Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter I: The Bunny's New Clothes

“ … So please, just stop looking”

The words stuck in the back of her throat every time she rewound the moment in her head. Pomni couldn’t remember her heaving breaths, the way her fists clenched as they tore against the fabric of her dainty gloves, or the heat that ripped through her as they pierced each other's gaze. For some odd reason it was the most human she had ever felt since joining the Circus. 

Even now as she stared at her concealed hands, trying to tug them off in vain, she was engulfed in little electric pricks like warm needles which tickled the arms that gripped Jax’s throat, unsure of whether this was shame or an appetite for the one feeling she was so deprived of in this digital purgatory: control. The static sensation radiated around her the same way a cozy campfire brightens a crimson autumnal forest, and she chose to think of it as her own nerves firing to life rather than a sterile string of code that bound her to this unfeeling, numbing prison. 

Pomni knew it wasn’t right to feel this way, but at the very least it confirmed that something inside of her was alive – there was a part of her still burning, still whole. At this point, what other options did she have to remind herself of who she was on the outside, away from all of this. She could not say the same for Jax. 

She would take the fury – with all of its raw force – just to keep her from surrendering like that pitiful rabbit did. Yet this didn’t stop her from nurturing at least some tinge of remorse welling up inside, building with each passing day they went without even seeing each other. 

This whole time, was she bonding with someone who wasn’t even … real? Was he ever there at all behind those glassy eyes? 

She never wanted him to feel like nothing, but Jax had already made that decision for her.

She knew it was fake. The facade was about as obvious as the frown on Gangle’s mask. Yet his own was starting to crack even more. 

It was pretty easy to read Jax, especially with how quickly he got flustered when she looked right through him. The jester had her accounting skills to thank for that. People are just like numbers in more ways than one. Every value has its meaning, every sum has its place, and every transaction has a reason. She just had to pick out the right pieces and put them together to finish the puzzle. Jax was no different, and she was so close to solving him. She knew there was something more to him than this mask; the way he jumbled his words when she got under his skin; that stupid grin when he wanted nothing more than to run away from her stabbing gaze;  those dilated pupils that turned into oblivious voids when he tried to hide the fear that rushed through him. 

He acted so much larger than life and she knew it was really because he was so small inside. Nobody was allowed to see that side of him. Pomni was the only one that wanted to pull back the curtain on his act. If thrashing him around like a ragdoll hadn’t cracked the egg that revealed his true self – his human self – then she would find another way. It was up to the Circus to give her the opportunity.

________________________________________________________________________

“There’s nothing more to me”

Jax was battling to push the phrase out of his head, repeating it over and over like an echo screeched into a bottomless canyon. He was curled in the corner of his disheveled room – on top of the bed where he had stayed for what seemed like days, his knees tucked up to his chin to block out the blinding Caine-mandated light from the ceiling. Usually by this point he was able to convince himself into drifting off to sleep, the one place where he could block out the noise. 

Today was more difficult. He kept replaying the heart-pounding dread of barely recognizing himself in the mirror when his vision first started to blur, the resounding beat of his foot as it stamped against the floor of the auditorium, and the crushing realization that he was alone once again. 

You look so stupid. 

For some reason even this deflection and self-derision was not enough to shield him from the truth. He was slipping further down. The bunny barricaded himself in his room, avoiding his own reflection ever since, yet he could definitely tell when he wasn’t able to strain out a smile from the way his teeth gnashed like bits of glitched code in his wide mouth, or when his eyes had shrunk to specks of soot – writhing in distorted strands among those shiny golden pools. 

He swore that while at the awards show, just before everything began to fade as his sight was clouded with a kaleidoscope of blurry agony and hazy, palpitating waves, he could see the glint of Pomni’s eyes and the tails of her jangling jester cap winking back at him in the dimming spotlights. 

What did she want with me anyway? 

He grumbled from between his legs as he clutched them closer to his chest. If only his bunny body hadn’t betrayed him at that moment, maybe he’d have an answer. It seemed like that was all his fragile frame was doing lately. It forced itself from his seat with his tail between his legs as he rushed to the theater’s bathroom and blindly pushed Pomni away from his arms as they embraced, a cocktail of surprise and suppressed memories taking control of his nerves to react all on their own. 

Jax closed his eyes even harder, trying to drag them further down into the base of his skull. His skinny ears sagged at his side, but now he laid his head back and placed his hands onto the base of each one, right where he thought all the clamor of the outside world seeped into. Finding just the right place, he took three fingers and slowly rubbed them in circles right where his head coalesced into those tall antennae of his. He put more pressure on this soothing spot, just enough to feel sparkly tingles silencing every thought, like feathery bristles that scrambled his restless soul. The bunny’s fur became matted from the compressions, rustling and scraping against his sensitive ears. His eyes began to relax, his mouth ironed out from its contorted frown, and he started to slowly collapse on the bed, melting like silky butter into smooth batter. 

As he drifted off, his hands slowly slumped away from his ears, unresistant to sleep’s sweet release – all but for one final intrusion into his groggy consciousness: Her hands were meant to tighten around my neck more than my waist. I should’ve pushed her away sooner before she wrung out what was left of me. 

He needed to be out of control. For once. But why was he so scared of it? 

You know what happened the last time somebody got close enough. 

His ears curled drowsily onto the pillow. His legs finally toppled onto the mattress. He stopped fighting back. Everything turned to peaceful darkness. Finally he wouldn’t care about being alone. 

________________________________________________________________________

First the bed started chattering like a wind-up toy, then his key collection on the wall started to shake wildly on their rungs. The floor rumbled manically as the doorknob rattled. Jax awoke startled and stunned, his eyes still adjusting to being wrenched away from his slumber. In the midst of the quaking, a grating resonance like fabric being ripped to shreds filled the entirety of the Circus, and the rabbit had to pull the sheets back to make sure his own overalls weren’t disintegrating into thin air. 

Am I abstracting? 

For the first time in a while, he wished there was someone to help him, yet he couldn’t expunge the plea from his mouth. 

A sudden propulsion of invisible energy tore through the rooms, the shockwave throwing Jax’s keys off the wall with such ferocity that he had to duck under his sheets to keep from being bludgeoned. There was an eerie silence that permeated in the air before a monotonous, mechanical drone reverberated all around him, even coursing through his very bones (if he even had any) and knocking his teeth against each other. 

Are we finally getting another adventure? 

It had been days since Caine had even shown his eyeballs after the awards show, and it turned out to be the most insufferable form of torture from their deluded ringmaster yet. Everyone was startling to get restless, you could feel it in the stillness that sucked the life out of the Circus. The deafening lull made even the quietest whisper from another side of the hall a roar for every ear to hear. Especially for Jax and his lapin senses. 

One-by-one he began to hear doors creak open down the row. “What the **** is going on?” Zooble complained.

Jax recognized the slight ruffle of Gangle’s ribbons as she traipsed further to the ominous hum. “My mask … it broke again,” she mewled, trying her best to catch up to Zooble. Her comedic expression must’ve been the first casualty of this anomaly. 

“G-guys? Is everybody ok? Oh no, Gangle come here,” lamented Ragatha as she peeked out of her own room and rushed over to console the weeping bundle of sentient strings. 

The door across from Jax suddenly squeaked timidly, and almost at once he felt a pounding in his chest. 

It’s been a while since I've felt this before. 

He wondered if she would go knock on his door, to try and convince him into investigating what all the recent commotion was about. The door stopped opening, and everything was quiet for a long time. He could feel whatever was bouncing up-and-down wildly in his middle abruptly rush to the bottom of his ears, making his head throb with heat. Please please please just knock. 

Her little jester shoes marched down the hall, further and further away. 

Hell no, we are not doing this. His pupils felt so small they could’ve disappeared; they became so tangled that he could barely see straight. The rabbit jumped up from the bed, ears springing to life, and searched for as many keys as he could carry that were scattered on the floor – although he already knew which one he really wanted to bring with him. He found Pomni’s, little and golden with a sticker of her frowning, doe-eyed jester face plastered on a small string. He clutched it so hard he thought it could’ve crumbled into dust between his gloves, as if his entire being depended on keeping it close. Maybe it did. 

He took a deep breath at the door, his overalls expanding with the broad, puffy inhale and retracting with the slow, intrepid exhale. His breath was shaky. I won’t look this time, I won’t look. 

He turned the knob and carefully cracked the door open so its swinging would block the room he never wanted to look at again. The room he wanted to forget. 

Despite every part of Jax’s being resisting the forbidden urge, his eyes had other plans as they instinctively wandered to the portrait plastered on the door down the hall – crossed out – but still beaming radiantly with that thinly curved smile sheepishly looped on their froggy face. 

His eyes contracted even further, they started to shudder while his mouth twisted upside down. 

He pried himself away, running after the others with Pomni’s key tucked securely in his overalls, pressing his glove on the pocket where it rested to make sure it was still there. Her key was the only one he took in the end. 

________________________________________________________________________

Pomni followed the others to the source of their peculiar, impromptu disturbance. The agitating hum started to sound hypnotic, almost like it was trying to form words that coursed around them – directing them towards it as if wanting to be found. 

“W-what is going on?” the jester piped up. “This really doesn’t seem normal.” 

“We certainly haven’t heard anything like this before,” Ragatha feigned with a laugh, eyes shifting back and forth. 

She started to slow down for Pomni to catch up, matching her stride so they could stand together. The redheaded doll turned back to see Jax lagging behind, not showing any apparent urgency. A look of concern filled her one good eye as her mouth turned jagged. Pomni looked at Ragatha instead, noticing the way she folded her arms and fiddled with her hands. She’s nervous. 

The group suddenly stopped in their tracks after turning a corner, finally coming face-to-face with whatever it was that intruded on the Circus. Gangle wrapped one of her ribbons around Zooble’s plastic parts to quell her growing anxiety. 

“This is definitely … new,” their pyramidal headed friend admitted apprehensively. 

A tear – or even a ‘rip’ – of some kind now presented itself in front of them. It was very different from the adventure portals they were used to. Those were deliberate, hand-made by Caine, and were obviously meant to be summoned by the way they didn’t look like a jarring, oozing wound. This anomaly had jagged edges, with a velvet outline that singed the corrugated border between itself and their digital reality, vibrating in tandem with the ceaseless hum. In its center was a deep void akin to a muddled blot of ink, with white specks emitting from the darkness that glittered like fairies flitting away in a fragrant garden. This … entity … was suspended in the air like a portal, but it certainly was not one. 

“Y-you’re beautiful,” Kinger dreamingly praised in a bout of lucidity that broke the eerie silence. 

“So – uh – this is just another game right?” Jax inquired from the back of the group, finally catching up with the others. Pomni was the only one who didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. 

“Maybe we should wait for Caine to tell us,” proposed Ragatha, still fidgeting with her knitted hands.

“CAIINNEEEEE!!” yelled Zooble, but to avail. The group waited apprehensively for him to pounce behind them at any moment like a lingering phantom, but not even Bubble showed. Zooble’s echo hung in the air, sounding more like a cry for help than a command. 

Pomni couldn’t take it any longer. “You’d love it if this were a game wouldn’t you,” she mumbled just loud enough for Jax to hear. 

The bunny’s eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed. His pupils had just started to hide again with those plump, barren jet black eyes before she decided to ruin them. They were reduced to pixels now, and she made sure to flick her head towards him just the tiniest bit to catch a glimpse of them, smirking at her handiwork and especially how he couldn’t hide what she caused in him. 

Maybe she’d start to enjoy it just as much as he seemed to. Jax could just sit back and ease into the role that he created for himself, and which the Circus had pushed him further into. If she wanted to find the archetype that clicked just right for her, a few more adventures wouldn’t hurt. 

The purple rabbit, on the other hand, had started to turn a little red in the cheeks. 

Why is she still screwing with me? 

The truth is, he knew exactly why, but he was sure that his tirade during the last game had compelled her into a monastic vow of silence. These were the first words Pomni had spoken to him since she thrashed him like a punching bag after the gunfight, and they stung just as much as being tossed around on the cold, digital ground. He wanted to defend himself with a witty retort, but the words were trapped in his chest like the jester had her hands wrapped around his throat again. 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Pomni took his silence as a tacit admission of defeat. Finally she had managed to shut him up for once. 

Jax, on the other hand, was aching to scratch at the invisible collar she put around his skinny neck, cinching any retaliation he could have made. He could almost feel the marks it impressed on his fur from how taut Pomni had made it. The bunny chose to believe that he stood down at this moment only to spare the others any knowledge of their spats. How considerate of him. 

“I really think we should wait for Caine,” whispered Gangle, cowering behind Zooble. “We have no idea what this is.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll pop up soon to help,” assured an ever-optimistic Ragatha.

Everybody stood still in bated anticipation. The only response they got was a mocking chirp from Jax, doing his best impression of a lonely cricket. His crescent smirk returned as his eyes surged into a deep seated abyss once more.

“Eh screw this I’m bored now.” Jax lunged at Ragatha’s back, pushing her towards Pomni, who in turn knocked everybody else into the anomaly. 

Before she was subsumed in darkness, Pomni whirled around to nab Jax’s ear, yanking him towards her, pulling him down to her level. He yelped in surprise. 

“You. Are. Finished,” she snarled at him, before dragging them both into the rippling void. 

________________________________________________________________________

They began to fall. The white, starry particles that whirred past them were enough of an indicator, as was their only source of light rapidly fleeting away above them: the Circus itself. First they lost all sense of orientation, then they lost sight of themselves. The only thing tying them feebly to reality were their hands wrapped around one another, warm and solid – Jax desperately gripping Pomni’s hands, squeezing around the jester’s fingers and staying attached to her as best he could in the endless shadow that shrouded them. 

The pair smacked against something hard, the world stopped moving and was pulled out from under them. A cold shock sprung up through Jax’s body, as an entirely new world coalesced in front of them. His back was on a frigid floor of smooth stone, as if it had just been quarried from some dark cavern underground. The first thing he noticed was that he couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried to stand up and regain his senses. As his eyes adjusted to this new environment he could slowly make out those haunting red and blue tassels looking down at him, almost as if the Devil’s horns themselves had descended upon him. Their hands were still conjoined together. Even the harsh landing couldn’t break their hold on one another. For Jax, this fact brought with it a crushing realization. 

Oh, that’s why I can’t move. 

“Hey there, bunny,” Pomni giggled above him, the little bells on her hat jingling with her failed attempts to stifle a laugh. 

“W-what the hell!! Get off of me!!” Jax shrieked, desperately trying to wrench himself away. 

“Aw, are you going somewhere?” the jester mocked. “You’re in a bit of a tough spot right now, don’t you think?” She pressed his arms harder into the floor beside his head, showing Jax that he was well and truly pinned. 

“I swear Pomni if you don’t let go of me right NOW!” the rabbit squealed, writhing indignantly under her in hopes of forcing the jester off. Pomni just looked at him with lazy, half-open eyes and a slight smile on her blushing face. 

“Say please,” she commanded softly, rubbing a thumb against his captive hand. 

“Why don’t you just let me go before I demolish you,” Jax sneered through gritted teeth. 

Cute. He’s still trying to keep this up. 

Pomni just shook her head in disapproval and tightened her thighs against his waist so he wouldn’t buck up to try and free himself.

“Nuh-uh-uh. Try again. Be serious this time. You can do that for me right?” She waggled one of her bells in front of his face for emphasis – to really drive home how powerless he was in this position. 

 Jax’s eyes shrunk to mere dots. His cheeks flushed with a sweaty scarlet, his ears twitched in defiance, and his throat struggled to find words. 

Come on bunny boy. You’re so close. 

“W-whatever. Please get off of me,” the defeat stung Jax like a sedative into his stomach. 

“What was that? I couldn’t really hear you,” Pomni gleamed over her catch, rubbing salt in the wound. Or maybe she just wanted to see how much more bashful he could get because of her. He was so unguarded, so open, and such a pathetic mess. Where’s your shield now?

Jax could only groan under her in response. 

He shouldn’t look so pretty like this. 

“Fine. Please. Can. You. Let. Me. Go.” Jax made sure to annunciate every word, as much as it felt like a stab to the side with every single syllable. 

“There we are, that’s all you had to do big guy,” she leaned down to his ear in a low, raspy whisper, trying to make eye contact the whole time. He did his best not to reciprocate it, but she could tell from his wavering pupils – bouncing away in every direction but meeting her gaze – that he was probably considering it, at the very least aware of the effect it would have on him. 

I’ll save that for dessert, Pomni thought to herself.

She finally loosened her grip on Jax’s hands, making sure to grind them into the stone a tiny bit more as a parting reminder of what she just did to him. Not that he would forget anytime soon. He still wasn’t looking her in the eyes, and his ears had all but wilted like thirsty weeds as he clambered up with wobbly legs. 

I think he looks a whole lot better like this. 

A resonant chorus of wails could be heard creeping closer and closer from above the pair as they puzzledly tilted their heads up to look for its source. As it turns out, the distressing screams were in fact hailing from the sky itself. Ragatha, Gangle, Zooble, and an unfazed Kinger were plummeting through the gloomy night air, illuminated by a sparkly crescent moon that shone among a procession of glassy clouds.

The quartet dropped through an open skylight shielded only by a flimsy, delicately embroidered rug and slammed against the stone floor of the room with a dismal thump, groaning in unison before finally being able to spring up and regain their footing – the dismantled rug breaking most of the fall.

Ragatha’s button-eye spun dizzily as she rocked back and forth, Gangle was teary-eyed as always over the loss of her mask, and Zooble reattached their plastic arm that was ripped away during the descent. Kinger seemed to be the only clearheaded new arrival, briskly getting himself upright and searching around their new landscape with a wondrous glimmer in his unaligned eyes. 

“Oh!” Kinger exclaimed with breathless amazement, turning himself about the room. It was quite spacious, the floor shimmered back at them with its flat, carefully organized slabs of gray slate. There was a flimsy glow that surrounded them, soft as the dying sun, which was achieved by a number of torches hung upon walls of creamy white plaster. The flames burned with voiceless taunts, fluttering in their holders like captive spirits. The scant amount of precious light that skipped around the entire space also bounced off a throng of flags that dangled from an arrangement of haughty cross-beams on the tall ceiling, fashioned from the darkest of oaks. They drooped from their rods in vibrant blood-reds and deep violets, adorned with a coat of arms that depicted Caine’s bared teeth and the jagged smile of Bubbles in an opposite corner. Curiously, the swirling body and fiery breath of an emerald dragon could be seen in an adjacent square, while a bejeweled goblet crossed with a pointed arrow occupied the other. 

“This really doesn’t look like some of the other adventures,” Gangle observed, hunching over her ribbons in anticipation of some impending doom. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine! Maybe Caine just updated the AI to be more realistic,” reassured Zooble with a pat on Gangle’s mask, as if they had ever taken such a keen interest in any of the adventures before. 

“There’s definitely some prettyy old decoration in here,” Ragatha muttered softly as she regained her senses, a little spooked by the ornate scenery. It was worlds away from the homely farm she grew up with. The room was so large that the weak glare of the torches couldn’t shine upon every part of its massive breadth, leaving many splotches of perpetual, empty darkness littered about the place. 

Without warning a frenzied hearth roared to life alongside one of the walls of the hall, startling everyone in its vicinity. The intense blaze revealed a bulging fireplace from which it emanated from – wearing a wide, hauntingly iridescent, lively tapestry above the mantle that portrayed some very familiar figures. 

To the far side of the woven landscape there was a lavender rabbit, looking off to the edge of an unseen encounter unfolding on the canvas. Pomni narrowed her eyes at this. 

Are you serious right now? 

This caricature of Jax was adorned in plates of elaborate armor, complimented with the gold inlay of a heart sparkling on his chest that was brought to life on the tapestry through the most luminous of linens that flax could muster. Each plate of steel fit just right on his spindly body as if it was made exactly for him, and he led the pack brandishing a double-handed sword heaved over his head with downturned, determined eyes of deep-dark wool, preparing to strike. 

Yeah right, like that would ever happen. 

Behind him in the procession was Pomni, still flaunting her signature floppy jester attire that was now ornamented with rosy silk and cerulean threads to embellish her usual appearance. As she investigated closer, a cold shiver ran up her spine and flowered into a pink blush on her ivory cheeks. She was holding the fabric version of Jax, clutching his armored shoulders like she was cowering behind him. Oh whoever made this is DEAD. 

Other members of the crew, with the exception of Kinger, followed closely behind in the line of figures on the fireplace. Ragatha wore an opulent floral dress that trailed behind her, Zooble sported a yellow vest patterned with rhombi that matched their geometric visage, and Gangle sat upon a stump contemplating life with an inquisitive hand upon her saggy flat cap that carried a plucked feather, paired with an oversized white undershirt that covered her flimsy ribbons; the epitome of a tortured Renaissance poet. Kinger’s violet robe could be just spotted in the background of the tapestry, standing firm near a looming castle with scowling turrets and imposing walls of fashioned stone and mortar that sat regally at the peak of a heavy hill. Around them, decorative vines stretched around the edges of the drapery, skinny trees dotted the hills in a masterpiece of optical trickery, and a stag was being chased through a bough just under the castle gate in a rolling ravine. 

Jax, brushing off his knees and regaining his composure after Pomni’s antics, couldn’t hide the satisfied grin that started to grow from the edges of his mouth. 

“Now that’s what I'm talking about, finally someone recognizes me for the fearless protector that I am,” he quipped, glancing sideways at Pomni. 

The jester shot daggers back at him, leaning a hand on her hip as she caught his discreet gaze. Cute. He’s trying his best to hide again. It’s a shame that I’ve already seen what you really are.

Ragatha just scoffed, nearly about to challenge him when Kinger ejected a resounding “Oh!” and waddled over to a throne atop a set of steps at the far end of the hall, leading into a semicircular apse.

It was quite modest, built of dark oak, with the backrest diverging into three jagged peaks like a royal crown. Miniature columns were etched just below, with tiny praying monks, marching soldiers, busy bakers, and even peasants hunched over their labor carved out of the woodwork – their three dimensions whittled out of the oak to emphasize their liveliness. It was as pious and noble as the facade of a cathedral, but must have been absolute hell to sit upon as the pocket-sized subjects of your realm dug into your spine. Kinger waltzed over the carpet that led up to the seat, which glowed and sparkled in the moonlight that seeped through a sheet of stained glass on the wall of the apse just behind – a shining pane of cross-hatched clarity that beamed the night’s most treasured light onto the throne, as if filtered through the ambrosial air of Heaven itself. It reflected on the chair, the floor, and pierced through the black night like a diamond inspected by the Sun, washing the seat in a twinkling brilliance unrivaled by any jewel in the kingdom.

Kinger scooped up a scroll that was set upon the seat – a deeply imprinted, glossy wax seal with the emblem “C & A” emblazoned on its front. The sentient chess piece broke it in half with an echoing snap, and the vellum document sagged to the floor. He cleared his throat before delivering its address from the front of the throne. 

“Hear ye, Hear ye one and all! The Kingdom of Cainia is at the zenith of its power! Our fields flourish with the summer harvest, our rivers swell with swimming creatures of all shapes and sizes, our weavers work upon the spindle with zeal, and our armies are victorious on all fronts! The glorious King Kinger the First – oh my that’s me! – has performed his duties nobly thus far, having secured the stability of the realm by negotiating with rebellious Counts, founding new trade routes with the East, and routing the raiders of the Wilted Wood that have harassed our precious manors for far longer than justice should have permitted. Alas! A new threat presents itself to our divinely gifted ruler. The long eras of peace and prosperity have allowed a festering evil to infect the very veins of our empire – one that strikes at the very heart of this inner sanctum: the royal palace itself. Among King Kinger’s many glorious exploits is his mighty table of close advisors, built-up from mere rubble to enact his will with the wisdom of polished marble, all of whom are bearing witness to this exact decree being uttered. While you all have been most loyal servants, ensuring the health of the King and of his eternal Kingdom, there is one of you that has been wearing a mask – keeping up a deadly charade.” 

Gangle was audibly aghast at this, running the ends of her ribboned arms along her tragedy mask as tears escaped her holey eyes. There was a long silence about the room, as each member of the crew looked at each other warily among the sputtering coals glowing in the hearth. Pomni’s gaze flitted around before landing on Jax, who was sitting down criss-cross and clapping his gloves together with a toothy smile, already feigning an excitable immersion into another one of Caine’s games. Pomni rolled her eyes and glowered at him where he wouldn’t see.
Fake it as long as you like. We’ll see how long you can keep it up before you break. 

Kinger cleared his throat and continued. 

“Our King is in mortal danger from this usurper. Death stalks these passages, it rings out from the belltowers, it crawls through every crevice in the castle walls, and it is up to you to seek this villain out. Save our King, save Cainia, and save yourselves. Work with the other members of your court to discover the unsavory culprit, become close with your colleagues, but do not trust a word from them. Divulging in your dearest allies and ‘friends’ only burrows the knife deeper into your back when they choose to stab it. Perhaps, in this turbulent council, it is better to confide in the bosom of your enemies than to rely on your dear companions. At least they may have the courage and boldness to look you in the eyes when they lunge at you with their dagger. Rely on the roles I have allotted for you, they will be your guide, and your best chance of getting out of here alive. For honor, for King Kinger, for Cainia! Huzzah!” 

At the end of his winded speech, there was a drawn out silence before Jax was lured by the distressing blank space to fill it with a mindless jest. 

“Hey, that sounds pretty metal boss-man.” At the utterance of these words there was a sudden spark around the rabbit – akin to flint being struck with a rock –  as a ‘POOF’ of starry dust enveloped him before he reappeared from the strange mist in a glistening suit of armor, silvery against the moonlight, his cuirass shimmering like platinum fireflies where it sat perfectly on his chest. 

It fits him too well. 

Jax tore at the bascinet fitted upon his head, struggling to rip it off in a fit of panic. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS THING GET IT OF-” his pleas for help were muffled by the metal tightly wound around his head, and Pomi couldn’t help but smirk at how beautifully decorated it was. An array of roses intertwined themselves around the front of his helmet, before weaving down towards his cuirass where their stems curled into that stupidly charming heart, glittering with flecks of gold that winked at everyone in the room. Every inch of him was covered, his gloves turned into hefty gauntlets, his legs looked more mechanical and robotic than they did slender and flimsy. Only his ears were exposed though the two open slots in his helmet that allowed them to breathe the open air. He started to stamp his steel boot as he writhed within his new outfit, his ears going straight as a pin as they stuck flat against his back in pure agitation, pining for flight. Pomni couldn’t help but hitch an eyebrow at this. 

Adorable. He’s getting all worked up. 

Finally, Jax was able to find the thin slits of the visor that covered his face inside this hulking tank and propped it up so he could clearly see everyone staring at him in a mixture of disbelief and amusement. His eyes were diminutive, wispy sketches for a split second before expanding into those puddles of tar, with not a single thought behind those particular inkwell pupils of his. 

“Enjoying the show you freaks?” Jax pouted, aware of the unwanted attention as he crossed his arms with a clink. 

Pomni was doing everything she could to withhold a laugh, hands held to her mouth as she tried to drown it in her throat before it had the chance to escape. She failed.

“How come you get to be the knight when you can’t even fight back?” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him like a hawk descending on well… a rabbit. 

“I am a fighting machine PomPom, you better watch out before I pull out my sword and slice off those silly little bells,” Jax motioned to his scabbard expecting a majestic weapon to unsheathe itself, but nothing came out. He tried brandishing an invisible blade again before giving up, like a wizard whose spells had become limp. 

Pomni just snickered at him and shook her bells at him tauntingly. “You want these, huh? Well first you’d actually have to try to take them from me, which we both know you’ll never do. Isn’t that right, little bunny?” 

“Oh so you wanna play that game? Well here!” Jax launched one of his gauntlets in Pomni’s direction, although it flew nowhere near her. She stood still, unflinching, as it soared right towards Ragatha and collided with her head, knocking her to the ground and forcing some stuffing from her knitted temple. 

“Knew it,” the jester sighed, confirming her point. 

Jax wasn’t going to let his prior… position with Pomni on the floor of the hall go unchecked, but he seemed to underestimate just how instinctively his body was reacting to the gravitational pull she seemed to invoke on him. Even though he was shielded by layers of heavy armor, she still managed to push him down to earth. Maybe he really was as defenseless as Pomni thought when those big eyes of hers scorched through the bunny like a blinding spotlight, revealing everything he wanted nobody to see. It was an admission he was scared of dwelling on. 

“Ugh, you’d sure make a great knight Jax,” Ragatha groaned sarcastically through gritted teeth as she struggled back onto her feet. “You have such a good track record when it comes to protecting people don’t you?” The doll immediately recoiled – hands cupped to her face in shock while her good eye widened in regret. 

She didn’t mean to spout nearly that much venom at Jax, but the sting of his gauntlet might have ignited some pure impulsivity that she couldn’t ignore. 

Pomni’s eyes softened as she whisked her head towards Jax to gauge his reaction. Ragatha’s remarks about everything that transpired before her arrival at the Circus always sounded cryptic and taboo, as if there was a scarring type of grief attached to their memories. She wanted to get to the bottom of it, but neither of the old-timers had been any help. Nobody bothered to let her in. 

Jax collapsed to the hard ground, the tasset plates that protected his rear wounding him a little more as they clanged against him while he fell. His ears sunk dejectedly. Deep down, hidden in what little remained of his real consciousness since joining the Circus, he knew Ragatha was right. She could read him like a book and it made him seethe with the ferocity of a gasoline fire. How could he guard Kinger from a wily assassin when he couldn’t protect himself from Pomni – when he failed to protect … Ribbit. 

You swore you wouldn’t even THINK that name — what is wrong with you. 

He didn’t want to do this anymore. He buried his face between the shiny couters on his elbows and brought his knees up to his breastplate, trying to make himself as small as possible. Jax hated losing, especially when everyone could see his defeats seared onto his face. It burned like hot coals that began in his stomach before the simmering heat rushed to his head, scrambling his thoughts and smothering his breathing with each ragged heave. He tried to take his dumb helm off, pawing pitifully at it in a daze before finally managing to pry it off with a pained yelp before throwing it against the slate floor in abject frustration. His head was bent downward like a sunflower facing east – as if it still carried the weight of the steel bascinet bearing down on him, which was now rolling towards a dark corner of the hall. 

A puff of confetti broke the dismal mood as Ragatha suddenly twirled around in a flowing dress, reminiscent of verdant ferns in a fall breeze by the way it swayed around her legs with the iridescence of a lush forest floor.

“O-Oh! Well this feels really lovely – but why do I have it on?” the doll inquired while confusingly scanning her new outfit, trying to deflect from her vitriolic outburst. 

Kinger jolted up in surprise from his spot near the scroll, quickly picking it up again and speedily reading to the section he needed. “Aha! It says here that madam Ragatha will serve as the court’s chief handmaiden, attending to the duties of the castle in the absence of a … Queen,” his eyes lowered at this.  “… to serve. Her most pressing duty will be to ensure that the stables are kept in good order, with the King’s cavalry well fed and cared for.”

“Hmm I guess I can work with that,” Ragatha boasted, running her hand along the soft wool of the frilly silhouette on her dress. 

Two more loud bangs sounded out in the hall, as if the troupe were popcorn that metamorphosed from their kernels. This time, Gangle and Zooble emerged from the spontaneous confetti that announced their transformation in completely new garb. Gangle’s ribbons were covered with a loose fitting undershirt the color of a pure, powdery cloud, accompanied with a dark, floppy cap that drooped over one side of her mask, an elegant quill stuck into the side of her head covering. Zooble, on the other hand, appeared to have a glowing torso that was the result of a vest the shade of ripe butternut, gilded with a number of jewels and masterful patchwork. Geometric designs littered this piece, an intricately measured out proportion of triangles, diamonds, and circles all working to create an alluring pattern fit for the most lavish palaces of this era. A black robe covered their shoulders, skimming against the ground like the herald of death itself – a velvety type of darkness only seen at the midnight hour. A pair of baggy linen trousers, ruffled like messy bedsheets, concealed their plastic legs and made Zooble’s whole form move like a limbless phantom. 

Kinger bellowed out to the group yet again as these new roles were introduced. “Gangle the Illuminator, master of manuscript art – bring this court and kingdom to life with your quill, make sure that every exploit of Cainia is immortalized! The memory of this palace and those within it are in your hands, make sure to wield this power wisely.” 

“Oh man that’s a pretty tall order, but at least I can draw now!” Gangle fiddled with the feather pressed into her hat, anxious to stick it into fresh pigments and scrawl on the finest vellum in the land. For once in a very long time there was a sparkle in the obsidian holes that made up her usually empty eyes. 

Kinger then concentrated his speech on Zooble. “Noble Zooble, your task is one of the most important in any council. You have been blessed with the ability to read and write, and for years you have serviced the royal court by issuing decrees and recording histories, safeguarding the legacy of this dynasty. Work with your humble illuminator to write down any clues, secrets, and scandalous rumors you may encounter – or simply transcribe what occurs each day so that the royal circle can have a clearer picture of the matters at hand. Your job is a mighty one, treat it as though your life and the very foundation of this kingdom depend upon your word – for they very well might.” 

The oration ended with a drop of the scroll, and it swished downward in complete silence, as if it were only a cutting of cloth and not the mighty mandate of destiny it was meant to be. A new crown appeared out of seemingly thin air upon a silk pillow next to the throne, and Kinger cautiously hovered over to it. The diadem was truly a sight to behold. It was three peaked, just like the royal seat with its finely veneered oak, yet it was of an exceedingly rich silver as if descended from moonbeams themselves, with a bright scarlet gem in the center akin to the tidings of Mars in the heavenly sphere. He placed the relic upon his stately head; fastening immaculately to his form as if it was made especially for him and not the imperial lineage that preceded him. The crown spread its luminous rays about the hall, settling upon each member of the Circus in a protective glare.

“Hey, I kinda like how your beret looks on you,” Zooble encouraged their Illuminator companion, patting Gangle on the back of her ribbons. 

“Thanks! You know I could kinda get used to something like this,” Gangle waved her quill around Zooble in response, tracing their triangular face with the thoughtful, obsessive gaze of a true artist. 

Jax shifted where he was slouching on the smooth slate, his knees now only covering half of his face. His eyes returned to somewhat of their usual squareness, but they had lost some of their mischievous mirth. Despite his rabbit persona, he looked just like a dog that had been reprimanded for taking more than his fill from the trough. He clutched to himself as tight as he could in his burdensome armor, lifting his sunken eyes to look only at Pomni, his mouth still covered by his knees. He looked sickly – broken even – as if something had completely crushed his spirit into dust, leaving a haggard and tired husk in its wake. 

Was this the ‘real’ Jax? Has his shell finally shattered? 

How long has he been like this? 

A part of him didn’t even look mad anymore, instead his features were glazed over with an inward disgust, like he was fighting a wincing pain that nobody could heal – knowing only that he was doomed.

“Pom,” the rabbit rasped with a croak in his throat. “Why are you the only one without a character?” 

The jester recoiled, startled at the sudden mention of her name. She had been unabashedly staring at Jax this entire time without even realizing. His question brought her back to reality. It was also an important observation, as everyone in the group had already been assigned a role and bestowed an elaborate set of regalia according to it – everyone except for her. 

“Well uh – that’s a pretty good question,” Pomni responded, pinching at every inch of her clothing to make sure the rabbit wasn’t pulling another trick. Interestingly enough, his claim was not entirely true. At the top of her jester cap she managed to grasp something sleek and solid, carefully removing it from where it was placed and up to her scrutinizing examination. It was a wreath of laurels, composed of olive leaves most likely on account of their petite, peaceful size and serene arrangement on the curved branch – or perhaps for other, more prophetic undertones unbeknownst to her.

However, this was no ordinary olive artifact. It was made of solid gold all around, and Pomni could see her carousel eyes reflected in every luxuriously crafted leaf. She had no idea why this new accessory didn’t announce itself with confetti like the rest of the group’s apparel. 

“Maybe I just need to wait a little more before I get one,” a tinge of uncertainty quivered in her ever-hopeful tone. 

Kinger’s booming voice, fit for the role of a despot, bounced off the walls of the hall, breaking Pomni out of her pensive spell. 

“Hear ye one and all! The nightly Council Feast will now begin. Everyone please take your seats at my grand table so that we receive the Kingdom’s wondrous bounty.” As soon as he finished a long, wide rectangular table of simple solid wood burst into existence, with enough chairs to seat all six guests. A wild banquet of boar, pheasant, potato stew, and hand pies with savory mushroom fillings steamed salaciously in smoky columns that seemed to wag at the dinner party with an alluring eagerness from their vapory fingers. Many in the group sat down reluctantly, and Zooble even rolled their eyes and tried to walk away before being ushered back with one of Gangle’s ribbons that coiled around her plastic hand and yanked it to the table. 

Jax, on the other hand, managed to sneak away from the others – his back now turned from the peculiar festivities and instead facing the doldrum depths of the hall. 

The flames from the hearth reflected off his steel plates with an infernal fervor, creating an effect that made him seem like a scheming devil – or perhaps a watchful angel trying to induce a holier type of fear – Pomni could not decide which feeling was more accurate. You can’t be that hard to figure out. 

She approached Jax quietly where he sulked on the floor, putting a hand on his armor where she thought the center of his furry back was. You’re as hot as an oven, bunny. 

His proximity to the fire had indeed made his outer shell practically roast under its oppressive heat, and Pomni couldn’t help but wonder how much the rabbit was sweating in that costume, practically cooking in his own chainmail. Yet she wouldn’t pull her hand away. 

She sat down a little bit behind him so that he could have a small space to his own – the rabbit’s love of boundaries being one of the many things she had learned about him throughout her time in the Circus. 

Pomni’s eyes grew large with remorse, and they searched for Jax’s own expression that was half buried in his gauntlets. Part of her felt a pang of guilt, as if she had caused this crack in his psyche by riling him up when they first arrived. She was determined to fix this little wound of his, and repair what she damaged. 

The jester softly rubbed his smooth, metallic back –  continuing to pry her gaze into his own, the latter of which was still inscrutably locked into the dark recesses of the hall. She could feel the sweltering heat radiating off him, his suit of armor had become an insulating furnace that was determined to break him down into ore – or perhaps it was just his own impotent rage that roiled the warmth inside him. She couldn’t find him, and she wasn’t going to push it until he was ready. 

“Hey Jax,” she began with a delicate, cushioned tone like a wool pillow filled with dove feathers. “We’re all about to eat, and I would love it if you joined us.” She tried her best to finish with a small smile, her eyes still wide and soft with pity. 

“What’s the point,” Jax grumbled in return. At least she had coaxed a response from this iron wall of his. “I’m not hungry anyway – we never feel hungry Pomni.” 

“Well, you might be able to learn more about the game! Won’t that be a little fun?” 

God, she sounds just like Ragatha right now. 

Jax gave a hoarse chuckle from beneath his armored prison. “When have you ever cared about fun?” This came out with some rough bitterness attached to his words. 

“What do you mean?” Pomni looked at his profile confoundingly, still trying to pierce through him – to figure him out. 

“You never cared about the adventures, Pom. You only cared about leaving them.” Jax’s voice was beginning to regain its rigid strength, ironing itself out. 

“Hey, that’s not true.” She recalled the time they partnered in the gunfight, but thought it was best not to reignite that particular tinderbox. “I may have been a little scared at first, but I’m starting to really enjoy them with you guys.” She moved her hand closer to the coarse edge of the armor where his breastplate smoothed out into his bare neck, and the jester swore she could feel a shiver ripple through him. 

“Do you know why you weren’t given a character – some new clothes at least?” Jax retorted while feigning an unbothered, resolute posture. 

“Haven’t we already been over this?” Pomni was becoming more impatient by the minute, yet she was still willing to keep up the dulcet flow of her honeyed words to keep him tame. “Sometimes we just don’t know what the game has planned for us.”

“But I do.” Jax turned to look Pomni in the eyes. They were feverish with an animosity she couldn’t put her finger on. 

“Tell me then.” The jester’s eyes danced with wisps of flame and sparks that were mirrored in them from the hearth. They lost some of their pity. 

“You’re still trying so hard to figure out your role aren’t you?” Jax’s face scrunched in loathing, his eyebrows plummeted downward. Pomni stayed silent, her thin mouth curled in aversion. 

