

“Everything,” Tobias answers, his voice filled with awe.

The golden light pulses brighter with each thrust, each shared breath, each beat of our hearts. It’s as though The Carnival itself is responding to our union, to the power of what we’re creating together. As pleasure builds toward an impossible peak, I realize that whatever happens next, we’re bound together now in ways that transcend the physical — intertwined by choice, by desire, and by something deeper that none of us fully understand.

Chapter 33

We lay together, my body nestled between theirs in a moment of pure bliss. Kenan’s arm is draped across my waist and his fingers are intertwined with Tobias’s. My own fingers trace over their arms, as we all lay awake together, as if none of us can believe what just happened.

“I came here looking for Evelyn,” I say into the darkness quietly. “I was so sure I would find her ... I don’t know, in a cage or something I could break her out of and leave. Just a quick in and out.”

Tobias’s fingers stroke through my hair, “And now?”

“Now, I don’t know that I’m looking for a way out anymore.” I turn my head to look at him, then at Kenan. “Not if that meant I had to leave you two.”

It’s a stupid confession. I’ve barely known them for four nights, and yet it’s like they have become everything to me. I miss Evelyn, I do … and perhaps one day, when I have the time to not focus on my own survival or the whirlwind of the feelings for Tobias and Kenan, I’ll grieve properly. But what is “proper” grieving? Crying, begging, screaming? I never was one for that when I was met with the face of death. I compartmentalize. I handle it when I can. Nothing I do is going to bring her back.

Kenan’s arm tightens around me. “Tell us about her. Your sister.”

I take a deep breath, memories of Evelyn flooding back — her laugh, the way she always loved to find the best of any situation. They listen the whole time, their hands holding me, wrapping me in comfort and security. When the tears would start to spill, despite me not meaning for them to, their fingertips wiped them away. So we stayed like this until the sun started to rise, and we knew that our fleeting time of contentment was over.

* * *

The light filtering through the tent’s fabric casts everything in a warm, amber glow. I stretch, feeling a pleasant ache in my muscles. Tobias’s arm is draped across my waist now, his breathing deep and even against my neck. Kenan’s spot is empty, the sheets still warm where he’d been lying.

I carefully extract myself from Tobias’s embrace, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before slipping into one of their shirts that hangs to my knees. The wooden floor is cool beneath my feet as I pad out of the room and take a left and walk to find a small kitchenette. My food has always been delivered to my room, so I never explored much of the rest of Tobias’s tent. Kenan stands there wearing only loose black pants that hang low on his hips, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he pours coffee into three mismatched mugs.

“Afternoon, Kitten,” he says without turning around. Of course he knows I’m here.

“How do you do that?” I ask, moving closer.

He turns, a half-smile on lips. “Do what?”

“Always know when I’m around. Even at the gathering, you found me easily in the crowd, you always know when I’m watching you.”

His eyes darken slightly as he hands me a mug. “Because I can feel it — right here.” He takes my free hand and places it against his chest. “Just like I always know where Tobias is.”

I take a sip of coffee — realizing how much I’ve missed it. This is the first cup I’ve had since arriving here. It’s black with just a hint of sugar. “How’d you know I like it this way?”

“I’m good at guessing,” he says simply, his thumb brushing across my knuckles before releasing my hand. “The Carnival always knows.” He says jokingly.

Tobias emerges from the bedroom, a smile on his face. “He also asked me. Perk of my mirrors, I can see memories at times. I saw it the first night you were here.” He yawns, walking towards us. “Starting without me?” He asks, accepting the mug from Kenan.

“Never,” Kenan replies, and Tobias looks at him, smiling.

We settle around a small table, a strange domesticity to the scene that makes my chest ache with something I can’t quite name. For a moment, I think we could be anywhere — just three people sharing coffee.

But we aren’t anywhere. We’re in The Carnival, and today is the last day.

“The final performance is tonight,” Tobias says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Are you ready?”

My stomach tightens with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “What exactly am I supposed to be ready for?"

Kenan and Tobias exchange a look.

“The motorcycle cage,” Kenan says, “and your ritual.”