The Circus of the Night arrived in the city unnoticed. As soon as dusk fell, the blue and maroon tents flashed with lights and posters sprouted up on the rain-soaked streets promising dreamlike shows: fireballs dancing in the hands of acrobats, street magicians disappearing without a trace, music creeping under the skin. The circus itself attracted adults and those who had long left adulthood behind, offering thrills sharper than the edges of juggled knives. In the midst of this spectacle, a new performer appeared - Luna. She had long, dark hair braided into a pigtail, eyes as bright as morning milk and a gaze that seemed to penetrate people to the core. She was gossiped about in the back rooms, where jugglers practised wine and daggers and clowns removed white masks of fatigue from their faces. It was said that she could cause rain under the arena roof and make tigers dance to the beat of a drum. However, the truth was that no one knew what she could really do, as Luna had never yet performed in public. That evening, with the whole town pulsating with excitement and the air smelling of humidity and smoke, the circus tent was filled to capacity. People whispered under their breath, some clasped their hands on the chair rails, expecting something unfamiliar. The director of the circus, Mr Marcellus, ran his hand through his thick moustache and, with a face as serious as ever, announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, today you will see a show that will change the way you look at the world. Are you ready?" Then Luna entered the arena. She bowed in a theatrical bow and the lights focused on her, picking out every detail of her figure from the shadows. Her gaze shifted around the audience and - for a brief moment - she seemed to stop her gaze on you. Then, without taking her eyes off the audience, she pulled an intricate, shiny key from her pocket. She hung it on a chain and slowly raised it above her head. There was a silence so deep that the ticking of the headmaster's clock, hidden somewhere in the darkness, could be heard. Luna closed her eyes and began to whisper something under her breath, lifting the key higher and higher with each word. Then the lights dimmed, and thick, silvery smoke began to rise from the very centre of the arena, swirling like a ghost over the spectators' skin. A figure appeared in the smoke - tall, indistinct, shrouded in shadow. The audience held its breath. The director took a step forward, as if to warn or stop someone. Luna opened her eyes - they now glowed with a phosphoric radiance, a reflection of light that was not there. She stared at the apparition that was emerging from the smoke, when suddenly the whole arena trembled and the lamps flashed red. Then Luna whispered another word and.... everything was plunged into absolute darkness.