The rabbit took his chance to continue his barrage. “Do you see that tapestry on the mantle? You’re still in your same outfit, still with that same jittery dread that makes your cartoon heart leap out of its chest. And through all of it you’re behind me. That is your fate, that’s all you’re meant to be – it’s woven into the adventure Pomni.” He tried to sound as menacing as possible, but his voice trembled like it ached, as if he was choking on every word he tried to expel. 

Pomni’s shadow loomed over Jax, her eyes quickly losing any semblance of mercy with each utterance he pushed out of that insolent mouth. Her eyes, along with those carnival colored pupils, burned with anything but sympathy. They were plunged in a chattering iciness, a resentment that was somehow just as loving and passionately heated with a thirsting violence as the fire that raged behind the jester, coating her in a sizzling, tingling glow. 

Go on. Say it. I dare you.

“You don’t know why you’re here, and you just can’t accept the fact that you are. You don’t fit like we do, but you will.” The fire soared in Jax’s eyes like fresh kindling. He couldn’t tell if the heat he was feeling was from the hearth or his own flaring temper. 

“I’m going to find wherever it is we’re supposed to sleep, don’t follow me.” The armored rabbit floundered up in his heavy suit, turning away from Pomni and pivoting his back away from her touch. He tried to bunch up enough strength to rise from the floor when he felt two cold fingers press against the sides of his neck. 

Curiously, Pomni’s touch at this moment didn’t make him wince with her typical stinging violence, nor was it driven by blind wrath. It was just firm enough for Jax to flutter in shock, stopping dead in his tracks like nothing but a prey animal caught by a set of prying eyes in the deep brush. 

His legs wobbled as her fingers pressed down harder on both sides of his jugular veins, which pulsed in fear like they were dangling from the thick rope of a hanging trap, utterly caught and helpless. Pomni leaned down to where Jax quaked in front of her. She could feel his neck trying to crane its way towards her, trying so pitifully to look her right in the eyes. 

The way it shook with all the weary strength the rabbit could muster made her chest flutter with a feeling she thought had been lost long ago; his entire body trembling as he was absolutely losing the control he sought so hard for. She wasn’t going to let him look her in the eyes, and each time he tried to yank his skinny neck towards her using every ounce of brute force he had left – she only turned her fingers just slightly on his bulging veins to correct his gaze, and they were somehow a darker, more blushingly violet shade than his lavender fur.

She bent down so close to his face that strands of her hair brushed against his ears, making him flinch with an instinctive anxiety at the towering threat that lurked behind him. The jester brought her mouth to one of his long ears, using her free hand to pull it back closer to the direction of her voice. 

His head jerked back along with his ear that was now squeezed between her grip, and he finally looked her in the eyes, albeit against his own will. They glowed with a burning indifference, a fury so restrained but so pure and savage that she might as well have devoured him with her stony stare. Those hypnotic carousel pupils grew with each second they shared looking into one another, almost mesmerizing Jax as his own square dots swirled in a wild daze while he looked up at her. 

“Sit,” Pomni sneered, as one might talk down to a disobedient dog. 

The jester pinched her fingers tighter around his veins, causing them to spasm in panic while they visibly welled up on the sides of his neck as if they were trying to burst out of his body. His shiny studded legs clinked together, shaking like a leaf as they tried not to falter.

“Be good for once and Get. On. Your. Knees.” 

She whispered the words brutishly, with a syrupy bitterness that allowed for each syllable to stick so thickly that Jax couldn’t mistake her suffocating words. 

Another tight and sharp squeeze from Pomni was all it took. His knees buckled. The knight’s poleyns crashed to the floor, and his eyes lowered as they became varnished with a new type of feeling: utter defeat. 

Jax gnashed his teeth together, fighting to push out anything, but Pomni’s iron grip on his throat would not allow it. There was nothing he could do against her. His eyes began to water with shame as the hearth danced in the whites of his eyes, licking the tears pooling at the edges of his eyelids with mirrored tongues of flame. A few lonely droplets began to fall, trailing down his face in a salty stream. Pomni’s carousel eyes whirled around in delight, growing wider at the sheer sight of him so vulnerable, so unguarded, completely at her mercy. 

I need to see you like this more often. 

Satisfied, Pomni released his ear that was beginning to grow pink with the pang of being pulled so violently, and now took her other hand to dig into the opening of Jax’s armor that was exposed by his rerebrace and the leather belt that bound it to his body. She gripped this unsecured buckle with a benign fierceness before bending his hunky arm behind his back, easily doing so with its counterpart that hung by Jax’s side. The bunny could only grimace as Pomni bound him, writhing in his strangling armor the best that he could in an embarrassing effort to escape her clutches. Her eyes, cold and inscrutably volcanic in their festive patterns, softened a little bit at this. Poor thing, he’s trying so hard. He still doesn’t know when he’s been caught. 

“There’s really no way you can get out of this,” she began, with a medicinal tone that tasted like a spoonful of nectar. Jax’s ears twitched softly at this. 

“So can you just stay still a few more seconds for me? This will be quick. I promise.” She finished this vow by bowing her cap and letting one of her bells bounce against the top of his head, while one of her golden laurel leaves dug into the back of his nape, cold and sharp. 

His legs trembled harder in defiance, grasping for any type of balance as he tried to dig the back of his heels flat on the floor. He jerked and thrashed in front of her, putting up more of a fight against the weight of his suit than Pomni’s dominion over him. 

What the hell is she trying to do? Get off of me nobody can see me like this please please please. 

Jax pleaded within the confines of his own thoughts, not daring to let them slip out from his teeth that were grinding against each other in anguish. 

Pomni simply sighed in feigned regret, as if she knew he would get a little rowdy from the jester quite literally talking down to him. 

“You did this to yourself, Jax.” She pinched his veins with even more vigor, almost turning them a deep red from the blood vessels that pooled powerlessly under her might. After feeling him tremble with a sore whimper as his body surrendered and went limp, she put her knees right on the metal joints where his poleyns met his greaves, effectively pinning his legs back down to the ground. As expected, he didn’t fight back. He couldn’t fight back. 

“If only you would’ve listened like a good bunny should.” 

“What do you want from me?” Jax heaved, a tingle of desperation rattling his throat as he spewed the words out. 

Finally, he can speak. 

“Look at me,” Pomni growled, her command bristling the fur on his cheek. She released the hold on his neck, leaving two ruddy, bright red molten marks on his skin like a hot brand. 

I own you now don’t I, Jaxy boy? 

He turned slowly – meekly even – as luscious, briny tears teased the brim of his eyelids. Eventually, Jax met her gaze, although she knew that he absolutely hated doing it. His head throbbed with a seething rage, jiggling the water in his eyes, but there was nothing he could do about it. Pomni pushed down harder on his calves while her hands held tightly to the leather straps on his armor, pushing his arms further into the back of his breastplate, reaffirming to the bunny that he was well and truly trapped. The tears began cascading from his eyes and onto the slate ground, bursting like a dam. 

“Good boy,” she cooed at him, taking a hand and rubbing the top of his head, rustling his ears. His eyes became big and sulky, like heavy weights that were about to be mercilessly dropped. “Now, here’s what you’re going to do for me.” She leaned down to his level, uncharacteristically cheery as if she was buttering up her captive to assuage the sting of an inevitable, unsavory request. 

“I’m going to take your hand, and we are going to walk to the table with the others. You will sit down, and you will not be a little nuisance.” She emphasized her point with a flick of her gloved finger at the edge of his mouth, which was curved downwards dejectedly like a crescent moon dipping into a bottomless sea.  

Jax started to breathe harder, his breastplate puffing out with each stifled exhale. He had never been so subjugated before, so lost and exposed. Even under those thick sheets of armor and his tightly woven gambeson, he felt everything on him – everything about him –  stripped bare. His body, his mind, his fragile digital soul – everything was on display and the sheer thought of it made him agonizingly weak. 

Little heaves whistled out of him as the rabbit tried to swallow more air just to keep him upright. His metal suit pressed down harder into him, feeling heavier than the body that was trapped inside him – crushing and choking his will as well as his strength. His world began to spin as everything became reduced to a muddled blur. Here we go again. 

Pomni noticed his struggling, her eyes wandering across his armor that undulated like a blacksmith’s bellows with each labored huff. The way his own pupils scattered like spools of yarn startled by a brutish breeze, the way his cheeks flushed like a bed of embers, the way his ears seemed to melt from her touch. Everything about him was open. It was just how she wanted it, but now it was time to bring him back. There was no reason to let everyone else see just how easily he could be brought to the brink, and just how cute he looked when he got pushed over the edge. 

The jester cupped his chin with her hand, tightening her grip ever so slightly to move his head up so that it could meet her torridly feverish stare. Jax looked up at her, his erratic pupils finally aligning at the center of his irises that were moistened with restrained tears, focusing on Pomni’s face as it glowed from the heat of the hearth. Her eyes had grown softer, as if she was looking at a wounded animal whose plight she pitied.

Jax despised how much empathy sometimes looked the same as superiority, but to Pomni, his moments of sensitivity – when he was absolutely defenseless against her and unprotected by his mask – were the only times that he felt real to her.  That feeling was something worth experiencing in its entirety, whether in all of its sweltering shame or even in the way it made him as malleable and moldable as freshly rolled dough. 

I knew there was more to you. You’re not as strong as you think you are, and you aren’t supposed to be. 

Pomni scratched the bottom of his chin as they looked into each other, a kind smile escaping from the lines of her mouth as her eyes upturned in a soothing compassion that was like fresh floral tea being poured from the neck of a milk white kettle. She swore that Jax pouted at this, as a slight groan of playful resistance rumbled through his armor from deep inside his chest. All it took was one little squeeze at the base of his chin that scrunched his cheeks together to make him all hers once again. His damp eyes tilted into a plea, wordlessly imploring Pomni to please let him go and end the humiliation. She didn’t grant his wish. Instead she only pulled his head closer towards her, digging her fingers more harshly into his cheeks so that all he could let out was a faint squeak of disapproval.  

“You are going to do exactly as I say, is that understood?” 

Her voice was still as sweet as the sap straight from the trunk of a maple tree, and her words flowed over him with a frustrating entrancement as her eyes narrowed with that irresistible jester joviality which he swore was only meant to ensnare him into complying. 

Despite the apprehension that buzzed through him like a swarm of bees, reminding him of better, more rational instincts that he should follow, Jax could do nothing but nod and obey her orders. He was in no position to do anything else, in spite of his usual judgment which was to claw and bite at the opportunity to rile up anybody within reach. 

“I knew you had it in you,” Pomni’s smile grew more gentle, with a muffled sort of mercy that calmed the barrage of nerves shooting through Jax. The jester thumbed his cheek, rolling around the tufts of fur that followed the circles she made on his face. She moved closer to the side of his mouth, getting closer and closer to the verge of his lips, looking into his dumfounded, drooping eyes the entire time. She was about to sneak her thumb into his mouth, absolutely hungering to hook him like a famished fish. I wonder if he wants me to see him like this. 

She pulled her hand away from his mouth, instead scooping up his face and wiping some of the tears from his eyes before just lightly tapping his cheek, signaling the rabbit to get up. Jax whined a little as she did, partly because of the weight from his armor that kept him on his knees and also from the pressing need to feel the warmth of her hand touching him all over again. She had these hands around my neck a few minutes ago, why do I want them so badly? What is wrong with me… 

Pomni helped the knight back up to his feet, heaving him up hand-in-hand. She led him back to the table, still clutching on to his gauntlet with her linen glove. Jax’s head was pointed to the ground, staring at the back of her obnoxious little hat with its lustrous laurels that jingled tantalizingly in the torchlight. The two empty seats left for the two strays were, as expected, right next to each other, although Pomni had no qualms about the arrangement. It would be easier to watch him this way, to engage with him and distract the others in case they grew suspicious of his … downtrodden mood. The other members of their party were already making conversation as they strode up quietly to the table – Pomni slowly stroked the back of Jax’s gauntlet before nudging it towards the seat next to her, signaling for him to sit. She did it rather sneakily, however, a part of her wished that someone at the table noticed this silent showcase of her newfound command over the beleaguered bunny boy. 

________________________________________________________________________

Chapter II: A Knight in the Jester's Bed

As expected, Jax did not indulge much into the feast that steadily steamed in front of them. The sweet fragrance of saffron wafted into the air, along with cardamom, grated cinnamon, and punchy peppercorn – the tell-tale signs of a prosperous kingdom. 

However, the rabbit seemed perfectly content to spend all of dinner staring down into an empty wooden bowl, ears flopping down to his side as his eyes glazed over with a distant blankness, looking towards the dishes in front of him but certainly not at them. Pomni saw him slouching, his entire body sinking into the seat like he was going to meld completely into its wooden frame. She scooted her own chair back carefully — trying not to attract attention by making it skid gratingly on the slate floor — and stood up sneakily in the midst of the commotion at the table. Kinger was babbling something to Ragatha who sat daintily, nodding absentmindedly with his overflowing stream of words in an attempt to make the monarch feel like he was being coherent. Gangle was scrawling something on a stray piece of leather while Zooble helped themselves to some of the sizzling boar pie whose glistening, golden crust crumbled atop their spoon while it was ladled out. Pomni glided over to the side dishes that were billowing out with enticing, smoky trails towards Jax, but he was still too barraged with starry eyed shock to even avert his unflinching stare from anything that wasn’t his own whirling, muddled thoughts. 

The jester silently skirted up behind him, gently touching his protruding steel pauldron with the tips of her gloved fingers. Jax was startled out of his daze, jolting up with his ears springing alarmingly at hands touching him that weren’t his own. A little “EEP!” slipped out before his demeanor softened and he slumped back into his seat with a grumbly sigh after only seeing Pomni and not some evil, hungry beast. Although at this point, was there really a difference? 

Oh no, it’s her. And she’s right behind me. Jax whirled back around, not trusting to expose his back to her for another second, but she just met him with a little kick to the back of his calf and an overly expressive grin that scrunched the corners of her eyes. 

“Shh it’s ok, just relax. We’ve all had a long day.” The jester patted the top of his head gently, as if to calm him down. I hate when she does that. Or maybe I just hate what it does to me. Pomni definitely noticed the rising blush that heated up his cheeks, for she gave a small, sympathetic laugh at how the rabbit groaned and rolled his eyes, trying so hard to avert his gaze. 

“You’re so wound up, loosen up Bun.” Jax really didn’t like that, and had he gathered up a little more audacity and ego like he had before, he would have lunged for Pomni’s snark at the first opportunity. It was best not to do that in front of the others though, where everybody could see. Jax already noticed Ragatha turn towards them, drowning out Kinger’s soliloquy at the irresistible chance to thread her way into people’s business with her piercing button eye. 

“What do you want now?” Jax whispered through grinding teeth, pulling himself closer to Pomni so their conversation could be more discreet. “Haven’t I done enough?” 

“You’re missing the point,” Pomni dropped the smile and leaned in even more. “You need to stop acting so down.” 

“Acting?!” Jax was about to say something else, but he suddenly gagged the words as they tried to rise in his throat, switching directions instead. “I’m not down. Who do you think I am, some sort of Debbie Downer? A wounded little chicken?” 

Pomni just cocked an eyebrow at him, obviously seeing through the act. “Your eyes. They’re doing the thing again.” Jax’s obsidian, abyssal pupils bloomed even wider like sable roses. 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, are you feeling ok?” his defenses were being scaled, causing his words to come out as frantically as arrows assailing a castle wall. 

“You’re not very good at hiding, Jax. Tell me what’s going on.” Poor thing. He wears every emotion on that cute face of his. Pomni bent down to become level with Jax in his chair, although he shifted away uncomfortably with an annoyed huff. 

“We both know this can only go one way. Are you sure you want to go down that road again?” she nudged the back of his breastplate with two hard pokes from her index and middle finger, the same ones that bruised the sides of his neck. Maybe it was time for Jax to swallow his pride just a little bit. 

“Do you really have to ask?” he mumbled, trying his hardest to keep looking away. 

“Listen, I can’t help if I don’t hear it from you,” her tone softened – becoming an entrancing mellifluous salve on Jax’s cracked barriers. 

There was a long, tantalizing pause as Jax mulled over his next move.

“You were rough with me again.” The rabbit curled into himself, tightening up like a rolled up ball of yarn. 

“Hey, don’t pout,” Pomni chided with a light brush of her hand at the back of his ear. “It’s ok to be upset, you’ll come to find it’s actually very normal and human. You just have to learn how to bounce back, bunny.” She found herself sporting a meek, healing half smile, but this time not from Jax’s dejectedness. He was finally pulling the bridge down and letting her cross it. Finally, for once you aren’t pretending anymore. 

Indeed, he finally was showing a sliver of his true self: the version that was not held captive by the Circus. However, his openness began to manifest itself in a way she did not expect, spiraling into a different monster like a wild vine crawls up the side of a house. 

“Do you really still think that calling ourselves human will make everything better?” Jax was loosening up, unfurling himself despite the tightly bound armor clinging to his body. “You still aren’t one of us, Pom. Do you just despise us so much that you can’t admit what we actually are? Is this not good enough for you?” he finished this point by waving a hand theatrically around his face which was growing more bitter by the second. 

“Oh, so you’ve just given up huh?” Pomni retorted. “Are you really that easy to grind down? I used to think you were tougher than that.” 

Jax’s fur began to spike up at the corners of his cheeks. His dim expression turned into a weighty grimace. 

“Someone didn’t like that, huh?” she was just rubbing it in now, even going as far as to nudge the top of his head with her knuckles, rustling his ears like floppy reeds. “You know for someone who tries to run away from being human all the time you sure do get wound up like one.” 

The rabbit’s chest pulsed, heaving up and down like a murky, stormy sea. 

Let it out, let me see who you really are.

Instead, he balanced his breathing, and leveled the turbulent waves undulating inside him. He looked at Pomni with a flat, quiet expression. 

“And you say I don’t take anything serious, that’s really rich.” He looked down at his lap, and Pomni noticed that he began fidgeting with his hands nervously, like the hands of a clock being unraveled. “You have no idea what it’s like yet, to lose so-“ Jax stopped himself short, a croak in his throat suffocating whatever tried to work its way up. He placed his hands back on the table, clearing his throat in an attempt to rein in his composure. Pomni could see his lips quivering as Ragatha eyed him worryingly from across the table, not even hiding the fact that she was trying to drown out Kinger. 

“Hey, why don’t you just get something to eat,” the jester eased up, suppressing the barbs in her tone and trading it for plush satin.

“I’m not very hungry right now,” Jax continued to pout, or maybe he was just full from eating his words. 

“You will be. I won’t take no for an answer.” Pomni clattered a shiny, silver plate in front of him, casting a shadow over the bunny as she hovered over him like a puppetmaster. The only thing missing were little pieces of string wrapped around his hands and legs for her to use at will. 

Jax grumbled, covering his face with his hands. He tried to push the plate away absentmindedly before Pomni caught him in the act, snatching his wrist and clutching it ever so tightly — just enough so he couldn’t move it. 

“Is that understood?” She put more pressure on his captive hand, wrapping her grip around it with just enough force to remind Jax of the situation he was in. Pomni was giving him an illusion of choice, there was no room for negotiation in this matter. The delicate firmness in her voice was all he needed to get the message loud and clear. 

“Whatever, have it your way Pom.” Jax yanked his hand back, but only after Pomni was satisfied with her little bunny backing down so softly. She released her hold on his wrist and instead began to scratch behind his ear, making it spasm like little electric shocks were surging through the knight’s head. Pomni could feel Jax growl from somewhere deep inside, making her giggle softly.

I wonder if he’s actually purring. He’d look real pretty revving up like an engine. 

She pushed those thoughts down for now, at this moment she had to take care of her poor companion after the beating she put him through. It was only right to make him whole again, to fix the delicate parts of him that she broke. 

She bent down to his face while it was still transfixed on his lap, his eyes staying perfectly motionless while his head rocked and forth with the motion of Pomni’s hand rubbing along the back of his head. His growling became more rhythmic and more tame, rattling his chest with each renewed graze of the jester’s hand behind his ear. 

Maybe he really is purring, the poor thing. 

She looked him right in the eyes but didn’t care if Jax reciprocated, otherwise he would’ve seen the massive grin that was growing on her face. 

Whatever, have it your way… those sweet, surrendering words lit up her head with a thousand warming sparkles, like confetti flitting through the air. 

“I know I will,” she whispered, moving the glove that rested on his head slightly downward to delicately brush the back of his neck teasingly. Jax craned his neck with distrust, squirming in his seat, yet he didn’t try to move away from her. You know better than that now, don’t you? 

“Here, let me help you.” Pomni picked up a ladle and dipped it into a bowl of rich stew, brimming with golden potatoes and carrots covered in a glossy coat of decadent broth. 

“Ok listen up clown-face,” Jax tried to wrench himself back to his usual self. “I can manage myself so you can shoo now.” He foolishly reached for silverware without asking first. 

“Uh-uh-uh. Where are your manners, Jaxy?” the jester chided. “Just let me take care of you, don’t say anything else.” Jax groaned at this, stamping his steel boot repeatedly against the floor.

“And don’t get all huffy-puffy at me. That won’t end well for you.” She put the bowl of stew in front of him, even grabbing a few sun-dipped honey cakes to persuade his dwindling appetite. “Now eat. I know you want to.” Jax had never felt so small in a suit of armor so big. Out of everyone in the Circus, Pomni was the only one that could read him so thoroughly — not by simply skimming through the words written all over him, but stringing together meaning and understanding instead; drinking them in like ruby wine in a full chalice. 

Can I hide anything from you? 

Pomni went back to her chair and scooted it towards the table, keeping within arms reach of Jax like a dog at the dinner table that needs a hawkish set of eyes keeping watch. The lapine knight sheepishly poked at his food, carefully taking small bites when he was sure nobody was shooting an eye at him. Only Pomni would sneak a peek from outside of his periphery when he was too occupied with his meal, studying the rabbit like a puzzle needing to be pieced together. 

Is backing down really that hard for you? Just let go and let me be right for once. Be vulnerable like I know you can. 

After some time of indulgence, the exorbitant dinner was interrupted by Kinger clearing his throat before addressing the council that was currently occupied with anything but him. 

“I think this is a good time to know where we all stand,” he proclaimed with magisterial resonance. “At this very moment, one of you may very well try to kill me. As king of this glorious land, that is a risk I have lived with for as long as I was crowned, but now the hand draws closer to that dreaded hour with every feeble second that passes.” 

Ragatha listened with the attentive tenacity she was known for, fully receptive to Kinger's little monologue as he delved further into the game. After all, that was what they were here for, wasn’t it? To play along; to distract themselves for a moment in something that wasn’t the mundanity of the Circus. It was better to lose yourself for a day in the adventures than an eternity in the tent. 

“What’s the motivation here? Why would anyone want to take you out?” Ragatha prodded, trying to pry out more information. 

“Greed, power, ambition, the glory of usurpation — you name it!” Kinger answered adamantly.

“I am at the helm of the most bountiful throne in the land, there is nothing that can stop evil from seeking to destroy everything I built.”

“So should we like… I dunno — find the person trying to kill you?” Zooble inquired haphazardly, at least a little willing to ease into this new world. 

“WITHOUT ME YOU ARE NOTHING!” the monarch snapped, catching everybody at the table off-guard. “You owe your livelihoods to me, and I expect nothing less but your complete cooperation in rooting out this scheming rat.” Despite this outburst, the group remained relatively unfazed; being subject to Kinger’s unprompted bouts of lucidity for so long was bound to make them all numb at some point. 

“What if we all stayed together? Maybe that would help narrow down our suspects.” Gangle chimed in, scribbling on some scrap linen after completely covering the vellum in her artistic prowess. 

“As much as I love the idea, I think I’d really like to explore some of this place on my own a little bit,” Pomni interjected. “There has to be a few clues in this castle if we look around for them.” 

“Trying to get away from us already huh?” accused Jax, looking up from the table for the first time that night. Perhaps the food invigorated some lost spirit in him, rousing some newfound desire to dive into the adventure headlong. It surely provided the opportunity for an escape, which was just what he needed right now. 

“What?! No! I just think if we split up we have a better chance of piecing together what’s really going on here,” Pomni appealed to reason, but something in her stirred the ever-present doubt that Jax wouldn’t listen.

“Are we Mystery Inc. now? Do you want me to dress myself up in dog ears and bark too?”

“I mean if you’re offering…” Pomni half-joked with a sly smile, swinging her legs playfully in the air from where sat. 

“You are ALL missing the point here,” Kinger declared, putting an end to the revelry. “Every one of us has our own role to play in protecting the kingdom, and you must put on a convincing act if you want us to get out of here alive.” 

“You’re so dramatic, old man,” Jax scoffed, unsheathing his one-handed falchion to greedily skewer a saffron-roasted chicken leg. “We have plenty of time to enjoy ourselves before getting down to business.” He began to gnaw on the meat in front of him, his appetite clearly kicking into gear once again. 

“I don’t know Jax, maybe we should start as soon as we can,” Pomni suggested. “I think we all want to find some answers on what we’re supposed to do here.” 

Why are you so eager all of a sudden?

“What wise words from my most trusted advisor,” Kinger practically beamed with pride. “The court jester is the Monarch’s most valuable asset, a true artist of intrigue and the first voice to offer sound advice.” 

“Are you kidding me?!” Jax almost choked on his food as it tried to force its way down his throat. “Her!? She’s only useful for doing little dances and performing tricks for us!!”

“Hm, I don’t know Jax,” ugh, Ragatha always has to stick her curls where they don’t belong. “It seems like we all have our roles for a reason. The adventure probably chose them for us.” 

“In that case why don’t you be a good handmaiden and fill my cup, chop chop.” He waved his goblet tauntingly in front of her face. 

“Have a heart and do it yourself, tin-man!!” she just glowered at him and jerked her head away in disdain.

“After all, he’s the only one here who we’ve all seen in a tight little maid dress,” Gangle whispered to herself giggling. 

“Yeah, he’d probably want his cup filled in that thing if you know what I mean,” Zooble elbowed their Illuminating partner affectionately. 

“What are you two talking about over there, stop that before I pull out my great-sword,” the rabbit threatened.

“There’s nothing great about your sword,” Ragatha pretended to clear her throat, muffling her veiled insult. 

Pomni leaned off to the side and murmured something next to Kinger, eliciting a nod from the regal despot and a booming appeal to his council. 

“Everybody settle down at once! My marshal is responsible for my protection AND yours, so it is only right that you treat him with respect...”

“Yeah, did you hear that? I’m the one with the big guns here so it’d be smart to behave yourselves.” 

“…On that note, anyone deemed unfit to perform their duties may be voted out of their role by the party.” 

“Wait that wasn’t in our agre-“ Pomni stopped herself short, deciding it was better to keep her agenda within the confines of her thoughts instead.

“Someone hasn’t read their Magna Carta,” Kinger sighed. “The king must reserve some of these Caine-given rights for his worthy subjects. It is only fair.”

Every member of the council was given their own piece of parchment with a red or green wax seal head to accompany it. Those who wanted Jax expelled from his role as marshal would stamp their vote using the green seal, while those who wanted him to keep his position used the red one. Democracy may have been in its infancy here, but at least it was just as simple and effective as it needed to be. 

“You may now cast your judgment.” Kinger conceded the floor to his advisors, watching eagerly as his government launched into action. 

“Oh this is just ridiculous,” Jax grumbled to himself, sinking into his chair.

Almost immediately the resonant, damning thump of stamps could be heard as verdicts were pressed down onto the parchment, echoing out into the hall like a gavel condemning a criminal to the lowest depths of a dark dungeon. Zooble, Gangle, and Ragatha enthusiastically lifted their papers to reveal a messy splotch of betrayal, the shade of an elegant cardinal’s wing. Next to Jax, on the other hand, was a lighter, more polite thud. Pomni held her decision above her head, straining as far as her arm could reach for everyone to see. A verdant, emerald checkmark was freshly printed on her parchment, still dripping down thick wax like the twisting stem of a wildflower.

“3 to 1 — I guess that means we win right?” Ragatha asked giddily. 

“Not quite,” Kinger stroked his non-existent beard. “Because Pomni is my most trusted advisor, she has the power to sway or strike down one vote per day that she believes is in Cainia’s best interests.”

“Well that doesn’t sound very democratic to me,” Zooble rolled their eyes. 

“My noble jester, would you like to use your lawful authority to banish this motion from whence it came?” Kinger put the ball in Pomni’s court. 

Jax was wide eyed, absolutely struck with disbelief. Why would she bother helping him, especially after everything she’s put him through today? This would just be the icing on the cake, to strip away his shiny coat and exile him from the sword he clutched by his side like a pet clings to their cherished chew toy. 

What are you getting at? How do you plan on using this against me?

“I would,” Pomni responded resolutely, barely taking a second to think it over. She darted a glance over at Jax, who was crumpling further into his chair as he tried to become invisible, using the armored braces on his shoulders to conceal his face. 

Well, that’s one way to shut you up isn’t it.

“It is settled then. Jax will stay as my Marshal — protector of the royal household and the realm itself. Make sure he lives up to our expectations, Pomni. As my most trusted confidant I am compelled to follow your judgment wherever it may lead.”

“Hey what gives?” Gangle frowned dejectedly. “He needs a taste of his own medicine.”

“I just think we might need him later,” Pomni countered. “A knight might prove useful for us before too long.”

“And since when did you care about any of that?” Jax broke his silence with a sharp quip.

“I - I don’t know what you mean,” Pomni recoiled with confusion and surprise. 

“Well I know you have some sort of trick up your sleeve and I’m not biting,” the rabbit did not relent. 

“What? There is no trick, I just wanted to give you a break! I know you could use one.” 

“So you just assumed I needed a hand huh? For someone like you to swoop in and save me? Is that it?”

“I was just trying to give you a fighting chance. It’d be a shame for your game to be ruined before you even had an opportunity to prove yourself.”

“I don’t need your pity. I can help myself without you treating me like some princess caught in a dragon’s lair.” 

“You can’t fight for yourself though, can you?”

Jax’s eyes narrowed, clenching his hands into a balled fist that shook the metallic joints of his gauntlet. His ears pointed up like spikes; pupils almost imploding from how fast they shrunk as if they were birds flying against the setting sun. 

“You still have no idea what it’s like,” he muttered mournfully after a prolonged silence. 

“I think I can take a good guess.”

“Oh yeah? I’m sure you can,” Jax was becoming more agitated by the second, impassioned by the frenzy of thoughts cascading down him like an avalanche. “You just know me so well — in fact we’re all just little test subjects trapped in a glass case and you’re the only rational person still around, is that right?”

“You’re still scared,” Pomni couldn’t keep it to herself anymore. She couldn’t let him indulge in his own delusions. “You’re afraid of what it will feel like to be treated as somebody other than this. You can be more than what this Circus tells you to be.” 

“So I should just go back to the way things used to be, to try and remember what life was like before I got here?”  

”I just don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to. Don’t you miss it?”

“It’s too late for that, and even if I could —“ Jax stopped himself short, thinking hard about his next words. “I don’t think you’d want to find out what it does to us.” 

“But there’s nobody here for you, is there?” Pomni fiddled with the silver tankard in her hands. “They’ve all … changed, and whoever you still have is on the outside.”

“They haven’t changed,” Jax shot back. “They’re trapped, and for all I care — probably gone for good.” 

“Do you think you’d still be able to recognize her?” Jax looked up in alarm, his forehead becoming flushed in a layer of frigid heat as his cheeks pulsed with the intensity of bubbling magma. 

“W-What are you talking about?” the rabbit stammered, his composure clearly slipping. 

“When people change in the Circus, do you ever think you can still find a part of them in whatever they turn into? Maybe they aren’t as lost as you seem to believe.” For a mere second, Jax thought he could sense something familiar in Pomni’s glimmering eyes as they pierced into every part of his being. It felt like home.

You blink just like she did. 

The rabbit had to press this memory down, as far as he could drown it. “That doesn’t really matter anymore. You’re just like all the rest of them now, instead of being like us. You would rather see yourself go crazy than just play along and figure things out like we did. I mean are we not enough for you?” 

“Well I can’t say you’ve been much help —“

“You never WANTED our help, you only even bothered to look at us when it was convenient for you, to find your make-believe exit and abandon us behind you.” 

“You’re wrong. I care about everyone here — even you — whether you think so or not.”

“Then play the game.” 

Pomni’s cap and bells felt weightier, as if she was balancing a massive anvil on her head instead of felt and cloth. How much longer was he going to pester her about this? Jax had barraged her in the past for her reluctance to participate in Caine’s sadistic creations, and it always struck Pomni that every time he did so a crack in his flimsy ego became wider, making him more fragile with every targeted remark. If she wanted to finally make him keep his mouth shut and eat his words for good, she would have to wrench the bunny out of him, and show Jax that even if he wasn’t human he could at least still FEEL what it was like before all of this. 

So, she would play his game. And she would make him pay dearly for it. It was the only way to splinter his shell even more — to make him crumble. He was already so close to falling apart right through her fingers. 

“You bet I will.” 

The rest of the table was silent. Jax strangled the handle of his spoon while Pomni crossed her arms and pinned him with an unflinching gaze. Gangle and Zooble exchanged curious looks, and Ragatha was scanning Jax from across the table like a doctor prods a patient. 

What did you do to him? Maybe he’s not the one corrupting you after all.

Kinger was the first to break the stillness that hung in the air like an executioner’s axe. “I’m glad to see you two so invested in my safety!” the chess piece practically beamed. “Judging by our empty plates and drained mugs, I think we should retire to our chambers for the night. It will take a good night’s sleep to fight off any rogues who come our way.” 

The candles at the table were enough to illuminate the scene like a midsummer’s day, however, the Moon was high in the clouds and washed the hall in a silvery curtain that swayed back and forth in the breeze. 

The group begrudgingly agreed, even though many of their plates were still littered with untouched vittles that were abandoned during the scuffle at supper. They were all exhausted from the day’s events, and would need some time to unwind and process their new situation in this peculiar place. Jax tried to heave himself up, fighting against gravity as his mail rustled against the smooth lining of his bulky plates. Kinger raised a hand at this, signaling for the knight to stay down. “No, Jax. I need my marshal close beside me tonight, who knows what lurks within the castle walls.”

“Oh great,” Jax grumbled. “Why do I always have to save the day around here?”

There was a sullen, downtrodden haze that clung to the group as they walked back through the towering doors of the grand hall, partly driven by the exhaustion of being thrust into a new adventure and also by the turmoil between Jax and Pomni that erupted before their eyes. Ragatha shuffled only a little behind Pomni, shooting a glance behind her to make sure Jax wasn’t prying into matters he had no part in, like a bear sticking his claw greedily into a hive of bees. After the doors to the hall slammed shut and the flickering sconces on the wall burned with silent, fiery whispers, Ragatha took her chance to finally catch Pomni where it would be just them. There was no need to cause an unnecessary scene like Jax had done, and after all it seemed like the jester needed some comfort. The Circus was already hard enough to deal with. 

“Hi Pomni!” the doll put on her cheeriest mask. “How are you holding up? This is certainly one of the more … strange adventures Caine has put us on, huh?” 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” Pomni kept walking down the hall, her head pointed at the ground. “I’ve definitely been through a lot worse.” 

“I do have to give him props for the scene design,” Ragatha tried her best to change the subject. “It really does have some more life to it than usual,” she twirled around in her flowing dress for emphasis. 

“Well I haven’t really noticed all that much — not a lot about me has changed,” Pomni moped, tapping the leaves on her golden laurels. 

“That might be a good thing! I don’t think you needed to change, unlike some of us,” Ragatha muttered through her teeth, obviously directing this quip at a certain someone. “Say — about that — don’t let someone like Jax get under your skin. He usually gets a little feisty and on-edge at the start of a weird adventure like this.”

Pomni frowned a little at her insistence to talk about Jax. She hadn’t been able to make it a few steps out of the hall before their back-and-forth was already being unraveled. But she knew better than to assume that secrets were something to be kept here. 

“I can keep him in check, remember?” Pomni affirmed. “If I wasn’t able to handle myself, I’d ask for help.” 

“O-oh ok! I mean – I know you’re perfectly capable and everything but he can be a little … difficult at times. If you want I can give you my tape and rope for when he acts up!” Ragatha was worried she might have struck a forbidden chord.

“Did you mean what you said?” Pomni’s mind was wandering somewhere else. 

“Um, about what?”

“Did Jax ever try to protect someone?”

“Listen Pomni, about that —“

“I mean did he do nothing at all to help, or did he just fail to save them?” 

Ragatha sighed, weighing whether or not to say anything. 

“If you want anyone to become close in this Circus I think it's best that we know at least a little about each other,” Pomni persuaded, a hint of frustration making itself known in her firm tone. 

“If there was one person Jax ever truly cared for it was her. And he thinks she just slipped away through his fingers, or that he did something to cause it. It really did change him.”

“And now he’s the funny one?” Pomni was trying desperately to put the pieces together. 

“Have you seen the tapestry yet, Pomni? It really is beautiful isn’t it.”

“What does that have to do with any—“

“Did you know that you can hide almost anything underneath the fabric if it’s woven tight enough? A book, life savings, a dagger, a secret door, the list goes on.”

“I’m not sure I follow you here.”  

“When you start to unwind a piece of art like that just to find out what treasure is inside, most times you can’t knit it back together again. Sometimes it’s more trouble than it’s worth — to take apart the tapestry and try to put every thread back where it was.” 

“So you think Jax was able to find something in this friend of his, but didn’t know how to knit her back up — he couldn’t see her the same way after he untangled that canvas.”

“Except he didn’t need to. What should matter is what hides underneath, not what ‘masterpiece’ is paraded around. He found exactly what he should’ve, and he thinks it ruined her.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he probably doesn’t see you for who you actually are yet, and he probably doesn’t want to. You’re still hidden away underneath all of those tassels and bells, and that’s how he wants to keep it. He thinks it’s for the better, yet he’ll never be the one to tell you that.” 

“But he is protecting something isn’t he? Whether it’s me, himself, or his friend. Do you think he’s sparing himself the pain that might come with knowing me too?”

Ragatha stopped short, cutting short their conversation. She stood in front of a large oaken door with iron hinges as black as ink, and a carving of her visage etched into the wood. 

“I guess this is me, sleep well Pomni.” She promptly shut the door behind her without another word. 

I’ll show him who I really am, if he’s so scared of doing it himself.

________________________________________________________________________

Ever so slowly the light in the hall began to fade. Kinger went around the table with a candle snuffer to extinguish the last fiery vestiges clinging to their wicks; the room becoming grimly dim as each candleholder left behind a thin trail of smoke. 

Jax stood still for a moment staring at the hulking set of double doors that just slammed shut in front of him. Why did Pomni keep having to poke around into his past? What was she ever hoping to gain from it? I won’t let her get through me that easily.

Jax turned his attention to the hearth, which was slowly dying as glowing ashes swirled above the last cinders in the fireplace. Visions of smoke still caught the corner of his eyes — the faint taste of charcoal lingered in his throat. She had me right there, she could have finished it if she wanted to. 

Darkness crept further into the grand hall, twirling its inky tendrils over the sanctum of the throne room itself. Only the moonlight remained to bathe the draperies of soft velvet that hung about Kinger’s royal chair in a cold curtain – the color of liquid pearls sparkling under the sea. 

The monarch himself lounged in that haughty seat, bent over a desk ruminating upon a series of lengthy documents that coiled around their ends, his quill tapping thoughtfully on the wood as it echoed his anxiety around the entire room. It was a solitary sight: a lone king reigning over a dominion of mostly darkness, with nothing but a throne and his work to occupy him. His only sentinel — oftentimes his only companion — would float past the open skylight soon before it sank below the horizon, leaving him utterly alone had it not been for the slowly dying wick that decayed with every passing hour of the night. However, this night was different. 

Jax, the resplendent new marshal of the realm, sauntered up to Kinger with a gait that did little to hide his heavy fatigue. His boots scraped across the ground, sometimes kicking up sparks as he dragged himself up to the throne where its occupant sat unperturbed, a hand across his ivory forehead. The rabbit was nearly breathless by the time he reached the light of the lone candle on Kinger’s desk, reflecting in his eyes as the Moon’s rays spliced his ears. 

“Your most gracious, magnificent, royal highness,” Jax began sarcastically. “Your humble knight would like to know exactly when you may ’skedaddle’ off to your room for some shut-eye.” 

“There are more pressing matters right now than sleep,” Kinger cocked an eye in his direction, still whittling away at the parchment with his quill. 

