Sorcerer Hunters Fan Fiction ❯ Dark Carnival ❯ Dark Carnival ( Chapter 1 )

Dark Carnival

By: Fala "Boo! Bwahaha" Tzipori

Written: July/August, 2002
Genre: Horror (supposedly)
Pairings: None, unless you count Gateau's one-sided Marron fixation and Chocolat's/Milphey's usual Carrot complex.
Warnings: Creepy, a trifle bloody, the language isn't too bad in this one, but certain four-letter words ARE there, inexplicable injuries, wacked-out taxidermy, and a very 'special' merry-go-round.
Plot: the Hunters are led to a strange fair where they are preyed upon by unpleasant occurrences.
Spoilers: Um, none really.
Dedications: This fic is lovingly dedicated to Yaeko, who was patient and kind enough to listen to me bitch about what a bitch this was to write. Not only that, she was, always has been and always will be a source of inspiration and encouragement to me. Thanks for everything, Lovie. Your arse was sent from heaven ^_^
Other comments/schtuff: MANGA READERS WILL GET THE MOST OUT OF THIS FIC. I'd say, if you've read the manga up through volume four, you're good to go. Much of the stuff that happens is rooted in events only seen in the manga, so keep that in mind.




Prologue: "Pink"

An errant lock of hair fell from Marron's shoulder onto his chest as his head drooped. He jerked at the realization that he was about to fall either asleep, or off the stool, on which he was perched rather precariously. Behind them, the bangs and crashing noises of the Carrot-ly cacophony were making the horrible ache in Marron's temple throb, sending little peals of pain throughout his head.

Marron stole a vague glance at Gateau, who was sitting next to him, looking equally glassy-eyed and just as droopy, if not more so. He was definitely nodding off.

The frozen daiquiris with their pinkish colour and fancy fruit slices had looked pretty enough in front of him. Too bad they weren't so pretty from the inside.

"Daaarliiiing..." the familiar, though somewhat muddled pet name was shouted from the other end of the room. The rather disoriented red-head who had spoken was ambling about the room in pursuit of her 'lust object', dressed in her cap and not much else. "Daaaaarliiing," she warbled again for the millionth time, "Don't make me put on my haaaat!"

"Yeah Carrot," came the voice of the second red-head, who followed none too gracefully behind her sister, and giggled merrily, "Don't make me take off this shoe!"

Admittedly, Tira was quite the artiste with her whip... When she was sober. However, Tira was not quite so graceful after a generous intake of alcohol. Tira lost her footing to a certain inebriated Haz Knight. Tira fell down.

The younger of the two sisters came to a conclusive thud beside Milphey, who had already passed out. She did not get up.

Two down, four to go. Crash! Make that three. Gateau looked blankly over at the stool where the sexiest piece of ass in Spooner had been sitting just seconds ago. It seemed that Marron had joined his fellow Long-Haired Ones in their comatose congregation on the floor.

Over near the buffet table, Chocolat continued to pursue a not-quite-so-drunk Carrot, who was racing from wall to wall and screaming blue murder.

The party (held in honour of the Hunter's most recent accomplishment) had been enjoyable enough when the room was filled with laughter and the pretty pink drinks were working the more pleasurable side of the their magic. Now, with the guests gone and the drunkenness having settled in, the rented rec-room in Hordic was a somewhat dreary place to be. The paper lanterns strung about the room glowed only dimly now, filling the room with a watermarked species of light, which made the white walls appear more of a manila tone. The cheerful streamers of crepe paper that had festooned the fixtures in the ceiling were now strewn in forlorn disarray upon the floor. Paper plates polka-dotted the room with red, discarded napkins likewise. It looked as though the room had been eaten by a cat and then coughed up like hairball.

Gateau sighed.



One: "Sightings"

It would be an hour or so before the room became completely silent. Noting that the rumpus seemed to have ceased, the blond warrior cast a wayward glance toward the buffet table. Two pairs of black-booted feet (one with heels, one without) poked out from underneath the scarlet table-cloth. The elder Glace/Misu siblings appeared to be conked out. That left Gateau as the last one awake.

"Yeah, go me." Gateau thought sarcastically, fiddling with his drinking straw. In truth, he was not at all pleased with being the room's only conscious occupant. It only meant that he had to live with the post-achoholic-intake 'yucky feeling' longer than they. He glanced at the clock on the wall.

11:58 pm.

"Great. Seven drinks and an all-nighter. Peachy-sodding-keen."

He shouldn't have spoken so quickly, however, for at that moment, his head started to droop down toward the bar top.

It was soft at first, as though the notes were the wings of an approaching butterfly. But as the seconds slinked past, it only crept closer...

Gateau started, suddenly quite alert. Thanks to his combat training and experience, he was well practiced at coming out of a stupour should the occasion arise. However, what encroached hardly seemed menacing. It was music, which seemed to be pouring out of the pipes of a very powerful harpsichord.

Whatever was the cause of the unexpected symphony seemed to be coming closer, as the volume of the music was slowly but surely escalating. Sudden suspicion tweaked something in Gateau's mind. How could he hear the music so clearly when it was coming from outside? All of the windows were closed. When a sudden beam of bright green light lazed into his view from the window, the cold coil of suspicion lurched within Gateau's stomach.

The blond warrior started when he heard a gruff moan from behind. Tearing himself away from the window, Gateau turned and saw Milphey rising from his slumber, shaking out his tousled purple mane.

"What's going on?" The Haz Knight inquired with surprising clarity, considering he'd drunken himself into a heap not too long ago. Then again, he was a Haz Knight and had been one for Mamu only knows how long. He was probably just as keen on the wake-up call as any of the the Hunters, if not more so.

"Where is that music coming from?" Milphey asked, approaching Gateau who shrugged.

"Dunno", he replied, "But it sure is loud."

Milphey nodded a little grimly, noting the steady increase of the music's volume, "I may be a light sleeper, but if it's loud enough to wake me up, I think it deserves some attention."

"I dunno. It almost seems too... happy... to be anything to worry about," Gateau pondered aloud, noting the music's cheerful tune, "Still... I'm curious if nothing else. Think we should wake up the others?"

"Yes."

By the time the team had been brought to their feet, the deafening tunes had thankfully begun to fade into the distance. Two pairs of boots, two pairs of heels and two pairs of slippers clomp-clomped across the foyer and out the front door. Once outside, all parties looked left and right, searching for the source of the carnival-esque symphony. However, something seemingly trivial would claim their attention before they sighted was they sought.

Tira was the first to notice the new arrival. Her eyes followed the vague, white object as it lazily made its way downward. Softly, it came to a rest, secure in her waiting hand.

The others crowded around the younger redhead.

"What is it, sis?" Chocolat asked. Even as the inquiry was voiced, Tira was unfolding what appeared to be an advertisement. The mixed fibres of the paper felt smooth, but strangely cold in her hands. The fact that the paper felt like it had just come out of the ice box unnerved Tira, inducing the rise of a mild discomfort within her, but she brushed that aside in order to read it aloud.

Carnivale d' Aisling

Choose wisely your ways, lest your ways be chosen for you.
Be you daemon or be you angel, you will find something to hold true.

Tira frowned behind her glasses, "Mm. Must be an advertisement for a fair."

Gateau snorted, digging into the grassy lawn with his heel, "Some advertisement. Sounds more like blackmail."

"Yeah, and since when is there a Hordic County Fair?" Carrot added.

"Since now, I suppose," Chocolat said in reply despite the rhetoric nature of Carrot's question.

Gateau's attention was averted by a distant glow. He turned toward its source and the unease mapping in his gut increased tenfold.

"Guys, I think you'd better take a look at that,"

Five pairs of eyes left the bit of paper and followed the path of their comrade's outstretched finger.

Breaths hitched. Jaws dropped.

Carrot emitted a low whistle. All of them were staring at the source of the now distant music; A gigantic black dirigible with rotating green spotlights built into its sides. It was clearly the origin of the paper as well, for it was dropping numerous others, leaving a white, fluttering trail in its wake. The music pulsed with such intensity, it was almost tangible, even from far away. Six heartbeats quickened to match its beat. It was not quite a dirge and not quite a jig. The tune had elements of both; the solemn, sag-bottomed tones, the perky, prance-worthy melody, incorporated into one haunting and unnerving symphony.

