Lena, Olek, and Maks visit a strange circus on the edge of town, where the tricks grow more impossible with every act and the final performance seems to choose them.
When the colourful posters for the "Circus of the Wandering Stars" appeared in town, Lena, Olek, and Maks could talk about nothing else.
They had been to circuses before. They knew the usual things: clowns, juggling, a ringmaster with a booming voice. But this circus looked different. The posters promised lanterns that floated on their own, lions with silver manes, and an illusionist whose tricks, according to the text in curling gold letters, had never been explained.
By dusk, the big striped tent was already glowing at the edge of town, beyond the last houses and the patch of wild grass that reached almost to their knees. Owls called from somewhere in the dark as the three friends hurried closer, their shoes crunching on the gravel path. The tent flap stood open, and warm air spilled out to meet them, smelling of popcorn, sugar, and something stranger, something dry and electric, like a storm trying to hide inside dust.
Inside, the crowd buzzed with excitement. Then a trumpet blared, the chatter dropped away, and the lights snapped toward the ring.
The first act made Lena forget to blink. The lion tamer stepped into the arena beside three huge lions with silver-glinting fur that caught the light like moonlit water. They leapt, bowed, and moved through their tricks with such impossible grace that Maks leaned so far forward he nearly fell off his bench.
Next came the juggler, who sent bright balls spinning through the air, then jars lit from within, as if tiny stars had been trapped under glass. Olek stared so hard his eyes hurt, waiting to catch the trick, but the jars kept glimmering without a single visible thread.
At last the ringmaster lifted both arms. "For our grand finale," he called, "prepare yourselves!"
Hundreds of lanterns flared to life overhead. In their glow, a tall man in a black tailcoat and top hat stepped into the centre of the ring. Lena knew him at once from the posters and whispered rumours.
Mr Magni.
He smiled as if he already knew what they were thinking. Then his gaze swept over the audience and paused.
Right on them.
The spotlight locked onto Lena, Olek, and Maks, bright and sharp as a finger pointing straight at their chests. People turned to stare. Mr Magni lifted one gloved hand and beckoned them forward.
"Are you ready for something you have not seen before?" he asked softly when they reached the ring.
The three friends nodded, and Mr Magni raised his wand.
At once, silver-green sparks twisted above their heads like living snakes of light. A low whisper rushed through the arena, though nobody around them was speaking. Then the floor under their feet shivered, and three narrow circles of colour opened in the sawdust, glowing deeper and deeper, as if they were not holes at all, but doors.
Lena tightened her grip on Olek's hand.
The lanterns flickered.
The whispering grew louder.
Then every light in the tent went out at once, and in the dark, someone squeezed her hand back.