“Oh please, are you really this enchanted by the adventure, old man?” Jax tapped the tip of his sword on the leg of the desk, making a few documents flutter from their stack and onto the floor. 

“What? I’m not really sure I follow you. The lives of millions that rest on my shoulders is certainly no ‘adventure’.” 

“Here we go again. I bet you don’t even remember how we got here.” 

Kinger had been known for his bouts of forgetfulness; those times where he would stare off at seemingly nothing and everything at once. At this moment he lifted his eyes from the document he was scribbling on, staring off at the tapestry that was slowly fading from view as the last embers of the hearth sputtered underneath their iron grate. 

“Does it matter?” the monarch slumped in his throne after a long pause. “I have a purpose here — I’m somebody that matters.” 

“Well you get to be the big-shot here,” Jax began to soften up at Kinger’s openness. Maybe they were all just a little uptight at the moment, and could use a few hours of ease. “What’s your next decree, big boss?”

“I— well—,” he began to falter at the question. “I’m not really sure. It’s hard enough just trying to figure out how I’m supposed to stay alive here.” 

“I can help you out as much as I can, but don’t expect me to treat you like one of my princesses.” Jax twirled the crossguard of his sword through his nimble fingers, swinging the blade like a sharp, deadly windmill. 

“Sometimes I think if I can just keep busy, I won’t have time to be paranoid about it,” Kinger shuffled nervously in his seat, pointing his quill at the tapestry. “Does that art seem … different to you at all? I was certain your character on the wall was in a different spot than it is now. It almost seems like the images have moved.” 

Jax fumbled the sword he was spinning, it flew from his hand and clattered harshly in front of Kinger’s desk with a grating dissonance. “Well — uh, fabric doesn’t just up and move on its own pal,” he chuckled apprehensively. He walked closer to Kinger, hoping to retrieve his weapon. “Say, maybe it is time we get you on up to bed, you old ge-“ 

Jax wasn’t quick enough to hear the shrill whistle as it throttled through the air. However, he did feel the pressure when it struck. A deep shock like the brutish kick of a horse slammed into his shoulder, and his vision was stunned with a jolting flash of milky mist as he collapsed to the ground. All of the breath in his body was expunged in a panicked exhale as his body writhed against his will, looking for some means of escape from the chaotic anarchy that blitzed and thrashed his senses into a muddle of numb bewilderment. 

His lungs grasped for any air that was within reach while his legs searched for any ground they could stand on, but finding nothing as they helplessly scraped the ground. Raspy gasps were the only noise that could leave his mouth, although Kinger could distinguish from the sheer terror in his protruding eyes that he was trying to call for help. He leapt from the throne, tearing down a decorative shield with Cainia’s coat of arms painted on the front; rushing to Jax and kneeling in front of his floundering body with this protective aegis outstretched before them.

Kinger unstrapped the steel gorget that was bound around Jax’s neck, giving him at least a little more room to breathe. With the rabbit in a more comfortable position — finally beginning to ease back into his usual self as his wheezing pants became more relaxed and calm — the monarch could get a better view of the attack that brought the knight flat on his face. 

The armor around his right shoulder was crumpled, and Kinger could even see his contorted reflection in the dents and hollow pits where the onslaught occurred — much like a sheet of paper that was scrunched up and tossed about. The work of a projectile, no doubt.

Sure enough, as he inspected further, a splintered bolt was strewn across the ground right next to Jax, snapped in half on impact. /hat must be the culprit, straight from a crossbow. This was meant to be a concealed attack from a silent killer. 

There was no puncture wound on Jax whatsoever. In fact, the bolt barely managed to break a few links on his mail undershirt. He was a very lucky rabbit, all things considered. Had he not moved in front of Kinger at just the right time, this adventure might have reached a very premature end. 

An echoing silence began to ring in Jax’s ears, with his only other companion being the hissing rattle of cinders from a torch that Kinger tore from the wall, thrown into the darkness where the shot came from in a bid to reveal the culprit. The deep obscurity that surrounded the pair retreated like a frightened horde of spiders; it stung against the soot-stained grate at the foot of the hearth, sending faint embers towards the figure of the jester on the tapestry — giving her the radiant, fiery blush of fresh tinder. Neither of them noticed the hole that was torn in the fabric just beside her image. Kinger put his shield down, concluding that the assailant must have fled at the first sign of failure. They were safe for now.

“Goodness, Jax. How are you holding up?” Kinger flipped Jax over on his side, being careful to slowly drop his wounded shoulder to ease the pain. “That was quite the hit you took for me.” 

The knight’s mouth was still agape from the blow, his eyes becoming damp around the edges. He could only nod and lift up a gauntlet in a thumbs-up, trying to muster up some words that could answer his liege — feigning some of the strength he had lost. 

“All good, your highness,” Jax managed to gasp out, making his lungs puff up in the process — sending pangs through his spine and battered shoulder. 

For some odd reason which he couldn’t put his finger on, all that Jax could think about in that moment when he lay helpless and wheezing on the ground was Pomni. His mind raced back to the heat they shared at the hearth, its flames becoming hotter as the distance closed between them. He felt the sizzling warmth of her fingers around his neck, the searing weight of her shoe as it pressed against his calf like hot irons, and the trickle of sweat on his brow that he tried so hard to hide. He grimaced, clenching his teeth at the pulsing pain in his shoulder and the shame that he was frenzied by it — by his memories of her. 

Why am I like this? The only way I feel closer to you is when you tear me down. 

He needed to become ash just to remind himself of how he used to burn. But he was so scared of scattering in the wind. 

Kinger tenderly took off the gauntlets from his hands — his watch for the night was over, and it was better for his marshal to actually feel his own fingers for once. Jax used his new freedom to clutch Pomni’s key, still hidden away deep in the pocket of his overalls, right near his chest underneath the layers of breastplate, mail, and gambeson that encased his body. When he had taken it from his room back in the Circus, he was confused on why he chose it in the first place. Now, he knew the reason.

His vision gradually lost the foggy gossamer that strung itself at the edge of his periphery, pounding in tandem with the beating of his heart. The passageways to his lungs opened again — that invisible hand choking his trachea finally letting go and allowing his lungs to fill with fresh, clear air. The knight’s ears rang as he regained awareness of his surroundings and became even more aware of his pain.

The earthy scent of the stone just below him was overpowering, and it left a metallic aftertaste in his throat. He couldn’t tell whether it was from a spring of blood welling up inside of him or a consequence of the armor plastered to his body, and maybe that was for the better. He fiddled with Pomni’s key in his pocket — an easier task now that his plates were loosened by Kinger, and it was all he could think about even while enduring the ache of being shot with a dart that should’ve ended his life. 

As he rose from the floor a slight tremor in his wounded shoulder shuddered to life, yet he remained undeterred in proving his strength in front of his liege.

I can’t show weakness now. Not when it's been the one thing I’ve managed to run away from in the Circus.

Kinger instinctively tried to ease Jax back onto the ground, however, he shot a look of annoyed displeasure at his monarch, flinching away and using his great-sword as a crutch to finally push him to his feet. 

“I don’t need any help,” Jax growled through pangs that coursed through his shoulder. “Just get out of here unless you wanna die, I can take care of myself.” 

“I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night anyway,” Kinger sighed. “Take care of yourself, Jax. There are lots of places for danger to hide in this castle.” The door to his private quarter — conveniently adjacent to the throne room itself— shut behind him. 

________________________________________________________________________

The rabbit winced as he rolled his shoulder, trying in vain to shake out some of the burning throbs that ripped throughout his wound. Burdensome resistance from his pauldron pushed his arm back down, and he realized for the first time how uneasy and comfortless this metal prison felt encased around his body. The leather straps that bound his pieces together — like unholy joints mocking anatomy itself — grated against his mail like the ruffling scales of a dragon, pressing with cold and heavy links of iron against thick layers of padded cloth that made up his gambeson. He began to notice how cruel this armored cage really was only after he was given a glimpse of freedom; the tethers to his breastplate clung less to his body after Kinger unfastened them. Now they hung lazily behind his back, like a blind man trying to trail their companion, sometimes rubbing against the ridges of his mail. 

He wished they were tied back up again, this time into a tighter knot. He frowned at this new ‘freedom’, not sure of what to make of it. If he took his armor off, somebody could’ve easily sent that bolt through his heart, or sent a dagger digging into his back. If he kept it on, he felt like the sheer weight of it all would be enough to crush him. All it took was a bit of time until he broke — his protective shell wrapping itself around him, swallowing him as if it were trying to eat him alive. 

He needed to escape. He hadn’t thought of something that useless and hopeless in what seemed like years, but it was the first thing that fired in his head — the first real wish he was able to remember. He yanked the key from under his overalls, wrestling it out from his mail undershirt and holding it so tightly it could’ve bent. 

Drawn to instinct more than reason, with the sting of his wound pressing further into his shoulder and spreading into his chest like the roots of some infernal tree, he stormed out of the hall and towards the only place he believed hadn’t been poisoned by his presence in the Circus. The only place that was able to stave off the worst of him and starve it into desperation. The only person that was willing to hurt him for it, and still let him walk away. 

He walked down the long, narrow passageway while torches wavered on their sconces, flitting past him as they whispered amongst themselves with flammable murmurings as he marched on. He stopped at a door with the likeness of a jester carved into the wood, a frowning thin-lipped mouth with those large, illegible and pleading eyes staring back at him. He was at Pomni’s door. 

Jax lifted his hand to knock, pressing his knuckles lightly into the etching of her face on the smooth wood. It didn’t take much effort in the vast emptiness of the castle — with so much vacuity where there should’ve been life — to make the slightest sound into an announcement for all to listen into. Two meek thumps against the door rang out, just strong enough to be heard by whoever was inside but just soft enough to not alert any unwanted attention. 

There was no response. He traced the outline of the key between his fingers, carefully stacking his options on a scale that became impossible to balance. If she wasn’t there, he could wait. 

I just can’t be out here anymore. Everything is much too barren without … her. At least she’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’ve been deserted. And after all I do need some help taking off this pathetic costume. 

He fidgeted underneath his layers, his body pleading to be liberated from the mass of metal plates piled over its entirety. His hand shook as he stuck the key into the lock. It still fit. 

Jax let the door slide open hesitantly, keeping his hand against the edge of the frame to slowly push it without causing much creaking on its haughty hinges. He kept his head hidden just behind the entrance, however, his ears poked out just enough to betray him. Perhaps he still wasn’t used to this digital body after all. There was a candle waving in the corner, and Jax went flush with an unsettling chill at the prospect of her seeing him like this, a mighty knight meekly sneaking his way into the bedroom of the only person who was able to bring him to his knees. He peeked his head around the door, the candlelight making his eyes twinkle like a helpless puppy, his pupils growing like a leaking oil slick. 

The room was empty. Jax had to revolve his head around the room multiple times to realize its sheer scale. It was almost twice the size of their quarters in the circus, complete with a double-bed fit for a nobleman, a writing desk pushed up against the wall, and a towering chest of drawers with a retractable panel in the middle where the candle sat, withering on its wick. However, his attention turned to a chest at the foot of the bed, covered hastily with a shabby sheet that poorly hid its presence. He paced further into the room, sliding his sabatons against the floor so that nobody could hear his armor clinking together. He slid back the sheet completely, placing it back on the bed where it belonged. He lifted with some force, expecting the lock to resist his efforts, however, it slung back with ease. Someone was in a rush. Nobody in their right mind would be so careless with something so private. 

A few scrolls covered the top, along with a vial of some liquid he dared not touch. He went further, probing around until he struck a piece of string that let out a charming, luscious note when plucked. He pulled it out, expecting an amusing instrument to tease her about later. Instead, what he found made his stomach churn as warm beads of sweat dampened his forehead. His ears dropped like the lead balls of an arquebus. As he dove deeper into this pit of insatiable curiosity, he seemed to find nothing but fleeting light and an ever-widening chasm. 

He thought that trying to peel back everything he knew about Pomni would make him understand her better, to finally reach the core of who she really was. He now realized this was a fatal error. What he found was a crossbow. The bowstring was at its resting position towards the front, not drawn back and primed at the trigger like it should’ve been. It had been fired. 

Jax had barely any time to process this damning revelation when he heard the door creaking shut behind him. Then the lock clicked into place. He froze exactly where he stood, like a bunny caught in the middle of an open field. 

“Well what do we have here?” Her voice was unmistakable. There was a hint of charming malice in her tone — Jax could practically see her grinning from ear to ear even though he dared not look back. 

A knot began to tie itself in Jax’s throat. He slowly put the crossbow back into the chest. 

“I-I just … Well I –” he fumbled over himself, not finding any excuse to redeem himself.

“Come on, use your words.”

“I just took a wrong turn,” Jax grasped desperately for an excuse, yet the quiver in his voice was enough to tear back this pitiful façade. He moved his hand slowly to the scabbard at his side, slowly realizing he was digging himself into a hole that would be impossible to claw back out of. When an animal is backed into a corner, they’ll do whatever it takes to survive, no matter the price.

“You’re a pretty bad liar,” Pomni mused, taking a few soft and slow steps in Jax’s direction, avoiding his eyes as they tried to trail her. “Did you find anything you like?”

“That’s it! I know it was you!” Jax whirled around to face Pomni, unsheathing the falchion attached to his scabbard and aiming it at the jester threateningly. 

Pomni stopped in her tracks, yet remained upright and steadfast, staring at him with downturned eyes like a wolf stalking a lonely sheep set out to pasture. She began to laugh. “Are you sure this is a game you want to play?” 

“Don’t make another move you psycho. I’m turning you in.” Jax’s outstretched arm began to tremble, his falchion began to droop in his hand like a wilted weed. Pomni cocked her head at this.

“Aw, that must be the side I got you on isn’t it?” She moved closer, shaking her head teasingly. “What a shame. You can’t even move the one arm that you were made to use — to be the good little knight Kinger thought you were. Want me to take a look at that wound of yours, hun?” 

Jax charged at her, raising his sword arm with as much force as he could muster, wincing in pain the entire time. Pomni wrapped her shoe around the leg of a chair next to the writing desk, flinging it at the crazed knight. It crashed against his armor, flinging him back against the chest before he stumbled right onto the bed, dropping his falchion on the floor. He floundered on the mattress, unable to find any solid surface to help him stand up. Our mighty warrior was defeated by no more than a chair and a soft, fluffy cushion. 

“Look at you, pillow prince.” Jax thrashed like he was caught in Pomni’s ravenous jaws. 

“Don’t — ugh,” the bunny struggled on the bed, grasping at anything to help him retain his dignity and get back on his feet. It only made him a bumbling, whiny mess while he lay on his back helpless. Just like good old times, huh? “Don’t talk to me like that.” 

“But you just make it so easy, Bun.” She reached down for Jax’s falchion, twirling it in her hands like a trophy. She walked slowly to the bed, eyeing him up with an amused smirk the entire time — as a huntress might stalk her kill. In his panicked state, Jax shot her a worried glance and immediately turned his head away, yet he couldn’t hide the sizzling blush that began to burn onto his cheeks. Pomni turned her head curiously at this. “Have you given up yet?” Her voice turned soft, with a dulcet sympathy that made Jax groan with embarrassment. 

“Never. I can get up on my own if I want to!” Jax tried to hoist himself up, but plopped right back down onto the bed like a sack of potatoes. Before he knew it, Pomni was climbing on top of him, thighs straddling the sides of his waist, the cold steel of his falchion against his throat. She used her other hand to grab a fistful of his ears, yanking his eyes to meet hers. 

“Where are you right now?” She cooed in his face, pressing the metal blade closer into his neck. Jax let out a squeak of fear. He was in no position to negotiate here. It was best to swallow his pride — he was used to it by now. 

“On your bed.” He tried his best to avert his gaze, even with Pomni’s hands tightening around the falchion’s handle as he did so. 

“Don’t look away,” she pulled on his ears, forcing his head up to become level with her own. “Look me in the eyes when you speak to me.” 

He whined softly, rattling the links of mail on his chest. Perhaps it was caused by the sting of his ears being tugged, or the shame of being ordered around by Pomni — treated like nothing more than a rowdy pet whose behavior needed correcting. Perhaps it was a little bit of both at the same time. Despite every rational part of him fighting against it, he complied. 

“I’m on your bed.” The words came out slow, his voice quivering between each syllable like the strummed strings of a lute. They were music to the jester’s ears. 

“Good bunny,” she started snickering. “Do you see how easy that was?” Pomni lifted the falchion off of Jax’s neck, and he gasped in relief like a sailor saved from drowning, dragged out of the murky depths. She also released the hold on his ears, smiling as they flopped down graciously after being wrung out like dirty laundry. 

“What was that for?” Jax wrinkled his nose, evidently perplexed by this whole scene.

“I’m just making sure you understand the gravity of your situation.” 

“Oh please you’re always so dramatic —“

“And you’re never sincere. About anything.” 

Jax swallowed hard. He could feel the edges of the bed’s blankets crawl up his hands, nearly covering them. Despite this, the knight kept staring into her eyes — just as she had commanded him, not bothering to adjust his own position.

“Alright then, why don’t you humor me.”

“For starters, you weaseled your way into my room, helped yourself to my personal belongings, and to top it all off you were foolish enough to raise your little sword against me.” 

Jax darted his eyes away, punctuating his displeasure with a displeased squeak. 

“And do you want to know the best part?” Pomni continued, leaning in closer. Hands still fidgeting at her side. “I knew you still couldn’t do it.”

Jax’s eyes ripened into black diamonds. “Do what?” His breathing grew fast, fueled by a looming dread. “What didn’t I do, Pomni?” Cute. He’s practically begging. 

She just cocked her head at him with a look of pure pity, the way a vengeful angel looks down on a sinner. How many times is he going to let me do this?

“You’ve had your hands free this whole time, big guy,” Pomni just laughed sympathetically, as if sharing some of the guilt in his oncoming plight. “You could’ve fought back anytime you wanted. At the very least you could’ve tried to free yourself – it might have made this more fun for me.” 

Jax’s face was brimming with fear. His mouth dropped to a frown, and his eyes started looking into something else entirely. His features were softened and smoothed with a paralyzing shudder throughout his whole body — showing nothing but a type of terror that is absolutely expressionless. 

He jolted his hands into action, but they were just as quickly stopped in their tracks. Pomni’s grin got wider, showing rows of sharp teeth beaming down at her captive. 

“Did you really think I’d just let you walk away?” The jester raised her hands, they were both wrapped up in bright red ribbon taken from the girdle around her waist. 

Those weren’t blankets on my hands. 

A long stream of the ribbon ran down both of her hands towards Jax’s own — which were tied in a knot. The rabbit struggled in his bindings, writhing his wrists and clenching his fingers together into a fist to try and break its hold, yet to no avail. There was no escape from this. 

“Why don’t you just finish it already!” Jax growled. “You already tried to do it once.”

 Pomni plunged herself over Jax, clutching his wrists and interlocking her fingers between his, keeping his arms pinned at the side of his head against the bed frame. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, you weren’t even my target.” She rubbed her thumb delicately against Jax’s palm which was trembling in its pretty ribbons — knowing there was no way out. “Calm down, I’m just playing the game like you asked me to, right?”

“You’re a killer,” Jax gritted out, trying to hide the fear that lurched itself from his throat.

“I’m what you made me.” Pomni gripped his hands even harder, squeezing his fingers together before hauling him onto his stomach. Jax protested with yelps and groans, even trying at one point to scream out to any who could hear, only being met with Pomni’s knee that pushed his face into the pillow, muffling his screams. 

She loosened some of the ribbon, still keeping enough for both of them to be comfortably tethered. Jax’s hands laid limp around his back, while Pomni toyed with the straps on his armor, tugging at them like a raven descending on a fresh carcass. 

“Let’s see that little wound of yours, hm?” The jester loosened the belts that secured his breastplate, pushing it off to the side as far as it could go to expose his mail. She did the same to his undershirt of shiny iron rings, bunching it up from the bottom before wiggling it over his head. For his padded gambeson, she reached under his stomach, straining Jax’s tied hands even more into the divots of the mattress. He whined as his hands became stretched to the limit, but Pomni was quick in seeking out his buttons as she ripped them from their sockets before discarding it with his other pieces of armor, lazily throwing it over his shoulders. 

He was barren now, his purple hair standing stiff and on edge, his shoulder blades poking through as they rolled helplessly under his lavender fur. His lower back bent in unison with his breaths — like slow and steady waves that tapered off into a tense quiver on the sandy surf. He was afraid. He had not been afraid in a very long time. Even so, he didn’t want Pomni to see the panic that ingrained itself into his body — into the way it recoiled against her touch and tightened up at the sound of her voice as it brushed against the back of his neck. 

Pomni traced her hand against the rabbit’s back, making circles in his fur and tracing the ridges in his back. She smirked with satisfaction when he shuddered as she touched a particularly sensitive spot, her eyes becoming weighty with a sinister type of softness. When she reached the area that was injured by her crossbow, she saw a deep, purple splotch on his shoulder. This bruise was the color of rich Tyrian dye, blotted with black marks like a raven’s feathers and light red freckles where her bolt had just grazed his body, seeming more like rose petals than punctured skin. 

Jax squirmed even harder as she got closer to this spot, his arms wriggling as instinct took over. Pomni moved along with his body as it twisted under her, keeping it firmly against the bed — not allowing him any room to get up. 

“P-please,” the rabbit whined. “Just let me go, I won’t tell anyone I promise!!”

“Oh I know you won’t,” Pomni snickered. “You’re mine now.” 

She dug her thumb right into the middle of the bruise. Pomni used her other hand, still wrapped around her ribbon, to dig Jax’s head into the pillow — covering up his wailing and incessant thrashing. He bucked his legs up in the air out of pure intuition, knowing that he needed to run away — like all bunnies were good at doing except for him. His hands thrashed against the restraints that held them together, making deep, crimson indents in his palms while his entire torso seized like he was being electrocuted by a thousand agonizing shocks. 

The jester gave him a moment of reprieve, letting Jax come up for air and releasing her thumb from his wound. The bruise was beating in rhythm with his heart — fast, erratic pumps of blood from his veins begging for mercy on the surface of his fur. 

“You will say nothing to anyone,” Pomni teased the edge of her handiwork on his shoulder, writing out her own name in his fur. “And you will do anything I see from now on. Is that understood?”

Jax only nodded meekly, pressing his face further into the pillow as he fought the urge to just sink through the cozy sheets of the bed and never be seen again. 

“Silly rabbit,” Pomni tousled up his ears playfully, making a mess of the fur on his head. It made Jax flinch, thinking she was going for his neck again. “I need you to be good and say it for me, ok?”

Jax scoffed, earning him a slight slap across the back of his neck. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but just enough for him to get the message. 

“I’ll do whatever you want, Pom.” His response came across as unserious and sarcastic, as if this was just another meaningless game to him — or simply another adventure to trudge through. The jester even thought she could sense a bit of an eye-roll as she sat atop the rigid tassets that protected his thighs. 

“Let’s try that again.” Pomni dug her entire knuckle into the bruise this time, pressing down like she was kneading a doughy loaf of bread. His tender skin caved almost immediately, the fur on his shoulder crumpled as her hand burrowed deep into his wound. 

Jax gritted his teeth in a soundless wail, closing his eyes to focus his mind on anything but the stabbing pangs that felt like molten lead coursing through his veins. Despite slamming his eyelids shut, Jax began to see a kaleidoscope of color. An array of vibrant reds, verdant greens, and velvety blues permeated through his vision, slowly morphing themselves into the shape of eyes that all looked directly at him, shedding their hues just as quickly as they reverberated with an intense glow. A bright yellow cornea and a pink pupil transformed into a soft teal and calm orange right before his very conscious. He could sense himself slipping further. He fell into this chasm of his own making as countless eyes raced past him in a prismatic orchestra, losing all sense of self as they resonated with a mesmerizing chorus of chromatic tones.

No no no, this can’t be how it happens.

The rabbit could practically feel the muscles in his shoulder ripping as Pomni gouged into him, massaging the bruise to make sure he could feel every ounce of what she was doing to him. 

“You know,” Pomni began. “I meant it when I said you should never feel like nothing; so let me at least make you feel something.” She twisted her knuckles deeper, causing Jax’s eyes to go agape as they instantly went wide with a shock he had never known since entering the Circus. He whimpered into the pillow, getting it wet with a patch of drool that leaked out with the feral noises he was making from the very depths of his digital soul. 

His hands — still bound and fastened to Pomni’s own by the ribbons of her belt — only moved when hers did. Jax was tethered to his own destruction, not only feeling the jester’s hand as it pressed into his wound but also how it moved against him, as if they were one person. His hand jerked with every turn of Pomni’s as it drove into his bruise, it clenched when she prodded for his weak points, and it was tugged along when she hoisted his ears into a bunch. 

He had only ever felt this type of pain one other time before. It had never made him feel so alive as this.

The assault of colors and ominous eyes that blotted his vision seemed to dissipate, and Jax collapsed back into the pillow. 

“You’re my knight now,” Pomni gloated above him, having thoroughly ravished the rabbit once again. 

“I’m your knight,” Jax squeaked between raspy exhales. “I’ll follow any command you give.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Pomni grinned, scrunching up her eyes like she was looking at a puppy. She gave him a few soft pats on the head, causing Jax to groan and dig his face into his shoulder. He turned his eyes up to look at Pomni, who was smiling gingerly, those carousel pupils glinting in the candlelight. She took one of her fingers and wiped a few premature tears that were brimming at the corners of his eyes, before moving them into his mouth and hooking it, beckoning his head to face her. However, something about her hold on him was kind and affectionate, not nearly with the amount of malice she usually subjected Jax to as she lightly stroked the tops of his teeth. Maybe being her knight had some perks after all. 

“Even if we somehow … wake up from all this … and forget everything,” Pomni thought out loud, rolling her fingers in his mouth. “Isn’t this pain worth feeling while we have it?”

She didn’t expect Jax to give an answer, but just sat and admired the view for as long as she wanted. Jax was also looking right into her, but he saw somebody else entirely. 

“Suck on them.” Pomni snapped out of her daze, leaning in close to make sure Jax obeyed. He closed his mouth around her fingers and lapped lightly against them, doing as he was told. The rabbit even started purring, light rumbles of affection reverberating through his whole body as his tail lightly tapped against the sheets. She took a free hand to scratch the underside of his chin, causing his eyes to close in pure bliss and his entire head to fall into her palm with a dreamy lethargy as she softly stroked beneath his jaw.

“I think it’s time we got you to bed.” Pomni carefully unraveled the ribbons around her hands before attaching them to the bedpost furthest from the wall – tying them into a sturdy knot as she did so. It allowed just enough room for Jax to keep his hands resting on the mattress so he wouldn’t uncomfortably hang them in the air. He felt like a dog on a leash, but it was better than the alternative. 

“Just for tonight, ok?” Pomni assured him in a dulcet tone that sounded like bees buzzing between flowers. She removed the heavier armor pieces that still clung to his legs, unbuckling them from his thighs and calves before placing them considerately against the wall. After all, Jax was her knight now, so it was best to keep his gear spotless for both of their sakes. She rubbed the top of his ears as she climbed into bed after him, giggling a little to herself as he shuddered and buried his head deeper into his chest. After pulling the covers up, doing her best to adjust the blanket coverage on Jax’s side of the bed, Pomni wrapped her arms around the bunny’s neck, inching up closer behind him so she could press her chest ever so slightly against the bruise on his shoulder. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for Jax to know she was there as she leaned over to blow out the candle for the night.
“Did you know that you can hide almost anything behind a tapestry?” 

The only response Pomni received in return was rhythmic snoring from Jax as he dozed off, his back moving against her like tired waves crashing onto the shore of a deserted island. She smiled with a natural ease that rivaled breathing itself – giving him a peck on the top of his head before nestling in next to him. 

“Goodnight, little bunny. Make sure to get some rest.”

Chapter Text

PART II

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CHAPTER III: A Delirious Dream

Jax could always tell when he wasn’t alone. Even as his breathing settled into rolling, soundless wisps and his mind faded into slumbering, formless caverns as his eyes scrolled shut — he sensed someone with him who shouldn’t have been.

Flecks of scintillating flashes teased the fringes of his vision, bursting through the obscure whirlpools in his head that dragged him deeper into the depths of sleep. Even the most fatigued, rigid, and motionless statues made of the plushest marble would have envied the way he sunk into the mattress – as if Pomni’s bed was made especially for him to lay on the other pillow.

Jax found himself deliciously drowsy, his eyelids dropping with a drunken heaviness as his muscles softened like grassy knolls smoothed over with a summery breeze. He slowly released every ounce of bitter tension from his body, finally letting go – finally allowing himself to be out of control. It was the only way he knew how, and perhaps the only way he felt comfortable doing so. 

That is to say, until her.

The rabbit was staring into a bottomless grotto. He expected himself to adjust, for the shadowy expanse to dissipate before his eyes. At any moment now, the inscrutable valley between dreaming and waking would be crossed. His world would be set aflame with vivid scenes that he would reluctantly forget the second he lifted his groggy head from where it rested, while warm sunlight swept across his fresh face. This time, he was only met with darkness — a blank sheet of pure, senseless silence that shook through every corner of his being. 

Little droplets of light winked at Jax from somewhere just beyond, enticing him with a myriad of dazzling reflections like a bejeweled diadem scrubbed and tidied for coronation. He moved towards it, partially out of instinct and equally because he would grasp at anything within reach if it meant escaping the black pit that churned around him, waiting for him to slip. Even a few dying shreds of the Moon’s cold rays are enough to tempt those who have gone their whole life without the Sun’s heat. 

He hovered closer – the vibrant orbs suddenly shifted inward on each other, huddling together as if they were frightened by this new knightly visitor. They shivered with a vivacity that betrayed something sacred about them, as if Jax was trespassing on the wings of fragile angels meant to be concealed from the defilement of mortal imperfection. With the grace and stealth of chameleons that use their armory of vivid hues to blend into the brush, these astral imitations shifted between colorful coats alarmingly quick as he moved forward – eagerly shedding their vain varnish as the emptiness between them was gradually bridged. 

It didn’t take long before a piercing hum permeated through Jax, rippling around a body he couldn’t even distinguish in this blinding void. The flashes stopped, the spheres went still. Everything around him swelled with a sinister peace. 

The clump of shapes in front of him shone like glassy marbles, round and clear in the lifeless space that surrounded them. They clacked together, trying to meld into each other before a small crevice appeared in a singular globe. These cracks continued to branch out. They became wider and more difficult to trace, like molten lava flowing down a mountainside. It shattered completely. A lazy, lethargic liquid began to crawl out from within, oozing like sticky wax that trails down a thick tallow candle. It settled onto an unseen floor — if any such thing existed in this place — before stretching into an army of tendrils, appearing more like tree roots or a squid’s wavy tentacles. 

Jax reached out a hand to touch it. What he beheld were neat strings of binary code across a synthetic blue background — spreading infectiously whenever it consumed a piece of the abyss bordering it. Lines of ones and zeroes trickled down, enticing the rabbit with its stiff dance as the numbers dissipated and reappeared in their rows like thousands of feathers ruffled at once. Every sequence changed by the second, every zero projected into a one – every one to a zero. It was a rapid, ceaseless and unbending cycle, seeping from the shattered shards of glass like snow falling out of an overburdened winter cloud. 

That is, before Jax touched its surface.

The substance began to spasm uncontrollably, a hazy film of malfunctioning cybernetics deforming the atmosphere above it. Deadly violets formed the vanguard, slashing against rash, red flickers that spliced the interface before him, while deep turquoise lines collided with jade spikes that impaled themselves upon viscous threads of computerized molasses that spilled themselves into a lightless infinitude. A violent buzz rang out, compelling Jax to grab at his own ears as it rattled through him with the force of a thousand invisible pins. 

This unholy digital broth stopped flowing. Instead, it began to rise. Their clogging veins toppled over one another — grabbing, prodding, climbing, even absorbing into itself as it coiled upward. The glitching mass began to foam like those warm Aegean waves that conceived Aphrodite herself, howling and hissing with a mechanical accent as it towered over the rabbit who could only stare at it helplessly. Before too long, this phenomenon was entirely concealed by a shield of flawed digitization, an unsightly rainbow of flashy dyes and jagged geometry that mocked Jax’s wretched humanity to its very core. 

Then, everything went calm. Jax felt like he could finally come up for air as every wrathful pixel became tamed and tranquil. 

Something more familiar washed up in its wake. A frog — a rosy cheeked, thin lipped, red bow-tied frog —  batted her eyelashes back at him. 

It's you. 

“Good job, Sherlock. We got ourselves a real detective over here, don’t we?” Ribbit mused sarcastically. 

Wh … what? H … how did you j … just –

“Wh … what? H … how did I j … ju … just … talk to you?” she mimicked Jax’s awe-stricken stutter. “I don’t know about that one. Maybe with this little thing, hm?” 

The frog gave Jax a smug, toothy smile to top it all off, pointing at it to make sure he understood the jest. It curved around the edges of her cheeks just like the first day he met her. She always had such an easy, effortless smile. The kind that would make him feel like the only person in a crowded room – the only one that mattered when she looked at him. 

They may not have been human anymore, but she was the closest thing to life he had ever known — the one person that made him want to remember what it was like to be alive at all. 

Something in his chest would always feel strange around her. He became addicted to how it unraveled him, to how it laid every burrowed emotion bare before her, making him as transparent as a window pane. He could hide nothing, and he could do nothing about it. He loved how hopeless it all was, and how helpless he became because of it. 

But… you’re… 

“Oh come on,” Ribbit rolled her eyes. “All you do is run your mouth and talk yourself tired but now the cat’s got your tongue?” 

Jax poked himself in the cheek and pinched himself in the arms to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The sensation was dull, but it was there. That was enough for him. 

“Why are you here?” the knight asked rather shakily. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ribbit crossed her arms, a little irritated at his aloofness. “You’re smart enough to figure it out. I know you well enough to see through your little innocent act. Don’t be so naive.” 

The rabbit recoiled a little at this — clearly caught off guard by the directedness. “Well I hate to ruin your confidence but everything I do is out in the open. I definitely don’t need an act to try and keep my secrets.” 

Ribbit gave him a gentle smirk, curling one side of her lips while her eyes soothed into a sparkly sweetness that was enough to make Jax crumble. It always did. 

“I can always tell when you’re nervous.” 

Her tone was paralyzingly delicate, sending a jolt up Jax’s back — fizzling all the way up to his ears. She always had a softly scathing way of making her pity known. In a way, it blunted the blow that she could see completely through him as if she were a ray of light reaching past a thin fleece curtain. 

At this moment, Jax resented it. People could see every culpable crack in his frame when they mounted his portrait to the wall — when they finally started to show an interest in him. They tried to study every expression, every fault, the way his feet tapped when he was anxious or how his tail stuck up when he was uptight — scrutinizing every detail like he was a shattered bit of fragile porcelain that needed to be put back together piece-by-piece.

 He despised the closeness of it all, how every little pattern and habitual quirk became an intimate part of how other people saw him — of how defenseless he was when his disguise slipped. 

He was a ball of tangled twine begging to be unraveled, and at one point he trusted Ribbit to hold him in the palm of her hand as she plucked at every coarse knot of vetiver string. She treated him tenderly, only brushing over his sensitivities without digging a deeper gash into his dignity. 

At this moment, her dissecting words reminded him of a time when he tolerated it, and also how far he had fallen from that summit of trust with anybody else. 

Can I still trust you? I can’t even believe what I tell myself anymore. 

“You don’t have to pretend around me, ok? I know you, Jax — and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she comforted him, moving a few steps closer on the invisible plane that grounded both of them. “I just want to help.” 

“You wouldn’t know me now. I’m …  a little different from when you last saw me.” Jax was careful with how much he revealed. 

“And I was a lot different when I left you,” Ribbit retorted. “What’s the difference?”

“I don’t think you would like what I became. I’m trapped in this hell and you aren’t even here to walk through it with me.”

“Well, I’m here now,” she assured, kneeling down to his level. Jax looked her in the eyes — breathless and unblinking — to make sure she was real. 

“What’s the real reason? Why did you decide that now was a good time to see me?” 

Ribbit shot him a quizzical look. “You know more than you allow yourself to.”  

“Well – I mean … It’s just been a long time, hasn’t it?” Jax was grasping at any justification to back himself out of this corner. 

“It hasn’t felt that way for me.”

There was a stern silence between the both of them for some time. 

“I’ve … I’ve been thinking about the last time I saw you,” the rabbit spoke up. “Time spins so slowly now that you’re away.” 

“You’re all I can think about,” she mulled over her next words — debating whether or not she should say them aloud. “You made a promise, didn’t you?” 

Both of them already knew the answer to this question.

Jax cleared his throat, trying to loosen the thorns that tightened around his neck. 

“It was us…”

“... or nothing,” Ribbit finished his thought for him. “Good. You remembered.” 

“I … I was supposed to leave with you. I could never forget how close we got.” Jax sunk his head to the yawning, hollow hole below them. 

“I waited for you as long as I could.” 

“I shouldn’t have let you go alone. You were always there for me when I needed you.”

Ribbit reached out her hand after he said this, tipping Jax’s chin just enough so that he could look up at her — gazing into each other's eyes. Her touch buzzed through him like a thousand humming bees. 

“You do know how to keep secrets, don’t you?” her tone changed to something sharper, like a blade pressing up against his skin — he could feel its pointedness. 

“What … what do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten."

Jax rummaged frantically within himself. “We had a plan — you needed to leave earlier than we wanted to, and —” 

“You ran. I never left, Jax.” 

His breathing became rushed and rough, as if he had forgotten how to use his electronically-endowed lungs altogether. 

“No — you’re messing with my head just like when —”

“When I wasn’t pleasant to be around, hm?” 

“I don’t need you to speak for me.”

“But I think I should at least remind you, then. Keep your trap shut until I’m finished.” She punctuated this by pinching the sides of Jax’s cheeks, scrunching his mouth closed. 

Ribbit could feel the bunny swinging in his skin like a wavering windchime. It was endearing in a way — how softly he bent to her will by such a small breeze as this. She wondered how he’d sound if those sweet, ringing notes were able to escape. When the frog was satisfied with his subdued speechlessness, she continued. 

“When I found a way out, I needed you to come with me, so that we could escape … this … together,” she motioned to the remnants of frenzied binary littered beneath her. “As soon as the time came to leave, I couldn’t find you, and I couldn’t leave without you. You weren’t planning to look for me at all, were you?” 

Jax’s pupils drained to the size of obsidian pebbles, unwound like yarn that had been viciously ripped apart by the three eternal weavers of Fate. They began to ripple with heavy, beady droplets that welled in his eyes. Ribbit let go of his mouth. His face streamed with a ravine of stifling sobs. 

“I tried… I really tried to go with you.”

“But you wanted me to stay with you instead. I was going to be free and you kept me trapped, dragging me down with you.”

“I told you there was nothing that I could go back to on the other side.” 

“And so you chose to hide, just like you always do.” Traces of venom stained her tone, sizzling on her tongue like a griddle under fiery ashes. 

“I only wanted to be with you more, I didn’t want to lose you for good.” Warm tears began to make trenches in the fur on his cheeks. 

“You were the only piece missing. I trusted you to be there with me.”

“I also trusted you — to at least try and live in the Circus for a little longer while I figured things out — not leave me behind.” 

“I couldn’t escape without you and you knew it.”  

“I was kind enough to at least let you try, wasn’t I?” 

“And your kindness turned me into this.” Ribbit began to twitch uncontrollably, refracting against herself as light may splice through water. Electric gradients clashed on her surface, distorting the image that Jax thought was so perfect for her. Black fissures tore through her chest as she lost the smile that he was so fond of seeing. The frog’s eyes became iridescent, awash with fantastical stripes of every shade under the sun. 

All Jax could think about was how dreary and lifeless she looked without her deep, midnight pupils shining back at him — speaking more words than her mouth ever could. One look from her was enough to echo across every part of his soul. Dozens of identical, glowing orbs blinked back at him, magnified from the chasmal wounds in her body, climbing up her face and peering at him with burning betrayal and icy vengeance seeping out of their eyelids — as if to memorize the fear on Jax’s face and the heat of his tears as they careened down his face. 