Beams of harsh emerald light swept lethargically over the dark, vacated streets of Hordic in almost hypnotic patterns. Several seconds passed before the Hunters came out of their transfixed states and began voicing their thoughts on the matter.

"Talk about weird," Chocolat muttered. In her fear, she had latched onto Carrot's arm. The owner of the arm was still rather bewildered and didn't bother with trying to push her off.

"Hn," agreed Milphey.

"But what is it?" came Marron's notably disturbed voice, his gaze still following the dirigible as it slunk through the night sky. As the violently loud music grew softer yet, its absence blurred the pleasant purr of the crickets in the night's newly calm atmosphere.

Carrot jammed his hands into his pockets, shrugging his shoulders, "It's probably just some stupid sorcerer pulling a prank," he offered, sounding all too unsure as he fiddled at something on the ground with his shoe. A few Hunters nodded none too assuredly at his suggestion. Silence fell over them.

"So..." Tira started, then hesitated. She wasn't so sure she wanted to voice the question at the back of her mind, much less hear an answer.

The elder redhead glanced at her expectantly, "'So...'?"

Tira swallowed a little, against some kind of blockage in her throat that didn't want to budge.

"What now?"

"Well," Carrot stated as casually as humanly possible, given the circumstances, "From the looks of it, I'd say there's some kind of dodgy magic involved. We might want to check it out. That's our job, after all."

Chocolat looked genuinely surprised, "Wow, Darling. That's very grown-up of you."

Carrot smiled a little, "Big Mama gave me a strongly-worded lecture on duty after the Velrose incident," he winked. Chocolat (who was still attached to Carrot) giggled.

It was at this moment that a sudden realization of ignorance hit the elder Glace.

"Say, Tira," he said, peering over her shoulder at the invitation (which Tira had refolded for fidgeting purposes), "Does it say where in Holy Hell this fair is?"

"I don't think it does..." Tira mused aloud, trailing off as she unfolded the paper. When it was completely flat again, she pointed to the bottom of the page, "There's just this weird symbol."

Her fingertip directed their gaze toward what looked like a seal or a crest of some sort; A very angular silhouette of a horse with a pole through its torso (decidedly a carousel figure) within what appeared to be a ring of thorns.

"So how do they expect us to find this place anyway?" Milphey asked almost rhetorically, an edge of frustration adding a bitter tone to his voice.

Carrot shrugged, "I'm guessing we follow the big-ass blimp" he suggested, pointing to said air craft.

Gateau was a little uneasy about the whole thing. The idea that a wielder of dark magic might be passing over their village was more than a little disturbing to him. He, for one, definitely wanted to stay focused and get the job done, so he spoke up, "Well, if we're going, we'd better get moving."

"Okay then, let's make like a bread-truck and haul buns!" Carrot said, gesturing jauntily. The grave expressions and lack of enthusiasm were ticking against his nerve. He was determined to stay in a positive frame of mind, even if no one else was.

"I sense something..." Marron mused aloud, drawing five incredulous stares toward himself. The tone of his comment was soft and grim, a clean contrast to what had been uttered by his sibling previously.

"What do you mean?" Chocolat asked, a little curious and growing slightly uneasy.

Marron's eyes were half-dimmed with contemplation, "...I'm not sure. I want to say 'evil', but somehow I don't think that would be the appropriate word. It's odd, but it doesn't feel dangerous. The night is not humid, but there is a weird, heavy air around us. It's almost as thought something has been thrown horribly out of balance... In such a way... that we are being deceived."

Milphey looked interested, "Oh?"

"Well, knowing you, little bro, I'd say it's a thing called tipsiness," Carrot joked, trying a bit too hard to lighten the mood by back-slapping Marron, "How many daiquiris did you have, anyway?"

"Brother," the mage groused, irritated at having been nearly knocked over, "I'm serious. I feel as though there is a presence hovering about us. Something..." Marron trailed off, seeming to be lost in thought. "Something... Dark."

"Speaking of dark," Tira spoke up,"If we're going to follow that blimp, we'd better get moving, because it's almost out of sight. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to be stumbling around, looking for some creepy fair at this hour."

She had a point. The night was a rather un-starry one and the slight silver outline of the new moon just beginning to peek out of the blackness didn't provide sufficient light by any stretch of the imagination.

"Well, then let's be off," Gateau said. Keen on getting a prompt start, he began walking rather quickly, "I think we should get this done and over with as quickly as possible so we don't have to be out when the hangovers kick in and we're fit to puke our brains out."

"Okay, ew, Gateau, EW," Carrot grimaced from behind the blond warrior, "But, yeah... Good point".



Two: "Entry"

"Blimey..." Gateau commented, "Weirdest shit I've seen all week,"

"Un," agreed Marron, speaking for the group. Since when did entering fair grounds require walking through wrought-iron gates? They were wide open, but didn't look particularly welcoming. The Hunters and Haz Knight stood at these gates, having suitably passed through them, but hesitant to take even one step further. From what they could see, this was no ordinary carnival. The word 'carnival' usually implied rides, corny games, cheerful crowds and great big gobs of junk food. So naturally, the site that the dirigible had led the Hunters to was... unexpectedly strange.

The entire setting was ringed by fences that were likenesses of the gates, made up of thick strands of blackened iron woven together like contorted tendons. The ground was void of grass, save for the occasional beaten tuft of dried vegetation poking out of the dusty, greyed earth. A long vacated plot of this earth served as an aisle so that the crowd might feed between the usual carnival stations... Only they weren't usual. As expected, there were awnings and what looked like smaller replicas of circus tents. However, they all looked as though they'd been through the mill, their colours faded, their whites soiled, their edges beaten into the beginnings of tatters. A haunted house somewhere to their left looked dark and menacing with its shingles and shutters in man-made disarray. The skeletal structure of a roller coaster track could be seen, looming from the opposite side of the grounds, twisting and arching, forming morbidly complex shapes and patterns like something out of a mad sorcerer's nightmare.

The crowds were present, though there was something very distinct about the way they moved, the way they spoke, how the voices and words all seemed to blend together into a grey, soulless hum. Each face looked like the next... It was almost as though there was exuberance, but without genuine energy. Actually, the entire feel of their surroundings seemed lack genuinity. This absence itself seemed to chew a sinking void into the pit of everyone's stomach.

True, it was nighttime, so naturally an outdoor event would be cast into shadow. Still, it was very disconcerting that everything was just so... dark.

"So," Carrot spoke up, so suddenly that everyone jumped a little, "Er, d'you wanna split up and check this place out?" He suggested, trying to put it past him that he felt like little lizards were scurrying up and down his spine. Though he kept up his optimistic charade, the eerie sensations induced by their new surroundings were taking their toll on him.

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Chocolat said, equally unnerved, 'That way we can get the job done and over with quicker,' she thought to herself, then blurted, "I want to go with Darling!"

Carrot jumped a little as his arm was made slave to the redhead's bone-crushing grip.

Tira rolled her eyes, thankful that her shades concealed her reaction to the rather annoying antics of her sister.

"That would be unwise," Marron commented, "I think we all want to get this done as fast as humanly possible, so we should work in ways that will not get us distracted."

"Agreed," Milphey said, "I'll go with Marron. We'll look at the activities."

Tira nodded, then motioned to Chocolat, "We'll check out the haunted house," she put her hands on her hips in a no-nonsense gesture, "RIGHT, sis?"

Chocolat pouted, begrudgingly freeing Carrot's arm and responding with a doleful nod.

"Waitaminut!," Carrot interjected, waving his arms wildly, "I don't wanna go with Gateau! He'll pick on me and call me names and stuff,"

Gateau smiled in a gruffly amused way, "Aw, come on, I'm not that mean..." he narrowed his eyes, "... Shrimp."

"Huh huh huh!" Carrot mock-laughed, making a face and looking a bit like an ape, then smiled and playfully elbowed his taller teammate.

"Ah, don't worry," Gateau said. Carrot's gesture did not go unnoticed, but Gateau chose not to remark upon it, "We need to split up anyway because there's two things left to check out and just the two of us left to do said checking out."