In the midst of his cloudy vision as it succumbed to his crackling cries, Ribbit seemed to change into something he no longer recognized. A crown of corrugated, petrified tree bark wrapped itself around her head, coiling down the side of her face with wavy ridges that formed her new wooden symmetry. A cloak the color of late summer grass swaying in a dying evening zephyr covered her shoulders, while a layer of unflinching, dim lamellar armor overlapped itself with small circular discs of iron — poking and puffing up like the chest of an eagle diving for its dinner. 

The frog’s vitriolic metamorphosis simmered down, mollifying her features back into a picture that Jax was more prepared to accept as some distant version of her. The only part of Ribbit that didn’t change were the eyes. They still measured him up and down, ruminating hypnotically over whether to entrance Jax or destroy him right then and there with those florally fluorescent pupils that peered right past him — into a part of him he couldn’t bear to see for himself.  

She moved towards the rabbit, walking on air that rippled under her like the surface of a placid lake. Jax tried to crawl away, using the palms of his hands to force him backward. 

His legs, on the other hand, wanted to stay. They collapsed under him like dead weight, forcing the knight to drag himself along the ground as he saw Ribbit steadily getting closer – his head rising more and more with each treadless stride she took. I could never keep my eyes off of you, could I? 

Jax was stopped in his tracks. He tried to push against whatever resisted him from retreating further, but it was to no avail. Something snowy and smooth stiffened around his shoulders. He turned sheepishly towards his new obstacle, a bead of icy sweat condensing on his brow. Pomni’s gloves were wrapped around his gambeson, holding it securely in place and crunching his coarse linen into rough crinkles. The bells on her cap jingled above him like an avenging angel’s heavenly herald upon a chapel’s spire. He searched for her face in the gloomy darkness, but it was shrouded by a sheet of incalculable oblivion. Only her lamblike, mismatched gloves and frilly cap were visible. 

“I remember you being so fond of games, little knight.” Ribbit stooped to observe his panic riddled face with tasty triumph glittering in her eyes. “Why don’t we play one together, what do you think?” 

She opened her cloak to reveal a series of silvery glints, dazzling Jax with a reverence that can only be compared against a legion of stars sputtering to life in the dusky sky. When his sight adjusted, his heart — or what felt like one buried deep within him — sank to a depth that would have made weaker beings drown. In one of her hands was the handle of a double-headed axe — large enough to level the trunk of a tree. Its sharpened edges were perfect for slashing across an unguarded neck. On her other side was a greatsword, laying flat beneath the frog’s garments like a discarded piece of litter. 

She kicked it over to his side. The weapon only whistled as it slid over nothingness — there was no slate floor for it to scrape against. Jax instantly recognized it. The blacks of his eyes plunged themselves into even tighter pellets. It was his own sword. He could tell by the way its crossguard was slightly curved much like his own ears, while the hilt was made of rich lumber from a yew tree that proudly boasted all of its spiraling grooves and mystical canyons, as if the enchanting potion of a proud magus had chiseled through its surface with timeless wisdom and nymphal secrets. 

“Soliders such as yourself are always bound by their codes, by their glory, by their honor.” She tapped the tip of her axe on the ground with each accolade that slithered from her mouth. 

“These are all fatal flaws that you have yet to learn, bunny. So I’ll do you a favor and offer you a proposition, because I am just as much of a prisoner here as you are.” 

She inched closer to his face, shifting forwards like a spectre in her fluttering cloak. 

“Only one of us can make it out of this nightmare. The choice is yours. There is of course, but one catch — a mutual agreement if you will — assuming you are a knight that can live up to his own chivalry. Whatever you do to me, I must also do unto thee.” 

A sinister smile slackened itself from between her lips, Jax could tell she was trying her best to hide it.

“Did you know that when a beautiful beehive slides ever closer to death, the queen will be smothered by her own workers just so they can survive. They bite and sting as much as they can while she gets suffocated under the dome of a sweltering, buzzing inferno for the greater good. What will you do, Jax, with all of that rage inside of you? All of that heat boiling your insides until you have no choice but to hiss with stinging steam? Will you try to overthrow the queen? Will you finally fight, or will you run like I know you always do.” 

He picked up the sword, pointing its polished tip at Ribbit’s throat. He thrusted right for it. She didn’t even budge. The weapon hit its mark right in the center of her neck. Jax expected it to slice through like a saw splitting a twig. 

It did nothing. 

There was an abrasive ricochet as the sword smashed into its target, yet it could not even break the skin — as if her body were made of tempered steel. Ribbit smirked at the knight, grabbing his blade with her bare hands and prying all control away from Jax. Not even one drop of blood spilled down her fingers. She retaliated by pushing the sword across her own neck, as the rabbit could do nothing but anchor himself to the hilt with all the futile, inferior strength he could muster. She could not be wounded. Ribbit stared at Jax — unblinking — with a hysterical type of hunger in her eyes that made him start to shiver in place. He had seen that look before. 

“There you are,” she glowered at the pitiful bunny who was completely undone before her. Jax was grappled back onto the ground, once again brought to his knees as Pomni’s gloves kept him where he laid with an otherworldly brawn. Ribbit tossed his sword away.

“Do you still think this is a dream?” she asked mockingly. The concealed jester’s hands grasped him with an ardent firmness that made him cower at Ribbit’s armor plated boots — her fingers pressing right above his wounded shoulder. It made him wince with a pain he recognized all too well, yet which he still couldn’t understand. Is this what it feels like? To be hurt?

“I wonder, how long do you think it’ll be before she tries to leave you too?” she derided. “Do you really think you can be enough — after you couldn’t even make me stay? You’ll end up letting her down too.” 

“That’s… that’s not happened and you know it,” Jax sorely tried to defend himself. 

“Maybe you just don’t want to remember, then. You must have tried so hard to forget me. It's unfortunate, isn’t it? That I will always be here to remind you of what you did.” 

The rabbit tried to free himself, using all of the ornery tenacity left within his body to launch at Ribbit, to end this cursed misery once and for all. No matter how hard he flailed and kicked, it was useless. He could not escape. The frog couldn’t help but laugh before heaving the axe over her shoulder.

“You are like all those lost boys with dreams of bravery and lust for courage tainting their lips. They wear a shiny shell and brandish a mighty saber in their fancy costumes, yet always end up losing the fight against themselves — and one’s own ghost always comes back to haunt them. Remember our promise. Be sure not to break it this time when I come to find you. Your end will be no different from the rest, so while you still can: run, rabbit, run.”

She swung the axe. Jax flinched as it whizzed for his neck. 

His world went black. 

Everything became a meditative, numbing static that flowed inside of him until he could not even feel his arms, legs, or the string of nerves that connected it all. The last thing he heard was the jingle of Pomni’s bells before wrenching his eyes open. 

The jester was above him, her hands on his shoulders, urging him awake. 

“Jax … Jax what’s going on?” Pomni was shaking him like she was trying to wrestle out a demon from his chest. 

She awoke in the middle of the night to a stream of enthralling reflections on the ceiling, bouncing against the timber beams above her like a butterfly’s wing basking in the sun. At first, she thought it was the subtle glow of moonlight daintily playing with a batch of glass panes fixed to the delicately stained, coss-hatched windowsills that overlooked her desk. It was only until they began to swirl and palpitate more violently, like a thunderstorm of fragrant spring flowers brewing above her, that she concluded otherwise. Pomni was beginning to lose herself in their soundless soirée and limbless ballet as they pulled her further in, engulfing her mind and feasting on her eyes. 

However, she could always tell when something wasn’t right. 

Turning to Jax, she was instantly thrown back down to earth, awakened to reality with a frozen shock. Her only words were a look of bewilderment plastered on her face and a gaze filled with worry. The rabbit’s eyes were swarmed with an unnatural exuberance, a collision of color so toxic that it was enough to make her chest become scrambled with panic. Her arms reached blindly for anything within reach to pacify her — to keep her safe, to comfort her, to trust her with everything she was worth. They eventually landed on Jax’s shoulders. 

She had to help him. Pomni climbed on top of her knight, his mouth agape and his head rolling around like he was stricken with feverish delusions that riddled his whole body. Her eyes darted to his writhing arms and up to his twitching ears, seeking aimlessly for answers she could never hope to find. The only coherent thought that came to mind was force — when all other options were whisked out of her head. She shook Jax with a relentless fragility, as if she were wringing out a luxurious taffeta sheet onto her bed. Nevertheless, her efforts were just harsh enough to keep him steady on his pillow, making him yield to her pressure without a touch of malice on the pads of her palms. Pomni repeated his name until the words blended together and dissolved into rabid gasps — a hymn that was slowly snuffed out and silenced before any angel above could answer. 

Jax tried to bolt as soon as he became conscious, his eyes returning to their usual sunny trim. He did not get far with Pomni still rocking him against the bed. 

“Hey – what do you think you’re doing?” Jax used his own newly liberated hands to impulsively push her away. Pomni released her hold when she heard him speak, landing on the sheets beside him. 

“I could ask you the same thing!” Pomni pointed at the rabbit accusingly.

“It’s … It’s nothing. Just forget about it, ok?” Jax began to sit up, his legs hanging off the side of the bed — turning away from the jester. He felt something narcotically warm wrap around his fingers. There was no mistaking it. Pomni was holding his hand. 

“I won’t let you hide anything. Especially after last night. You have to tell me.” Her hand tightened around his own, stretching the leather of their gloves. 

Jax gave a pouty huff in response. “Listen, there’s nothing you need to worry about. Your mission is safe, I’m safe, and that’s all we should care about. Sometimes the Circus conjures up bizarre illusions to root around in our puny, gullible minds, and we would all be smart to ignore it.” 

He tried to leave, Pomni wouldn’t let him go.

“Are you … ok? You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I need to know these things so that I can help. It’s the only way we can trust each other in a place like this.”

“Trust?” Jax gritted his teeth. “Oh that’s rich. Have you learned nothing since you’ve been here? You can’t even trust yourself in the Circus, much less the others! How do I even know you’re real, huh?”

 He yanked his hand away from Pomni, walking towards the door with a stiff, hot tempered gait. 

“Are any of us?” Pomni called after him. “You said it yourself: we need to stop pretending, don’t we? If we aren’t even human anymore then why not risk putting your faith in a clump of pixels like me. It won’t hurt you, I promise.” 

But it did, once. 

Jax didn’t turn around. He was utterly motionless except for his hand turning the doorknob to leave. 

“Sometimes you’re a real Fool, you know that? What happened while I was asleep … is just our version of a nightmare and not anything more exciting than that, so don’t look too closely at it. There’s nothing deeper to dive for.”

“You’re still such a bad liar. Have you learned nothing?” 

“Oh, I tell the truth. Just not all of it,” he countered. Jax hid his sincerity by curving the sides of his mouth into one of his trademark, infuriating grins. 

Two can play this game. “Alright then. Who’s Ribbit? You kept saying their name an awful lot in your sleep.”

The rabbit’s smile was eviscerated, collapsing into a frowning wince. His beady eyes tried running towards the back of his skull. He fidgeted hysterically with the knob on the door, hoping to make a quick escape among the throng of their other companions as they headed towards breakfast. It wouldn’t budge. 

“There’s no getting out of this one, Bun. You have quite the talent for walking into traps.” Pomni simply crossed her legs on the edge of the bed, allowing Jax an opportunity to surrender on his own. 

“What does it matter to you, anyway? You’re too sentimental for this Circus and everything in it. Doesn’t that ever drive you crazy?” Jax sulked, crossing his arms and scampering his eyes away to a distant recess of her room. 

“Uh-uh, look at me. Not whatever corner I've backed you into.” 

Jax obeyed hesitantly — begrudgingly shifting his softened, sunken stare to meet her own.

The jester nodded, quite pleased with how well he listened to orders. “If you don’t want to tell me, I will find out. And that might hurt more than just giving me what I need to know.” 

“Whatever you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find it in me. She sure didn’t.” 

Pomni patted the side of the bed next to her, morphing her face into a rough, stern expression that made Jax slouch his ears. She scrunched her eyes at him like he was nothing but an ill disciplined animal. 

“Come here.” 

Jax walked to her side with a deep, guttural groan before landing precisely on the spot where she wanted him — letting his shoulders sag as if the weight of humiliation was crushing him with a Sisyphean strength. He pivoted away from her at first, scooting himself to the brink of her patience as he tried to wiggle out of arms reach. Pomni put a stop to that with a single hand squeezing his thigh.

“Calm down, ok? I’ve got you,” her words glided out like a dove’s snow white wing, brushing against Jax’s fur with a sappy tonic that was able to put him at ease. He mellowed like a warm, doughy ball of putty in her hands just waiting to be kneaded. “Let’s get you dressed for the day, shall we? Stay right there for me,” she snapped her fingers at him as a hint that he should listen like a well trained knight. 

Pomni picked up his sabatons and clipped them around his feet, tenderly reaching behind his heel to make sure they were well adjusted. Jax began to flutter with each little touch from her hands that wrapped around his calves to tighten the straps of his shiny greaves, his legs becoming taut and constricted in their binds — all for his protection, of course, and nothing more. The rabbit’s thighs writhed and shuddered as she stiffened a set of heavy cuisse’s to his body, raising them up effortlessly to her will while her arms grazed against the edges of his hips that pulsed delicately under her care. It had been a while since he felt anyone there. It had been too long since she felt anyone there. He was more sensitive than he thought. 

She put his mail overshirt back atop his head. It rustled and ruffled against his gambeson like falling leaves, a cascade of interlocked rings woven together for dear life, showering his fur in cold pecks that clung to his body with a metallic scent only rivaled by a blacksmith's forge. Jax’s stomach twitched and caved to Pomni’s hand as she attached the plackard to his mail, as if the ridges of his abdominals and the curved divots of his waist answered to her alone. It made the knight breathe out a broken whine, trying to hide the fact that even the air from his lungs acted differently around her. It faltered and wobbled as if his body registered how vulnerable and open he was before his brain did. 

Her fingers wandered up to his chest as she strapped the breastplate to his back, her gloves pressing assertively against the cleft of his pecs to make sure it was fitted correctly. Jax’s fur was scuffed and messily tousled as she pressed down deeper, tempting the knight to lean backwards with each ounce of pressure she used to fasten the leather handles behind him. He looked into her with wet, arched eyes like he was helplessly lost and searching deep within her for a savior. 

She aggressively pulled the last of his straps nearest to his wounded shoulder, provoking a gruff grunt to slip out of Jax as he was pulled within inches of her face. The rabbit could feel her calm, serene breath brush against his own as their evanescent, ardent exhales intermingled in the blank space between them. He could hear her heart thump in unison with his own, sharing faint currents of heat that reverberated from them both with a warmth he had not yet known. She returned his stare with a smile that was just as poisonous as it was sweet. Jax didn’t seem to mind anymore. 

The jester removed her hand from his chest, yet the knight’s body was eager to keep a little reminder of her through deep-seated marks that she imprinted onto her bunny — his fur rumpled and muddled into lavender craters where her fingers rubbed into his skin as if she pressed a melty, wax stamp onto his torso. Pomni lifted his arms towards her so she could affix the top half of his mail, conveniently covering the claim she plastered onto his chest. She attached his pauldrons gingerly, being especially careful not to disturb the injury on his shoulder. He had already suffered enough because of it, and now she would make sure he healed. After all, it was only right to care for the knight that swore his loyalty to her, even though something told Pomni that his devotion was not easily kept. She would need to be vigilant in making sure his fealty never ruptured. A little squeak leaked out of Jax, and the jester suddenly noticed that in the midst of outlining stratagems in her head, she had tugged on the rabbit’s arm with more vigor than she intended. She loosened her hold, petting Jax’s head in apology. How could I ever think of someone as precious as you possibly betraying me? 

“Just a few more, Bun. I promise.” Pomni continued by attaching a pair of rerebraces to his biceps, cinching his arms to a sturdy harness that held the pieces in place. He could feel his muscles squeeze under the leather bits that held him down, strangling the blood out of them and holding his body captive once again in a hulking, shiny straitjacket — as if a muzzle was placed over his entire body. Jax’s new handler quickly did the same with his forearms, coupling his vambraces with ease. 

For some reason, this part of Jax’s body didn’t fight back. In fact, they almost morphed flawlessly with the suit, appearing like an extension of himself that he simply had to bear with the weight of a sallow spirit. A part of Jax feared that the rest of his body would also become accustomed and comfortable with the feeling, like a virulent plague was slowly running up his veins — turning them to molten steel. With a swift zip and a click from the last leather strap that hung from his arm, Pomni stood back and admired her work before tilting down to look her knight in the eye. 

“Do you see now? I can build up your walls just as easily as I can tear them down again. It would do you some good to remember that.” 

____________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV: A Fork in the Road

Everybody was already at the table by the time Jax and Pomni arrived — together. Ragatha was the only one at the table who spied them warily, hiding one half of her face behind a silver goblet while she peeked over the rim to scrutinize each little move they made. She couldn’t figure them out. For as long as she had known Jax in the Circus, the doll had never seen him so … unguarded. It was as if Pomni had taken those jagged edges of his and pushed them against a grindstone, rounding his roughness until every crude contour eroded like midnight waves on a windless pond, sculpting a mighty mountainside into weathered peaks that lose their sharpness with each mundane day. 

She clenched her hand around the neck of her cup, pushing down drops of resentment that pooled in her chest. From the very first day Ragatha was bestowed her digital body, she searched for the smallest crack in Jax’s barriers, looking for anything at all that might help her get through to him. Nothing she did could sneak past him — nor could any reassuring word penetrate his solid resolve like a war weary shield. Pomni had been able to find each single hole in his defenses within a matter of days? Weeks? She stopped keeping track. 

Maybe Ragatha believed that if there was a way to somehow slither herself into those gaps, Jax would be able to trust her. That was such a scarce resource here, but it was the only autonomy they had — to remind themselves of a home which dispersed as swiftly as it was remembered. The mutual reliance and fragile dependability that fostered ‘trust’ were some of the only liberties that allowed them to be human. Oscillating scales of paranoid skepticism and loyal assurance always kept their judgments in flux, acting as the single defining trait which separated them from the ambiguous computer that controlled them. 

For some reason they were hopelessly devout to the intensity of it all, strung along like a line of ants to a magnifying glass they knew was about to burn them. Sometimes it was never about the fondness of becoming close — of discovering someone and keeping them nearer to your forfeited, absent heart. It was supposed to reawaken how much it hurt when everything fell apart, when they were completely unraveled, when the only way to catch a glimpse of their whole, true selves was to break into pieces. Trust was more of a weapon here than it was a remedy, an illness that drenched us in nothing but a cold layer of aches and shivers. But, oh, how we loved it so. 

Kinger commandingly tapped his scepter against the ground, beckoning the full, undivided attention of his council. He stood up from his imposing seat, the simple early-morning fare of grainy porridge, soaked bread, and a meager portion of wine bobbing in their places as he rose. His unaligned eyes closed thoughtfully before he spoke. 

“In the late hours of the night, there was an attack. A villainous miscreant took aim at my life. I can no longer turn a blind eye to the hovering danger that sways over our heads like a dagger ready to be cut loose from its thread – ”

“Sheesh, you turn into such a drama queen when you really get into an adventure,” Jax chimed in. Pomni gave him a quick, candid jab to the arm which was still sore from last night’s rowdy ordeal. Even though her hand merely clinked off his armor — making his mail shirt rattle — it was enough to make Jax flinch and suggested in no harsh terms that he should think twice before making callous comments. He should be reminded of what her knuckles did to him once before. She could do it again if he needed redirection. 

Kinger took no heed of Jax and continued on. “Something must be done. Now is the time to take action if any of us want to make it out of here.” 

Zooble dropped their taciturn guise, setting down a spoon that was poking halfheartedly at a pale bowl of gruel. “Why wouldn’t we make it out? If a certain someone actually did their job right the adventure would just … end, right?”

Pomni cast a hidden scowl at Zooble that could have severed off heads if she were Queen. For now, though, she would stave off attracting any suspicion. 

Their royal overlord bent his eyes down slowly, draping his velvet cloak closer to his ivory neck. The cross on his helm turned away from them. Sometimes, in his moments of sudden, startling awareness, he found himself lost between the borders of imagination and reality. It was always marked off as the effects of hazy confusion brought upon by his condition — by his longevity in the Circus. 

On the other hand, maybe there was a miraculous message in his undecipherable mannerisms that nobody was able to translate. As priceless secrets are covered beneath mounds of dirt, one only needs their shovel and a steady hand to dig up what was meant to be dragged down to the Earth’s core — to be buried for good. All it takes is a single person to catch how a patch of grass appears shorter in one particular spot. Pomni was scanning the ground like a bloodhound for that one patch in Kinger, where everything seemed to grow more slowly, yet steadily pushed on. There was a nervous lull before the King regained his footing.

“I suppose you’re correct! With that in mind, why would anyone want me to fall besides the scheming knave within our ranks? We’re here to win are we not? Pride is not an easy prize to find around here, we should seize it while we have the chance. You guys wouldn’t let me die would you?” 

Those at the table scanned each other with pity sealed onto their faces. Gangle dropped her ink-tipped quill to address the room, leaving her illustration of a terrified, spineless Jax fending off a malevolent fire-breathing dragon for a more appropriate time. 

“We’ll protect you, don’t worry. Nothing will happen as long as we stay together. The assassin won’t have an opening to make their move.” 

Pomni fiddled with her hands, waiting fretfully to cement her own opinion into the discourse. She was the most trusted member of the council after all, her word had to be consulted. 

“I think that having so many people around Kinger might be dangerous. If one of us is supposed to attack him, they could do it pretty easily before we had time to react.”

Jax was itching to pipe up, he could end the game right here if he wanted to. He scoffed a little as his eyes pinched themselves in her direction. Pomni swished her hat around to him, the bells of her cap jingling with their errant alarm like little knives pricking into his chest. She turned him practically to stone with a petrifying, lethal stare of her own. He held his tongue, crossing his arms defeatedly. He would have to bide his time. 

Kinger was deep in thought, weighing his next course of action. “Actually, I was thinking of another solution entirely,” everyone at the table turned to him expectantly. It had been quite a while since their more experienced companion actually prepared a coherent plan. “There is a way for us to find out more about this wily criminal.” 

A map was abruptly pulled from underneath his robe and spread across the table. It outlined every beautiful, intricate corner of their domain from its rolling peaks, dense forests, rushing rivers, and sprawling cities to placid plains that covered its entirety. 

“Where’d you get that?” Pomni gasped in evident awe. 

“We have Gangle and Zooble to thank for this, they were up all night working on it,” Kinger practically beamed at his trusty illuminator and her partner. 

With the atlas practically hanging over the sides of their grand table, the presiding monarch brandished a quill and proceeded to circle two spots on the map, each on opposite ends of the castle they were currently sheltering in. 

“My sheriffs in the countryside have sent word that there is valuable intelligence regarding our elusive killer amongst their regions. One of them, residing in a hamlet on the outskirts of the Wilted Woods, recently informed me of a clandestine bandit hideout tucked away deep in the wilderness, which has evaded our troops all this time. One of those ruffians was captured earlier this week, and he told our guards that their little party of marauders was given a relic from my throne room in exchange for a deadly weapon — one that could be concealed and hit any target from extraordinary range.” 

Jax looked quizzically at Pomni, only to see her legs swinging hectically under the table, as if she were fighting the urge to flee despite being stuck to her seat. He observed closer, and could begin to see her pale visage show signs of a blue tint on her skin, which hastily changed to a purple ring around her eyes, before an orange rouge glimmered to life against her cheeks. She’s holding her breath. She must be nervous about this — how close she must be to getting caught. 

He leaned into one side of her hat, its flimsy tassel hiding his face from the others before he whispered close by. “Just breathe, ok? You’ll be fine, they don’t know a thing. Have some faith in me.” 

Pomni made slow, drawn out exhales so that nobody could sense how agitated and disheveled she had become. With some careful patience she succeeded in regaining her composure and tamed her nauseated senses, which was certainly aided by Jax’s encouragement. Just having him close behind —- where she could sense his fluffy ears looming above and hear the way his tone switched dulcetly to quietly reassure her — was enough to keep Pomni lucidly grounded, to remind the jester that someone was looking out for her in this unfeeling purgatory, numb to any amount of warm-heartedness. Why is Jax helping me, after everything I did? He can’t be this hopelessly loyal, can he?

Kinger then relayed the account of the second sheriff. “In the rolling bluffs of the eastern moors, my agents have been investigating the estate of a long exiled, disgraced Count in that province whose abandoned, decrepit crypt might have become the site of some ghastly ritual. Traces of old manuscripts, strange markings, and a jumbled mess of long discarded bottles for their vile potions have all been found on the property, and the guards are growing suspicious. They believe it is the perfect place for our unsavory traitor to try and harness otherworldly powers to use against your one and only King. You may only decide to examine one of these leads, as time has become a precious luxury, and the criminal is moving into action far faster than I expected. I will leave the choice of which trail to follow upon my dutiful council, but please, do choose wisely for all our sakes.”

In a similar manner to the previous night, each advisor was given their own parchment and two unassuming stamp seals. Alongside these tools, an array of candles burning lightly with green or red wicks were to be dripped onto their final decision before being pressed down. Ragatha was the first to offer her own stance. 

“I think the more pressing issue might be the … evil magic happening in this Count’s crypt. If the assassin were to get a hold of it, I doubt we’d be able to stop them.” The doll still seemed to be wrapping her head around the outlandish rules that governed this new world. Pomni interjected before anyone else could dwell on Ragatha’s proposal. 

“Sorry — I just want to pop in here for a second,” the jester shifted shyly in her seat while she gathered her thoughts. “The bandit that was captured in the Wilted Wood should be questioned first. The rituals at the crypt are only a rumor at best, with some small bits of messy evidence to back it up. It might be better to follow the path that we know is true. We might be able to find out more about the assassin’s identity if we interrogated the prisoner.”

Jax’s ears perked up in bewilderment. Why is Pomni so dead set on going there? Isn’t that the last place she’d want to choose? They’ll find you out — right after you almost lost your marbles just a few minutes ago. 

“Well, I wouldn’t mind going to see what we can scrounge up at this alchemist’s dingy tomb,” Jax added, circumventing her previous suggestion. “It actually sounds kind of interesting for once, and we might be able to use whatever scraps of magic we can find to our advantage.”

Pomni was becoming irritated and impatient, pulling at the sides of her tassels.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but there probably isn’t any world-bending wizardry in this adventure. If there was, I think we would’ve seen a hint of it by now. It’s probably all just superstition and some spooked sheriff trying to make sense of something he can’t understand.” 

Jax watched with a mischievous glint in his eye. As much as he enjoyed helping Pomni just to cause more trouble — making everyone else’s adventure as chaotic and tumultuous as possible — he found a window in her frustration that sorely needed a rock thrown at it.

“I don’t know Pom-Pom, you never know until you see it for yourself. We might be able to toss fireballs out of our hands if we just let loose and explore a little, wouldn’t that be fun? You really need to stop being so uptight and learn to kick back around here.” Jax picked up a green candle and let it pour lazily onto the parchment before slamming his stamp down with a rough maliciousness. Sorry, but you aren’t getting away with your big scheme that easily. Whatever it is you’re planning, I’ll figure it out.

“Everyone in favor of going to the spooky crypt where we might find horrors beyond our wildest imagination, vote yes!” 

He slumped pompously into the back in his chair, twirling the stamp proudly between his fingers. Pomni might have been able to bring him to his knees for the night, but the tricky rabbit was already concocting a way to get out of her irresistible trap. It was all for the sake of the game, of course — to fit into the role he was meant to play. Everything became an act for Jax if he was able to blind himself with the stagelights, for he could no longer see that all of the seats in the audience were empty.

“I just think the scary Count gives us a chance to uncover what we’re dealing with here. It doesn’t have to be a legitimate case of … magical misconduct, because either way we might still find traces of whoever was there before us. That could be important in the long run,” Ragatha opined, twirling a wooly lock of her knitted crimson hair. 

“I guess it’s worth a shot. Any clue we can get our hands on would be helpful, and I’m not sure how I feel about these rituals being done right under our nose,” Gangle crumpled herself into her ribbons, tying nervous knots around the ends of her stringy arms as they crossed in distress. 

“Hey, maybe we could sacrifice Gangle to make a sigil out of her bows and summon an army of skeletons. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Jax teased, although it made Gangle’s mask plummet like a somber teardrop, the edges of her ceramic frown cutting deeper into her mask. 

“Or we could just throw you down there and leave, which is what I might plan on doing anyway. I don’t mind touring some of the place for anything worthwhile as you claw at the walls begging to be let out,” Zooble interjected, using the stamp seal to press a green checkmark into their own parchment. 

“That’s the spirit,” Jax chirped, appearing quite pretentiously pleased with himself for swaying the group. “I’m glad you guys are finally starting to have some sense.” 

Gangle was soon to follow, and Ragatha, although discreetly eyeing Jax for any ulterior, obscure motive behind his adamant appeal, also fell in line with the rest. Pomni took a deep breath, her hand drumming the stamp lightly onto the table as she contemplated the paper in front of her, considering her next move. What the group had failed to recognize in all of their deliberation was a third stamp sitting beside the jester, which happened to be much more ornate and glamorous than their standard wooden mallets. It was attached to an iron handle, with a gilded knob at the end that looked more like a mace than a trusty instrument. Pomni sighed regretfully before heaving up the stamp as if it were a judge’s gavel, dribbling a pool of red wax onto the parchment in front of her before condemning it with a heavy blow.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to trust me on this one. I want what’s best for us, and I know this will be the right path.” Pomni held up the document to Kinger, who mulled it over solemnly. 

“The veto has passed, and it is your only one for today. I wish you good luck on your travels to the Wilted Wood.” 

Jax sat in stunned silence, his head sagging like the spigot of a thirsty well. His eyes bored into the wooden knots imbued within the table. It was the closest thing he could confide in to keep his thoughts from spilling out of his head. Trust. Jax scoffed. You aren’t like us at all are you? You haven’t learned a thing. 

“Well this isn’t very democratic, I thought we were supposed to work as a team,” Ragatha moped. 

“This whole ‘position of power’ thing is really getting to your head, Pomni. It might suit you a little too well.” Jax pulled back his chair and walked towards the door that led straight to his bedroom. Ever since spending the night tied up to the jester’s bedpost, he was impatiently eager to see how his own quarters were decorated, if at all. 

“Jax, come back here,” she commanded assertively. Her rigid pointedness sent prongs down the rabbit’s spine, making him stop exactly where he stood. “I need you to help Ragatha with the horses before we leave. You’re not going anywhere.” 

The knight pouted gruffly, rumbling the inside of his mail shirt with a clear groan of dissent. He brooded with a stern stride and viciously slapped on his bascinet, sliding the visor down to cover a ripening redness that was blooming onto his face. Despite this alluring performance of a classic tantrum in action, he followed her order obediently as any good soldier should, turning right back around and stomping towards the hall that led out to the courtyard.  

As the rest of the group filed out behind him, Kinger bowed next to Pomni discreetly.

“Why don’t we take a walk while the rest are getting ready,” he whispered. “There’s something I should tell you.” 

With a gesture from his spotless glove, the monarch beckoned his jester into a small alcove beneath a cluster of glittering stained glass windows that streamed into the room, dappling the entire hall in a sunny cloak of exuberant hues as if glowing sprites danced all around them. Faint traces of light flowed like delicate curtains in a slumbering, sluggish gloaming that coalesced with spotty bits of ancient dust drifting in the air before them. The brittle beams waved their mottled arms like bright coral reaching up from the surf to play on the sea’s swirling surface. Pomni practically glowed in a swoonful elixir of these windowed refractions, appearing more like a bespeckled jewel than a jester.  

The pair turned into a narrow corridor leading towards the courtyard. A stone archway just overhead muffled their conversation, as the only witnesses to their secretive stroll were the mosaics that whispered back at them in fragments of stone and glass, while the tempera paintings of saints and kings long forgotten blinked at them in their sleek, yolky coats. 

“Have you ever noticed that things are … different here?” Kinger was careful with his words.

“Well, this is a very well-planned adventure that’s for sure. It’s one of Caine’s most realistic ones, and I’m sure he’s been planning it for a while to surprise us,” Pomni hid a crumb of uncertainty in her praise. 

“In that case, don’t you think it’s strange that Caine hasn’t shown himself at all? You’d think he’d want to brag all day long about what he’s created here for us.” 

“What are you trying to say?” Pomni studied him, trying to poke through his alabaster facade for an answer. 

“I’ve just noticed that I can think more clearly now. I feel as if a fog has been lifted from my head — the wool pulled back from my eyes, if you will. I can remember more than I ever could.” 

“Well that’s a good thing right?” Pomni was awash in cheery optimism. “So do you think Caine had his software updated? Or maybe this adventure was able to flick a switch in you.”

“I don’t think Caine had a part in this. Something else is running this show, and I’m not sure if that’s cause for celebration.” 

“But that doesn’t make sense — that would never happen — it couldn’t happen right?”

“We have no idea what goes on in Caine's world, or if there are any other … models like him out there. I assume anything could be possible.”

“Well maybe we should find out what happened. There are too many questions that we don’t have answers for right now. We need to start bridging that divide.”

“You were always the most resilient flower in our little bunch,” Kinger had no mouth, yet some vestige of a smile deep down in his ivory head crept across his face, although it was barely perceptible at all. “Just do one favor for me before you start your hunt.” 

Pomni’s lips curved into a warming grin. “Of course, I’m here to protect you, aren’t I?” 

Kinger bounced his head contentedly. “Keep Jax under your wing. My left-hand man has already been through the ringer once in this adventure. Make him feel wanted, and make him feel glad to be with you. Nobody wants to seem pointless here.” 

Pomni nodded thoughtfully in return. If only you knew. 

____________________________________________________________________________

A consoling dose of sunlight welcomed the troupe with open arms as they arrived at a stoic colonnade which made up the cloister, leaving the stuffy confines of the corridor. Pomni looked out upon the verdant courtyard from behind a row of thin pillars, staying hidden in the safe shade of the archway. Jax was having a dramatic spat with one of the horses. Ragatha, on the other hand, appeared perfectly at home with her stallion, leading it across the greenway without the slightest issue. 

Elegant bushes crowned with tall garlands of lavender swayed serenely in the morning air, while tidy plots of foxgloves as white as crane wings climbed towards the sky. Pomni found a small path that was penned in by patches of dainty daisies with slender leaves as velvety as fresh cream, all of which converged into their honeycomb middles that peered at her in smudges of sunlight like the eyes of curious dryads. Blossoming irises billowed above the rest of the yard as their dark, violet petals sprouted up like the ears of a certain animal she was well acquainted with. You remind me of someone; maybe I should pluck some of you before we leave. Pomni took one of the irises from its stem, running it between her fingers, gently tugging at its delicate flowers and rubbing its oil on her hand, savoring its scent and skimming it across her thumbprint until each nerve lit up inside her as if begging for more. This does feel … more real, like it’s actually happening to me — like it had a reason to happen, as if the flower was supposed to be anything other than a line of wafer thin circuits. Maybe Kinger has a point after all.

She also took a daisy along with her, one that was woven all around with white beams like muslin feathers that charmed her with the flowing frolic of an overcrowded clothesline, tucking it under the buttons of her tunic for safekeeping. She remorsefully imagined a certain tune in her head, and the hums that reverberated inside her were just as forlorn as the last day she sang it. 

… Give me your answer, do. I’m half crazy … all for … 

She stuffed the lyrics back down, continuing down the path without looking back.  

At the end of the walkway, Jax was still embroiled in a vicious battle with his horse who kept nudging the rabbit off his back after each anxious attempt to mount him. The knight would make a few preparatory hops from his heels — typical of his species — before leaping up and immediately losing his balance as soon as his legs wobbled out of the saddle. Ragatha calmed her own steed with a few pats on the head, guiding it to the fountain in the center of the garden to take a break and refresh itself before assisting Jax. 

“Hey there big guy,” the doll snickered. “Would you like some help with that?” 

“Ugh, just let me be for once,” Jax grunted. “I can handle this beast by myself.” He mustered enough strength for a brazen vault that would put her to shame, but instead he tumbled to the ground, falling on the soft grass with a dull thud. 

“Sure you can,” Ragatha sighed. “Here, let’s get the saddle adjusted for you.”

Pomni rambled out from a lofty hedge that caged the mouth of the garden trail with its wild growth, moving over to Jax who was still floundering on the ground. 

“You find yourself down there a lot, don’t you?” Pomni’s shadow loomed over Jax, blocking the sun from glittering on his armor like halos floating above playful cherubs. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re getting used to this view.”

Jax used his bulky, steel-plated arms as supports before bolstering himself up onto his paws. It did nothing but make him collapse down on his back with a defeated groan. “You’re enjoying this aren’t you, you little freak.” 

“I’d enjoy it a little more if you gave me a chance to do it myself for a change.” 

Pomni outstretched her hands, beckoning them to Jax with an empathetic smile. He begrudgingly took them, steering his eyes away from hers with a low growl as he was helped upright. 

Jax tried to pull away from her grasp, but Pomni, whether driven by hesitance to let him go or a craving to keep him close, pulled him towards her instead. The jester’s heart hitched in her chest as the rabbit stared down at her with wide, dumbstruck eyes, his pupils diminishing by the second as they retreated away frightfully. She pressed on his rough gauntlets, absorbing their bitter coldness into her skin, yet also imagining how delicate his touch really was. All she thought about was the bashful, timid bunny that was hiding away underneath, and how warm he must be if only he allowed her in. 

Jax managed to break away from her hold, pretending to tidy up his mount without even saying a word. 

“You know,” Pomni began with a slight crack in between her words. “All of your armor once meant nothing. When it was in the forge it had nobody, until you decided to get inside it. Make the most of it now, make it yours. Maybe one day you’ll find out it’s not supposed to be a prison, but an escape, so treat it well — be kind to it.” She cradled one of Jax’s thighs as he tried to get situated in the saddle, giving him just the right amount of leverage to finally guide himself onto the horse.  

“Sometimes I feel like I’ll get lost in it. Doesn’t that worry you? What if I can’t find my way out before it’s too late?” the knight whispered woefully, faintly enough so that nobody else could hear. For a moment, Jax forgot that his thoughts were being spoken out loud. 

“I’ll be here to help if you start drifting off-course.You won’t have to go through it alone, and I’m not letting you get trapped.” 

“How can I trust you — How do you expect me to trust you?”

“Because I’m probably the only one trying to help.”

Jax kept his mouth shut. They stood for a short in stilted quietude before Ragatha came prancing up with her own ride. 

“I think we’re just about ready to head off! Do you two have everything you need?” the handmaid inquired cheerfully. 

The pair nodded their heads in response, and Ragatha led Pomni to her own horse that was waiting in the stables, only a few steps away from the courtyard. It was a sleek Arabian, slender and as white as lamb’s wool that was intricately marbled with black streaks like charcoal stains on fresh finery. The jester slid her hand ever so slightly across its silky mane, trying to count every thread that draped across her fingers, battling with whether or not it actually existed — if she even recognized anything like this in the distant, ever-fading days before the Circus. 

Each figment of that intangible past seemed to dissolve in her head at the same moment she tried so desperately to capture it within her grasp. She kept filtering her memory as if it were a mirror, searching for her face in the reflection and finding nothing but a murky glass sheet caked with fog, obscuring every trace of her that she would’ve known. 

Pomni was dragged from her reverie by Gangle and Zooble, who were exchanging pleasant laughs as they took a trot outside of the stables. They both heaved sizable packs up onto the flanks of their steeds, undoubtedly brimming with manuscripts, quills, and vials of ink for chronicling the journey. For a second, Pomni was envious at how easily some of her  compatriots eased into the Circus without losing sight of themselves — how simply they stayed loyal to a distantly echoed imitation of life before being caught in this trap.

Those two found solace in one another so effortlessly, and she wondered whether the pair even cared that they inhabited bodies which neither of them would recognize outside of their digital prison. Pomni often regretted that she couldn’t be the same — more accepting of the cards she had been dealt. That bundle of red ribbons, that pyramidal head and arms made of twisting plastic — it’s not really you … is it? 

Somewhere buried far beneath her, Pomni was deeply afraid of becoming so drugged with cozy indifference that she would forget where she was supposed to be. The thought of treating this place like home made her tremble to the point of exhaustive lassitude, and she vowed never to slip so far that she would see the Circus as anything but Hell. 