"And let me guess," Carrot crossed his arms, cocking his head toward a shabby-looking one-story structure whose battered sign read 'Fun House', "You want to go in there."

Gateau shrugged, "Yeah. I thought I'd let you poke around the freak show. It suits you."

"Bah, Admit it. You just want to go where there's lots of mirrors so you can pose and stuff." Carrot said, frowning.

"Either way," Marron said in a come-on-you-idiots-let's-just-get-this-over-with tone, "It seems we have our objectives and are ready to work, so let's get started."

All parties were in agreement as they watched the people mill about and by them in their unnoticing and seamless clusters.

"So, we'll all meet here at the gate, then?" Tira suggested.

"At the gate" Marron nodded.

"Speaking of the gate," Chocolat said, "did someone close it behind us?"

The team turned to see that the gates behind them were indeed closed. However, none of the could remember ever touching the dark, twisted metal. Stranger still, the gates opened so that the doors swung toward the inside, and the Hunters had yet to step far enough away to avoid getting caught in a gate's potential path. Therefore, it was only logical that the gates couldn't have been closed without knocking them all over. Yet, the opening in the ring of wrought iron had indeed been closed. And not only had the gates been shut. They had been chained together as well.

Tira's heartbeat quickened as her gaze traveled up the heavy chains toward the tops of the two gates. Crafted from the same blackened iron as the rest of the gates were letters in a cursive-esque style, scrawling 'Carnivale d'Aisling' across the spiked upper bars. Below this was a pair of flat horse silhouettes identical to the one on the paper advertisement. Each of these was set near the top of their respective gate. The horse shapes were not facing each other. Rather, their muzzles were pointed opposite of one another as though they were fleeing in either direction, in haste to get away...

Six glances exchanged expressed the same sentiment: This is really wierd, let's do our job and get the HELL out of here.

With that, the six of them split into their designated parties and made their designated ways. They filtered into and through the crowd, and seemed to lose themselves within it, like grains of salt in the ocean.



three: "Inquiry"

Two long-haired men strode through the droves of seemingly soulless fair-goers down a line of game-booths. They observed as several young lads and lasses took up balls, bean-bags or darts and tried their luck. A cheer that sounded a shade less enthusiastic than it should've drifted over from a little booth where from a plain-looking fellow departed, an enormous stuffed animal tucked under one arm.

"Keep a sharp lookout for anything... dodgy," the dark-haired one said quietly to his companion, trying not to look conspicuous and keeping his voice at a volume that would go unnoticed in the present chatter of those around them.

Milphey replied without looking at the mage, "Marron, this whole place is dodgy."

"...True enough."

The two fell silent as they walked and the buzz of the crowd became even more soft and unanimous than before. Like velvet to the eardrum... and awkward in a way.

'Crash!' went a milk bottle as it was hit by a wooden ball.

"Nmh..."

Upon hearing a soft moan of pain, Milphey looked to his left, where Marron had stopped in his tracks and was pressing a palm to his temple.

"What is it?" the Knight asked, puzzled.

"My head hurts," Marron answered, still holding his head, "Maybe I'm not as tolerant to loud noise I thought," he reasoned, only to add, "But it doesn't feel like a headache, really. Just a dull pain."

"Well, not to sound insensitive, but I think we'd better keep going," Milphey said, walking and hoping Marron would follow, "Maybe we'll find some vendor or something where we can get you some aspirin."

"Yes..."



"WooooOOOOooooOOOOoooo..."
"Knock it off, sis," Tira rasped, elbowing her sibling,"This place gives me the creeps as it is."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Chocolat apologized, resigning from fluttering her fingers like bat wings around her sister's head while making ghost noises. Tira did have a point. As cheesy as the haunted house was, it was dark, dank, and the moisture in the cool air sent chills up her spine.

The less worrisome things in the house included glowing tissue-paper ghosts that emerged from either side and green spotlights that defied the inky darkness as they beamed upon shabby werewolves, jars containing body parts, and skeletal remains. Hollow groans and the rattle of chains pealed from a loudspeaker hidden somewhere in the shadows.

"Funny that what's meant to be scary isn't worth the slightest bit of fright." Tira mused aloud, gesturing toward a stuffed black cat that was perched on top of a human skull. It appeared to be in the last stage of a very violent (and very synthetic) case of rabies.

"Yeah," Chocolat agreed, absentmindedly picking strands of cotton out of her hair (shortly after entering the dank domicile, she had walked into a set-up cobweb) as they passed the grisly display. Having left it behind, the sisters were slowly but surely plunged into darkness.

"OW!"

Chocolat jumped, barely suppressing the urge to scream. Instead, she managed to inquire, "Tira? What's wrong?"

There was a hiss of pain from her right.

"I... Something got my ankle," Tira said, her voice altered by pain, "I think I'm bleeding. It feels wet."

"... And I smell blood," Chocolat added, her tone grave and fearful. Her voice was heavier, much like it was when she assumed her battle mode. When the occasion presented itself, her attire was black, her voice was deep, and her will was dark. Everything was darker...

"Let's get you out of this place so we can see what happened," Chocolat suggested, feeling not just a bit uncomfortable, "Can you walk?"

The darkness seemed to droop and become heavier still around her. Her sister did not answer.

"Tira?"

The silence was thick. So thick, and yet so empty. Chocolat swallowed as she felt it press in on her heart, like a wraparound weight. Her heart, in turn, struggled against these bonds, pounding against them. She wanted to scream, but the scream itself cowered within her, refusing to budge.

She was alone. Tira was gone.

But the smell of blood remained.



'Hn. What a shack of shit,' Carrot thought to himself as he browsed the table top set-ups in the tent marked 'Freak Show' .

The displays consisted mainly of stuffed animals. Not the sweet, cuddly, winsome-faced ones you take to bed with you. Real stuffed animals, all of them horribly deformed and... well, freakish. Hands rooted in his pockets, Carrot casually paced across the wooden flooring, taking gander after gander at the various specimens. A cat with five legs. A pair of conjoined goats. A piglet with no ears. A two-headed snake. A duck with a horribly misshapen skull.

As gross and disturbing as the lot of it was, Carrot was not impressed. He had to laugh when he came upon a simple fish bowl marked "Infant Sea Serpent". Swimming happily inside was a guppy.

Carrot snorted. "Ridiculous."

Seeing nothing questionable, he made ready to quit the tent and find his way back to the gate.

And stopped.

There was something else in the corner of the tent. Something he hadn't seen when he first came in. Genuinely curious if not a little nervous, Carrot stalked toward the thing and looked at it carefully.

Another stuffed animal. A three-headed dog.

It appeared to be some sort of shepherd breed with its six pointed ears and black and tan markings. Each set of jaws was fixed into a fierce snarl, black lips curled back, revealing yellowed teeth. Around each of the three necks was a black, studded collar. One of these bore a steel-plated tag with the name 'Cerberus' engraved upon it.

Carrot shuddered. Something about this one disturbed him. Something about it stirred a very old, very unpleasant feeling within him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but this feeling was one he'd felt before. Many times. He'd felt it all his life.

He noticed how hard he was breathing. No... how hard it was to breathe. His breath escaped in slight pants. His chest felt tight. He looked once more at the tri-cranial canine.

Perhaps it was the threatening stance the animal had been set in. Perhaps it was the three sets of cruel, crooked teeth bared in frozen fury. Perhaps it was those deep black eyes that seemed to stare into his very soul... Come to think of it, those eyes seemed very familiar...

Even in this state, Carrot's perception failed him not, for he noticed something odd... The middle head and neck seemed to be a shade darker than those on either side of it. Yes... there was a distinct difference in their colour. Despite the disturbance it had caused him, Carrot leaned in for a closer look, peering between two necks, where a shoulder should have been.

He almost laughed out loud. Though the left and right heads were the same colour and were smoothly connected to the body, the centre head had obviously been sewn on. The stitches and the untidy edge of the skin were in plain view.

"Taxidermist must've gotten lazy there", Carrot commented, amused in a somewhat jittery way. They were fake. All of them. All of the freak-animals had been pieced together after their deaths. They were all fake...



'Me, me everywhere,' Gateau thought, his gaze traveling from one of his reflections to the next. The fun house had been just what he needed. This whole damn thing was so weird, it was a relief being able to escape to an old past-time. Mirrors were everywhere. And another thing. A maze of mirrors meant a superb view of his ass. Over and over... Gateau suddenly felt very much at home.

Resisting the urge to strip down to his underwear for a session that was more loyal to tradition, Gateau simply carried out his usual routine fully clad. It would've been a waste of time getting his clothes on and off. Besides, it was good to try things in a different way every once in while, he figured.

"Hup!" Gateau brought the series of exercises to a conclusion with a double madrigal flex and sighed.

'Well, that's enough of that,' he thought to himself, then confirmed the results of his previous inspection of the halls of reflective glass, "Nothing evil and sorcerous here. Better be go-OOOMPH!"

Gateau took a step back and looked up, bewildered as he rubbed his poor, offended nose. He'd walked right smack into a wall.

"Baka," he hissed, either at himself or his reflection, feeling very stupid. He could've sworn that had been where he'd entered the chamber. 'Hn. Apparently not.'

Turning, he scanned the walls for an opening. He saw none. Feeling a slight lurch in the pit of his stomach, Gateau placed his hands upon the revoltingly smooth walls. Trying to convince himself that the flutter in his heart was not panic-induced, he began to feel for an exit that he could not see. It seemed the edge of each and every panel of glass was fused to another with a flawless seam. The mirrors simply did not end...

Yes they did.

Relief swept over Gateau as his fingertips glided off the glass and into open space. He strode into the mirror-clad corridor, making a left turn toward the exit.

SMACK!

...or maybe not.



four: "Memento"

The hollow crash of ten wooden pins felled by a heavy bowling ball penetrated the monotony of the crowd. Again with the automatic congratulatory cheers.

"How's your head?"

"It still hurts," was the mage's reply. His hand was no longer at his temple, but the half-moons of pain dimming the already inky irises were indication enough of Marron's condition.

"Are you going to make it?" the knight pressed.

He received a somewhat funny look in return. Perhaps Marron thought Milphey saw a weakling in the dark-haired mage. Milphey hoped not. To his mild relief, Marron's reply was a soft and simple "of course" before looking away.

"I find it hard to believe that nobody's selling anything," Milphey commented, hoping to start up a conversation. Something to distract his troubled mind. Having to listen to the constant hum of the passing people was very disconcerting. And a few spots of dull pain had slowly blossomed across his back during their inspection of the fair...

"Usually, there's all kinds of vendors at fairs," he added, "Food and whatnot."

"Yes, it is strange," Marron agreed, "And all of these rides and games are free. I would think that they would cost something, since we did not have to pay for admission. None of it really makes any sense."

"Hm, this whole place doesn't make any sense," Milphey said, stating the obvious. He lifted his hand to rub at a sore spot on his shoulder. Somewhere to their right, a balloon popped; a loud death-cry as it was victimized by a dart.

Noticing that they had at last arrived at the end of the carnival opposite from which that where they had started, Milphey sighed.

"Besides the total creepiness, do you see anything worth troubling ove-" the Knight stopped mid-sentence, noticing that Marron was no longer beside him. He turned. Marron was not behind him. The knight searched the passing fellows and ladies for a hint of raven hair, or a bit of white clothing. Something coiled in the pit of his stomach as the populace suddenly seemed very blonde and black-clad.

Marron was nowhere to be found...

...nowhere to be found.

Chocolat's vigourous pace echoed the frantic beating of her heart. She knew only two things; one being that she was horribly lost, the other being that Tira was nowhere to be found. Her footsteps seemed to blend into the man-made noises coming from the loudspeaker.

"Tira?!" She cried, trying none too successfully to not sound panicked. Her shouts, like her footsteps, blended with the surrounding noise. The smell of blood was thick and putrid around her.

Green-lit gruesome things and other such insignificant set-ups flashed past as the redhead's hurried steps carried her through dark corridor after dark corridor. Her ribcage rose and fell with her feet when nothing looked familiar... while, somehow, everything looked the same.

"TIRA?!" She tried again, giving pride and conduct amiss, full out wailing her little-sister's name. Her eyes hurt, trying to see through the darkness. By some miracle, she had managed to avoid crashing into anything. It almost seemed as if there was nothing to crash into. Only darkness as thick as butter and random drafts of cool air that made the little hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Tira?! TIRA, ANSWER M-UFF!!!" Chocolat grunted as she collided with something smooth and solid. That was unexpected. After taking a few seconds to recover, her inquisitive hands were helping her in deciding if this was a wall, or otherwise...

Chocolat's heart skipped a beat when her palm fell upon a protrusion that was cool, rounded and unmistakably metallic. A doorknob.

Perhaps she'd finally found the exit. The idea sent peals of relief through her. She hastily turned the metal knob and yanked the door upon. Light flooded the corridor. Light so bright, Chocolat's hand leapt to her brow to shield her eyes. Blinding light...

Sunlight...

Blinding sunlight...

No. It was not sunlight. As Chocolat brought her hand down, her heart sank when she saw that the light's source was an incandescent lamp. It was single light bulb which was suspended by a little chain from the centre of the ceiling. The room in itself was something of a shock, given its austere walls and carpeted flooring. Chocolat had, after all, just seconds ago been lost in total darkness.

'I'm STILL lost,' she reminded herself bitterly. She could still hear the cheap sound effects from behind her. Though they were muffled and slightly distant, the ghostly caterwauling and clanking chains sounded almost... taunting.

Hmph. Annoying.

Chocolat took a moment to get a quick eyeful of her new surroundings. A broad desk hugged the wall toward the back, and an extensive bookshelf lined the left side of the room. Perhaps this was an office for whatever dirty carny was in charge of this haunted house.

'If so,' she thought, 'I probably shouldn't be in here...'

Naturally, she stayed and poked around. First, she scanned the room for any possible openings to the outside. She saw none. Forcing her disappointment to thin quickly, she then had a look at the shelves. They were heaped with numerous crappy props for the haunted house. Light-up skull masks, parts of a Frankenstein statuary, a box of audio cassettes (what was played over the loud speaker, no doubt), plastic tombstones, and ghosts made out of tissue paper. However, the last shelf was different, lined with rows upon rows of delicate, home-made dolls, each small enough to rest in her hand.

Chocolat stopped to study these more carefully. Even with features as vague as button-eyes and stitching mouths, the dolls seemed vaguely familiar to her. Almost as if she was returning to people she'd left behind long ago.

The hollow howls echoed softly through the doorway behind her.

Shaking her head, Chocolat turned away from the shelf, ready to leave, but by no means looking forward to going back into the winding darkness...

Something in her peripheral vision caused her to stop. She did a double-take at the desk.

Seated in the chair behind the expanse of smooth wood was a scarecrow. One that she'd somehow failed to notice in her initial visual sweep of the room. Or maybe it just hadn't been there...?

Curious.

Chocolat made her way across the room, toward the desk, where she stopped to study the scarecrow. It was a very strange one, unlike any she'd ever seen in Auntie Apricot's garden, or in the fields behind the Stellar Church. This one was made up of a generous amount of material, and it's body consisted completely of black rags. The head was surprisingly well-made with obvious attention to detail, despite its being almost half-hidden. Black scraps of fabric poked out of the top and fell over the face, like a messy mop of hair. The single prussian-black button-eye that was not obscured by this 'hair' seemed to stare coldly into Chocolat, piercing her very soul... The stitched-on smile was slight, cruel, and made her heart lurch.

Unkempt black hair, dark piercing eyes, a smile cold enough to bring frost upon the heart...

Chocolat shook her head, as if the action would oust the remains of her intensely nightmarish memories. She jerked her head in the opposite direction to avert her gaze, which immediately fell upon the shelf of dolls. Suddenly, she saw row upon row of faces from her earliest memories. Two of those faces were framed by scarlet hair, and one was adorned with a tiny pair of glasses.

The synthetic cries of melancholy ghosts became the terrified screams of small children.

Her heartbeat excellerated to jack-hammer speed and felt cumbersome within her chest. Chocolat felt herself edging backwards in horror. She nearly screamed as she felt herself hit something from behind.