The clinking of Jax’s armor caught her attention, and the jester turned around to see Ragatha polishing the final touches on his horse. She skillfully adjusted the saddle, wedging it firmly to the animal’s back that was as sleek and dark as volcanic rock. The doll tightened the reins ever so carefully, lightly petting the horse’s snout to reassure it the entire way through. You must have done this before, haven’t you? Ragatha circled his mount one more time before crinkling her face at the stirrups, loosening one of the rungs that was steadfastly swaddled to Jax’s metal boot. Pomni cocked an eyebrow at this. She carried out her maneuver with such slyness that it made her appear shrewdly secretive — as if Jax wasn’t supposed to notice. Ragatha jumped up in surprise after noticing Pomni observing her a little too intently. 

“Oh! How’s it going over there, Pomni,” she acknowledged with nervous mirth. “Is everything ok with Harlie?” Harlie, huh? You’ve given them all names. Cute. 

“Yup, all my ducks are in a row over here! Although, would you mind finding a satchel for some of my equipment? I seem to have misplaced mine.” 

“Of course! I know just the place!” Ragatha bolted off back into a lonely recess of the stable. 

When she was out of view, Pomni snuck behind Jax while he was tightening a longsword scabbard around his hips. He was entirely focused on his own task, stricken with a tunnel vision so severe and narrow that he did not even notice when Pomni stuck the daisy she uprooted from the cloister garden under a limp strap that held together his heavy poleyn and cuisse, right at the base of his thigh. I know you’ll stop hiding one of these days, my Daisy Bell. And I’ll keep chasing until I find you. 

“Hey, what are you doing down there?” Jax asked with suspicion smeared all over his face. 

Pomni fired back an innocent, defensive grin. “Oh – nothing! One of your plates was just in an awkward position, so I fixed it for you.” 

“Mhm, you better not be trying anything, I’ll be watching you,” Jax pointed two of his fingers at her for good measure.

Uh huh, sure you will. 

A pair of clomping clogs could be heard marching down the stable, and soon enough Ragatha pranced up to Pomni with a coarse leather satchel. She took the jester aside with one arm, leading her behind a bale of hay as Jax rode to where Gangle and Zooble gallivanted behind the castle gate. 

When the rabbit was out of sight, Ragatha opened up the bag and lifted it up for the jester to see. A few ears of maize, dotted with elegant kernels of deep-seated purples and reds like a richly spattered forest floor during autumn, were concealed inside it. 

“I know how difficult he can get sometimes, so I thought you could put this to use in case he misbehaves,” the doll winked with mischief brimming from the corners of her mouth. 

“With Jax, I think it’s a matter of when he'll step out of line,” Pomni responded with a terse sigh.

“In that case, don’t be afraid to shut him up once in a while, these should do the trick,” Ragatha gestured at the corn. “Straight from the New World they say.” 

“Eh, I can handle whatever he throws at me. He may have a hard shell, but it’s riddled with cracks. All you need to do is press down on the right ones to make him break.”

“That’s easy for you to say. As long as I’ve been here he’s only ever really listened to one person, and it’s you.” 

“I wouldn’t put it like that. I just listen to what he has to say, and he does the same for me. He’s surprisingly willing to open up if you take some time to know him — showing that you care goes a long way. Every exchange should be reciprocal.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Whatever you’re doing, it’s working. He follows you around like a lost puppy.” 

A few scattered neighs from the horses outside signaled the end of their exchange, as Ragatha rushed outside to fulfill her equestrian duties. Pomni followed close behind, wearing the satchel over her shoulder. She reached into a nearby hay bale lying beside Harlie's stall and quietly pulled out her dagger and crossbow from where it was hidden in the straw, before placing both weapons into her bag without a word. The jester then climbed atop her horse and rode out to where the rest of the group was already mounted and ready for the journey.

“I assume you know the way, Pomni.” Jax beconked her to the front of the patrol with a sarcastic wave of his hand, which she answered in kind with a snappy scowl and a click of her tongue as Harlie kicked into gear. 

______________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER V: A Tumble in the Tavern 

A sea of tall grass slithered before them on the overrun road leading towards the edge of a dense copse. It curled like long strands of kelp in the mirthful wind sailing over the emerald meadow, gleaming in their rolling waves that rustled with enigmatic excitement, recoiling back into the seemingly endless plain, then back at the riders in a hypnotic, Sisyphic cycle. 

Thin trunks of spindly birches stood eminently over them, their leaves bristling with youthful verdure as the tides of spring washed over them. The stalks of these trees, with their peeling, pliable bark, betrayed many dark rifts and indentations on their ashy surface that appeared more like hundreds of studded eyes all fixed on them with agape wonder, whorling in bruised knots that gouged their wooden visage. 

The road soon became lost amongst the overgrowth that consumed every trace of its presence. Clearly, this path had not been trodden in quite some time. Fallen limbs littered the way before them, while blots of lush moss were spread along the trail like an infection clogs an artery. Cragged weeds soared past their prime, curling at the tips as if trying to devour themselves in spite of the sprawling parasitic roots digging deep into the topsoil to sate their appetite. Empty, dilapidated hovels on the roadside were being suffocated back into the sinking earth, as claws of rough ivy kept pulling their lumber walls further down into a pit of rot. Their modest roofs had long since caved to the elements, their once sturdy foundations split right through the middle, and even the hearth — usually the last sentinel of any sacred home — had crumbled from its stony shrine. 

These humble shelters had been abandoned for quite some time. Pomni tautly tugged on Harlie’s reins, bringing her to a slow trot and merging herself to the side of the trail, allowing the others to pass. She waited until Jax — who was lagging behind in the rear — caught up to her stride. They rode alongside each other for some time before Jax even realized where she was, lifting the visor of his bascinet for a breather and shifting agitatedly in his chestplate to iron out a crick in his neck, not expecting to become face-to-face with the jester. He was almost startled out of his boots, with his eyes shooting up in surprise as he nearly tumbled off his horse. 

Pomni laughed to herself with a chord of sympathy accompanying her amusement. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch for the bandits? It’s your job to protect us, my brave knight.”

Jax scowled at her taunting quips. His pride might have also still stung from the bruising reminder that he was now obligated to serve under her domain, acting out her every whim. 

“Why don’t you give this hunk of metal a try, huh? Maybe you’ll see how much of a pain it is. I just want to rip it off me,” he tugged at this breastplate for dramatic effect.

“I’m not the one who needs it. They’d eat you alive if you weren’t all wrapped up in that cute little shell.”

“How would you know? Have you met these bandit hooligans before or something?” Jax perked his ears up warily. Anything was possible with Pomni, which he quickly realized after taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder from her. 

Pomni fumbled over her words a little too restlessly. “I – uh, well what do you want me to say! They’re probably some big dudes with even bigger swords that could take you head on whenever they wanted. Heck, if I was able to take you down, imagine what they could do.”

“You have such little faith in me.”

“Well, give me some faith. I want to hear your best shot.” 

“For one, I have at least three protective layers under this bad boy,” he thumped on his thigh for emphasis. “Absoltuely nothing is piercing through that. Second of all, I never run from danger. You’ll see me charging headfirst into any villain and taking them down with one swing of my mightier sword.” 

“Why don’t I ask you something then. Do you think you would sing the same tune if you took all of that off? Are you really as fearless as you think you are, or does hiding behind that shiny, strong husk do it for you?” 

Jax gave her a wide smile, as if his mouth was a bow being strung back, ready to fire. His stygian pupils stretched over his eyes like silt on the bottom of a muddy river. “Why don’t you take a stab at me and find out?”

Pomni gave him a scornful glance that could have pierced a hole in his heart. “Remember who gave you the right to wear it. Remember how I told you to wear it. Use it to break free — don’t bury yourself inside it.”

“Don’t get too caught up in your delusions. I know how you can get,” he pulled his visor down with a clang, turning his head away. “You always have to be a little idealist don’t you? Everything is right and good with the world as long as you say it is.” 

Pomni steered her horse closer to Jax, tugging on the reins until they were side-by-side. Harlie bumped into Jax’s steed, giving him quite a whirl as he gripped the saddle in a desperate attempt to stay in the stirrups.

“One day I hope you can lift all that weight off your shoulders before you fall from it. You’d feel so much better.” Pomni slunk her way behind Jax, putting her hand gingerly on his dented pauldron — right over the bruise where she injured him with that fateful bolt. Even under all of those layers of bitterly crisp, untouchable armor, the mere sensation of her hand hovering over his wound sent stabbing tingles through his body, making him shudder under that gilded buffer meant to shield him from the world itself. She’s getting too close. Don’t let her. Don’t ruin someone else. Don’t let her ruin you. 

Jax snatched his reins and flicked them with a harsh snap, turning his horse away from Pomni and bringing it to a brisk canter in whatever direction was farthest. The jester opened her satchel and took a satisfied swig from her waterskin.

Looks like I hit a soft spot. Poor thing, he runs himself into corners like a natural. I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t find a way out next time. I’ll get to the bottom of him, it’s the only way I can help him let go — of himself, of the Circus, of … whatever is holding him back.

As the journey progressed without incident, the path became more difficult to discern with each hesitant step. Jagged wildflowers choked the earth like hungry leeches, the moss started to encase everything it touched in a thick, inescapable layer of spongy swells like a ravaging pox. The once magnificent, stately stature of the trees in this part of the forest were fading in their splendor, smothered to the core with a squalid blight. Roots were uplifted from their place in the sweet soil, contorted like the arms of a voracious squid wrapping around its prey. One could almost imagine they climbed out of their dark, peaty homes to desert their accursed fate in the scourged ground. The dying, pallid light spliced through bare branches that made up the canopy, those brittle tendrils splintering the sky as if they were shards of glass and the entire ceiling was going to shatter above them. 

The path in front of them was losing its shape as the sun dipped lower behind the revenant treeline, their crooked stalks and tortured, striated ridges blocking whatever slivers of the day remained like petrified spires of smoke. Hooves started landing on young sprigs and vast swaths of wild undergrowth. There was no more road, and the horses huffed uneasily as they stamped on the turf beneath them — urging the riders to turn back. 

When the thicket began to reach out and scrape against their faces, enclosing and entangling itself around the patrol as they ducked under outstretched limbs, a haze of faint and warm flickers revealed itself through a break in the dense brush. The horns of Pomni’s floppy hat perked up with a shred of hope clinging to their jingling ends. With a jolt of renewed vitality, the party began practically galloping in the direction of their sparky savior bathed in amber brilliance. Murders of crows squawked into the dusky horizon, flapping far above the diseased woodland while scrawny fawns snapped twigs in the travelers’ wake as they trampled onward. 

They continued the relentless pursuit, until finally, emerging from a tangle of shrubs and suffocated hedgerows, the group found themselves in front of a tavern. It was a modest building, coated with a layer of melancholy plaster that was chipping away with age and stained with weariness. The beams that held the gable together — doubly used as joinery for the walls — were just as untamed and disfigured as the rest of the timber still planted in the dirt, fighting for any vestiges of life they could grasp in the forest. 

Panels of wavy glass for windows concealed the true nature of the scene they were walking into. Shadowy figures were moving amidst the clamor of plates set down upon tables and the fire being awakened with a sturdy poker, although they were scarcely to be recognized as a chorus of wavering candles skimmed their reflections across the windows, obscuring the interior from view. 

The Circus troupe relaxed their horses outside of a makeshift stable at the side of the tavern, hitching them to secure posts for safekeeping.

“This will have to do,” Pomni grumbled to herself, turning the doorknob with reserved trepidation. 

Inside, wooden mannequins were seated at a messy array of tables, using their mechanical, jointed arms to poke at their meals, lift haughty jugs of ale to their lips, or huddle around the fireplace seeking warmth. Curiously, each guest was endowed with a unique face scribbled onto them. Some had mere specks for eyes and a scraggly line for a mouth, while others had a pair of ovals with dots in the center and meticulously drawn lips. A lucky few even had bits of color shaded into their expressions, with stark blue ponds staring back at them or thoughtful hazel marbles lying beneath slim stripes of animated lashes. However, one trait was consistent across all of these strangers. Their eyes were all watching Pomni. As the other members of the party followed suit, one could only hear the droning roar of a nearby flame and wax dripping from collapsing candles as they whittled away their last strands of luminance. 

Every head in the room turned to these new visitors, studying, scrutinizing, and reading each little eloquent line of their design as if they were being punished on a stockade in the village square — merely a means of morbid entertainment to be ogled at. Pomni took a moment to absorb their circumstance, scanning for any opening to get acquainted. Kneeling beside the hearth, stoking the kindling and settling a cauldron above the greedy blaze, was a mannequin in a plain dress covered with an apron and a messy coif upon their head, laden with the gray residue of stale smoke on its white cloth. 

“Alright you guys, just find a place to settle down and I’ll get us sorted, understood?” Pomni commanded. She rushed off before anyone else had the chance to interject, grabbing the attention of the innkeeper and following them upstairs to oversee any available lodgings. 

Jax sighed with annoyance brewing in his chest. He spotted an empty table in the corner, hidden by a gnarled pillar that would give them some privacy from any prying guests. He shimmied over with the rest of the group behind him, waddling between a narrow strait of packed tables and knocking into mannequins with his protruding armor. By the time the troupe all took their secluded seats — which did little to counteract the stares as a result of Jax’s shameless clumsiness —  another attendant traipsed over with a handful of tankards teeming with frothy ale. 

“This place sure gives me the creeps. What are they all looking at anyway?” Jax mumbled under his breath.

“I get the feeling that these mannequins are sizing us up. I’m sure they don’t get many travelers wandering through these parts. We might just be the new strangers in town to them,” Ragatha butted in. 

“Thankfully we have a big, scary knight here to protect us!” Gangle mocked, her mask turning upright into an ecstatic smile. 

“I think I’ll just stretch you across the doorframe while I make a run for it, how does that sound?” the knight jabbed in return.

“With all that extra gear tying you down, we could probably just sneak out while you get turned into scrap,” Zooble threatened. “All we have to do is run faster than you. That shouldn’t be too hard.” 

Jax was ready to shoot back with another barrage before Pomni walked down the stairs. He chose to keep his mouth shut as she joined them. 

“Did I miss anything fun?” Pomni inquired, pulling her seat in closer to where she could just barely see above the table. 

“Oh, yeah! We got in a fight with a couple of drunk peasants and now we’re wanted by the entire town watch, so we better scoot if you catch my drift,” Jax stood up, acting as if he were about to leave. 

Pomni gave him a doubtful, knowing grin — as if she could translate every little word in that indecipherable codex written onto his face. 

“Jax, be a dear for me won’t you?” she trilled. “Get another seat to boost me up so I can look you straight in the eyes — on equal ground.” 

There is nothing equal about this — about us. 

Jax grimaced, hunching his ears as he complied obediently. It was his duty after all, to serve under her as nothing but a loyal knight. 

He hauled an empty stool that was just short enough to be placed atop the base of her chair and plopped it down beside her. She looked at him with a scathing, punitive curiosity.

“Uh-uh. That’s not how I taught you. Put it under me, now,” Pomni snapped her fingers together at him like he was some sort of lowly mutt. 

The rabbit wanted nothing more than to disappear, and with each passing second of this utter humiliation he tried desperately to convince himself that he was fading into a transparent cloak of pure absence. At one point, he even believed that the eyes he was seeing through were not his own, they had become barren husks which disintegrated with the rest of his corporeal form. Nobody can see me doing this, right? I’m not even here — this is all a stupid, dumb dream that Caine cooked up to torture me with.

He swallowed whatever tatters of pride clung to his haggard soul and switched his body into autopilot, letting Pomni’s voice move his body wherever she needed it. He placed the stool under her with docile, dutiful hands that shook as if it were a ticking bomb. She sat down upon it triumphantly, patting Jax between those lanky ears of his. “You’re such a good listener, did you know that?”

Jax’s eyes shriveled into scorned granules of grit, yet he didn’t dare talk back. He simply returned to his seat with his dignity dumbfounded, as if he had been kicked brutishly in the side. 

Ragatha was the only one who really paid any mind to the exchange, steeping herself in a concoction of utter confusion and meddling intrigue. 

What’s his deal? I wonder what changed in him to become such a … follower. He’s never acted so bedraggled and unraveled like this around the rest of us. 

Satisfied with herself, Pomni observed the rest of the table with a wave of giddy optimism. Gangle and Zooble were entrenched in their manuscripts, scrawling away at them with delicious delight. When the jester found everyone else engaged in their own pursuits, she dropped a stack of cards on the table that landed with quite an auspicious thud. 

“Anyone up for a little game?” Pomni proposed. Apart from their unusual, disparate images and symbols, it appeared just as a regular set of playing cards should. There were four suits and ten pip cards per suit, each made of thick paper and colored with fanciful pigments like red ochre and glamorous azurite. Interestingly, each suit’s design deviated massively from the ordinary hearts, clubs, spades, and diamonds that they would be used to on the outside. 

“Hey Pomni, what kind of weird set is this?” Jax probed. Clearly, his interest was piqued. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked!” the jester excitedly exclaimed, a bit too much so. “They all represent different types of hunting equipment. You know, for chasing down prey.” 

Jax felt his face stewing with a torrent of heat. His heart began pacing wildly in his chest. It was a sensation that riddled him with far too much alarm to be shame, and yet he was completely powerless to remedy the surge of prickling nettles that snagged around his throat, making him twitch uneasily in his seat — rattling his boots as they thumped against the floor. 

Perhaps it was something else entirely, something he rarely ever let creep past his obstinate façade: fear. His eyes glazed over the different cards that were being shuffled by Pomni’s hasty hands. One suit depicted snares, tied in a durable poacher’s knot that were all armed and ready to be hung from any unsuspecting tree. With the sheer amount that were dangling in their clumps on the front of these cards — one would expect there was a bountiful harvest waiting to be reaped. 

Another set displayed a neat line of sharp arrows, the type that were meant to be as silent as a wraith on its feathered wings, piercing its petrified target and wedging its point deep inside delicate skin until it stopped running, slumping down in muscle-panging fatigue from its wound. Jax felt his shoulder ache with a dormant, heavy throb that was set alight with thorny stings. He knew that same feeling all too well, and he was unnerved at how each arrow’s iron tip was facing him — considering him as their next quarry. 

The next were collars, which had no veiled meaning behind their use. A chainlet of gold links stiffly attached themselves to a bell that swung from its end, evidently meant to monitor the whereabouts of any notoriously unruly hounds whose jaws were always led by a thrilling chase rather than duty. 

Lastly, Pomni set down rows of horns fashioned from sheared rams, whose only purpose was to call out the herald of death itself. Jax could hear these infernal bugles blaring on each side of his head, making it pound like a thousand stampeding boars evading the jagged, drooling teeth of ravenous beasts that uprooted the earth. 

She splayed out the face cards so that all in attendance could see. Among them was the common king and queen for each suit, alongside their respective knave — commonly known in their world as the joker. Every piece was muddled and dispersed before the group, disordered and scattered into pandemonium like spilled soup before Pomni shrewdly scooped the cluttered stack and stuffed them back together with a conclusive snap that cascaded down each single card in the bundle. To Jax, the sound was more akin to a timer that counted down to his end, with each pip in the deck as a different catastrophe announcing his coming demise. 

“How about we play a round of Presidents? If anyone is unfamiliar with the rules, you can learn as we go,” the jester looked right at Jax as she generously implied his ignorance. 

Pomni doled out the cards to each member of the group before subsequently placing down two of her own in the middle of the table, both numbered with four pips although they came from different suits, snares and arrows. 

“The goal of this game is to outrank whatever set of cards is on top of the pile at any given time. Since I started with a pair of fours, any identical set above my number can beat it. You can either pass or play, but once everyone has passed, the highest set takes the trick.” After this initial explanation, she motioned to Zooble for their decision. The scribe placed a pair of sixes over Pomni’s, who nodded with tacit approval. 

“Very good! Now, your main objective is to play every card in your hand before anyone else’s, so you should always think about putting a set on the pile even if you might not win the trick.” 

Gangle passed to Jax, who mulled over his move before finally shedding the nines from his deck. 

Ragatha proceeded with two kings, clearly eager to win the first hand. Pomni responded with double aces, making the doll tug her wool braids in speechless agitation. The rest of the group passed their turn — even Jax who begrudgingly admitted defeat. The jester shoveled up her victorious hand, setting it aside before setting down a pair of threes. 

“Oh, and one more little piece of information,” Pomni began. “The winner of a hand gets to start the new one, so do try and put a little effort into it. There is a bit of strategy involved.” 

Jax leered at her with a wave of frowny displeasure splashed onto his face. He took a pouty swig from his tankard and slammed down his only tens as soon as his turn came up. 

“A bit of a bold move don’t you think, Jaxy? Zooble and Gangle haven’t had a chance to put their moves into play yet,” Pomni observed, a little turned askew by his recklessness. 

Jax tapped his gauntlet against the table, driven into a determined state of mind. “They’re my cards aren’t they? I can do and dispense with them as I see fit.” 

“Just be careful about jumping too high on those bunny legs of yours. You never care about the heights you can reach until you start falling from them,” she rebutted.

“I’m perfectly capable of landing on my feet. I can handle myself,” he took another hearty chug of his ale.

“Are you sure about that?” Pomni placed a few queens securely on top of his previous set to shatter any hope he could’ve had for winning. Jax pushed his remaining hand to the side and rested his head on the table, fiercely rubbing his gauntlets across his temples as if trying to break up an unsavory dream. 

The round continued for some time, with every member of the troupe transfixed on their cards and eagerly slimming down the burdens from their decks with each pass around the table. Soon enough, every player whittled down their hands until a paltry amount of lonely stragglers remained, and as the pile grew tall for their final round, Gangled opened after Pomni’s turn with a set of eights. Jax was cautiously meditating over his next decision, as he only had two sets left, and chose to give up his turn to Ragatha who responded with a ten of arrows and snares. The jester followed this with another wordless pass, which was reciprocated by Zooble. As Gangle coughed up a couple of queens, Jax’s steel fingers drummed the handle of his tankard impatiently. 

“You know,” Pomni interrupted his train of thought. “In a way, this game is hierarchy and order in its purest form. Everyone's position, their choices, and their ending are all in fate’s hand, with chance as our only guide. The best shot you can have is to get rid of your peasants first — the lowest pips — as they are the most expendable. Meanwhile, you can rest easy knowing that any royal card in your hand can defeat anyone else in the pile. This game doesn’t dilute rank and status, virtue and cunning have no say in superiority here. Everybody knows their place.” 

Jax rolled his eyes, skimming his cards between his fingers. “Oh yeah? How’s this for hierarchy, you little knave,” he wistfully tossed a pair of snares and collars, each showing a faceless wooden mannequin wrapped in a luscious lavender robe and crowned with a lustrous diadem of pure gold. A King — the only card that could beat it was an ace, and those had already been used up by every player at this point in the game. Jax’s king was the most lethal one left. Or so he thought. 

Ragatha tapped upon the table, indicating a pass. “There’s no beating that,” she sighed. 

“Looks like you fell into your own trap, Jax. What a shame, you won’t be able to win this hand nor play your last set. Let this be a reminder of where you belong.” 

Pomni flicked her last two soldiers into the center of their paper battlefield. Two jokers were showing — one from the suit of horns dinning the hour of his end, and the other donning those hellish arrows that ripped apart his armor. The roiling soreness in Jax’s shoulder became a stabbing bed of coals injecting their smelted embrace into his tender wound. 

“Jokers are wild and can defeat any other value on the table, even your little king. I just never played it as a high card until now. The most powerful face is never the one you expect, is it?” With her hand entirely depleted, Pomni had become President of their little circle. She had won.

Jax stood shocked and awed, his eyes stunned wide in bewilderment like a prowling owl, his ears deflating down against the back of his head. 

“Whatever,” he feigned composure — although there were clear-cut cracks in his confident tone. “You win this time, President Pomni. You’re so strong and important in this little game but that doesn’t mean you can rub it in my face whenever you want.” 

“Oh I get it now, so you want a contest where I won’t have that same leverage — the upper hand so to speak, where our roles are already laid out for us. I know just the thing for you,” Pomni beckoned Jax towards a tighter nook in the tavern which contained only one little desk for the both of them and two stools on either side. The rest of the party excused themselves for the night after such a tiresome game and were led by the innkeeper to their rooms, leaving only the knight and the jester in the dining room with the rest of the muttering mannequins. 

“I assume you won’t need a refresher on this one,” Pomni unfolded a checkered board onto the desk. “Most people here call it draughts, but we know it as checkers.” She poured out a trove of spotless ivory game pieces, all flawlessly round and carved until flat, which contrasted quite starkly with the bitterly rich walnut grooves of the opposing side. 

Jax put his elbows on the table, taking another heavy sip of his beverage. “Can you just get to the point already?” He wiped a stubborn trail of froth from the edge of his mouth. 

“Both players start as equals here, no gimmicks. Each side uses the same pieces, follows the same rules, and there’s only one way to move,” Pomni began placing her counters on the squares. “You can either bide your time until someone has to make a sacrifice — breaking the deadlock and mutually assuring each other's destruction — or you can take advantage of a silly mistake and watch the enemy’s defenses crumble. Here, Deception digs its knife into Honor’s back.” 

“No wonder you love this game,” Jax retorted. “Chivalry doesn’t stick to you much at all, does it?” 

“Maybe you should keep your eyes stuck to the board,” Pomni leapt over one of his pieces with her own, plucking it from the board like an osprey’s talons. “Why don’t you at least try to put up a fight here. Integrity doesn’t matter when all of your guys are dead.”

To his credit, Jax truly did, at some very sporadic and blurred moments, make an attempt to battle back. Unfortunately for him, as his control of the board dwindled with each piece that was captured, the rabbit routinely distracted himself from the bottom of his cup. Of course, alcohol worked differently in their little dimension; one could scarcely call it a guilty vice if concepts such as bodily health were completely abolished and beyond the bounds of what the Artificial Intelligence that governed their existence could render. 

Even the taste was somehow different; more muted with a twang of delicate sweetness, and it stirred Jax’s haughty pride to believe that even omniscient lines of code and electronic circuits couldn’t comprehend humanity’s masochistic relationship with a drink that was meant to be an acrid slap to the senses. 

Probably the only trait that remained the same was the delectably euphoric effect it caused. As the knight gradually drained his tankard, the room began to swirl in front of him. His head no longer moved together with his eyes, the board bended like a piece dough being strung into bread, and Pomni’s tassels were malformed into a magnificent set of horns like a hydra. He tried to look into her carnivalistic pupils just to keep his focus — they started to spin like a chorus of ten-sided dice that taunted him with the prospect that she wielded his fate in her hands. His luck had run out. Jax realized in the middle of his boozy revelry that there were more empty squares on his side than pieces, and soon enough his whole back line was exposed.

“Do you know what I really love about checkers? The game doesn’t need to end with a king. In here, you’re supposed to become one,” she skipped an ivory warrior right over one of Jax’s unprotected guardians, then immediately pressed the attack by hopping above yet another piece that held its ground on the second-to-last row. She had breached his final tier of defense. “King me.” 

“What … How’d you do that?” Jax lamented with a dazed slur on his tongue. “I don’t even remember you taking this many of my counters.” 

“Well it was quite easy, you left all of your weak spots wide open for me,” Pomni snickered to herself. “Controlling the board means keeping a level head and closing yourself off, not letting anything through — something which you are notoriously incapable of as of late.” 

Jax could only let out a whiny fuss in response, using the few moves he had left to take flight from her king. Pomni could now chase him down in any direction and any square on the board that she wished. It was only a matter of time.

“You have no idea what it really takes to be a king. It’s nothing like this … fantasy,” he murmured under his breath, quiet enough to be mistaken for an offhand, careless whisper as he flippantly tossed one of his vanquished pieces through his steel fingers. 

“Oh, because you’d know all about being king. You really are the funny one sometimes when you want to be,” she rebutted sarcastically. 

Jax sprung a little in his seat, spangled in a rush of red spots that did nothing to conceal his mortification. You weren’t supposed to hear that. 

“I … I have my moments. Since when did you start prying so much into everything I say?” 

Pomni took another one of his woody warriors that made a foolish attempt to escape her clutches. “Because there’s no place to hide here.” 

Jax tried to maneuver away from her king. Pomni moved right across from his solitary piece, trapping it between her. It no longer mattered on which diagonal square he tried to evade her, she would be able to catch him. The knight thumped his boot anxiously, wishing more than anything to turn tail and simply walk away. Pomni glanced under the table, her attention drawn to the sound of his antsy antics. She couldn’t even be bothered to suppress a bawdy, victorious laugh at the sight of his undoing on full display. This rabbit was never good at hiding — he had nowhere to claw and dig his way into a hole. No matter what he did, no matter where he went, the ending was going to be the same. 

“Do you feel stuck? Do you feel backed into a corner?” There was a starving, predatory glint in her eye; as if she was on the cusp of finally ravishing the wounded animal she was tracking. The words clung to Jax like golden amber creeping up to his head, engulfing his entire body in its sappy snare. He crossed his legs like they were already tethered to the net that Pomni had thrown around his ankles, wrapped into a firm knot to keep the bunny in place. She stiffened his bindings with downturned eyes that seemed to skewer him, while she tangled the twists of his ropes with a knowing smile that made his instincts fire with heart-pattering dread — making every coherent thought wither before it could come out of his mouth. She toyed with a tassel on her hat hypnotically, circling the bell at its end with her finger as it jingled slowly like the vesper bells of death itself. 

“Go on, make your move.” 

Jax didn’t keep her waiting. He lifted his last counter right next to her king. It didn’t matter where he placed it — after all, he was going to lose anyway — but he gave in to the illusion that he had any choice in the matter. It was at least sobering to decide how he was going to meet his downfall. All knights must have the freedom to meet their fate. 

“Doesn’t it feel so much better to surrender? There’s no reason for someone like you to fight, is there?” she teased, seizing his final piece and scraping it against his other captured companions like they were prized currency. On the other hand, their true worth was measured by the addictive view of complete ruin on Jax’s face as he slumped in his seat and crossed his arms, his ears sulking at his side like a petulant runt while ruddy marks infused onto his face like rivulets of warm tea.

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself. I let you win out of the goodness of my heart,” Jax fumbled out of his mouth between barely coherent mumbles. 

“You’re going to have to do a bit more to convince me that you even have one,” Pomni mocked. “Anywho, this has been a very eye-opening night, I learn more about you everyday. Please, do help yourself to the rest of my drink — I feel like you might need it.” 

Jax knew that he probably shouldn’t touch it. He had already emptied what was left of his own cup, and anything more would give Pomni the satisfaction that she had reduced him to drowning his sorrows with whatever devil’s brew he could find. The knight, a symbol of undeterred defiance and stoic loyalty, would be nothing more than a beggar for whatever would assuage the wounds of his own shame. The worst part was, she was well aware that he couldn’t resist it. Nothing in the Circus tasted like anything that could satisfy. Regardless, when Jax picked up her cup — breaking the oaths he made to preserve his shroud of self-respect, of dignity itself — he drank from it just to put his lips around something that hers had touched. 

In the midst of the cloudy froth and rich, malty decadence that coated his tongue, something about its flavor seemed familiar, as if he had savored it before, somewhere distant where he could no longer return to. He thought it might be the stubborn sweetness of home, wherever that was now — maybe it was her. 

Jax tipped the cup back further back, solely driven by the promise that he could get drunk off of Pomni’s taste rather than the alcohol. He scoured the rim of the tankard for any traces of her mouth that might’ve lingered on its edges, and he lapped at the bottom of it for any bubbly foam that might carry what remained of her nectary, honeyed essence; hoping to douse the inside of his throat with anything that reminded him of her, wanting nothing more than to replace his own palate with hers — to taste exactly how she did. 

The cup had nothing left to give. Jax slammed it on the table, standing back up with a slight wobble to his gait before a wave of disembodied screeches and disorienting, hallucinogenic flashes of light overpowered him. Jax had no time to register how he was being pulled away from his body, nor did he have the foresight to guess what would come next. 

Mannequins in robes as sable as night itself, candles waning in a dingy cellar, an orchestra of glyphs scrawled into a manuscript. What is this? He was wearing gloves — dyed red and blue — they were Pomni’s. The rabbit ogled at them for a minute, wondering if any of this mirage was actually real or the result of his inebriated merriment. 

He looked up, and no longer found himself in the decrepit cellar. Jax was in an office, accompanied by soulless lights bearing down on him from the ceiling and a cramped arrangement of abandoned cubicles whose computers were all unplugged, some even stuffed into boxes. Nobody was here, as far as he could sense that is. He walked forward on the starchy carpeting, the scent of dust and stale cardboard permeating in the air. As Jax turned a corner, he saw one lone cubicle in the corner of the workspace, crammed against a wall. A headset was resting on its desk. His pupils were suddenly repulsed as far back as they could reach, orbiting around the edges of his lids like compass needles — magnetized to something that only wanted to repel and rebuke him. 

Bright strings of effervescent pixels splintered his vision as soon as he laid eyes upon it. The world crackled and deformed in front of him, as if a cord had been pulled from a socket in the Earth’s core. Sparkling bands of static popped on all sides of him, eroding everything in sight until he could distinguish nothing around him but the blurred blankness that swallowed him like hungry stars twinkling in a crowded sky. 

He was back in the tavern. The mannequins were staring at him with abundant suspicion and naked judgment. Whatever he experienced, Jax decided to swallow it down like the rest of his drink, choosing not to dwell on it. The fatigue from his travels mixed with the potency of the tavern’s ale must have concocted a depraved delirium that completely overwhelmed him. 

Deciding that a good rest would cure his ailing, omen-dizzied head, Jax lumbered upstairs on legs that felt like they were fettered with chains of pure iron. 

While scouring in vain for his room, roaming the hall like a dazed wraith, Pomni’s head poked out of her own door. Jax immediately recognized the horns of her hat protruding out into the corridor. 

“Psst,” the jester whispered at him. “Over here.” Jax followed the sound of her voice, and she lifted a candle to her face in the quickly darkening passage to illuminate his way. With the sun now hidden completely beneath the horizon, the entire second story was now mostly sequestered into night’s murky shroud. Everyone was silent in their quarters, preparing for the next day. Everybody except for them.

“Well? What’s up, Pom-Pom?” Jax asked with an exaggerated boom to his voice, clearly trying to aggravate the neighbors as much as possible. Pomni grabbed him by his mail collar and yanked him inside. 

“Are you serious? Could you be any louder?” the jester complained through clenched teeth. 

“I can always try a little harder if you want!” There was a menacing glint in his eye. Jax puffed up his chest and gulped down a gasp of air, threatening to unleash a deafening howl. 

Pomni clasped a hand to Jax’s mouth, muffling his protests as she reached up to pinch his cheek, forcing him to lean down to her level with a heavy tug. 

“Behave. Right now. I’m warning you,” Pomni cautioned with a snarl, releasing his muzzled jaw to give him a second chance.  

Jax rolled his eyes, yet a slight change in his tune implied that he yielded to her directions faithfully. “Ok what’s the deal here? Did you drag me in here just to tell me where my room is?”

“I actually … didn’t get you a room,” Pomni admitted hesitantly. 

Jax curved his brow in a flabbergasted mixture of flustered surprise and perplexed confusion. “Are you coming on to me again?” 

Pomni scrunched her face at him with irritation plastered all over her cheeks. “It’s nothing like that! I just need to … keep an eye on you. I can’t have you staying all alone, with nobody around to protect you. What if someone attacks you again?” she teased with a playful punch to his armored shoulder.

Jax clicked his tongue thoughtfully, evaluating her roundabout response. “Yeah, I’m not buying it,” the rabbit prodded. “What’s really going on here?” 

The jester paced around the room with her candle, appearing more like a planet making an unnerving revolution around its star. “I need you to stay here tomorrow while we go question the bandit that was captured by the provincial sheriff.” 

Jax rapped his head against the wall in frustration. “That’s absurd. I’m the knight here — you guys need me there to protect you and there’s no way you can keep me from doing my job.” 

“See, I knew you wouldn’t go quietly, that’s why I wanted you with me. Someone has to keep tabs on you before you do something stupid."

“Is this some sort of revenge for knowing about your dirty secret? Because this is low even for you.”

“Nothing is too low for me.”

Jax grimaced at her, his teeth sharpened like an attack dog. “Why are you trying so hard to win?”

“I just want to be like you, remember? Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

“I think you want much more than that.” The premonitions that he witnessed while drinking from Pomni’s cup bubbled into his head once again, shooting back up his throat like a rabid sickness. “What’s really at stake here?” 

Pomni folded her arms, fiddling with the buttons on her tunic. “This is only a competition. Someone wins and another loses. That’s all there is to it,” her words shook as they came out. Jax knew her well enough to detect when she was hiding something. 

“Oh, really. Then what’s stopping me from telling everybody here what your role in this game is? I can march down to every room right now and confess the truth.”

“You and I both know they’ll never believe a thing you say.”

“Then why don’t I take matters into my own hands — without them.” Jax put a hand to his scabbard, sliding his sword out halfway so that Pomni could see the glint of its steel. 

She snorted with derision. “You can’t even face yourself, much less me. It didn’t go your way the last time you tried, did it?” 

Much to her startled astoundment, Jax slid down the wall that he was pressed up against, plopping onto the floor with his chin buried in his knees.

“I don’t think there’s anything left of me to confront,” he sighed with sullen, sunken eyes. “There’s definitely not much I can salvage. When I look in the mirror, all I see are the parts of me that have chipped away. What else do I have to lose?” He sheathed the sword back into its leather holster. 

Pomni put her candleholder down next to him, bending to meet Jax as the flame waltzed a warm midnight melody on her face. 

“You’re drawn to your own torture like a moth hugging a lantern. You think it feels like salvation until your wings start to burn. Let me fix you, please.” She combed back one of his ears that had collapsed in front of his face, shielding his eyes from view. “I said I would be there for you, didn’t I? You don’t have to wear this armor alone.” Pomni’s hand mussed the fur on top of his head, brushing through it like a tender breeze through river reeds. 

Jax had heard it all before. The reassurance that made the pressure in his lungs deflate with a calm cadence, the comforting words that held up his head softer than a pillowcase, the touching of his shaky skin that made him realize she wouldn’t desert him. 

But you deserted her, didn’t you? You will do it again. You always do. 

He couldn’t let her do it. He nudged her hand away and staggered to his feet. 

“I have to end this, now.” Jax marched towards the door, yet the knob would not budge. He tried again with a burst of alacrity before giving it a final desperate pull until it was nearly pried from its backplate. No amount of raw strength was enough to force it open. The door was locked. 

“Do you really want to get rid of me that badly?” asked Pomni, giving her best impression of a sorely wounded ego. “You’re not going anywhere, is that clear?” 

She reached into her satchel that was sitting beside her desk, and Jax’s whole body went cold. His limbs froze in their sockets like a deer caught in blinding headlights, his eyes dashed away like gnats, shriveling as far back into his skull as they could go. 

Pomni held an ear of corn in her hand, waving it as temptingly as a dog treat. 

“Where… where did you get that?” Jax’s instincts were stunned into numb panic. There was nowhere to run, no place to hide, no way to fight back. He was completely paralyzed.

“Oh, this little guy is just a gift from a friend of mine. Would you like to get more acquainted?” Pomni took slow, stalking strides towards Jax, holding out the maize as if it were a deadly weapon. The rabbit stapled himself to the door, grasping erratically for anything within sight that could keep him steady. His ears shot up like stiff boards, his pupils darted in their prisons like angry atoms. He struggled to open his lips just to push out sordidly sonorous cries for mercy. 

“Please …. Get it away from me,” he gasped — even the air in his chest struggled to find space to move within his petrified body. 

“Why don’t I give you one more chance to show me where your place is,” Pomni chastised sternly, pointing a finger at the floor. The rabbit was struck with such an overwhelming pall of dread that he could do nothing but what she demanded of him. She held his weakness pulsing in the palm of her hand, and he was completely powerless to the realization that she could grind him to dust between her fingers on a mere whim. Jax fell to his knees, his head withering to the ground. He couldn’t stand the thought of her staring down at him, an indulgent triumph etched onto her face as she soaked this moment in. 

“Eyes up here,” Pomni commanded, using her stalk of corn to lift up his chin so they could see right into each other. The rabbit had a tendency to avoid her gaze, and that messy habit would be the perfect place to start mending the cracks underneath his shell. Jax was going to see exactly who did this to him — who reduced him to a groveling mess on the floor, who held the threads of his fate and plucked its strings like a puppet. 