Whirling around, she saw that it was the suspended light bulb that she had backed into. This had left the little lamp swinging back and forth like a pendulum and sent dark shadows racing across the walls in rotating hilarity. The room itself seemed to sway.

Chocolat staggered backwards, her breath hitching, her heart hammering. Her sight fell back to the dolls. Through the chaotic dance of the shadows, their little dresses, shirts and trousers were covered in deep, crimson stains. All, save for the two redheaded ones, which looked untouched.

A whimper clawed its way up her throat. Chocolat automatically cast her gaze over to the black-clad scarecrow. The one visible eye bore a hole in her mind. Red sticky dripped from the grin.

The distant screams intensified. Seconds later, they would mask Chocolat's own as she bolted, howling from the room...

... and headlong into a tent wall.

The canvas obligingly gave way. Chocolat stumbled outside..."UHN!"... and into her sister.

The two fell to the ground in a tangle. Still trapped in the bright expanse of shock, they stared at each other, their expressions either terrified, or guilty. (Both).

"...Sis," Tira finally managed to squeak, "Did you get lost?"

Chocolat nodded slowly, "Yeah... You?"

Tira shook her head, "No... But I blinked and you were gone. Just like that. I was about to call out for you, but when I stood up, the exit was right there. I figured you'd already left and were waiting for me outside."

"...No..." Chocolat said, then trailed off, puzzled. She didn't really feel like beckoning recollection into her mind by relaying her rather unpleasant ordeal to her sister, so she asked instead, "How's your ankle?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Tira answered, looking puzzled as she lifted her dress a bit, "But look..."

Chocolat peered over at Tira's ankle, which looked untouched. This came as only a mild surprise to Chocolat. At this point, she knew all too well that the blood she had smelled wasn't Tira's. Not at all...

Not at all...

The so-called 'freaks' in the freak show were phonies. Not one in the entire bunch was genuine. Not at all. They were not the products of nature's error. They were made that way, forced together like mismatched puzzle pieces by human hands. Carrot couldn't help laughing. He laughed so hard, he could almost hear his merriment echoing off the walls. Only the resonation wasn't merry at all...

He abruptly silenced himself but still, the surrounding laughter continued. It wasn't an echo. It was independent of his vocals. And it was malicious.

Carrot's heart flopped when his attention was brought back to the three-headed dog. It had not moved, but the left and right heads had inexplicably grown hair. Being a dog, of course they had fur, but this was hair. Human hair. Great black skeins of it. The middle head, the slightly darker one had also grown hair, but it was much shorter, and bristled skyward in blade-like cowlicks. And those eyes... so dark, so human...

Carrot blinked owlishly. His heartbeat felt heavy, his chest tight. His breaths escaped in small pants.

The laughter continued, viciously eating away at something inside him. The three sets of pointed teeth now looked less like fierce snarls and more like nasty, taunting smiles.

"What the HELL?" Carrot spun around and glanced behind him. The other animals remained still and lifeless on the cool table tops. Even the guppy seemed to have reached its own standstill, and now floated in aquatic dreamland...

"Carrot!"

Carrot jumped. So did his heart. A few wild glances about reminded him that he was indeed alone in the tent. His lungs pumped and struggled against his tightening ribcage.

"Carrot!"

A different voice this time, but still a voice of no-one. It was distinctly female and somewhat familiar, probing into the darkest recesses of his mind...

"Carrot..." the voice said again, this time adopting a tsk-tsk tone and sounding somewhat grave, "Carrot, I'm very disappointed in you."

"Wha-" Carrot started only to be cut off.

"Hah!" Gruff and mocking, "Idiot, I knew you wouldn't amount to anything!"

Something lurched in Carrot's gut. The air itself seemed to pulse around him. 'Pop?!' But it couldn't be...

"Niisan... don't you ever learn?"

THAT voice he would know anywhere. It was unmistakable. His chest tightened again, "M-Marron?"

The wicked laughter hummed in his ears, thrumming in sync with his heart. Between the tautness of his chest and the heaving of his heart, it hurt to breathe. An invisible presence pressed in on him. Carrot fell to his knees. Lifting his head a little, he came face to face with a pair of dark eyes. Recognition bore into him like a drill as his eyes, so like those set into the face before him, scanned the faces of the other two.

"...have turned out more like your brother..."

"...always nicking cookies and making a mess of my flower bed..."

"...so easily distracted. So obsessed with material desires...."

The three mouths moved not a bit, but the words flowed like a glittering cascade of needles. Words like "loser", "worthless", and "disappointment" swam among the laughter and sang cruelly into Carrot's ears. It hurt to breathe. Oh gods, how it hurt...

Carrot burst out of the tent, wheezing and shaking. He stumbled toward a lamp post to which he clung with one hand, supporting himself. Though the noxious buzz of the crowd was as loud and prevailent as ever, the hurtful blathering, faces framed by familiar hair, and eyes so dark and human scrolled vividly through his mind.



five: "Calling"

"Oh for gods' sakes."

Milphey sighed, both relieved and exasperated when he spotted an ample raven mane stuck in among a longish line of people. He wasted no time in hurrying towards the queue, clasping Marron's shoulder when he reached him.

"Marron you scared me half to death disappearing like that what are doing here?!" Milphey gushed in one breath.

"Waiting," came the simple reply. Marron didn't seem to acknowledge his friend's presence otherwise. He simply... stared. Curious, Milphey turned to see what it was that so captivated him.

Calliope music blared from twin loudspeakers. Light reflected from the lamp posts sang on polished brass. Lights flashed red, gold and green in their orbits. Artifical stallions and mares followed suit, heavily decorated, frozen in hurried stances on their poles, and looking for all the world like very large, very elaborate popsicles.

Milphey cocked a brow at his comrade.

"The carousel?"

"The carousel," Marron said.

The brow tipped a bit further, "You want to ride the carousel?" Milphey asked slowly.

Marron nodded once, but looked deep in thought, "It's not so much that I want to, but there's something that... draws me to it."

"Something?" The Haz Knight asked, only half-interested.

"I can't explain it, really," Marron said, finally looking away from the rotating apparatus, "It feels like a force... Or something calling to me."

Milphey sighed, still a little shaken from the recent bout of anxiety, and short on patience, "Well, we don't have time for this, and I don't know about you, but I for one would like to get as far away from this place as I can, as soon as I can."

Marron was watching the carousel again, "Just one ride."

Milphey jerked forward and grunted in surprise when some little rascal knocked into him from behind. He took a deep breath and tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, "Marron, I want to leave. And the others are probably waiting for us."

"Just one ride," Marron repeated, without looking away from the carousel. His voice sounded vague, like he'd barely heard Milphey. This annoyed the Knight a bit. Movement up ahead caught his eye. Two little girls in matching grey-lavendar outfits were fussing and tugging at their mother's dress, somewhere near the front of the queue. The racket they were surely making was lost among the symphony produced by the ride. A small noise of pain escaped Milphey's lips. The knight placed a hand on his lower back which was still inexplicably sore.

"Listen Milphey, one quick ride is alI I ask," Marron said, breaking his gaze away from the carousel. His voice had returned to normal, "Just a go on the carousel. If nothing happens, we'll go straight to the gate, I promise."

Milphey frowned, and stared at him, "What do mean 'if nothing happens'?"

Marron answered, but his words were overpowered by the music of the carousel.

"What?"

Marron blinked at him, "What?" he echoed.

"Never mind, I heard you," Milphey lied, through with being patient and content to let it go. The lights flashed. The melody blared on.

"Doesn't that noise bother your headache?" Milphey suddenly asked, genuinely curious.

Marron shook his head a little, watching as the rotating platform ground to a halt, "I don't mind it. When I was much younger, I used to love carousels. They were probably the reason why I liked going to fairs, come to think of it. Nothing gave me greater joy than a ride on a wooden horse."

Milphey observed as the children hopped off their horses and toddled off to their parents... except one who made a rather clumsy dismount and promptly doubled over, vomiting.

The Knight sighed, "Come on, let's get this over with."

A few moments later found two androgynous men seated on a pair of the wooden horses and clasping their respective brass poles. They were practically the last ones admitted, so, when the time came for them to choose their mounts, the carousel was nearly full and they were forced to sit relatively far away from each other. Neither of them was able to see very much of his partner past the many other riders that obstructed his view.

Marron's horse was jet-black with a silvered mane and a carved, red bridle. Milphey's was bright pink with a violet mane and tail. The knight snorted in disgust, horrendously aware of how sodding stupid he looked, sitting on a horse meant for someone one third his size.

Marron, uncomfortable as he was on the undersized saddle, was deep in thought. What was it about this carousel that beckoned him forward? Just what kind of force was behind it, and was said force of good intent? A ragged hiss of energy tore through the near-deafening music, and the horse lurched beneath Marron, disrupting his train of thought.

The pace began as a steady crawl and gradually became a lethargic mechanical gallop. Still, the world blurred in the unfocused field of Marron's vision. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings anyway. The young mage's mind was preoccupied with the strangely alluring carousel. He could definitely feel currents of energy pealing from its centre. It was cool and almost soothing in a way, but didn't cease to faze him. But there was something else. A different kind of energy was drawing his attention from the other side. It was a strange sensation, and almost felt like a tug. Come to think of it, the aforementioned cool energy felt vaguely like a push. And not only that. Some fragment of conscience in the back of Marron's mind was giving him the distinct feeling that time was very short...

One pale hand left the brass pole and flew to his temple. Somehow, the pain there had suddenly increased tenfold. But there was something else...

Bringing his hand down for a look, Marron blinked, puzzled at what he saw. His fingertips came down wet and red.

'Blood?'

At that instant, something clicked in Marron's mind. It all came together. A slight smile crossed the mage's lips, and he closed his eyes. His other hand left the pole, leaving him free to fall, free to plunge into a void of darkness...

"HOLY MOTHER...!"

Milphey cried out in shock as he watched his friend drop like a stone. When the carousel's cycle brought the Knight close to where he'd seen Marron fall, he scanned the passing ground for a hopefully uninjured mage. He saw only earth. Earth that was greyed, but ageless, hard, but without substance. The ground below trapped Milphey's gaze and held it, then surged upward in the Knight's field of vision as he too began to plunge toward it...

Falling...

Falling...

"...Falling?"
"What?" Tira blinked, brought so suddenly out of her reverie. She turned to her sister, who resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I said,'Do you think you'll be able to walk to the gate without falling?'"

"Oh," Tira replied, "Sure."

That said, Chocolat and Tira rose from the bench where they'd stopped to rest. The two redheads then began walking (or in Tira's case, limping) toward the team's designated meeting place. Seemingly faceless crowds slinked past them in the direction opposite which they were walking, dragging Chocolat into a bout of vertigo. Her consciousness tipped like a ship on a fitful sea. She shook her head.

"Something wrong, sis?"

Tira sounded far away. An automatic "Mn, it's nothing" fell from Big Sister's lips.

People and tents passed in a bustling, greyish haze. Out of the corner of her eye, Tira spotted a familiar figure emerging from one tent in particular.

"Hey, Carrot!"

The shaken teen's head snapped up when he heard his name. A ways away from him, he could see Tira, the shorter of an all-too-recognizable duo of red-heads, waving her arms wildly.

"Hey, girls," Carrot said, talking and walking in their direction as casually as humanly possible, considering his rather unpleasant previous experience.

"So..." Tira began, pushing up her glasses and trying not to sound as relieved as she felt, "How was the freak show?"

Carrot shrugged, almost hoping that doing so physically would help him to shrug off the unpleasant memories, "Bloody rip-off," he said, only half-lying. As freaky as that one thing was, the rest of Freak Show hadn't really lived up to its name, now that Carrot looked back at it. That damnable albeit perfectly normal guppy kind of made it so, in his opinion.

"Same with the haunted house," Tira remarked, not seeing any need to bring up the subject of her ankle. Chocolat said not a word.

"See anything worth our attention?"

Carrot shook his head, "Not really." He didn't feel as though he was lying. Besides, what good would it have done to tell his step-sisters about a weird encounter with a monster that probably didn't even happen? At this point, Carrot was 98.5% convinced he'd been seeing and hearing things. Yet, the unconvinced 1.5% still sang strong at the back of his mind. It had been so very, very real...

"Yeah," Chocolat agreed, secretly feeling the same way as Carrot ( in accordinance with her own experience, of course), "Ditto there."

"What a stupid waste of time," Carrot bitched, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Tell me about it," Tira grumbled, "This place isn't evil. It's just plain hokey."

"Well, if that's the case, our work here is done, so I say we get out of here." Carrot suggested.

"I'll second that," Chocolat agreed, sounding eager, if not frazzled.

That said, the tired trio began trekking toward the gate, intended to meet up with their friends and get far, far away from this place. They hadn't gone five yards before Carrot stopped in his tracks.

"Hey..." he said, looking off to his right, "Did anyone notice the big freakin' merry-go-round?"

Tira and Chocolat peered around the corner of a grey-maroon tent that had probably been red at some point. Sure enough, past a dunking booth and a skee-ball station, the gleaming, domed roof and herd of artificial horses could be seen through the gaps in a queue of fair-goers who appeared to be waiting to ride the thing.

"No..." Tira said, puzzled, "I didn't see it when we came in, or when we walked down here."

"And I didn't hear it," Chocolat added, in reference to the juvenile tunes that pealed out of the gigantic contraption at a skyrocketing volume. The elder Misu's sentiments were given a violent shove from fed-up and freaked out to fondly reminiscent and frivolous. She smiled suddenly.

"Shall we ride it?"

Two pairs of incredulous eyes, one umber the other scarlet, were fixed upon her the second the suggestion left her lips. They were all eager to leave. Why would she want to stay for a stupid little kiddie go-round?

Chocolat turned to them, her eyes bright for the first time since they'd left the house, "Let's give it a go. For old times' sake."

Tira and Carrot exchanged glances. Or at least they started to... She ended up wincing in pain. Her good ankle was almost as sore as her bad one from having to put all of her weight on it all the time. She certainly wouldn't mind a quick sit-down, even if it involved loud music, a bunch of kids, and repeatedly bobbing up and down. Either way, she was all for it. What could it hurt?

Carrot sighed a little then nearly doubled over, clutching at his aching chest, his breath stunted by the tightness in his ribcage. Perhaps it would be nice to sit down for a bit. Plus, while he rather liked the idea of heading for the gate right away, he also knew better than to argue with Chocolat. If that hat came out, he'd be in a world of hurt.

A round on the carousel was not much to ask. Neither one of them refused.



Six: "Plummet"

"Me, me every-damn-where." Gateau thought, furious. At himself, at his reflections, and at the freaking Fun House. He stopped and slumped against a mirror that served as a wall. Across from him, a grossly elongated Gateau did the same.

He felt he'd been wandering for hours. The Fun House had looked very small and not at all imposing from the outside. On the interior, it seemed to span for miles. Worse, Gateau couldn't seem to find anything he'd seen when he'd come in. Granted, the Fun House contained nothing but mirrors, so it was bound to look the same all throughout. However, when Gateau had first come in, he was surrounded by normal, everyday mirrors with normal, everyday reflections. Now, wherever he walked in his search for the exit, a grotesquely misshapen version of himself followed along, each likeness more hideous than the last. To the right, a small, scrawny, pathetic Gateau ambled along on toothpick legs. Ahead, a horribly bloated simpering Gateau waddled toward a corner and disappeared. A demonic, angular, evil Gateau capered along one slanted wall. A Gateau that was sullen and shameful sulked behind.

Everything loomed over him or slithered by his feet at insane, impossible angles. The corridors seemed to have no end, their vanishing points dark, gleaming-glass maws. All around, the grotesque reflections danced, danced...

The warrior frowned, wishing he had something, anything, to hurl at a mirror. He wished painfully and fervently to break the glass, to remove at least one of the reflections from his sight. He stopped, staring from left to right at a series of horribly warped persons, hating how they looked like him, yet not at all.

Gateau looked up, scowling at all of his selves that he wished would disappear. They all smiled back.

He stiffened, "What in Hell...?"

The other blondes stared into him, their eyes glinting a menacing blue. Their lips curled, revealing wicked, needle-teeth.