“I think you look much prettier looking up at me, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Jax craned his neck to peer at her under his wet, wash basin eyes. Pomni wanted nothing more than to switch on the faucets and watch them overflow. 

“Why are you doing this? Do you really need to prove yourself this badly?” The knight’s words were meek and restrained, as the corn hung dangerously eager in front of his face like the sword of Damocles itself. One wrong move was all it took for it to drop through his head and shatter whatever composure he had left. 

“I’m helping you, like I said I would. You are drowning in that armor, and I’m the only one here that wants to drag you up for air,” Pomni responded with remorse. 

“That’s pointless now, can’t you just let me end it and get us out of here? I am sick and tired of this adventure.”

“You’ll never find a way out of here if you don’t at least try to break out of the prison you created for yourself, first. You are addicted to suffering like it’s a drug, ending it here will only bide you enough time before you’ll want to taste it again in the Circus. Let me set you free, right now.” 

“And how do you intend to do that, like you know anything about what we go through at all? You never had any idea.” The edges of Jax’s eyes were reflecting warm droplets on their surface, just barely about to topple down the sides. 

“Then let me in.”

“And how do you expect me to let you?”

“Put your mouth around it.” 

Jax was agape with utter, debilitating astonishment that prickled the fur on the back of his neck as every hair stood straight as a pin. Pomni prodded his lips with the corn, sketching an intimate outline of his mouth with its seedy tip. The rabbit let out an excruciating, pained whimper as she did — debating whether or not she was even serious about her order or merely using him as a toy. 

“Do you want to stay stuck? Or do you want to fight — do you want to change?” Pomni didn’t let up, curling the edges of each kernel around his mouth until she teased his teeth. 

Jax had enough. His jaw lunged forward, absorbing one of his greatest fears down to its bulging base. His pupils grew into a starless night sky as he kept gazing into Pomni, a blend of pure chasmic longing and shadowy guilt mirrored in the windows to his soul. 

“See, that wasn’t very difficult at all, was it? You always were such a good boy,” she sang down at him. “Now, suck on it, sweetheart.”

The knight’s face was set alight with hot embers that crept up his throat and wrapped around his cheeks like broiling cinders. He had already begun, he would not stop now. It was time to swallow his pride. Jax’s tongue twirled around every ridge on the corn’s surface, licking at each seed to feel its rough ribs, suckling on the tip so he could plunge it down deeper with a slippery coat of his spit trickling from every edge. The rabbit gnawed on its surface like he was starving, teething longingly on any coarse edge that stirred his saliva, letting it poke the insides of his cheeks as they were stretched out by the cob’s bursting imprint inside of him, digging every inch into his fangs until he became intoxicated from its sweetness dripping through him. 

As he bobbed on its length, aching for more of it to slide into his mouth and coil around his taste buds, Pomni gave the corn a deep push into his gullet. Jax was caught completely off guard, every nerve in his body recoiling as he gagged and sputtered on the crop that muffled his protests and snipped the words as they tried in vain to climb up his throat. For a fleeting second, the scent of the corn was the only thing Jax could breathe in. It seeped into every single one of his sensations, soaked his thoughts until they were nothing but scrambled bliss, and breached every wall that hardened inside his body. 

When the jester finally let him up for air, leisurely pulling the corn out with a resounding pop from between his lips, a thin trail of spit dribbled out from the rabbit’s mouth and braided itself with the maize, merging into a clear path that connected the two like the silky strands of a spider’s web. Clearly, it seemed as if Jax wasn't quite ready to part ways with the harvest season just yet — this little souvenir of spittle only proving as much. 

He craved a bond that would leave him barren in front of Pomni — utterly raw beneath her, so she could finally see who he really was behind the curtain, away from the act that he was so stubborn to perform. He wanted more. He needed more, even if it completely dissolved and destroyed everything about him, demolishing any conception of who he was supposed to be in the Circus. 

Pomni wiped a string of drool that clung to the edge of Jax’s panting, captivated grin, dragging her thumb along the silhouette of his mouth like she was committing to memory every supple, damp curve that defined it. The rabbit breathed doggedly — large huffs of air warmed the jester’s hand as she tousled the fur under his chin. Jax’s eyes upturned with a silent, ragged plea written all over those two moonlit ponds of his — like a puppy begging for his treat. Please… Please take me.  

“Is there something you want, Bunny?” Pomni asked, tapping her corn on the top of his head as a reminder for the knight to stay on his knees.

“Yes—“ Jax began before stopping himself short as the jester aimed a strict expression right through him, those carousel eyes of her glowing with eminent authority. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’ve become very well trained, haven’t you?” she praised in return. “I’m very impressed by how far you’ve come.”

Jax’s nubbed tail thumped against the ground, wagging incessantly from Pomni’s affectionate compliments, merely following how wildly fast and passionately panicked the inside of his chest was racing for her. The jester tucked a hand under his chin, scratching the rabbit’s fur rewardingly as he scrunched his eyes in perfect paradise. His vision buzzed with a sea of sparkling firecrackers, and as he blinked them open once again, Pomni was doused in a deluge of florid glitter that scattered the image of her drinking in every drop of his indulgence as if molasses flowed from the dumbstruck roll of his pupils as they dilated with pulsing pleasure.

There was a slight rattle underneath his armor, the sound of something trying to break free. Pomni eagerly unloosened his breastplate only to find his mail shirt shaking from a chorus of deep murmurs underneath. You’re purring again, you sweet thing. 

His entire body was practically quaking with a series of melodious vibrations, only rising with a burning intensity as she rubbed the underside of his jaw with an ever deeper, rapid pace. Jax nudged the soft sides of his face into the palm of her hand, his frayed hums spreading all throughout her like rich, ruby jam sticking to buttered toast. His chest swelled like lush pastures, fanning and falling as clean sheets wave in the wind with the gracefulness of a swan’s stride — and Pomni got to feast on it all as he nestled his meltingly scarlet cheeks into the folds of her hand. 

The jester moved her fingers further down, parting the knotted tufts of hair on his sleek coat as if she were shaping streaks of wet flour into a springy, smooth ball. She landed on the center of Jax's neck, holding still while she felt his breathing become snagged in his throat — small, wobbly wisps of air whimpering out of his mouth. She seized his undivided attention with an overbearing, foreboding grin, a hedonistic haze filling her expression as she clutched the sides of his neck, digging her fingers into his skin like it was clay being marked with her initials. 

“Someone sure is enjoying themselves. You look so much cuter when you’re nice and quiet like this,” Pomni whispered into his ear. “What do you say about trying something new? I think you might like it.” 

She squeezed his throat with just the right amount of pressure to make Jax squirm, his entire body becoming a tense coil of gnarled rope. His taut, aching muscles on the fringes of his neck yielded to Pomni without much complaint, crumbling under her grip like a mound of sand serenaded between her fingers. Jax’s passageways slowly constricted, his chest choking itself of breath, the air that flowed from his mouth in heavy huffs began to sputter and stumble in short, desperate gasps. Pomni’s hold only tightened, as if she wanted nothing more than to wring out every inhibition, every barrier, and every shard of pride that he injected into his body like it was a poison, razing everything he was once — who she should have been for her. If he couldn’t learn to change, she might have to do it for him. 

She would weave every silken sinew of his chrysalis, building a shell for him that he could actually escape from, and this time he would emerge into the bright dawn with flowering wings instead of pushing himself deeper into the jaws of the formless night. The lids of Pomni’s eyes were half shut with a listless, warm drowsiness as she beheld Jax absolutely smothered in a suffocating stupor. A dreamy, illusory glaze coated the entirety of his face, as sappy and rich as crystallized sugar with each breath that was stifled before it could leak out. If she asked for the rabbit to repeat his name, there was a strong chance that he might have very well forgotten it. With a frenzied wheeze, Jax wrangled with his own dwindling voice while it was held captive between Pomni’s palm as she pried away his ability to speak. Before too long, resignation rebelled against dignity, and as the jester saw how needily her bunny wanted to give an obedient reply, she relented from her chokehold just enough to allow an answer. 

“Yes,” Jax panted in raspy, red-eyed relief. “Yes… please do whatever you want.” 

“I thought as much,” Pomni growled with velvety adoration. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, little prince.” 

She grabbed Jax by his chainmail collar and led him to the bed, tossing the warrior headfirst onto the scraggly bundle of hay that made up their mattress as if he were a sack of flour. He could feel their straw needles scratching at his armor, rustling along with each thrash and wriggle of his body as if they were slender fingers scouring for any unguarded spot to grab. The knight had barely any time to gather his jumbled wits before something cold and slovenly smooth pressed on the back of his head, pushing it into the pillow. Pomni stood above him, the bottom of her boot resting atop the bunny like he was the jester’s latest pitiful conquest. 

“I bet you feel right at home with your face stuffed in a mattress,” Pomni chimed. “You’re quite familiar with the view by now.” She ground the back of her heel on Jax’s nape, rumpling his fur as if she were leaving prints in fresh snow and burying him into the powdery linen like crisp cider being pressed into her quenched cup. Any defiant squeals that the rabbit made were extinguished by the sheets that enshrouded him, and as soon as his feeble heaves died down, his vision liquified into a woozy blur before the jester brought him up for air with a firm hand gripping around his ears, bundling them both into a sloppy knot. 

“Why do you have to put it like that?” Jax scowled between dizzy swallows, fighting for his lungs to be filled again.  

“I don’t think you’re in any place to be asking questions,” Pomni reprimanded as she grappled his sleazy antenna with the eagerness of a robin clenched around its squirming catch. “Why don’t we start putting that bold mouth of yours to some better use.” 

She sat atop the back of Jax’s cuisses that were rigged to his thighs, both of her legs securely curled along the outside of his own to keep them subdued. She unhinged his breastplate, opening him up like the peel of a delectable fruit — where she could see the prize that waited for her canines to sink into. His shoulder-blades roiled underneath his mail like a malfunctioning piece of machinery, flapping like the serpentine scales of a harpy whose wings had been clipped long ago, pining for the day where he would set flight again. Pomni couldn’t wait any longer, he was absolutely irresistible when every single one of his ramparts fell beneath her from just a single touch. 

She took the piece of corn from where it laid beside her and lifted his gambeson, untying his flimsy linen trousers which revealed a violet tail waving back at her in a fervent flurry, aching for any type of attention she would give it. Pomni pulled on his arms, raising his head up before she leaned into his ear. The hairs of his neck perked up like the bristles of a comb.

“Are you sure you want this?”
Pomni prodded the base of his tail, causing it to flutter in a dreamy, listless repose. All of his senses and every root of his nerves buzzed like a swarm of hummingbirds with swollen specks of pollen caked on their wings, littering the dusky, tired sky. Jax couldn’t remember a time when he coveted something more than this — had he ever wished for anything from the Circus which he couldn’t satisfy on his own? Pomni made him whisper silent pleas from his lips, a muddled string of pitiful pleases and formless desires that he knew could only be fulfilled by her.

 “I need this,” he choked out. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, Bun.” 

“I want you to use the corn on me … just like you were doing it before,” he practically whined the words out of his mouth, which was slickening with an insatiable thirst as every unfilled second passed. He tried to burrow himself into the pillow after such an admission, yet Pomni gave his ears a rough tug that kept his head above water. 

“There we go. That’s all you had to tell me, my obedient boy,” the jester clicked her tongue at him like a dutifully disciplined dog, spreading his legs apart with the corn that teased his tail. 

She prodded Jax just under that stubby tuft of fur as he had asked, his good manners earning a few rougher pokes than he was prepared for. The knight’s mouth was pried open as he tried to bray in a slurry of shock and pleasure while subtle, veiled moans would slip out of his mouth when Pomni focused on a particularly sensitive spot that melted like a sunny yolk being pressed to the point of rupture. The jester gave a smile that was seeped with amber admiration as she heard his uncontrollable whimpers, as if instinct itself made him spellbound to her every whim — to her entire control over his body. 

See? You sound so much better when you aren’t speaking. I think we finally found a purpose for that trap of yours after all. 

Jax’s face was glistening in a sheen of succulent sweat, as waxy and delicious as gooey honeycomb, marinating in a sweet puddle of his own buttery bliss that became even more decadent with each shove under his tail. All of his resistance was replaced with mind-numbing scintillations that winked at him like anesthetic flecks of gold, he could nearly taste every reverberating lunge at his rear on the fringe of his jaw as it rattled with a tinge of tangy lemon cream that dipped his soul in opulent, zingy waves. It was a type of flavor that he was never accustomed to until now, and it was so hypnotic that Jax felt his head curdle with overflowing wells of enchantment that fogged his face like humid windows — every interior function failing with each vicious plug into his socket. 

The knight’s tail waggled with sultry temptation as he rolled along with each rut of her hips, fitting perfectly against her pumping waist — urging the corn to prod with the same relentless intensity as a battering ram against the gates of an indestructible city. His backside bucked in tune with each persistent pound from Pomni while she delicately grazed the rabbit’s neck, grappling his ears like the reins of her horse so she could have a better angle to mark his neck with possessive splotches that were somehow even darker than the light tint of his lavender fur. 

She carved a look onto his face that became as brittle as pastry, every laminated layer crumbling with each hit under his tail that made his smitten squeaks dissolve like sugar into tea as they echoed in her ears. His heart began to thump in sync with the rhythm of each thrust, as if every nano-fibered vein within him succumbed to Pomni and began following her instead with anatomical betrayal. Even his pupils pulsed in matching cadence with each blow, rising and deflating as their inky pools splashed with rampant ripples. Those shameless moans that trickled from his throat suddenly skipped a beat, becoming frail peeps whenever Pomni pummeled his eye-rolling exhilaration into palpitating murmurs that couldn’t even escape without a husky gasp of speechless shock at the sensation of how thoroughly he was thrashed. 

Jax used his wobbling forearm to muffle his obligatory yelps, biting down onto his skin just to keep from the slightest humiliating chirp from leaking out of his mouth. When Pomni spotted this, she let go of the corn and wedged it between her thighs, balancing it with stiff compressions from her pelvis that plowed into the rabbit even more greedily than before. Using her free hand, she grabbed Jax’s arm and bound it to his back, creasing his fur like brittle corners of fluffy lace as she trussed him, dressing him into a dinner centerpiece ready to slide into the oven — his back beautifully bowed and bent at how much he was wrecked beneath her. 

“Use the pillow, not yourself,” Pomni ordered, wanting to hear every little sound that escaped from his gorgeous lips. 

Jax did as he was told, burying his face in the feathery cushion as the jester released some tension on his ears, letting them slide up her fingers just a bit before nipping the slack she was satisfied with him keeping. Pomni reveled in the way he whistled like a shrill tea kettle, his entire body arched and titled like a needy spout waiting for everything inside to pour out. His cheeks began to rub themselves into a raw redness from how much she pushed him into the pillow, each stroke gyrating deeper against his adorably addicted rear. Is this what it feels like? To be alive? Every ravenous ring of her bells that memorized the cadence of her prodding hips was a reminder — a star-struck blow to his memory, a sticky injection of docile, domesticated desire. Each glad groan and satisfied sigh that slipped out of their mouths breathed life itself. It was an escape. Let me show you what we can be, without the Circus. I can tell this means something to you, I can hear it every time you try to hide one of those trembling whines. I can see it when your irises roll like lost, dazed cursors. You can’t look me in the eye and lie about it anymore. 

“Who’s the plaything now?” Pomni grunted in-between jabs to his tail. She rubbed his ears between her palms like they were the petals of a dainty iris, reminded of how their plum colored dye stained her hands. If only we had a mirror to see how pretty you look when you’re getting destroyed. 

Jax’s legs quivered as she sped up the pace, driving the maize as far as it could go before weary groans spilled out of him and her unyielding shoves bored tremors through his core that rumbled his fluttering chest. As soon as she was satisfied with the masterpiece smudged on the pillowy canvas beneath her, Pomni released his ears and clawed at his back until thick red streaks were engraved into it like an artist’s signature — a visible reminder of her territory that Jax could feel burning with stinging soreness in every rock and sway of his toasty thighs. Her work wasn’t finished yet, as without warning she seized his fragile waist in her hands and flipped him over on his back. The rabbit let out a surprised yelp, his entire frame shuddering with convulsed breaths that rose and retreated like midnight tides. 

“That’s it, Bunny. I had to see for myself just how adorable you are like this.” Pomni stroked one his flushed auburn cheeks, drenching herself in the syrupy heat that radiated from his face before drilling into him once more — right between the legs where his tail should’ve been. Jax yelped as she rutted against him with such renewed, hungry fervor, a wobbly trickle of tears digging ridges into his silky coat at the corners of his eyes while Pomni waited patiently for the right nudge that would make his cute dam collapse. 

As they morphed into each other's eyes, with Jax becoming more unwound than a spindle full of loose yarn, Pomni was enraptured by his desecration — his liberation — underneath her. The knight’s tongue lolled out of his mouth carelessly while trails of drool ebbed down the corners of his lips, his teeth ropy with a film of honeyed saliva that had nowhere to go. His crinkled ears bounced along with the motion of her vigorous pumps against his backside, as the rabbit’s entire lower half clotted like milk in a sizzling skillet, caving to the incessant scald of her onslaught fueled by a more merciless type of passion. 

His legs spasmed irresistibly as if they were possessed by zealous spirits, his thighs tensed and wobbled as if they were hardened into iron bars while he stretched them greedily to take all that Pomni could give. A chorus of ceaseless whines flooded out of Jax’s body as it crumbled completely under her, the image of his runny face melting on her tongue like meringue as he was whipped and whisked to soft peaks. In the visceral ecstasy of the moment, Jax’s senses went rogue as he overlooked Pomni’s only command. He clenched his mouth around his arm to keep from screaming, printing his fur with teething marks as the jester tried to swallow the aromatic sound of his mewling as if they were stewed in sweet mulling spices, not even caring to correct him this time. She imbibed every delicious second that he was splayed out before her like a sacred offering, the straw mattress rustling with every passionate punch of her hips as he hoarded every rowdy drive to his tail. 

She retracted her grip from the corn, dropping it beside her as she intertwined her hands with his own — her fingers spreading into the gaps of his gauntlet and clasping them into an inescapable knot. The jester hovered over Jax, fitting herself into the grooves of his ribs as they undulated in unison with heavy, guttural pants that caused their haggard breaths to blend and seep into every empty cavity between them, every heartstring plucked like a strummed lute — shuddering with every clash of their lips she finished him off with luscious falsettos, his whimpers as pliable and scrumptious as dandelion meadows. 

Pomni lowered herself downward, those rose tinted cheeks turning into bright red apples as she moved an interlaced hand down his mail-covered chest, resting it on a particularly sensitive spot where his stomach curved into his supple, spongy inner thighs. She dug the flat ends of her knuckles into that part of his abdomen, notching it like wet clay, feeling it spring back against her palm like freshly baked cake, sopping up every throbbing vibration and skipped beat from his tensing muscles that hobbled like caterpillars. His wafer-thin exoskeleton finally ruptured, her touch staining him like velvety wine as every inch of him was hollowed out. 

Jax mewled weakly into her at the surprise of it all, turning his head up to meet hers, their mouths hardly breached open as their lips barely met, replacing the air in each other's lungs with their own, exchanging the taste of their throats instead of the flavorless words that came out of them. Pomni thought she could still taste the corn on his teeth. The knight searched every pillowy corner and supple surface of her lips, filling himself with the jester’s cloying contagion of caramelized essence that poured into him with a nectarous miasma.

Without warning, flickers of invasive light coursed through his head once again as he sipped every ounce of her that he could touch. The sterile office. The sable cellar. Her abandoned headset. He barely had any time to register this phenomenon before there was a sudden jerk at the base of his neck, pulling him closer into Pomni than he ever imagined. 

Jax opened his bewildered eyes to find that his throat had been tied with a type of ribbon — one that he was quite familiar with. It was the same one that came from the tassels of Pomni’s waist, and around the base of his encircled neck a bell jingled from its pretty little knot. It was her bell, straight from the pointy edge of Pomni’s horned hat. She pulled back from his mouth, a thin thread of dribble connecting the pair as she tugged tighter on his leash, the ribbons constricting on his clamped nape as she drew him closer into her drunkenly downcast gaze. 

“Don’t you love it? I’m the only one who can do this to you. The only one who can free you from the cocoon you trapped yourself in,” she whispered piercingly into his face, feeling the tingling rush of her breath on his lips. His bell rang meekly from where it dangled on his collar, like an ornament tied helplessly to its magnanimous Christmas tree. For once, Jax was finally content with finally being someone other than himself — than who he forced himself to be. 

Chapter Text

PART III

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CHAPTER VI: The Battle 

There was a loud knock at the door. Both of them were wrenched away from their feverish reverie. Pomni quickly sprung into action and led Jax by the end of his leash, pulling him along the floor into a solitary corner where she tied him to the leg of a chair and unfolded a tapestry screen in which to hide him from view. 

“Hey! What are you –” Jax snapped in complaint, prompting Pomni to respond in kind by shoving her hand across that jabbering mouth of his, completely muting the outburst. She put a finger to her mouth, signaling for him to be silent, which was soon followed by a sinister slicing motion across her throat. Jax’s ears crumpled in dejected dread. He had no way to resist her demands, and so zipped his lips shut. The jester tapped his shoulders in proud approval before cautiously answering the door. It was Ragatha, and she was as jittery as the last leaf of fall. 

“Pomni, something weird is going on,” Ragatha toyed anxiously with the hem of her dress. “The guests are all gone.”

The jester’s veins congealed into slushy icicles, the heat from her already snowy face became a grave shroud of pallid shock. She knew it was inevitable, yet she hadn’t expected just how quickly they would catch on. 

“We need to go, now!” Pomni insisted. “They’ve probably tipped off the others already.”

“Pomni — what are you talking about? What’s going on here?” 

She didn’t seem to pay any heed towards Ragatha’s questions. 

“Gather the others and get them to ride out. It’s time for us to leave if we want a chance at these scoundrels.” She promptly closed the door in spite of Ragatha’s continuous entreaties, giving a drawn out, thoughtful sigh before turning to Jax, who was still tucked in the corner despite his subdued objections. Pomni pulled back the screen that concealed him, revealing the rabbit pitifully hunched over the ribbons around his neck, attempting to rip them apart with his teeth. 

The jester rolled her eyes. “Listen, you’re not getting out of those anytime soon, so don’t even waste your precious energy by trying.” 

There was a pleading, pained glimmer in Jax’s pixelated pupils as he looked up at her. 

“Why won’t you let me go with you?”

“I don’t expect you to understand now, but it’s for your own good. You’ll see in time.”

“But this is just a game isn’t it? You’re playing a part — let me play mine.”

Pomni could tell there was more substance in his strict words than he let on, especially when an intangible understanding clouded over his face. She could hardly even see the corners of his mouth, which had so often been upturned in that masquerading smile. He saw it too. I can tell by the way it's scrawled all over his face.

“Do you need to tell me something?” She squatted down to his level. Jax darted his discus eyes everywhere but her; yet it didn’t take much intimidation before he finally surrendered and settled them down on that ivory face with a stabbing gaze that refused to yield. 

“No.” His answer was desolately definite, but his wavering voice did little to deceive. She knew exactly when he was hiding. You’re lying.

“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page then.” 

Jax swallowed down how much he was aching to tell Pomni about his whiplashed, whirlwind flashbacks; how he had seen glimpses into her past, how he wanted to know so sorely if they were real or not. Meanwhile, she foraged in her head for any excuse not to admit why their mannequin guests actually left so suddenly — in the middle of the night, without even a sound — like plotting petty thieves. A honey-laden lie always tastes better than a bitter truth. 

“You’ll come back for me, won’t you?” Jax despised the fact that he even had to ask. The question cut deep into his vulnerability, opening up like a nasty wound. 

“If you behave while I’m away, sure,” Pomni replied succinctly, not even taking a second look back at him as she hastily packed her satchel. “One day you’ll thank me for this.” 

She marched toward the door, leaving without a moment to lose. The key turned in its lock behind her. Jax had forgotten to snatch it when they first arrived at the tavern. As of late, his collection seemed to close more doors than it opened, anyway. Even worse, maybe it slipped his mind solely because was making the fatal mistake of putting trust in someone other than himself. 

And how much further could he rely on himself before he started running into dead ends. It was only a matter of time, a question of months, weeks, days, hours, minutes before everything turned on all he knew — on all that he had to turn to. 

He wasn’t going to wait anymore. The endless cycle of anticipation, of watching the timer on his sanity crawl closer to one … zero … zero … one. There could be no faith in his own existence if he held no hope for himself. It would be a shame for his flame to be snuffed out so easily — so effortlessly, without even a conscious, human soul to pinch his braided wick between their fingers for good. Especially if it wasn’t the one person he wanted to do the honors.

No, now was the time to fight if there was any will left to burn. Jax gnawed as hard as he could on the collar, his teeth grinding together on its silken thread, staining his mouth with its beet-red dye. The bell chimed alarmingly, rattling on his throat as if warning its owner of her pet’s daring dash for freedom. He gnashed and bit at the rope until his jaw became sore, wresting it apart with his hands until it stretched and groaned, yet all to no avail. The knight crumpled, beaten and breathless against the chair he was held captive to. 

The edge of the seat with its pointed, ruggedly carved corner dug into his back with a dull, sandy sharpness that jolted Jax on the tip of his spine. He had one more chance. Where his own body failed, his conniving mind might succeed. He brought his Gordian-bound collar up to the verge of the seat’s protruding rim and began sliding the base of his leash right on its razor-thin cusp. It began to slowly rip away, every dense thread grievously creaking and steadily breaking as he unflinchingly sliced his ribboned cord until it was as loose and frizzy as unspun wool — reverted to its original state, begun anew. 

The leash snapped, falling to the floor as light as a feather. A small strand remained tethered to him like a pretty necktie, the collar and bell still attached, tenderly ringing as he stood up. The door was, as expected, locked from the outside, yet nothing  — not even the triplet weavers of life itself sitting upon their wheel — could stop his resolve in this micro-instant. He unlatched a window overlooking the woods, a square pane of wavy, wobbly glass that took a warrior’s strength to throw open. A gale from the moonless night furrowed against his fur, yet he took up his sheath and sword, lowered his bascinet back onto his head, locked the visor into place, and climbed down the ivy that choked the walls of the inn. Pale roses the color of peaceful clouds plashed against his face as he made the descent, intertwined with those whose leaves were more akin to shards of rich red rubies, their shrubs spilling between the vines like Persephone lifted from Hades. 

When his boots were planted firmly on solid ground, Jax rushed to the stables for his ravenesque horse and cracked the reins as he bolted off down the road, following the four sets of hooves that left their tracks in the mud. The wind rushed through his ears, whistling in the divots of his armor, mocking him in its wispy voice as he sailed through the dead forest. Craggy branches hovered over the beaten path, reaching out their twiggy tendrils to abduct the knight into their lifeless thicket before crashing into his face and snapping into woodchipped bits when they lashed at his breastplate. 

The mud on the trail sloshed beneath the hooves of his steed as it huffed with each sturdy gallop, kicking up handfuls of muck right onto his polished husk of steel, soiling it before he even got the chance to put it to use. Pomni’s bell spun around his neck, the cold cloth of the collar cloaked around his throat like a coiled snake. 

Little knight, how furiously does your bell ring? Do you hear the death knell’s sting? 

The road became a blur, the sickly trees melted into the black sky, he lost sight of his body inside his suit. He could not give up now. Stay on course, you’re almost there. 

A voice echoed out from down the trodden track, he recognized it right away. Jax clicked his tongue and gripped the reins tighter, pushing towards the faint sound of the others as their conversation warped through the woody crevices of the wilderness. Pomni’s hat glowed amid the all-encompassing darkness, Gangle’s vermilion ribbons shone starkly against a backdrop of abysmal trees with Zooble’s rosy headpiece close by, and Ragatha’s dress trailed behind her in its magnificent train. 

“Jax?! What are you doing — don’t go any farther!” Pomni warned in the midst of her startled state. 

“Stop! You’ll give us away you brute!” Ragatha yelled from her mount. It was too late. 

Jax’s horse refused to halt on the slippery mire beneath them; it skidded rabidly on the sodden path right past the group and straight towards a mannequin that leapt from the woodline — carrying a shiny spear — aimed directly at the rabbit’s chest. His horse halted with a screeching whinny, rearing up its front legs in fright. Jax clutched for any stray straps he could find to steer his ride out of danger, but a precariously loose stirrup knocked his boot loose, its sharp tip scraping against the already spooked animal. Ragatha looked on in regretful horror as the knight lost his balance and tumbled from his saddle, his terrified horse bolting away into the night. What have you done? 

Jax could only hear a dull pang in his ears as deafening darkness filled the gaps of his visor, making him blind to dangers unseen. He had some sense left to heave himself back onto two paws, unsheathing his sword to use as a crutch while his boots slid hopelessly against the soggy turf. Just as Jax regained his footing, the wind from his chest was extinguished altogether, a delayed consequence of his ill-fated fall. His breaths were snagged in the middle of his chest, and he flopped down on his back once again as feral panic took control. The mannequin advanced, clad in a leather skullcap and grimy hides stacked over its timbered form, their spear brandished. 

Its barbed tip glinted over Jax — not illuminated from any observant stars or a hidden moon — but from the knight’s armor as it recognized one of its own, much like the wood handle of the assailant’s lance that called out to its kin. Jax closed his eyes, the bandit lunged. Instead of feeling the deep shock of impalement — the wild, vile digging of the pike through his vanquished heart — a slew of sparks erupted out from inside his mail, shattering the tip of the spear and staggering his attacker. The rabbit scratched at the divots of his dented plates, desperately trying to pry out the savior that was wedged into his chain-linked shirt. Whatever divine intervention had come to his aid, it was not made of steel nor iron. 

Pomni was the first to ride forward, taking aim at the bandit with her crossbow as it rebounded with a raggedy kitchen knife towards its intended victim. She squinted her eyes, slowed her breathing, and captured her target between the sights of her weapon. 

She pulled on the trigger. The bow sprung from its rest, gliding the bolt soundlessly into the middle of the mannequin's forehead. It slumped to the muddy floor, a few wooden shavings flying from the back of its face where the projectile pierced clean through. The scrawled smile on their visage faded to a lifeless frown. Jax wiped the dirt from his visor and puzzledly scanned the vanquished dummy. It belonged to one of the eerie patrons at the tavern. Why are you here?

More ambushers began to pour out of the trees, a procession of rusted axes, swaying maces, and chipped swords charged towards the downed knight as the emphatic shouts of their wielders tore a hole into the still, dead air like vengeful banshees. The rest of the troupe followed Pomni’s example, advancing forward to distract the brunt of the enemy force while Jax had a chance to stumble upon some semblance of composure. The jester rode to his side, dismounting her horse and tenderly grazing her hand over the scarred impression in his armored chest left by the spear. 

“I knew that would come in handy, I just needed to find the right lock to make it fit,” she half-whispered to herself, grasping Jax’s dirtied gauntlet as she helped him up to his feet. “You can’t stay down there forever, we have to go — now!” 

Pomni ran with Jax — hand-in-hand — towards the crumbled remnants of a building on the outskirts of the clearing that encased them, tucked away in a weathered grove whose spindly limbs whirled into a heaping clump like embattled boxers. In their desperate dash, the duo weasled their way through a frenzied mess of villainous mannequins, dodging their heavy swings and ducking away from stray arrows. Jax used his body as if it were a weapon itself, slamming into his adversaries with the brunt of his pauldron and knocking them on the side of their lacquered, hardwood heads with the knuckles of his gauntlet.

In the hot hysteria and utter pandemonium of battle, the cacophony of violent cries, the smashing of swords, and the writhing of mannequins in the formless pit of shadowy night, Jax let go of Pomni’s hand to wrest his longsword from its scabbard. He sought her out once again, focusing his unadjusted eyes on the silhouette of the structure just beyond, yet saw nothing. He lost her, and was completely alone. This was a fact he had been forced to come to terms with many times now. However, he had no time to reflect upon his predicament as a mannequin came storming out from behind a blindspot in Jax’s helmet. 

The knight turned just in time to parry a strike from its scythe, sweeping it effortlessly to the side and exposing the bandit’s entire body to his thirsty blade. He swiped across the wooden torso of his enemy in a blurry, seamless rage, chopping clean through its middle. The mannequin lurched back a few steps, teetering in a stunned daze, struggling to plant their feet on solid ground before splitting in half like sliced bread. Jax turned his attention back to the dilapidated pile of ruins that Pomni was leading him to. If she would be anywhere, it was there. He started to sprint with as much avid persistence as his tank of steel plates would allow, right before a mighty barrage of bright, starry sparks and flares of bursting light knocked him asunder. 

The rabbit caught himself with his hands, refusing to roll over back onto the ground where a murderous horde of thieves would surely pounce upon him. Driven purely by a flurry of barbaric instinct, Jax held his sword by the blade and lunged the crossguard behind him in a dire bid to fend off this unseen attacker. The sound of buckling of timber crunched through the din of brutal combat that permeated all around, and the rabbit swiveled on his knees to find that the clubbed pommel of his sword had shattered the wooden joints of his enemy, right at the base of its knee. The injured raider tried to hobble away on the nub of their good leg, yet Jax hoisted his crossguard above his head and bludgeoned his adversary with the end of his pommel until they stopped moving for good, a mere mess of lumber fragments like battered bark were strewn across the ground in place of a head.

The knight stood over his vanquished opponent while winded, violent huffs fought for each exhausted breath in his body. He marched onward — unrelenting — his colossal stride shaking the earth beneath him. Not once did he turn his visor on anything other than the degraded dwelling drawing nearer with every step. An arrow whizzed past his head, shooting into the messy fray where the other members of their party were engaged like cosmic paladins warring in an endless feud on the edge of a dying galaxy — tossing up stardust and nebulous kindling into the oily abyss. 

Jax lifted his sword, shielding it across his body in a meager attempt to block any incoming projectile. Another arrow issued forth, throttling towards him with the swiftness of a divine messenger carrying an edict of holy wrath. The rabbit closed his eyes, ready to brace whatever came. The only thing that arrived was a grating scratch and a hard collision across the rim of his armored shoulder that made him falter in his lumbering tracks. The dart had just glanced off his pauldron, and nothing more. This time, he could see exactly where the shot came from: atop the parapet of a dilapidated, crooked spire that overlooked his decrepit destination. 

Jax witnessed the shooter draw back their bowstring and pull another arrow from their quiver. This measly assailant took aim, priming a piece of fletching into the notch of their weapon, before a small bolt from down below hissed as silent as an owl and wedged itself into the neck of the mannequin, who clutched at its wound helplessly before limply falling from grace. Pomni’s hat fluttered between a hulking arched entryway on the grounds of the decaying site in front of them, her crossbow aimed upwards at the spire. 

Her silhouette turned to look back at the knight who was still a ways off, and she quickly disappeared inside the eroding gate of a toppled tower, whose stone wall was lopsided with overthrown bricks that cluttered the soil. Jax lumbered forward, his sword swinging by his side. There was no other obstacle blocking his path, and when he entered the ruins everything in this graveyard of noble rock and rubble was shrouded in a sheet of silence. 

Even the far-off dissonance of shrill shrieks and scraping blades in the midst of their savage havoc could not pierce the sanctity of this languid sanctuary, as if it had been amputated from the rest of the drudgery and vice that infected everything else for miles around. Weathered blocks of stone were submerged in the spoiled turf, as if the sprawling roots of the forest were dragging them down into the suffocating soil. Tall, vaulted windows that would have glimmered with elaborate glass were gutted of their vanity, empty husks of their glorious prime. The ceiling had collapsed long ago, with the remains of its mighty beams jutting out on their whittled stems like an exposed ribcage. The once grand columns with their snarling gargoyle sentinels now appeared more like Atlas feebly holding up the remnants of a world that was already slipping through his fingers. In this behemoth’s skeleton, Jax followed Pomni’s prints in an uninterrupted, unbroken line straight to the tower she knelt beneath. He barely lifted his head from the ground, entirely focused on reuniting with her — who knows what trouble she could have found while venturing out by herself. How foolish could she really be to break off from her only companion? 

The knight scoured his fleeting thoughts for answers when the screech of a blade grinding against coarse stone made his ears perk to attention. Two mannequins crept towards him, crouched with a wary, pugnacious stride like crawling concrete. Jax wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword with the stubbornness of iron tongs, cocking his arm back with his weapon outstretched and boots planted firmly in the earth like a cornered animal. This time, there would be no more running, no more hiding, and absolutely no surrender. Whatever you do, the only way out is through. FIGHT. 

He lunged like a lion at the first marauder, who parried his stroke with the tip of their halberd. This enemy responded in turn with a sweep at Jax’s legs, yet it was intercepted by the rabbit’s boot as he caught the base of their polearm, cracking it in half underneath his heel. With his opponent thrown off balance by the sudden snap of their handle, waving drunkenly like a tottering windmill, the knight countered with a thrust that stuck the point of his sword right through the mannequin’s chest. It keeled over, those once flailing arms now swaying like a finely tuned pendulum as he dropped to the ground. 

Jax ripped his blade out from the gaping wound in the vanquished doll’s chest, whirling around as soon as it was pulled free to face his other attacker. The rabbit was met with a swipe at his side. The villain’s weapon clanged against his plate armor and thrashed against an exposed sheet of chainmail. Jax reeled back, his hip wincing with a dozen thudding bites from the hit. He took a good look into the eyes of his sworn foe. This mere mercenary cowered behind a drab shield, all of its warm paint worn and faded due to years of service in countless wars. A mail coif covered their head, tapering around the bottom of their neck. The shimmer from a crescent billhook reflected off of their gruffly grained face. A stoic, barren pair of painted eyes stared back at the knight with centers of such a sunken swarthiness that they looked more like gouged holes. A faint, miniscule dot served as its mouth, condemning the mannequin to an eternity of perpetual wonderment and nothing more.

Liberating this husk from its bleak, dismal digital agony could only be a mercy. Jax rebounded from his shaken momentum, boiling over with a storm of sacred wrath as he lifted the longsword against his meekly guarded opponent. His first blow slammed against the battered shield, sending a shower of splintered shards flying upon impact from sheer ferocity alone. The rabbit did not yield. As soon as he dislodged his longsword from where it was caught under a mess of tattered timber, he continued bashing the raider’s resilient barrier with a series of overhead strikes until it was nothing but a pile of sharp shavings. 

Heave, swing. Raise, crush. Lift, destroy. 

His opponent was not given a single opportunity to defend themselves again before capitulating to the utter onslaught. With the pitiful shield completely shattered, Jax gave the raider a swift kick to its logged stomach, making the fiend stumble against a pillar and crash into its stone supports. Utterly defeated and without any will to pick itself back up, the last thing to ever grace this mannequin’s eyes was the looming shadow of Jax’s sword as it cleaved into his wooden head. 

The tower, with its sagging bulwark of moss splotched boulders, was mere inches away from the rabbit as he became unruffled from the ruthless, sanguine stupor that possessed him. As he traipsed into the doorway, he was soon confounded by the dilemma that there was only one set of stairs — winding downwards instead of climbing to the battlements as custom often dictated. Jax descended, undeterred in his quest to find Pomni. As usual, the jester’s perseverance never wavered, much to his growing distress. 

Yet, in this moment of crisis she could use all the help she could get, right? As he lost sight of the walls that enclosed around him, shutting slowly like a pair of sleepy eyelids and spiraling down into the yawning maw of an insatiable beast, even his own sword dissipated into a lightless mist of coal clouds. The brave marshal brushed his gauntlet against the walls, the jarring rasp of tempered metal against rough brick resonating through the passage. An antique, stiff miasma wafted through his path, filling his mouth with the taste of stale death. 

As he turned a corner in this grotesque underground labyrinth, a torch snapped to life at the end of the corridor, washing the drab walls in crisp, feisty firelight. Jax could see Pomni bathed in its meek glimmer, talking to someone — to a mannequin — one of the same bandits on the road that took them by surprise. A storm of thundering inquiries welled within Jax, impulsive doubt shot through his puzzled head like lightning. Just as he opened his mouth to call out and end their secretive parlay, the knight felt his paws fall out from under him, while his bascinet rattled like the peal of a summer tempest. 