Something within Gateau's mind snapped. He seized one of his bulky shoulder plates, yanking it off. Holding its leather strap tight in his fist, he swung wildly at the wall, striking his demonized two-dimensional self. The heavy steel plate hit the mirror with a deafening crash, its spikes driving bullet-hole dents into the glass. Hair-cracks spread web-like over the smooth panel until it could withstand no more. As the mirror shattered, the whole world seemed to scream and fall down around Gateau. He shielded his face with a forearm as millions of razor-sharp shards rained down on him like hailstones.

When his surroundings were once again still, Gateau lowered his arm. He then realized that the 'wall' he'd struck was a mirror and nothing more. No paneling of any kind was behind to support it. He had made a mammoth hole in the wall. As a result, the night-washed world outside mawed darkly at him. A final, tiny piece of glass fell from the frame where the mirror had been, making a tiny, tinkling noise upon the floor.

Sighing and carefully brushing away the tiny bits of glass that had fallen in his hair, the warrior stepped through the frame and out of the house of mirrors. He did not look back. Rather, his gaze was directed toward the ground surrounding the toes of his boots. Shards of all sizes flashed red, gold and green. Looking to his left, the warrior then saw what the broken glass was reflecting.

The fairgrounds seemed to be deserted. The game booths were cast in shadow, the tents darkened beside them. The roller coaster tracks stood, black and forlorn against the velvet night sky. No person, creature or thing stirred, save for the occasional bit of paper or styrofoam cup that went rustling across the ground. This in itself was odd, because there wasn't a breeze of any sort...

Despite the carnival's current, rather vacant state, the carousel appeared to be working full swing. The tutti-frutti lights along the domed top were blinking in cheerful patterns, and faint music played from the double loud speakers installed in the roof. However, the wooden horses were dark shapes in front of the bright yellow of the inner lights, silent and still in their frozen stances.

Gateau knew not what possessed him to do so, but before he knew it, he was approaching the carousel. He felt drawn to it, in a way. There was just something about the way it looked, bright and ready in the tranquil dark of night. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn it was... waiting for him...

The cheerful tune was soft, like the humming of a small child as he climbed onto the platform. His steel-toed boots clomp-clomped on the painted yellow floor boards, sounding thunderous against the near-silence. The series of clunking sounds carried up under the domed roof, where they bounced, creating eerie echoes.

Sky-coloured eyes stained sapphire-blue by the darkness scanned row upon row of wooden steeds, all lined up like statuesque cadets. One in particular caught the warrior's eye. All of the other horses were too plain, too paltry or too pastel for his tastes. Only one among them was just 'pretty'. It looked amazingly real, beautifully carved, its glossy black mane and tail looking soft and flowing despite being made of wood. Its eyes were a warm, velvety black, its face fine and thin. Its hide was matte white, smooth and flawless, as though it had never been ridden by anything but grey shadows, which were now settled beneath its belly and around its hindquarters in the partial darkness. The lower legs were bound from fetlock to hock with white wrappings, just as they would've had this been a live racing horse. From the stance it was in, the horse looked as though it would canter off into the shadows at any second.

Gateau felt drawn to the horse, like he would feel drawn to a familiar face. There was something about this horse that he just... knew.

Not really thinking why he was doing it, he swung one leg over the horse and had a seat on the saddle. The saddle was not the size it looked, and the toes of his boots rested upon the platform. The wooden animal seemed so small and delicate compared to him. Gateau almost regretted having mounted it. How easily he could have broken such an exquisite masterpiece...

Before he had the chance to change his mind, the music's volume leapt for the sky and the horse lunged brusquely beneath him. Instinctively, his hands locked onto the brass pole in front of him. The carousel began to turn.

As the first lethargic lap commenced, Gateau leaned out to the side, searching for some kind of control station to see who was operating the thing. The darkened shapes and sinister shadows of the fairgrounds played in and out of his vision like a badly made filmstrip. He saw nothing more.

The calliope music screamed like an instrumental banshee. Momentum seemed to be gained with every passing round. The pulsing energy, the steed beneath him moving up and down, up and down, taking him in its stride... With both of these elements in addition to the awesome head rush, Gateau supposed it could have almost been erotic.

The brass pole was becoming slick beneath the palms of his hands. The world spun at a lunatic pace, showing no signs of slowing. Spun so fast that the dark surroundings were almost glowing. No, they were glowing, glowing more and more bright with each second that passed. Gravity rushed beneath the warrior, whirling at crazy angles around him. The velocity had climbed to such a high level that Gateau could hear the pole rattling against its system and supports as the horse was thrust up and down like a bronco. The light became white-hot and blinding. Gateau was forced to hold onto the pole with one hand so that he could shield his eyes with the other as the brightness enveloped him like Hellfire, sealing him off from the world.


Gaddup gaddup gaddup...

Hoof beats...?

The swift clip-clopping noises were the first to greet Gateau's ears and register in his mind. The deafening calliope music had ceased, but he was still moved up and down with the wooden horse beneath him...

Wooden...?

Through the denim of his jeans, Gateau felt the familiar warmth of flesh against him. Blue eyes snapped open and were greeted by the flying ribbons of a raven-black mane, attached to an arched alabaster neck.

Gateau was still riding the horse he had chosen, but this one was not frozen in time. Powerful legs carried the graceful animal over rough, grey terrain. Muscles stretched and rippled beneath the smooth ivory hide. An occasional snort escaped the muzzle. It was the same horse... But this one was real.

The pole had long since vanished, to be replaced by reins. Looking down at them, Gateau noticed the intricate patterns that had been burned into the leather straps. Familiar shapes and stars... Ornate papers with magical properties brought to sparking life by artful hands...

Gateau looked carefully at the steed before him, his mind tangled with thought... Could it be...?

He was thrown forward as the stallion stopped abruptly. It had clearly been spooked, because it reared up on his hind legs, whinnying. Not prepared for this, Gateau lost his grip and when tumbling backward. Pain exploded through his shoulders and the back of his head as he struck the rocky ground. Seeming to fall forever, leaving one crag only to crash upon the next, Gateau felt a strange energy tugging at the back of his mind, through the red mist of pain. The grey world pulsed, hiccuped, and was obliterated by white light...


While drifting in bright expanse of incoherency, he felt a nudge against his shoulder. Slowly turning his aching head, he cracked one eye open. The sky was an impersonal grey, flat, yet fathomless up above. The shape leering at him was blurry, but the lush fall of ebony hair was indication of enough of what it was.

The horse nickered softly as it pushed against the warrior's sore shoulder with its muzzle, reins clinking. Gateau did not respond, too engrossed in grogginess and residual pain to do so. He moaned in protest when the horse began pawing at him none too gently with its hoof. The animal neighed softly, but urgently.

A voice that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once called his name.

Gateau.

'Great, a talking horse', he thought, 'As if evil mirrors and lunatic merry-go-rounds weren't enough...'

Gateau.

"What?" the warrior said, "What do you want from me?"

Gateau.

The voice persisted, as did the rough-edged hoof. Gateau attempted to roll away, but was held fast.

"Hey! What's the big-?"

Gateau. Wake up.

The warrior blinked, and so did the world.



Seven: "Revelation"

"Gateau. Wake up."

He opened his eyes. The world glittered for a second, glaring harshly. He blinked. His head hurt terribly, as did his shoulders where he'd hit them when he fell from the horse.

That horse...

The animal leaned over him still, its mane spilling like a dark waterfall over one shoulder. The hoof prodded him again.

Not a hoof. A hand.

Horses don't have hands...

The world came into focus, along with the warrior's mind.

"Gateau," Marron said, finally taking his free hand (the other was holding an what appeared to be and ice-pack to his temple) away from the blond's shoulder, "Are you okay?"

Before he could answer, a familiar voice intruded from the side, "Oh good, he's awake," a pair of small feminine hands shooed the younger Glace boy away, "Now, now, off with you! I can handle this!"

Marron was then replaced by a winged individual in a blue dress. Daughter leaned over Gateau, quite upside-down from his vantage point.

"Hey Gateau," she chirped, "You okay? D'you hurt anywhere?"

"Head hurts a bit," he answered gruffly, attempting to sit up and wincing when his pain-riddled shoulder protested. Looking around what appeared to be a most untidy rec room, he saw downed streamers and a raided buffet table. Red party cups and paper plates were sprinkled at random. He was indoors, where he had been before they'd left for the carnival. But how? And that horse...