Jax collapsed in his suit like a hunk of granite tossed from a cliffside, his vision swam as if it were doused in a smear of grease. A cold, grainy hand splayed with thin splinters hoisted him up to his knees, the icy iron spikes of a mace pressed his head to the side. The torch’s tingling blaze — once so distant — began gradually closing in, reflecting off of his dirtied armor like it was riddled with thousands of jewels instead of putrid muck. 

Pomni stood right in front him, her dagger pushed against the throat of the mannequin she was conversing with. Trapped between the lustrous blade and Pomni’s arm that held them to her waist, the bandit called out in a frightened, quivering voice. 

“Please! This wasn’t the arrangement we had,” the miscreant squealed. “I didn’t say anything to the sheriff, you have my word!” 

“Be quiet,” Pomni chastised. “If I want you to say something I’ll let you know. Now, let my friend go.” 

Even in the midst of his splitting headache, with the back of his skull throbbing like it had a heartbeat of its own, Jax had enough clarity left to realize this was their target — the very reason for their journey into the ghastly Witled Wood. With the prisoner now in their custody, surely they could question them and discover the rest of the festering hideout, leaving this horrid place behind. If only that were so. 

“But we’re all friends here, aren’t we?” The raider that held Jax at mace-point broke its silence. “Nobody else has to get hurt here today, just leave us in peace.”

Jax was growing more baffled by the second. Why do they all sound so friendly all of a sudden? These scumbags tried to kill us a few minutes ago. 

“We were never friends. Whatever ‘arrangement’ you thought we had was just another part of the game. I needed to do our King a favor,” Pomni admitted solemnly. 

The jester’s captive squirmed under the wavering shadow of her weapon. “What about the promise you made? We made a deal with our master to help you in return for the — “

“Don’t. You. Dare,” Pomni warned.

“ — the memories. Just like the ones you were supposed to get by winning the game — by assassinating that old King of yours!” 

Jax’s entire being imploded into a smoldering pyre, the logs of his sanity burning away with every word that was revealed, his fragile mask reduced to cinder as it spread to each limb. His eyes pumped from their sockets like searing geysers, his teeth chattered and ground against one another like monolithic tectonic plates, magma turned his brain to basalt and poured into his veins. 

Pomni saw his desperate distress, her negotiations breaking down into a gilded, pacifying plea for his own sake. “Jax, don’t listen —” 

“ — To her.” A rush of impossibly lifeless, frigid wind tickled the back of the rabbit’s neck, as if it was carried from the sunless banks of Styx itself. All sensation within him was seized as a towering presence lurked close behind, and he recognized its mystical, frosty effusion all too well. Jax could feel her silken emerald cloak caress his shoulder along the margins of its wavy trim. Her spangled eyes like virulent, vortex galaxies prodded his downtrodden face. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. This is quite the mess you’ve found yourself in, isn’t it? You sure seem a little worse for wear.” 

Jax didn’t lift his head, the visor that concealed his face remained fixed to the floor. 

“So is it true?” he finally managed to utter. 

“I see this revelation has already darkened your vision. How much does it matter to you?” Ribbit spoke in a gargled tremor, as if her voicebox was merely a loudspeaker quickly filling with water. To Jax, it only sounded like a cherished piece of her was slipping away with the tide, the imprint of her in the sand smoothed over with each forgetful wave. 

“Can you just speak to me normally for once? I’m losing my patience with your riddles.” 

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Ribbit scoffed with a hint of defective, incoherent sarcasm. “Have you ever wondered why your little trick with the map didn’t go to plan? Why was it that when you marked this devilish crypt far away in the calm, eastern foothills, hoping that your friends would choose the more lively option and be misled — she still found a way to bring you here — where it really was, in the Wilted Wood.” 

Jax feigned a ponderous demeanor. “Maybe she just really wanted to question the prisoner. Have you ever thought about that?” 

Just as suddenly as these words left his mouth, the knight felt a sheet of cold iron snap under his chin, lurching his head up to meet Ribbit’s eyes. He gawked at her, wide-eyed fear submerging every corner of his gaze. She held the stem of her double-headed axe under his jaw, keeping it steady so that Jax couldn’t move his head an inch without looking right through her. Forced to behold this spectral frog, the rabbit could see that her mask of gnarled bark had grown to the other half of her face, winding around her outline as if it were the convulsed hand of an agonized nymph trying to wrench the coveted jade color from her face. These tortured, twisted roots curved around the top of Ribbit’s sylvan crown, making her appear more like a majestic markhor steeped in mystery or an ornery oryx who conversed solely in secrets. The frog lifted her axe slightly, just enough to make Jax’s head tilt higher until she was satisfied with the view. She emitted a type of beauty that was so incomprehensible it could only terrify.  

“Next time, you will think before you speak,” she instructed. “I’ll make this as clear as I possibly can. You wanted to lead them away from here — to shutter up the power in this crypt with your own two hands, and for what? So you could have a better chance to win your little ‘game’? You never considered the fact that your partner-in-crime already knew it was here. All she had to do was hide her true intentions and lead your troupe into this neck of the woods — then boom. Game over.” 

“I never knew what was down here!” Jax protested vehemently. 

“But you must have felt it, didn’t you? You could feel it drawing you in, whispering tender promises into those long ears of yours — just like I do.” 

“That doesn't change anything. I never would’ve let her get one step closer to this place if I found out.” The wound on Jax’s forehead began to surge with a pyroclastic heat. 

“And yet, she found out for herself. I know the sway she holds over you. How she strings you along on a tight leash and makes you perform. I wonder, do you really know how hard she’s trying to help you? Do you know how much you’re failing her?” Ribbit reached down in between the knight’s armored thigh, pulling out a spotless daisy that glittered like a harvest moon suspended in the backdrop of cruel night. Its petals glinted like the rays of a star ready to burst at the seams. 

“Where… where’d you get that?” Jax stuttered imploringly, a little thrown off course. 

She ignored his question, spinning the flower between her fingers. 

“Cute. I’d say she’s really starting to care about you. But I know that’s probably the last thing you want, look at how I turned out.” Her voice quivered like a thousand volts of electricity all firing at once, smothered in a cascade of water that cut through channels of dying conduits along its surface. 

“You’ve never looked better to me,” he whispered imperceptibly under his breath. “Was going through all of that worth it for my sake?” 

Ribbit thought hard, then without another wasted word she crunched the daisy in her palm, grinding it in her hand. 

“Not when you’re forgetting the sound of my voice, and all that you see when you look at me are the parts that are crossed out on my door. Do you even remember what my other eye used to look like before it was marked off with that red ‘X’? 

I remember, at the very least, the way your lashes fluttered in the sparkling sunlight — or what we thought was the sun. 

“I could never erase the thought of you.”

“Then let me show you.” Ribbit peeled off one half of her pestilent barked husk that writhed across her face, revealing a dark, starving stain that sputtered and thumped like a gash sliced out of Heaven itself, consuming everything around it. A riotous clump of eyes blinked back at him in the endless oblivion like the speckled scales of trout when they swim to the water’s edge. The reflection from her opalescent strobes danced across the thin, wet layer of Jax’s pupils like a siren’s song. 

“You’re… you’re not supposed to be real. You’re not supposed to be here. Not like this,” Jax muttered hysterically.

“This whole time, did you think I was just a dream — a little fly in the back of your memory to annoy the patience out of you? Let me tell you what a memory is: it is a flood of all that pain, all that loss, of every bitter moment you spent trying to scrub it away only for the mark to dig deeper into your clothes. Regret and remorse churn like a nauseating whirlpool in your stomach before rising back up your throat, all at once. That’s what she’s trying to do to you — you’re nothing but a frog in a pot of hot water, and this whole time she’s been stoking the fire slowly … slowly … until finally it’s too late.” 

“And I’m guessing you need me to stop her,” Jax listened carefully to every word. 

“You don’t want to boil alive, do you? And remember, you have a promise to uphold. You can’t do that if I’m gone. If she’s able to get your memories back, you won’t need me anymore — you won’t need the Circus.” 

“How can I know you’re telling me the truth? What if Caine made you just to toy with me and get into my head?” 

“Do you need to feel me just to know that I’m real? Is your faith not enough?” Ribbit picked up his gauntlet, gingerly pulling it off so all that remained were his violet hands. No steel joints, no sharp and jagged ends — only him and his delicate, raw skin. She coiled her fingers around his, wistfully guiding him to a spot just under her rib — where her draconic lamellar breastplate tapered together like rows of feathers. Jax pressed down just underneath one of her armored scales, and for a small second he thought he could touch her again. She was colder than he remembered, but he swore that a part of her — far within — was rising and falling with calm breaths, even the dense curve of her bones that ascended alongside each inhale thawed under his hand. 

The rhythm made him feel safe for once, as if he didn’t have to keep looking behind his back at every moment. Even though the warmth had left her, a part of his own body that he couldn’t quite place began to swell with a soft spark; like getting tucked into a fleece blanket that hides all of your tired limbs. A meek hum emanated from the spot, gradually roaring louder until it shook Jax’s hand into a cloudy mist and rattled the depths of his steel plates. The digital droning grew into a piercing shriek, warbling like a wounded sparrow and rustling morbidly with the shrill trill of a tattered guitar being strummed with ripped strings. The knight refused to move his hand away. 

“I wonder if you know what faith is?” Ribbit mumbled, yet her voice was now clear as day. “It’s putting your trust in something that could do nothing but hurt you, hate you, and after suffering for so long you still won’t have enough dignity to witness its glorious face. Faith is choosing to gamble all hope on anything other than ourselves because we can’t bear the sight of our own image. Faith is a sprouting seedling that begs the mighty oak to lend it a few shards of the Sun. How foolish is that sprig who has tasted nothing but dirt — asking to be let out of the shade by a beast that has grown fond of feasting on light. Tell me, Jax, do you have such little faith in me? Or do you just envy what I have become?” 

“I have always trusted you, I have always been loyal to you — and I want nothing more than to be with you — but I will not be you.”

“Then pick up the sword, before you fall on it. I gave it to you for a reason. Are you going to run away again, or are you going to grow your wings and fight, my little bee, because your queen is about to be smothered,” Jax looked down at the hilt of his sword, which beckoned to him like a lamp lures a moth. He saw Pomni struggling to keep a hold of the mannequin that was squirming under her chokehold grip. She could lose her leverage at any moment. 

“Burn like the stars. Be the brightest one in the sky. Do you remember that adventure I wrote for us? We were supposed to lay under the constellations together, just like how they are at home. I never got to see it, but maybe now I’ll be able to, if you can be brave.” 

Without a second thought, Jax swiped at the legs of the mace-wielding raider who kept him captive on his knees, climbing on top of them with nimble ease and grasping for his longsword. 

“There you are,” Ribbit praised. “Let me see all of that wrath inside of you, let your fury take control like it’s supposed to. There is nothing else you can do, because the only way out now is through. Everything will taste so much sweeter when you accept your fate, all you need is hate … hate … HATE.” 

Jax plunged his sword into the mannequin. The blade bored agonizingly slow into its chest until those creaky wooden legs ceased to spasm. More clacking of timbered clogs rushed down the staircase, clomping ever closer and echoing louder off the grim walls. Four mannequins turned the same corner that Jax had crossed mere moments before, and there, among the decaying ossuaries and festering tombs of discarded bones littered with the residual vapor of incense smoke, four more bodies were laid to rest and fell into the jaws of death.

————————————————————————————————————————

When Pomni held her blade against the bandit’s throat, all that she could see was Jax pummeled onto his stomach and the rasp of his armor as it skidded along the ground in front of her. His head tottered like a fisherman’s hook suspended in a tormentous river, his body heaved against the mail shirt that clung to him like a thousand engorged leeches, waiting for any light, live-giving gust to fill its drained emptiness. 

Then, everything about him was still. He  was motionless for longer than she would’ve tolerated in any other circumstance, not even a light hiss between his lips could be heard in the dying deafness of the crypt. First, she focused on an area just behind his visor, where his eyes were slowly churning like conch shells on the sea floor, locked in an arcane daze. A barely coherent waterfall of whispers cascaded out of his helmet, splashing and frothing violently with each shivering syllable that wrested itself from his concealed mouth. 

That’s when it started. Beams of pearl laced light streamed out from the slits in his visor like rosy rows of cathedral glass, filtering through his helmet like secrets of celestial apertures. His captor was overpowered with a ferocious, almost mechanical precision. The glint from Jax's eyes showered down on the helpless bandit with bejeweled rays, growing brighter and burning faster with an indifferent rage that sucked the life from its unfeeling eyes. Pomni clutched her dagger closer to her own mannequin’s neck, scraping against the outskirts of its polished wooden skin, grazing thin cuts into its thick stem as her mind drifted off into a medley of terrified tremors and tempting awe. 

When four other scoundrels followed the trail of their departed comrade, they doubled back, shuffling over their feet before Jax charged. The more courageous of the bunch lifted his hatchet in a parry, yet the rabbit chopped right through it. The bandit slumped to the ground, their arms twitching in a final attempt for their body to try and deny that reality had left. Whoever remained converged all at once, sealing the schism between this gruesome knight and the fleeting prospect of survival. All it did was quicken the pace of their own inevitable demise. Jax blocked each reckless, blind stab — splattering sparks through the murky air of the mausoleum and crossing his sword effortlessly to meet each furious strike. He twirled the blade with an otherworldly type of loathing, slicing through its mark without wasting a single stroke. His shimmering amethyst eyes streaked over the walls like the plumes of a berserking hoplite — pouring into the bodies of the mannequins he chipped into shreds and skewered against the wall, pooling onto their fear smudged faces like a wavy oil slick that they would never be able to wash off. 

A divine squall of depravity radiated from the depths of his berserking body, pealing from between his visor like hot lightning coursing through sated storm-clouds and clapping like vicious thunder in the choked sky. Jax’s enemies laid before him in a twisted heap. He stepped over them like fetid litter strewn across the dirt and halted his mechanically fiendish stride right in front of Pomni. The bandit in her grasp kneeled with its poorly sketched mouth agape, quivering uncontrollably, yet not even a cry for help could come out. Pomni drove her dagger into the mannequin’s neck. A thick, sappy river of resin trickled from out of its wound — leaking onto her powdery plush gloves and careening down the sides of her arms, splotching her tunic with the syrupy mess that spilled from their throat. 

Jax had no more strength left to lift his sword, he had no room in his caving chest to breathe. He collapsed like a lead weight onto the ground. Pomni drooped in front of him, the point of her dagger aimed right at his chest, the slits of his visor shone through her like a morning angel locked in a prison cell. She embraced him, wrapping around his cold steel. Her sticky hands clenched the base of his helmet as she eased it off him, letting it clatter to the ground. The jester’s resin covered hands cradled the back of his head, matting his fur and muddling his silky skin with amber smears. Pomni thought she would never want to touch someone in this way again — that she would never reconcile with this type of closeness. Despite her guarded apprehension, something about it felt right about Jax, especially in this moment. He needed her more than ever, and she was going to make him see that he was worth the effort — that he was worth the cost of any desolate discomfort she used to harbor for this kind of intimacy. Holding him felt as natural as birdsong heralding the early morning sunrise. The only time she wasn’t appalled by her own reflection was when she saw it in his eyes. 

“Hey, you’re ok. Come back, Jax, please. You’re safe now,” she pleaded into his floppy ears. 

Jax lulled his face into her chest, ruffling the threads of her velvet tunic as he nudged into her, causing clumps of golden molasses that daubed her clothes to drizzle onto his cheeks.

Her hands moved down to the back of her breastplate, running down each dent and canyon like she was studying every inch of his cartography. She left a pair of maple pockmarked prints on his armor, drawing her own unique sigil on his tough cocoon shell —- the exact one he felt so trapped in. 

“Snap out of it, come on. We can make it out together. You’ve made it this far, hold out for me if not for yourself.” 

His digital parasite was defiant, encoding charming vows that bounced in his bascinet, rendering maladies of gilded incantations into his caustic mind. It was only a matter of time before that amalgamation of orphic reflections — striped across his skin like clusters of stardust — would take over. 

Do it. Stay here with me. Finish it. She’s taking you away. The bewitching murmurs funneled through his cluttered thoughts like sand through a sieve. Time was ticking, the hourglass was soon running out of grains.  

“Please stay. This was all for you, and I’ll never stop looking until I find you — until you see how you mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I can’t do this without you.” She squeezed him closer, trying to assimilate every ounce of his suffering. 

Jax’s eyes started to dim, the rays that split his vision into a thousand astral fragments finally set behind the horizon. His touch became warm embers once again, his fur scratched like cashmere bristles against the arms that held him upright. You’re back — You fought your way back just for me. 

“That’s it,” she rubbed her hands delicately against the back of the rabbit’s head, guiding him back into reality’s soothing bed. “Come with me now, and don’t you dare look back.” 

“I’m right beside you,” Jax answered back hoarsely. However, Pomni didn’t seem to mind. It was undeniably his voice, his own thoughts creating the words, his own lips pushing them out in spite of the pain. They were whole and unequivocally him, not abstract in any sense of the term. “Let’s just get out of here.” 

The pair walked back up the staircase and out of the crypt. Pomni wrapped her arm around Jax’s shoulders for him to use as a crutch while he limped up each frigid step. As the silver sheen of deep night outstretched its ghostly hands, welcoming them back into the living world, Jax couldn’t help but turn and take one last look behind him. In that dark, dead pit, the knight swore he could hear her laughter resonating off the walls, the same kind that used to wash over him like setting sunlight on snowmelt, brightening the last vestiges of his dwindling soul as it sank below the horizon. For a fleeting second, he thought she was going to crawl out of that underworld right on his heels. She always did — for him. 

Back on soft ground, Pomni led Jax to a wooden bench in the center of the ruins that surrounded the crypt. The discordant rumbling of battle had long simmered down into a peaceful hibernation, with other members of the party picking through a pile of discarded weapons and taking a moment to rest after the struggle. The rabbit was lowered down onto a sturdier part of the bench, as its companions which lined the row just beside him had long been swallowed up by the earth’s greedy ivy fingers and rotted into its well-fed roots. 

“Let’s take a look at the damage to my precious goods,” Pomni joked, stirring away some of the thick tension that lingered in the aftermath of any feral fight. 

She found a region right above his eyebrow that was bruised as red as a robin’s chest, a thin trail of blood around the edge of a deep gash in the center of it had started escaping down next to his exhausted eyes. She instinctually patted it dry with the back of her glove, which was still caked in her kill’s glossy sap. This move earned a flinch from Jax, who shuddered a little from her touch. 

“Hey, be careful. That spot still hurts,” he cautioned.

“Don’t worry, I got you. Just let me work my magic here,” reassured Pomni. She took out a roll of twine from her satchel, biting a suitably sized piece off. 

“You’re not going to tie me up with that tiny thing are you?” Jax quipped, somewhat settling back into his old, usual self. 

“Can it, you dork. The less you speak right now the better.” Pomni held her dagger between her teeth, scanning the extent of his wound. “This might hurt a little, but I know you’re strong enough to handle it.” 

She gave him no time to protest, swiftly snipping together the edges of his broken skin and surgically poking her dagger into its soft layers. Jax winced, watching the blade above him sting into his brow. Despite it all, he trusted her, and he would follow her down whatever path she led him down, no matter what risks and torturous injury lurked around each corner. She was worth any stab and blunt blow, and somewhere within him knew that she would stay beside him through it all. She threaded the string through his punctures, tying the wound together with overlapping stitches while Jax watched her patch his soreness, smothering the pangs that oozed from his cut. 

A part of him became whole again when she finished. He could only feel the pressure of his sewn skin pushing against an aching scar, her careful latticework acting as a dam against a torrent of rushing agony, covering up any breached cracks in his foundation. She was quite used to repairing whatever was broken about him, whether for better or worse. Sometimes it worried her just how much of his vulnerability had been left in the open, waiting to be found. How long would it take before he lost himself — before she couldn’t recognize him from how much he had changed. Would he help her in turn, if she asked? Had he really followed her into the crypt to save her, or end her? How much more mercy could she show before it turned into a poison, how much could his spirit take before it was overcome and suffocated by her mending bandages? 

“You’re as good as new, Bun,” Pomni snipped the ends of her twine, rubbing his bruise with the serenity of a sedative salve. She noticed a large cleft in the middle of his armor, tarnished with a craggy and hollow crater by the mannequin’s spear that sent Jax tumbling off his horse when the melee first began. Wrapping around his waist, she started unraveling the straps of his breastplate to examine any other harm that could’ve come his way.

“Woah hey there, I don’t need any help with this part, I can do it myself,” Jax tried to slide back defensively. 

“Stop being so stubborn, I can handle it better than you can right now,” Pomni retorted. The knight conceded rather gruffly, turning his head to the side as she twirled the leather binds of his armor, undoing them without complaint. She sensed a bit of suppressed reluctance in his avoidance — each swivel of his eyes dashing away from her own betrayed that he was holding something back, or even worse, hiding from her. 

“You know — I was being sincere about everything I said down there. You were the first one I thought about when I looked for a way out. You can’t stay here and you know it.” Pomni’s tone stoked a pile of warm coals within Jax, his pupils melting and pooling across his eyes like warm tallow. 

“Are we really going to start harping on about this now,” Jax grunted, obviously annoyed.

“We have to. You’re not going to shutter yourself away like you always do.” 

“What’s the point? It all leads nowhere. Maybe after a while, when you realize how useless this wild goose chase of yours is, you’ll want to stay here too — maybe you’ll even start to like it here.”

“I’m sorry,” Pomni breathed out with a slight croak. “I could never be like you.” 

Jax’s eyes started to swirl like hurricanes, roiling backwards into his head until they were mere rain clouds. “Well, I’m glad to know where we both stand. I never understood why you think this place is so bad anyway. Look at what we just did together, didn’t you have fun playing your character?” 

“We are in Hell, Jax. Anything I do at this point is for my survival, so that I don’t slip further down into another circle of pure torture.” 

“Hell is what you make of it. Maybe you should work on a more positive mindset.” 

“So do you like how the flames feel? Do you like the way the abyss stares back at you when you start drowning under that swarm of diseased eyes stuck to your skin? Do you see hers in the mix, calling out to you? You’ll never be able to peel them off unless you escape.”

“After a while, you don’t really feel much of anything. It’s an important part of the beauty in this place, one day it will find you too. Just give it time.” His gaze dilated, almost warping the edges of his eyelids like an all-consuming black hole. 

“I don’t understand why you bother trying to lie anymore,” Pomni accused, seeing straight through him — as was tradition at this point. “Your pain doesn’t make you more noble, it only makes your wounds bleed more. You must be mad if you think I’ll spend another day here.” 

“Oh, but we’re all mad here, aren’t we,” Jax mused, stretching out his widest grin. 

“So you decided to stay in Hell. Can I ask why?” 

Because you’re the only eternity I need.

“I’m just here to have fun! You should really try it sometime. We get our bread and circuses from Caine and that’s all I really need.”

Pomni finished undoing the last piece of his breastplate, tearing it off with sizzling frustration. “The bread is stale and the ringmaster is missing from his own Circus.” 

Close yourself up. Pinch the stitches tighter around your scars. Keep everything shut. Don’t let her see.

Jax turned away from the subject, not wanting to speculate about Caine’s absence. It would only rouse more paranoia in his unsteady nerves. 

“How’d you find out about these memories anyway? You knew exactly where to find them,” he inquired, conveniently maneuvering to another topic.

“It’s funny that you ask that,” Pomni shuffled her hands through the inside of his chainmail. “When I shot you, actually. That’s when I saw it. An avalanche of little bits and pieces from my past rained down on me. Some of it was from the Circus, some of it from here, and even of things to come — memories that were supposed to be erased. That’s what led me here.” 

Pomni reached down into the center of his coat, right where his gambeson was layered between those interwoven iron rings. She pried something small and smooth out into the open air, gleaming like gold. That’s when Jax saw it. A key dangled above his face. Pomni observed it pensively, giving special attention to the dark, violent streaks that spliced across its surface like a tiger’s coat. These were burn marks, which could only be caused by a great clash — in this case from sparks. Jax’s mind whirled back to the first chaotic moments of battle that latched to his mind. The mannequin. The spear. Falling from his horse. He was supposed to be impaled where he laid. It was the key that bore the brunt of the blow. It saved him — her key saved him. Pomni held it up for him to see clearly. 

“It’s strange if you think about it,” the jester contemplated. “You can unlock any door you want, yet you refuse to open your own.” 

“Hey, how did that — “ Jax’s pressing interrogation was cut short by a pained whimper, as his body finally started catching up with the scrape he sustained to his chest. Pomni’s key could only do so much against a pointed tip of wrought steel, diving towards his body with the hushed ferocity of a peregrine falcon. Still, it was better than the alternative outcome. 

“You can hide a lot of things in armor, and it’s especially easy once those big plates come off you. I might’ve taken the liberty while you slept last night.” 

“Since when did I say you could touch my stuff? I kept my keys hidden for a reason,” Jax reprimanded.

“It was my property first, before you stole it. I think I put it to better use anyway, you little thief.” 

The knight tried to fire back with another retort, but the needles prickling his chest had other ideas. He wheezed down back onto the bench, his heart pumping against the misery in his middle as if it was about to be liberated from his flesh at any moment. 

“Just stay down,” Pomni strictly implored. “I have something that might help.” She clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms like she was molding balls of dough. 

When she opened them, a burst of sunlight fluttered out on four weightless, hypnotic wings. Jax stared up in silent awe as the butterfly flitted towards his chest, leaving behind a trail of bright golden powder in its wake, as pollen might shake off the most colorful flower in the field. It landed soundlessly on his wound, an effusion of dawn’s rays blossoming from every trace of broken and tender skin. 

The rabbit’s fur tingled with a thousand warming volts, a cacophony of jolting fuses like electrical wires buzzing through his body as his injury closed and those deeply infused bruises were whisked away on divinely floating filaments. With its work dutifully complete, the butterfly dissipated into a flurry of star choked snow, its wings fell apart into shimmering specks of sugar on radiant waves that twirled in the dismal air of the ruins. Pomni watched as a few of these twinkling remnants banded together into a clump on Jax’s gauntlet, landing near an exposed opening between a pair of plates that shielded his knuckle. When their extravagant luster fizzled out, she saw something else — more solid, more metallic — coiled around Jax’s index finger; trying to break out from its armored nest with glistening, blinding streaks like smelted iron in a desperate appeal to anyone who would notice. 

Pomni’s entire frame froze like tempered silver. She promptly stood up, wiping her gloves in turbulent thought. 

“This place used to be a chapel you know,” she piped up, taking a turn around the rubble half-buried in the encroaching earth. “People used to worship a being higher than themselves here; more virtuous and honest than they could ever hope to be.” 

“From the looks of it, none of their prayers were ever answered,” Jax noted, scrolling his head around the pile of debris. All that remained intact was as an oculus peering down the scraps of a curved antechamber, with the art on its arched ceiling long faded into a dull scab, their now faceless saints guarding a holy reliquary long deserted. The cloak of somber night seeped through the dome with its black tassels like those deathful currents which stirred Charon’s ferry. 

“At least they had someone to ask. Tell me, Jax, do you remember who we should be praying to?” 

He could only stare up at her with glowing, fluorescent monitors for eyes, overrun with enough devotion to rupture the firmament itself. He clasped her key, combing over its ridges like a rosary, reciting her name on the verge of his lips until they turned numb — until he could only recognize it by the scratch of her syllables in his throat. Jax had never felt so close to God, yet so far from Heaven. 

“Have we been abandoned? Are we meant to be forgotten, and to forget everything we’ve known?” Pomni walked back to Jax, who was kneeling on the bench where she left him, silent all but for his ashen eyes anointing every inch of her reverent being

“That’s good enough for me,” Jax answered. “I can’t think of anything that deserves to be remembered.” 

Liar. Don’t try and deceive yourself. It all comes back up eventually.

Pomni swiped at his gauntlet, tearing it clean off his hand. The warm glint of his hidden trinket broke into the room like a shattering meteor. A band of solid gold was attached to his index finger, with Cainia's coat of arms stamped into its middle. It was a signet ring — one only meant for a King. 

The jester’s bells stopped swinging. Not even the slightest tinker from their hollow shells could be heard. 

It’s you. It’s always been you. 

“Who are you really?” Pomni asked shakily, with more sincerity than she ever hoped to show. 

Jax was paralyzed, stricken to his very core with the portentous urge to run — the alarms from his beating heart blaring in his ears. He knew when he was caught. 

“I am what you made me.” 

In one rapid motion, Pomni’s hand lowered to the hilt of her dagger. She imagined a hundred different ways she could drive it into his chest, or dispatch him quickly with a slash to the throat. At this point, mercy didn’t matter; especially when cruelty was the only other outcome. 

A procession of footsteps into the dying chapel suddenly restrained her hand. 

“Pomni? Jax? We’re all packing up and getting ready to ride for the castle. Are you guys good over here?” Ragatha’s voice rang out concernedly. 

Pomni’s grip on the blade loosened, although her hand still hovered warily over its holster like a tiger sprung on its heels. The rabbit’s breathing was statuesque and carefully calculated. His eyes tilted in downturned anticipation, waiting for her next move. 

“We’re just finishing up here. I’ll be right behind you.” Pomni held out her palm to Jax, the same one that was just brandishing the instrument of his undoing. “Get up, and give me your sword.” 

“Getting bold are we?” Jax challenged. “What makes you think I’d just hand it over?” 

“Because I can end this little game before you even have a chance to pull it out of the sheath,” Pomni explained, a deadpan expression clouding her face. She turned slightly to the side where Jax had a full view of the brutish dagger, grinning at him with its razored point like an animal bearing its set of spiky teeth. 

“You drive a hard bargain,” Jax swallowed down a slight shudder. He handed over the sword reluctantly, its crossguard sliding seamlessly into Pomni’s waiting grasp. 

“Being cooperative suits you. I wish you were this well-behaved all the time.” 

The jester whistled for Harlie, who beckoned her call with a barrage of stamping hooves. She mounted the horse, extending her outstretched arm for Jax to take. Since Jax’s own ride had bolted at the start of the scuffle, he could either accept her offer or walk through the Wilted Wood — all alone and temptingly vulnerable. 

“Ugh, don’t say anything about this to anyone,” Jax threatened, even though he was clearly in no position to. 

“Whatever you say. Hop up, big guy.”

The knight used her forearm for support, holding onto it for dear life as he settled onto the back of her steed. She moved with every erratic adjustment he made, staying as stoic as a brawny branch holds a weary climber, making sure he wouldn’t fall off. 

“Can we go now?” Jax prodded like a petulant puppy.

“Aren’t you missing something?” 

Jax groaned, bristling with shame. “Can we please go?” 

“That’s more like it. Hold on tight back there.” 

Pomni tapped her boot on the saddle, prompting Harlie to dart off towards the rest of the group who were already trotting down the road. The knight behind her was nearly bucked off from the sudden surge of momentum, and had he not swallowed down his stony resolve in that moment, would have surely tumbled off its back. 

In a spur of self-preservation, he wrapped his arms around Pomni’s waist, latching onto her like the intertwining links of his mail shirt — braided into one harmonious mesh. Pomni felt his unarmored hands clamp down on her hips, pressing down on the sides of her stomach. She smiled softly at the sensation of his gentle touch, just out of his sight’s reach. Even in the midst of his peril, grabbing with listless instinct to keep himself level, he still found a way to treat her with a tamed tenderness. 

It was a shame that such reactions had to be wrenched out of him like this. If only Jax could see the warm delicacy he was capable of when his guard was torn down — when his cold steel exterior melted. Then, he might not have to die in this adventure, and she wouldn’t have to be the one to kill him. He could’ve changed his fate for the better, instead of having to pave his ordained path with treachery. 

____________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VII: The Final Vote

Not a word was spoken between them for the rest of the ride. They traversed the labyrinthine forest, out through the watchful grove of broad-eyed birches, and back onto the swaying moors until the hulking silhouette of the castle speckled with faint sputters of waning torchlight emerged from beyond a frilly knoll. Still cradled snugly to her middle, Jax ruminated over every possible escape route, every door he could open, any hole he could crawl into to make Pomni lose his trail. 

The risks of her victory had far greater implications than any simple game could conjure, it had devolved into a struggle for his own survival. His memory was a special circle of Hell he vowed never to visit again. If Pomni’s dagger struck true, he would claw at every sinew of circus-tent fabric just to linger in its senseless ignorance and thrive in its numb distractions rather than find reason with reality. 

He would yank out the blade if he must, letting his digital blood drip from his chest, letting a string of code augment his pain — if only it allowed him to persist. Pomni, on the other hand, drew up countless stratagems in her head, feeling the tip of her dagger bounce hypnotically at her side. 

The end is inevitable, why can’t he just give in? She thought of every tactic to corner, entrap, isolate, and surround the tricky rabbit, abounding with a cornucopia of grim tricks. He was a target, one that was in the way of the only gift she wanted to reclaim from this Circus. 

Or, was Jax a victim too, just like she is right now? Would it mend her own wounds to trade his life? Could he ever find it in himself to thank or forgive her when — if — they found each other on the outside? Would he even be able to survive it? She had to stay vigilant, and push down these doubts that pelted her conscience like freezing hail. There would be time to reckon with the aftermath, but first she had to make the choice. 

The gate wailed as its guardian grille was hoisted up, screeching against the strained chains that rattled from the battlements. 

The troupe stabled their horses with barely a whisper heard among them. They all followed the charred shadow of the main keep, only becoming aware of the building in the wallowing darkness from the way its perimeter towers peered down like beastly sentries, absorbing every ounce of emptiness in its wake, gouging out the invisible face of deep night. After winding up a parapet of steep helixed steps, Pomni found herself with the others in a familiar place. There was the long, finely grained table with exactly six seats, a heavy colonnade that outlined the nave, and a hearth that was nothing but ashes — tucked away in a corner where the failing glare of mounted sconces couldn’t reach. However, as from the beginning, her fiery eyes were fixed on the throne in the center of it all. 

“Welcome back, my mostly loyal court!” Kinger greeted, briskly exiting his adjacent chamber. “I trust that the prisoner was interrogated and their bandit friends brought to justice?” 

“Well … something along those lines,” Ragatha admitted hesitantly. 

“Whatever do you mean? Surely their hideout was dispersed — and you are here to return the stolen relic to its rightful place,” the monarch insisted, although a slight sinking of his mismatched eyes revealed a misplaced confidence. 

Ragatha gave a drawn out, exhaustive sigh, falling into one of the chairs at the table. A rip in the bodice of her dress, along with scraggly tufts of her woven scarlet hair that split the ends where her locks were dismembered, showcased more to the story than she let on. 

“We ran into some trouble in the woods,” Gangle professed, the slits of her mask curving mournfully, one of her ribbons sagging and slackened at her side. “The bandits managed to find us first.”

“Well it wasn’t really our fault,” Zooble sniveled. “Everything was going according to plan until someone — “

“Hey, don’t you dare pin this on me. If I wasn’t there to help you’d all be toast!" Jax defended himself vehemently. 

“If you weren’t there we wouldn’t be having this squabble in the first place,” Pomni interjected. “But something tells me that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To get in our way — cause a little mayhem.” Let’s see how many buttons I can push until you break. 

“Oh yeah, because I really loved getting stabbed in the chest with a giant meat skewer, you really hit the nail on the head Pom-Pom,” he scoffed sarcastically. 

“Why don’t we just figure out what to do next,” Zooble butted in, absent-mindedly rearranging one of their scraggly plastic arms that was bent during the skirmish. “Being bitter won’t get us anywhere.” 

“You’re right,” Pomni affirmed. “Kinger, as your closest advisor, I think it would be best to declare a palace-wide curfew. Nobody should leave their chambers for any reason tonight.” 

Kinger raised his brow in burdensome contemplation. “Why suggest a measure so extreme? Tell me plainly. What really happened?.” 

She took a preparatory inhale, readying to speak before Jax broke the tense, repressive pall in the air. 

“Have you ever wondered why Pomni knew exactly where the bandits would be tonight? Wasn’t it strange that she practically led us straight to them?” 

The jester clenched her fists under the table, pummeling his armor to scrap metal within the confines of her daydreams. Her eyes became as round as milky saucers, they glowed like lamps ready to break from the bulb.  

“Isn’t it strange how you’re alive right now? You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me!” 

“Then maybe you should’ve let me die. Things would be much easier for you that way.” 

“We both know you’d be too scared.” Her teeth sharpened into rows of craggy barbs, like a shark swimming after their catch. 

“And I know you’re too high and mighty to admit when you’ve failed. You were in charge of this expedition, and you have nothing to show for it. It’s time to reap what you sow.” 

“So what? This is all just a game isn’t it? We’ll get another shot at the assassin,” Pomni dismissed, although the bells on her cap were about to ignite from the heat rushing to her head. 

“You’re right,” Jax tutted. “This is all just a fake little game, another Circus trick. Why don’t we do something fun.” 

“Hm, I wouldn’t mind spicing things up a little,” Kinger pondered. “What did you have in mind, my trusty marshal?” 

“Let’s vote to exile Pomni from her reign as court jester.” 

Pomni’s chest whorled with a sea of cables and wiry cords that started to ram against her modemed memory. It would be a shame to start slipping now, spilling ever farther into the cracks of a hungry motherboard. She was so close — she could practically taste his last breath. All the jester had to do was hold out a little longer. Revealing his true identity now would only make him more protected — she needed him to herself, all alone. 

“What makes you think we’d follow you?” Ragatha jumped to Pomni’s defense.

“I have to say, this does seem a little extreme,” Zooble expressed. “I mean we all screw things up from time-to-time, that doesn’t mean we should get punished for it. Of course, except when it’s you who ends up on the chopping block.”

“Oh, it’s more than just a little blunder on her part,” Jax seethed. “She put all of us in danger out there.”

“My quill did break during the fight,” Gangle held back tears, putting her mangled pen on the table as evidence. “I don’t think we have any feathers for new ones. My manuscripts will all go unfinished.” 

“See, this is what I’m talking about. It was sabotage, done by design. Her negligence almost cost us our lives,” Jax accused. “The bandits knew we were coming, and she did nothing to warn us.” 

“Give me a break. If I wanted any of you out of the picture I would’ve done it by now,” Pomni chided through gritted teeth. 

“Here we go again. This little rascal still believes she’s above all of us. We’re just expendable to you, like puny game pieces on a board to play with and toss out when you’re done. I wonder when you’ll learn.”

“It sounds like someone’s projecting to me. I wonder how many lessons people tried to teach you here, and those big ears of yours didn’t hear a single thing.”

“Well, I certainly know what a fussy jester sounds like. Can you not handle someone calling you out? I thought good advisors were supposed to take criticism?” 

“I’ll give you some advice. Why don’t you show us all who you really are instead of hiding —” 

“All right, all right! I think that’s enough from both of you,” Kinger interrupted their terse debate. “You’ve had your time to hash it out, I think it’s about time for a vote. My humble advisors, should Pomni be banished from her role as our court jester?” 

“I think it’s silly to reprimand her like this over one silly mistake, Jax,” Ragatha reasoned. “She didn’t mean it, I’m almost positive of that.” She topped off this remark with a resounding smack of her stamp on her weary parchment. A waxy, crimson tinted ‘X’ was rigidly printed on the document. 

“Yeah, what’s the big idea here, bunny boy. So what if our prisoner got away, I’m sure we can find plenty of others to take their place,” Zooble opined. 

“That’s exactly what she wants you to think,” Jax rebutted. “It’s about time you all were shown the truth.” 

He tossed a wooden fragment on the table, harmlessly pale and smeared with a thick, syrupy residue like burnt sugar. It clattered until a deafening pall prevailed over everything in the hall, spinning on its shattered edges like a morbid toy. As it rolled to rest, a smudgy dot on its surface stared up at the ceiling, impossibly barren and void of any life. Just below, what survived of a thin mouth stooped into a steep frown, doodled on in such a scrawny way that made it the closest expression a mannequin could have to agony. The fringes of this macabre token were flaky, peeling off into snaggled barbs like the stakes of a disheveled fence. Clearly, the piece was viciously sliced from its owner, and the perpetrator was in quite a hurry to stash it away from anyone who might sneak a stray glance. 

Pomni’s eyes became pointed arrowheads, aimed directly at Jax with an indignation that could burn holes through his breastplate. “How’d you get that?” she questioned, although it came out closer to a demand. 

“Don’t you recognize it? This is what’s left of the prisoner that you so graciously stabbed through the neck,” Jax sneered. “The same one we were supposed to prod for leads about our assassin problem. How convenient of you to take him out of the picture before we ever got a chance to.” 