"Hey, Daughter?"

The girl's golden feral eyes stopped in their scan of him for injuries, "Huh?"

"That horse I fell off of," he started, "Where is it? Tied up somewhere outside?"

Long, pointed brows came together in query, "Horse? What are you talking about, Gateau? You just fell down a flight of stairs."

His confused expression mirrored hers, "...Stairs?"

She huffed, putting her hands on her hips, "You DID have a lot to drink, didn't you?"

Gateau didn't answer. Rather his gaze fell upon a single step in front of him. Above this was another, above that was another, et cetera, et cetera. The staircase was partially beneath him, as if he'd fallen down it, which he apparently had.

... What...???

"Where are the others?" he suddenly asked, "Are they okay?"

"Yeah," Daughter replied, her bangs bobbing as she nodded, "Marron fell off his stool and took a nice bonk to the head. Chocolat fell on Carrot and knocked the wind out of him. Tira kind-of tripped over Milphey and twisted her ankle and those heels of hers left some nasty bruises on his back. Other than that everyone's fine."

"Oh..." Gateau said, though he was not at all through asking questions. He knew it would do no good to ask Daughter, because she knew nothing of what he had supposedly been through. Her answer to the horse question was proof enough of that. But maybe his team-mates...

Daughter let out a squeak of surprise as Gateau rose and stumbled past her, cutting her off. He had neither the time nor the patience to listen to rambles about thinking before drinking. He needed answers. Now.

En route to the next room over, he happened to glance at the clock.

Midnight.

The last time he'd checked had been two minutes ago. But how...?

Gateau stepped into what appeared to be a lobby, where he was greeted by five silent faces. As he had been just recently, Marron was holding his ice-pack. He was seated next to his brother, who appeared to be fine if not a little weary. Next to her sister, Tira was on the couch across from them, and minus one shoe. Her ankle was wrapped tightly with bandages and a brace. Milphey was sprawled on his stomach on the third and middle couch, three ice packs resting on his back.

They looked at Gateau. Gateau looked at them. Everyone's expression held confusion and bewilderment. Their eyes projected the same inquiry.

What in holy Hell happened?



Epilogue: "Foundation"

Leaves crunched in protest as they were trodden by six pairs of feet. Somewhere to their left, errant limbs rustled as a squirrel went bounding through the trees.

"Aaaaaagh. Are you sure this is the right path?" Carrot called, dragging his feet, "We've been walking for hours! My dogs are killing me."

"For the millionth time, yes I'm sure," Gateau called over his shoulder, only slightly annoyed.

"I think I'm getting a blister," the elder Glace moaned wretchedly. He made an exasperated face when one of his arms was encircled by two others he knew all too well.

"If you're tired, I could carry you, Darling" Chocolat offered sweetly.

Tira sighed, not bothering to try to keep her sister in check. She kept her eyes on the ground, which whizzed jerkily beneath her feet as she limped along. She took up the rear because of her handicap. Marron stayed by her side, incase she fell behind or needed to rest. Not too far ahead of them, Chocolat was hanging off Carrot's arm, while he shooed an exceedingly coquettish Milphey away with the other. In the lead and holding the map was Gateau.

The aforementioned path that the team vaguely remembered walking wound to the right. The buzz of cicadas was strong from all sides. Beaten ground passed beneath their feet while sickly pale skies loomed overhead. Tira sighed, taking her glasses off to clean the lenses with a fold of her dress.

"This is really creepy," she commented, "I'm afraid if I see this place again I'm going to totally wig out."

"I wouldn't worry too much," Milphey said, turning to face her and walking backwards, "Besides, we don't know if 'this place' even exists".

"Well, if it doesn't, what happened last night makes no sense," Carrot (having temporarily been relieved of the cling-on called Chocolat) put in his own two cents, "Why should we all have the same dream, all at once? I mean come on. Only one of us can hallucinate at a time."

"Not necessarily," Marron countered, "Some people are said to have certain psychic gifts, such as telepathy or ESP which make it possible to see into the minds of others and even communicate using brain-power alone."

"Oh come on, Marron. That stuff's for loonies and yahoos," Carrot said, gesturing dismissively, "Besides, if we were all psychics, don't you think we would have realized it before just now?"

"I just... don't know," Tira mumbled, replacing her glasses.

"Not much further," Gateau mused aloud, giving his comrades an update on their progress as he studied the map, "Should be just over this hill."

And over the hill it was.

Having reached the top of said hill, the team gasped in unison at what they saw.

It was a building. An enormous, apparently abandoned building. The weak sunlight glinted hauntingly from the glass of row upon row of broken windows. The shards poked out from the panes like pointed teeth, the dark interior gaping through the windows like black mouths. The greying brickwork had long since been sullied by graffiti, weather, and time.

No weathered tents. No gaming booths. No roller coaster tracks. No haunted house. No merry-go-round. It was a building big enough to cover what could have been the entire fair grounds. A building and nothing more...

Nothing...

Except for a sign.

Tira squinted behind her glasses as she scanned the chipped, fading letters, several of which were no longer readable.

"A**li** Rese*rch Ce*tre *nd H**e for t*e M*ntally Mala*juste*."

Carrot frowned, "What's the name in front of 'Research'?"

"Can't tell," Tira replied.

"By the gods..." Milphey breathed. Everyone turned upon hearing the shock in his voice.

"I remember this place."

"What? How do you know about it?" Chocolat asked, curious if not creeped out.

Milphey's face looked a shade too pale, and his eyes never left the building, "I helped destroy it."

Silence fell over the team as Milphey explained, his voice gravely quiet.

"About twelve years ago, Mother had begun to hear rumours about a mental clinic and asylum for Parsoners, run by sorcerers. While most of the building had been utilized to house the mentally ill, some of it was also devoted to research. The doctors who worked there would select Parsoner patients and take them into certain rooms for examination. One mother of a boy who was a patient there claimed that her son went into the laboratory and came out with at least twenty pieces of metal fastened to his body. People passing by the rear wing outside reported hearing wild screams of pain coming from inside the building. Naturally, Mother investigated.

"She decided the best plan of action was to infiltrate the building from within and then launch a surprise attack. As for who was to be committed... Well, I had no choice.

"I was put in a room by myself. During the nights, I relayed messages to Mother with a simple spell she'd taught me. Nothing happened for the first three days.

"Finally, I was taken to 'The Back Room'. Gods, it was horrible. So much screaming and yelling and crying. They did things to me... things I don't want to think about.

"That night, I told Mother that the rumours she'd heard were true and an attack was called for. The next morning, she, Chiffon and Kahlua stormed the clinic, destroying everything in their path, including the manager and chief doctor. But there was one thing..."

The knight trailed off vaguely.

The Hunters waited in taut silence while Milphey just stared. Chocolat finally snapped.

"What?!" she said, sounding almost vicious with anxiety.

"... The chief doctor," Milphey said after a heavy pause, "He was the one patients feared most. He lead the experiments and carried out many of them himself. He was very interested in the brain and its many assets. Namely things like telepathy, empathy and clairvoyance. According to some other patients I met when I was there, he was doing research for a project about fear and pain. How the two were induced, and how they were associated, hence the inhumane experiments."

"Well, what about him?" Chocolat pressed.

Milphey breathed a sigh that shuddered as it was emitted, "We never found his body."

Silence washed over them. The mind of each Hunter was a tangle of questions and permeated by that cold fear that stays with you even after the danger has passed, and lurks in your memories. Marron broke the ice.

"What was his name, Milphey?"

The knight inhaled sharply before the dreaded name escaped his lips, drenched in that cold, residual fear.

"Doctor Aisling."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


So, what did you think? What parts were the best? Was the style okay? Were they horrendously out-of-character? Was the outcome too predictable? But most of all, was it eerie/creepy in any sense? This was my first attempt at anything 'spooky' and I worked super-hard on it, so I'd really like to hear your thoughts, good, bad, or otherwise.

If anything left you confused, please do take a look at the author's notes. If you're still confused, by all means leave your questions in a review, or drop me a line. Thanx so much and I really hope you liked it.

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