“Pomni? Is this true?” Gangle sniffled from her mask. 

“I must say that does put us in quite the predicament,” Kinger commented, rubbing the bottom of his invisible chin perplexedly. “Without an interrogation, we might have to take more drastic measures to root out our traitor.” 

Zooble rapped the bottom of their crooked, spiral footed leg against the floor, conjuring an answer to the conundrum. “Sorry Pomni, but we have to make a move here. It’s nothing personal, but this place gives me the creeps, and you might have to take one for the team so we can get out of here.” Another incriminating echo broke through the hall. The vote was tied. 

“I think we all know where I stand here, you’re making the right choice Zoobs,” Jax assured, turning a rare leaf. He broke the stalemate with a twirl of his stamp seal through his fingers like a smoking gun. 

Gangle was the only one left who had not given their verdict. She slid down her chair, tangling her ribbons into a nervous knot. 

“Gangle, listen to me,” Pomni appealed. “I had no choice, it tried to attack me and I had to defend myself. That’s all there is to this story, nothing more.” 

“Now look who’s the one with something to hide,” Jax interrupted. “We’re just two sides of the same coin now, aren’t we?” 

Pomni pinched her eyelids closer together, her composure fleeting with every passing second her those parachute pupils spun into corkscrews that drilled into the knight’s shell. Just you wait. This isn’t over. 

“I trust Zooble, and I do want to get back to my sketchbooks. I can’t do much without my quill anymore. Sorry, Pomni.” Gangle shakily pressed the heel of her seal onto her sheet. A searing red tint lightly crisped along the image of an ‘X’ in its middle. The judgement had passed.

Pomni’s voice boomed across the hall as soon as the final die was cast. “Wait! Using the powers vested in me as the King’s closest advisor, I would like to use my veto.”

Jax clicked his tongue mockingly. “Did you forget already? You’ve already used your veto power this morning. You can’t weasel your way out of this.” 

Kinger’s head shook from side-to-side remorsefully. “I’m afraid he’s right this time, Pomni. You were only given one veto per day, so the vote must stand. My marshal will escort you outside the walls at daybreak. That will give you time to pack your belongings.” 

“I think it’ll be a good change of pace — you’ll finally get to kick back and take off that joke of an outfit,” Jax remarked snidely. “Let’s admit it, you never really were the funny one anyway.”

Pomni scooted back her chair with contempt, letting it screech throughout the hall in a type of defiant dissonance that her words were too vitriolic and maimed to express. She marched down the hall and straight into her room, promptly slamming the door and doubly latching the lock as her resentment overflowed past boiling point. Something in Jax whispered that his key wouldn’t be able to open it this time. 

“Way to go, Jax,” Ragatha scolded. “You sure do know how to make friends here.” 

The knight only scoffed in response, keeping up his snarky disguise. However, something about the way his slender ears tucked behind his head like crestfallen willow trees unmasked a visible crevice in his tall columns. It would only be a matter of time before one push made him come crashing down. 

———————————————————————————————————————

CHAPTER VIII: A Meeting on the Turret Stairs

When a conclave of gray clouds burnished the throne room in a phantasmal curtain of silver threads, mottling the stained glass with pearly beads that skittered their reflections onto the dimming walls, Jax knew it was time to retrieve Pomni. He skulked down the hall, passing each occupied room without being disturbed by a single sound from within as the rest of the troupe waited in scarcely subdued restlessness. 

The waxy panels of past kings and pompous nobles followed him in stoic judgment, the dying torches taunted him with their last licks of swirling flames. As he stopped at the jester’s door, the racket from his clinking armor ceased, and the only murmurs that Jax could hear came the howl of his own thoughts as they clashed in his head like a raging typhoon. Am I doing the right thing? I’m doing what’s best for me, that’s what matters, isn’t it? I can only rely on myself — I’m the only one who’s willing to. That’s how you stay, that’s how you survive here. 

He knocked on the door. Once — barely perceptible. Another, just meek enough to be ignored. Maybe a third would be enough to finally get the idea through her thick head. He raised his first to try again before a clandestine hand swished from behind and covered the front of his mouth. The knight knew almost instantly who was muffling him, solely from the sweet, cottony flavor of her gloves that soaked into his lips. It was an aftertaste he would always have an appetite for, even in a predicament such as this. 

Jax was whisked underneath a row of drapes that crinkled like shallow shoals, their azure color akin to the depths of vast oceans spritzed with a trim of sunny fabric that curled on their stems like bowing bellflowers. Curiously, he found that these sophisticated, stately curtains stealthily camouflaged a gaping hole in the wall of the passage that swallowed him into deaf darkness. 

“Don’t call for help, don’t scream, and don’t you dare try anything stupid,” Pomni’s snippy pitch was unmistakable — it could practically pry a sword out of stone. “If you do, I will end you right here.” 

Her dagger pressed down against his neck, yet instead of the usual iron chill grazing his skin, this time he sensed a faint warmth from where the blade sat on her hip just moments before. Even as its bitter tip split the fur on his throat, making it yield like a velvet pillow under the faintest pressure, something about it was comforting in a paralyzingly sober, sepulchral way. Just knowing she was willing to take it this far — knowing that it was her who would finish it — was enough. Jax felt like he could accept death if it was from her. 

The bunny gave a careful nod, promising to be agreeable. Pomni released her hand, and he remained quietly compliant as she herded him, hand-in-hand, through the secret route that wound inside the heart of the castle. Her opulent laurels seemed to levitate in the air, guiding him through the tunnels with a blazing glow like sparkling fireworks while he listened for the chime of her dangling bells in the deep chasm that devoured all sense of direction. He clenched on her hand a little harder, worried that he might lose himself in the hungry shadows. 

A little ways down — or up, for he could not tell the difference anymore, they passed a small hole along their path that enticed his gaze with flickering light from the outside world. After taking a moment to peer through this opening, Jax recognized that it looked down right upon the throne itself. Images from the tapestry — a knight’s gallant stand against a billowing dragon, the looming walls of the castle sitting on a high hill, carefully stitched likenesses of the party as they trotted to the bent and twisted forest — were floating on the walls of the corridor, glistening with distant firelight like sloshing waves. This is where you were hiding all along. You managed to find this little place before I even had a chance to look around. You always were a clever one.

“Hey, how’d you know this place was here in the first place?” Jax broke the tension hovering in the air like a loose arrow. 

“I’m no stranger to rooting around big, creepy buildings,” Pomni responded. “It was kind of my bread and butter back in the day. Fun times, or at least I think it was.” 

“Wow, look at you Pomni the Explorer. Maybe you aren’t as lame as I thought.” 

“It would do you some good to hold your tongue in here, you never know who could be listening. Besides, we’re almost there anyway.” 

Before Jax could get a chance to interrogate her some more, Pomni fluttered her fingers through a piece of overhanging fabric, pushing it aside. They were back in the gloomy shroud of sinking night as it was being lethargically pushed out by waking daybreak. A winding, spiral staircase slithered up to the sky in front of them, enclosed by cramped cylindrical walls. 

“Here we are. I have something to show you, follow me.” The jester pulled him forward, and they  ascended up the ammonite steps together. Pomni started humming a tune to calm his riddled nerves, and its candied chords soothed Jax into a swooning haze while he was steeped in her entrancing litany. Daisy … daisy … The cadence practically diffused into every pixel of his blood and every charge in his snarled cables that coursed across his body — breaking through his steel exterior. 

When they reached the top and were welcomed into the open air once again, a brisk gale blew through Jax’s ears while a flock of encroaching clouds were lazily lumbering their way towards the castle. The heavens were covered in an impenetrable layer of obscurity; everywhere but for one spot right above the turret whose pinnacle the pair were now standing on. 

A canvas of timid stars streaked across the sky above them, blinking like fireflies as their cosmic trails paved a way through eternity. Their ethereal halos shone like the praises of fiery devotees, mingling with the dust of their predecessors and dripping into the gray clouds below. 

“Come on, lay down with me,” Pomni patted the floor beside her as she reclined on the turret’s peak. Jax obliged her call, relaxing onto his back while they stared up into space — side-by-side. 

“Do you remember the last time we did this?” the jester reminisced. “The grass felt so fake, the sky was more like a ceiling, and the stars weren’t even the right shape.” 

“Yeah, so what? Don’t tell me you’re feeling nostalgic and getting all sappy on me,” Jax rebounded.

“For a few brief minutes, the only thing that actually felt real was you. It was the one time I heard your actual voice, not the one you hide under. I saw a part of you that you wouldn’t let anyone else find. You let me listen to everything that was just begging to be let off your chest, like the weight was about to crush you.”

Jax grimaced dismissively. “You make me sound so weak. I bet that’s one part of me you sure do miss.” 

“I miss the trust. It was really nice to have someone I could lean on — someone I could just talk to about the little things we lost.” 

“You have to get used to losing here, and you’ll learn to live with it. After a while you find new things, new people, and new memories that make you put everything else behind you. Whatever old life you had will lose all meaning if you do it right.” 

“But that’s not any way to live, is it?” 

Jax peeled his head away from the speckled fathoms of the night sky and looked at Pomni lounging next to him. Her irises shone like mirrors of crystalline quartz shards, teeming with storied constellations that angels braided into her eyes. 

“Do you still even feel alive? We all give up at some point.”

Pomni turned to stargaze into his retinas, the foggy imprint of her own celestial muses stuck to her festive, carnival lenses. 

“Back outside, I spent so much time tracking down numbers, learning their language, solving their secrets,” the jester relayed. “I was good at it, at figuring things out. You’re the one puzzle I can’t piece together. I’m worried that I might be losing my touch.” 

“People are different from your spreadsheets,” Jax countered. “You can’t just plug in formulas and find the answer. You’re starting to sound a lot like Caine, maybe you’ll fit in here more than I thought after all.” 

“Well I’m usually able to read expressions, so that’s the part of a person I really focus on. Each one is able to tell a different story with each quiverling lip or red cheek. It’s getting hard to do that now. The faces here aren’t what I’m used to seeing.” 

“That’s just another perk of being here. Nobody is able to pry, and I don’t need to show anybody what I’d rather keep to myself.”

“I know,” Pomni sighed, a little disgruntled. “This is a great place to hide.” 

“You’ll come around to it just like the rest of us. We all go through our growing pains, but it can be fun to lose yourself. Haven’t you ever wanted to just get away from it all — become something entirely new, reborn into a person that makes looking back just a bland afterthought.”

“Is that why you want to stay so badly? You’re just so intent on stopping me because you think this is who you were meant to be?” She gestured with a sweeping hand at his lanky, lapin figure spread out beside her. 

“Don’t you realize this could all be some elaborate trick. The only joy Caine gets in his pathetic, computer chip of a heart is by toying with us and nothing more. What if he’s watching us right now, savoring every minute that we run into a dead-end dream? What if you’re wrong about the memories — about everything?

“But what if I’m right? There’s not much more we could lose of ourselves by trying. Where’s your faith in me? Do you trust me?”

“It’s the Circus I don’t trust. We’re all lured by threads of our own desperation and hung in a snare of hope. We’re slowly dying of thirst, being strung along by a trail of water droplets only to find an empty bowl at the end.”

“That’s only another reason to keep going. We’ll never find what’s at the end if we don’t take a chance and search for it. I want to know what’s out there — even if it ends up being nothing.” 

A whistling gust sailed across the turret, making the banners slung down its side waver like turbulent wings, flapping wearily as a wounded bird wobbles in flight. The sudden rush of ferocious wind carried with it the steamy scent of ripe rain. Thin stripes of serrated lightning broke through the gray clouds in the distance, steadily drifting closer. Pomni’s eyes fractured like stone circles alongside their echo of far off thunder, piercing into Jax as he kept watching her in venerable awe. 

He remembered the way her touch felt like hundreds of static charges pulsing through him in that dying crypt, jumpstarting the environs of his wired, cyber sparked heart. Her feverish breathing pumped her chest against his own, warming his cold armor with each leaping gasp that jolted him back to life — each quivering trill from her lungs pushing past her lips and skimming against his fur. You saved me more than once now. The least I can do is return the favor. If only I was able to.  

He was reminded of the one friend who never got to admire these stars with him, and how she had wanted so very badly to show him. She would never be able to see how beautiful they looked — how they twirled so elegantly in their celestial dance, while he would point at one lonely dot in particular that reminded him of her with how brightly it shone. Now all he could do was look up and hope to catch a glimpse of her beaming down at him.  During those nights when she descended into his dreams, he would sleep through every alarm to see her. Now, a part of him just wanted to stay awake. He wasn’t going to let it happen again, he wouldn’t give the crowded sky another sacrifice.

“You know I’d gamble everything on you in a heartbeat,” he confessed, turning his head up to the heavens. Something in Pomni’s middle shuffled like a handful of jittery cards, ticking louder than a swaying metronome, although she couldn’t tell what it was — maybe she just didn’t remember. She opened her mouth to respond, but her methodic exhales became caught in her throat, skipping their measures like frogs on a pond. “But I’m doomed, I always have been.”

“Doom is just destiny in a different dress,” Pomni whispered beneath a booming peal of thunder. “You treat your curse like a commitment instead of a punishment. You’re losing your will to fight.” 

“We all had our rebellious phase at one point in time — those of us that managed to survive. You’d stop resisting too, if you knew how the Circus makes you perform. It can sense when you want to leave, and there are no boundaries it won’t cross just to keep you. I’d do anything to forget the things I’ve had to do, and you want to bring them back. That is a circle of Hell worse than Caine.” 

Pomni sat up straight, peering down at Jax with a fond strictness in each cerulean and cherry tinted slice of her irises. 

“The most important moments of your life will pass by in seconds you can barely remember — which you have to build up from scratch just to relive, and they fade just as fast with each new version you conjure up. Can you even trust your own memory anymore — to show you how it really happened? This is your chance to finally see the truth, don’t let it slip.” 

“Nothing feels honest here anymore. How can I know the memories you get from killing me will even be the real ones? A machine like this one doesn’t have even a shred of humanity holding it back from betraying its word. The only thing you can trust here is yourself, and I’ve made it pretty far that way, haven’t I?” 

“I don’t doubt that at all. You’ve managed to put up a false face for so long, cowering behind a mask more brittle than Gangle’s. You don’t want to lose this game, but not for the reason you think. You’re not scared of what you might find sifting through your memories. You’re scared of what you could forget — what you’ll leave behind here if we make it out.” 

The stars were sprinkled above them like angelic vigils, slowly sinking back into the murky depths of their dusky den in the night air. These sparse stellar remnants ignited like the drippings from a forge, or the flashy flakes of steel spurs sliding together before losing their liquid gold luster on the dormant ground. Pomni could make out a quartet of these cherubic candles shining scantily in a secluded corner of the sky; perfectly arranged in parallel choreography, two on top of each other, and two across from one another. She recognized them as the divinely diligent ears of Lepus, the hare in the stars. Right on his heels was the blazing head of Canis, with Sirius in all of its enrapturing eminence baring its sparkling teeth, ready to bite down. 

“You love it when I’m guilty though, don’t you?” Jax prodded and pried. “When you think you can read every page of mine and find every single flaw, just so I can admit to them myself.” 

“Well, it was my job to keep track of every little detail, and root every single tiny mistake. It translates to people quite well, and even if I can’t see your actual face, I can tell just from your voice. You should hear how pouty you sound when you’re all figured out — when someone looks through you.” She punctuated this with a gentle tap to the center of his countenance, where his nose should’ve been. 

Jax scrunched his eyes together, slightly irked at the idea that she was able to surprise attack him so easily, not even giving the rabbit a chance to defend himself. 

“I never asked to be found. It’s silly that you want these memories back so badly, yet you can’t even remember that one small request I made.” 

“It’s not my fault that I understand you — and your history for that matter — better than you ever could.”

“Does that entitle you to write your own version of it?” 

“I just think you were brave enough to keep her door closed when she left, but not healed enough to look away from it.” 

Jax’s pupils constricted to ants, unraveling like they were brawling to the very death. His thin lips seized up, melting back into his violet visage that turned deeply rubescent at the edges. 

“And do you think I enjoy having to replay that day over and over in my head every time I see her marked-out face?” 

“I think you love the fact that you can’t live with yourself. Each day you spend here is one step closer to what you really want. You want to let yourself dissolve — to lose yourself until there’s nothing left to recognize. That’s how you escape.” 

“Well, you were a huge help. Loving you was just a sweeter way to hate myself.” 

Whatever Pomni felt drumming in her chest was completely hushed, stricken with silence and robbed of its rhythm. Pomni’s hand glued itself to her dagger, her palm squeezing the handle — imagining it was his neck. Her disparate lashes flickered at him like wayward alarms. 

“You only have yourself to blame for that,” the jester condemned with a surly undertone as rose, blanketing Jax in her looming shadow. “So let me cut the middleman and give it to you straight for a change.” 

She simpered at him with a saw-toothed curve jutting out from between her lips, sharp and shimmering as ivory tusks. Her knife winked at the rabbit from where she brandished it at her side, freed from its sheath and nearly salivating on its steel stem with an appetite for cowardly Kings. Jax scooted away as if driven by nothing more than his spooked rabbity impulse, wriggling on his hands and scampering timidly on his metal encrusted heels. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look more human than right now. Maybe fury suits you more than affection.” 

Pomni pounced on top of him with a roar of pure disdain. The ends of her jet-black hair glided across his face like raven’s wings, the tassels of her cap looked more like horns jabbing into his soul, and the buttery glint of her laurel leaves taunted him with each bright blink. Jax could already feel the blade pinned against his throat, pressing deeper onto his vulnerable hide with each uneasy swallow that crimped every desperate pulse of his muscles back into their proper place. He could almost taste its sour sharpness with each quiver of his esophagus that strained alongside it. 

“Do you know what I could do to you right now? Do you know what I should do?” Pomni’s eyes were set alight as if they had been primed with a gunpowder fuse, aiming at Jax like fully loaded barrels and swirling into bloodlusted crosshairs — itching to fire with one swift slash of her hand.  

“You should’ve done it right the first time then,” Jax snarled, rearing back on the hinds of his burly hare legs and propelling them right into Pomni’s stomach. She tumbled onto her back, her dagger clattering away from reach. As the jester unruffled her battered senses, wiping a dusty smear from her elegantly puffed sleeves, she beheld Jax on two paws once again. His gauntlets were fiercely clenched and attached to steely arms that stayed staunchly cocked at his sides, his breastplate rolling with heaving breaths as she was met with downcast, poignant amber eyes as thorny as the tip of his longsword. Pomni circled him like a vulture, waiting patiently for his guard to falter so she could dive towards the dagger that settled in the hollow space between them. You’re backed into a corner darling; although this time you’re ready to fight. What a shame. 

“Looks like we’re on even ground now,” Jax jeered. “Sometimes I don’t think you have what it takes to follow through. So what’s your next move? Are you going to wave that shiny butter knife at me all menacingly?” 

“If you don’t let me do this,” Pomni carefully reasoned. “You’ll be abandoning me too. I want to know who I was, and what I lost. I want to go back. If she didn’t get to, then at least let me.”

Jax’s glowing irises fled away from her, scribbling errant lines across his face as they imploded into white dwarfs, constricting into pale blots that immolated with such an earnest, searing flame that they engraved his cornea with a reflection of their seraphic, snowy portrait. 

His mouth curled into a scowl as a heavy rain began to pour from the gray clouds that mixed with the sweat beading from his brow. 

“Then come here. Do it yourself.” 

Pomni stared him down with a look beyond insatiable hunger, transcending any need to see him as the sanctity to her survival. He was meant to be an offering, to collapse haughty strings of heretical code stacked like monstrous pillars, to make the whole vile structure come crashing down. She would do what her conscience demanded of her, to fulfill what her heart didn’t have the strength to do — to scorch the path it made that led her astray. The end meant so much more than him, all she had to do was find the means to finish it before she could justify it.

She crept forward with a methodical, wolfish stride, studying every little twitch of his hands and each minuscule shuffle of his boots, even the way his ears flapped in the wailing tempest. She swelled with a sickeningly desirous look carved onto her face, her gloves wringing out his spirit without a single touch, her spiky teeth ripping through his exoskeleton of repulsively metallic plates without even taking a ravenous bite. Jax inched backwards warily, trying his best to widen the distance between them, giving him more breadth to defend himself. Without even realizing it, he pushed himself to the edge of the turret’s wall, teetering between Pomni’s predacious pursuit and a death-defying drop into a mess of spiky rocks that waited hungrily for him to fall. 

“You could always take a leap of faith if you wanted to end this fast,” Pomni derided. “It might save me some time — and your dignity.” 

Shrill gales slapped against his face, torrential rain pelted against his armor, thunder rumbled out of the dark throng of clouds that swirled above them like a boiling caldera. Jax took another step, his heel scraping against the base of the notched battlements. His breastplates started ringing with chattering vibrations, the pauldrons across his shoulders shivered, screeching at him with a harsh hiss as the hairs on his ears perked up like pieces of rigid hay. 

An explosion of shocking light lunged down at the pair, striking right on the stem of Pomni’s dagger. Everything was blinded by a milky, marbled effusion of stinging radiance. A resounding salvo of divinely livid blasts barraged his sensitive hearing, making the entire world thrash and shudder for as far as he could see. 

Lightning had struck the tower, and Jax finally lost his footing. 

First, he felt the weight of his torso plummeting over his buckling legs, then an icy wave of stunned nerves shot through him as he flailed his arms for anything to grasp onto. It was no use. He would meet his fate on hard ground, and he would have to be agonized by the realization that Pomni wouldn’t even be the one orchestrating his demise. That is, until he felt something soft hook to his gauntlet. His descent was stopped by a valiantly rugged tug on his arm as he dangled off the side of the tower like a heavy pendulum. 

When Jax flung his head up, Pomni's blue glove was holding onto him for dear life, quivering and ready to slip away — yet she held on despite it all, even when every strain and surge of pain told her to let go. 

Stray strings of lightning were slathered across the sky, brightening her eyes as she glared down at him. They were brimming with warm worry and a determined pity, glistening like a mosaic of shattered seashells — yet without their fragility. Instead, she was imbued with their resilience, the headstrong endurance that takes millions of years to fossilize and still be just as beautiful as the day the earth remembers their last — preserving their fleeting softness for eternity. In truth, she didn’t know why she reached her hand out. It just felt right. She couldn’t risk him washing out to sea, sailing away on currents she would never swim, where she would never find him again. 

The jester heaved her arm up, grimacing with each pull, her body begging to be released from its iron coated grip. Yet, amongst the aching and throbbing of her body as it struggled against her, she had never felt closer to being real again. She would do anything to make Jax realize the same; that these palpable, illuminating sensations were what he was willing to leave behind just to stay in the Circus. They were the privileges of existence, not a scourging punishment from it. They were meant to enrich, not torment. To bear the violence and the strife, especially for someone like him, was to simply be human. Again. That’s all she ever wanted. 

She scrunched her eyes closed, battling against every instinctual urge to stop holding him. As soon as her last smidge of strength was sapped from her body, Jax clamped onto the fringe of the turret with both of his gauntlets, rolling over on his back with an exhaustive huff as it hit solid ground. A rush of resplendent, authentic relief washed over Pomni as she took a small reprieve to catch her breath, before hoisting the rabbit up with both of her hands and leading him down the tower with their arms interlinked.

As they wound down the coiling stairs, a succession of trampling boots and rustling armor clinking with polished weapons could be heard down the hall. Jax’s royal guard were searching every corner of the castle for Pomni, and her time was surely stretched thin. 

“Listen, I have to go,” Pomni whispered, hiding Jax behind her as he crouched to avoid being discovered. “I’ll see you back in the Circus when this is over. Just … take of yourself until then, ok?” 

She turned away without so much as a goodbye, running her hand through the base of his ears adoringly and scuffing his fur before slipping past the entryway leading out of the tower. 

She was thwarted by a pair of arms wrapping around her shoulder. He wasn’t letting go. Jax pleaded up to her with a misty eyed haze settling all around him like frosty dew on spring fields, completely mystified at the sight of Pomni above him and equally undone by the sore sting that she had to leave. 

“Has it ever crossed your mind that you would be one of the memories I’d be leaving behind here? What if we never saw each other again. I don’t want to miss you,” Jax croaked out, his hoarse voice scratching against an aching throat from how many days he rehearsed this admission in quiet agony, reciting every word and pushing it down into his soul. He nestled his head into the crook of Pomni’s tunic, trying to absorb every bit of her into his skin: the plush fabric of her clothes, the way it swept across his face and cradled him with silky threads for delicate hands, her charcoal hair smearing against his lavender fur, the way he rubbed his face red into her shoulder just for a trace of her intoxicating, addictively sweet scent to stick onto him like dried flowers leavened into tea bricks. 

“Then let me give you something to remember me by,” Pomni cooed into his ear. Taking both of her hands, she placed them daintily above Jax’s eye, right where his young scar was healing under a set of her savvy, expertly woven stitches. She put a thumb on either edge of her sewn masterpiece and began to press down — only a little at first — then harder, firmer, until the heaviness from her ruthless pressure made his eyes wince on their corners, turning the fur around his tender cut into a crater the color of ripe figs. Jax whimpered into the cuff of her tunic, mumbling incoherent, honey drizzled nothings into her chest — any meek, involuntary protest or useless rambling muffled beneath her; his grisly gash sizzled as it struggled to stay together, throbbing with each push that swelled like burning nails straining against his skin. 

“You’ll never feel something like this in the Circus," she mumbled, her tone trudging along with a weighty indulgence like burnt brown sugar. “This will never lose its meaning. Don’t you miss the sensation? Because I think I’ll miss you the most.” She pinched her thumbs inwards along his patchwork, like an accordion ready to rupture, but the melodious serenade of whines from his mouth were enough to rival the harmony of an entire orchestra. 

“I know how much you love to burn,” Pomni hissed like a charmed cobra. “Look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t real.” One-by-one, the tightly braided twine of his stitchings broke. Each meticulous strand snapped and unfurled as if they were the flimsy beams of a bridge collapsing under its own burden. His wound burst apart at the seams, a thick trickle of velvety, rich blood curled down his forehead, dripping into every divot and curve of his outlined skull, teasing the rim of his eye and mixing with runny tears that left wide canyons on his drenched cheeks, before pooling on the verge of his lips. Jax licked it clean, relishing the brackish, iron laced tinge of his own body and savoring the vinegar aftertaste it left lingering on his tongue. It was the first time he had ever wondered what was buried underneath his digital shell. There was that look of pure, undivided hunger in her gaze as she glared down at him — that same desire which soared far beyond himself — beyond anything he had ever known. 

Why do I only feel loved by you when I’m burning. All of your rage that I wear only shows me that you care. He drank her every word like it was prophecy, like it was the blood that pumped out of his heart — the same kind that smudged his teeth and daubed his mouth, the same kind that he salivated for. She was the air that left his lungs. 

Everything about himself was flipped on its axis, by a type of magnetism that he could never repel and resist. This was what it was like to be alive. Pomni alleviated her grip on Jax’s cut, holding the back of his head as she consoled him into her middle, blotting the front of her clothes with his scarlet stains, yet not minding the mess it made for anything in the world. She clutched him ever closer for as long as she heard the clatter of the guards steadily catching up to her. She wanted to keep him there forever, but she had to let go. 

“Don’t wait for me, Jax. I don’t blame you for staying, but I still have to find a way. I do hope one day we’ll get to find each other again.” She flicked the top of his ears playfully, disappearing through the doorway of the turret and down the hall. 

____________________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX: The Vow

Jax didn’t stay alone on the steps for long, even though he was compelled into a dazed dizziness that mixed with the sanguinary flow from his forehead. He had a promise to uphold. He owed it to her. This was the very least he could do to amend what he ran away from, like a hunted rabbit instead of an honor-bound knight. 

He turned down the first hall he found, scurrying along the fastest route to the stable. The storm’s ferocious howl whipped through rows of curtains and fanciful tapestries strung across dark passageways, all the while stinging rain hurled itself against his face, cascading down a stoic set of arched windows looking out onto the squall stricken land. After practically wading his way through the incessant downpour that assailed the cloister garden, drowning the pretty arrangement of irises and slouching the daisies on their lanky stems, he slipped into the cover of the stable, met by a smattering of whiny, distressed consternations from the horses as they paced in their stalls — innocently unaccustomed to the severity of the onslaught pouring down on their heads.

A fickle waddle and daub thatched roof served as their only protection — a few slender sticks and scraps of straw to defend against the raging deluge. Jax approached the calmest candidate that huffed at him suspiciously from the safety of his gate. He patted the horse's snout with his hand, gently cajoling it out of the enclosure with a few calming clicks of his tongue. Without even bothering to tack a saddle onto its back, Jax climbed onto his bare chestnut back and darted out of the gatehouse with a snap of the reins. 

As Pomni slipped through a hidden breach in the outer wall, guiding her steed over fallen blocks of weathered stone that had since lost their battle hardened, jagged crests, she caught a glimpse of a lone rider racing away from the castle. In the dull, silver veil of the dying rain, she could see a pair of tall, thin ears sailing behind them while clusters of miniature crystals winked at her from a set of steel layers over their body — like calm twilight sprinkling over a placid pond. She knew immediately who was crossing the hills that rolled like a coiled serpent’s back, heading straight for the grove of spying birches, and inevitably swallowed into that bereaved woodland he fought so hard to get out of. 

In that split second, when the jester saw a pompous, haughty knight march off gallantly towards the first slivers of daybreak, she took a regrettable look into her own body. She noticed the way how none of it was hers, how everything inside felt hollow — a harrowing void of mindless code, stripped bare of all the valves and veins that bore the weight of life itself. All of it had been taken from her, replaced with cold cables and tireless electrodes that tangled into knots, roiling her viscera until it gyred her spirit into nothing more than a system. 

She had one last chance. This was the only way to get herself back. Pomni mounted her horse and pursued Jax across each trail they trotted along together for miles, when his arms were clasped around her waist, holding on with such warm trust like she was his only salvation. Now, she only wanted his hands to run cold. It was the only way — hopefully he wouldn’t mind so much. 

You’re the key. Please, let me open the door.

____________________________________________________________________________

When Jax arrived at the chapel, the sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon, sending a tessellation of sharp, groggy orange rays through the trees which spliced through the blossoming light like shards of sharp glass. A chorus of songbirds announced his return through a mire of crooked branches that lined the canopy like a grimly barred cage. He unmounted, and strolled into what was left of the nave. The pews where Pomni laid him down had no seats for worshippers, the windows sung no more praises with their opalescent ballet, and there was still no more altar to kneel before. Jax imagined that he could be brave, that he would face the inevitable with a valorous, indifferent type of conviction — that he could at least look it in the eye. However, nothing could have prepared him for when he saw her again. 

“I knew you would come eventually. Are you here to finally see your strike returned, like you promised me?” Ribbit stood at the head of the apse, her mask layered over her face like a wasp’s nest. 

“I think you already know the answer,” Jax replied with a shiver in his voice that reeked of fear. 

“I’m proud of you for coming, little knight. Maybe you aren’t as weak as I thought. It’s never too late to turn over a new leaf.” Two timber portals on her thickly rooted blight revealed her ailing eyes, shining through him like illusionary peacock feathers, rustling all around her with a mesmerizing array of chromatic stares, enticing him as if they were the tails of rainbows.   

“I should’ve come to you from the beginning. I want to forget everything that didn’t start with you.”

“I feel like you already have,” Ribbit scraped the curve of her axe against a corner of the altar, sending a grating quiver throttling up Jax’s spine. 

The rabbit didn’t run. Instead, he doubled down. 

“I’ll give you what’s left of me. In return, when I take your free, unchallenged hack — wherever you choose to land it — I want you to do one last favor for me.” 

“I’m listening,” the frog asserted, tapping her aberrating, glitching fingers against the handle of her weapon. “Although, you should know better than to bargain with me. I never thought you could grow to be that bold. I’m impressed.” 

“I want you to let them go.” 

“Ah, and so his true reason for being here rears its double-sided head. Their memories will be enough of an escape. Don’t try to bite off more than you can chew. It won’t even matter in the end, as long as I can have you.”

“Is that why you’re doing this? Everything you’ve put me through was just so you could get to me?” 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. Maybe you were just the easiest target I could give to your little friend. You never wanted to go back outside with them anyway, did you? It was a courtesy if anything, to hand you over on a silver platter.” 

Jax’s gaze wandered from her, his head bending to an angle she couldn’t pry open. 

“I’ve never felt weaker than when I’m with you.”

“And yet I’ve made you find your strength.” Ribbit lunged her axe at his neck, hoisting his face up with the blade to meet hers. “You always did have a problem with eye contact, though.”

The knight glared back at her this time, seeking straight into those oval spectrums that allured him inside her sickly irises with each pulsing hue, rippling like the deceptive wings of butterflies with their false eyes. Your eyes sure have changed. I miss them. 

Jax surveyed the rest of his mausoleum — turning to every crag and whittled corner of the empty ruins, each austere tree that stood on brittle roots like tortured skeletons, to the ivy that latched itself to the ancient walls and choked its rough surface.  

“Is this all there is?” Jax muttered meekly. 

“What else did you expect?”

“A little more … ceremony.” 

Ribbit frowned behind her mask. Jax could tell by the way she dropped her shoulders just ever so subtly, making her emotions as imperceptible as possible. She always did that when she got upset. 

“You shouldn’t think of yourself as anything higher than what lies here. You might have the privilege of joining them one day. Pride is like gilded copper, it never can hide the rust for long.” 

“I don’t think I can conceal too much of myself anymore, especially if your axe tries to make me open up,” Jax teased, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t sense the slightest smile from under her bark disguise. 

“My axe is more of a mercy than a weapon. It would be a shame to let your courage go to waste. I can preserve much more of it this way.” 

A dash of stray, damp beads taunted the borders of Jax’s vision, obscuring the image of Ribbit’s mask, although for some reason he felt that he could see a clearer picture of her like this. 

“You can cry here,” she explained. “But no tears will come out, at least not in the way you’re used to. You will seek death, and you will not find it. Isn’t that a miserable way to exist?” 

“I never really wanted to anyway, until I met you,” Jax choked out of his shaky throat. 

Ribbit reached out, holding her chin in his hand. His fuzzy fur palpitated with the shock of charged static as she combed her wavering hand through his cheeks, delicately curving up to his head. She gracefully thumbed the gaping stitches that Pomni split open, tracing the trail of dried blood that sullied his face like a trained healer. 

“Have you been so broken, that you now dig into your own wounds to find a shred of love?” She affixed him in place with those gradient eyes like unsolvable runes, speckling every part of his face with a lively ensemble of psychedelic color that judged every inch of his filthy, basal core — inviting him to be cleansed. 

“I had a little help, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jax confessed. The brightening sun rose beyond the chapel’s collapsed steeple, soaking everything in sight with slick slices of rich, indulgent peach complexioned light. Ribbit rubbed his injury as softly as one handles a fragile jewel. 

“I’m sure you never thought the sunrise could look as beautifully red as your blood,” she complimented. 

“It’s a shame you’ll never get to feel it outside of here. I think you’d like the way it slithers inside of you, trickling out whenever it wants.” 

“Oh, you soft fern plucked from Eden,” she laughed, rather forcefully through the rasp of her illness. “Do you not think I’m pretty like this? In all of my unholy, fearful symmetry?” 

“I think we have that in common. I can’t look into you without seeing myself.”

Ribbit cocked her head at him. Her eyes frothed like bubbles skimming the top of fresh hot cocoa, stirring her iridescent irises with the same captivating swirl of spoons around plentiful cups. “I think you’re right,” she gestured to the two holes in her mask. “These aren’t windows at all, they’re mirrors.” 

“Then let’s finally be together, like we should’ve been all along.” Jax saw her eyes scrunch ever so slightly, her wooden shroud curling as it followed the movement of her hidden face. She was smiling. 

“Then kneel, my brave knight.” 

Jax followed her order, bending down in front of the vacant altar. Ribbit pressed the blunt side of her axe onto his head, easing his neck down into the cold slab that was mottled with webs of lichen, entwining their fibers into something resembling scripture. 

“Do you feel the furnace forging your new spirit? Does it temper your forsaken, charred soul? Now, you can either choose me or burn on the logs of your own pyre.” 

Pomni followed the beaten track made by Jax’s horse, using marks from its hooves as a guide in the dense forest that closed around her, the stream of dawn’s early embrace scattering the harsh rains that made the trees weep onto her porcelain face. Avaricious, starving branches clawed at her when she blurred past while repugnant puddles splashed onto her lavish tunic, yet her horse stomped onwards, taking up the vanguard of this persistent hunt. All the while, the jester rehearsed a volley of frenzied justifications in her head, her mind on one thing — one person — for the duration of her trek. 

Be selfish for once, end this now and you’ll never have to look back. You’re so close, and you’ve already gotten this far. You can get out, and you can live a normal life again. You know it wasn’t your responsibility to help him, and you weren’t supposed to. He chose his path, and you shouldn’t have tried to change it. He wasn’t yours to fix — he never even wanted you to.

The prints she was following turned into smaller strides, falling into a condensed line — from a gallop, to a canter, then a lackadaisical trot. She traced it all down to the very last step. That’s when she finally found Jax. He was back at the chapel, his head resting on the lonely altar, his knees digging into the few fragments of solid ground that were left. Pomni rushed forward, her lungs nearly pumping out of her chest, every breath drained with an unquenchable, rabid need for him. 

The knight’s hands trembled at his sides, he crammed his eyes shut when he heard Ribbit haul the axe over her shoulder. Her jade cloak engulfed him in its towering shadow, her eyes reflected off his back like a cracked kaleidoscope. 

“You will be blessed, because you no longer deny what is in front of you,” she preached to him. “Yet, I am sorry for the fact that you believe in me only because you have seen demons.” She raised the axe above her head, her words dripping onto Jax like hot tar. 

Pomni aimed her crossbow —- its sight struggling to adjust while her trigger finger quavered as it locked onto her target. She inhaled, steadying her weapon and waiting until everything around her stood still, until she could feel her heart pounding in her head. 

For once, don’t try to save someone other than yourself. 

Ribbit clenched around her weapon’s shaft, drawing in her lungs and heaving the axe as far as it could be hoisted, until daybreak cast its amber hands onto the glistening blade.  

“You are a hostage to your honor, bound by your duty, and guided blindly by —”

Pomni pulled the trigger. Her bolt cleaved through the morning air, right towards its mark. It hit, straight through Ribbit’s handle — splintering it into hundreds of pieces. 

“ — love.” 

The jester could finally breathe, her entire body aching to catch up with her heart before it ruptured from under her tunic. She lowered the crossbow, boldly pulling out her dagger at the sight of her new adversary. Jax looked up from the altar, astonishment caked all over his face. 

“What did you just do?” Ribbit turned to Pomni, utterly bewildered. 

“I’m just trying to do what feels right,” the jester returned, still a little scuttled by the way her body’s impulse overwhelmed her mind’s sound sense. 

“I was saving him — giving him the dignity of a sweet, comfortable end instead of a bitter, tortured life.” Her cataracts of unsightly sapphires spurted through the holes of her mask with polychrome halos, shuttering back and forth like rhododendron leaves in the breeze. 

“He wasn’t yours to save,” Pomni dug into the base of her dagger, bracing herself for Ribbit’s attack as she grasped what was left of her axe. 

“You promised him nothing, and he owes you everything.” The frog swung. Pomni dodged to the side, pushing her off balance with a heavy miss. 

“I don’t need to negotiate for his loyalty,” Pomni bashed the base of her dagger across Ribbit’s face, knocking one half of her mask into bits. A malaise of saturnal rings stared back at her, looping around themselves like snarled cosmic chasms, warping time itself and blending entire stars into the folds of her eyes. 

“Then you are more of a fool than I thought,” the executioner rammed her shoulder into Pomni’s head, catapulting her to the crowd, her dagger tumbling out of reach. “Do you think he’s a sacrifice worth rescuing? He belongs here.” 

Pomni scrambled to regain her composure, her head spinning as Ribbit eclipsed every last curve of the shimmering sun, the shadow of her axe devouring every edge of the jester’s outline as it was raised for a final cleave. 

“He’s more resilient than he looks,” Pomni mumbled, gritting her teeth. “Nobody is a lost cause, and after all, I showed him what it’s like to be human.”  

Ribbit was halted where she stood. Her axe clattered to the damp earth. A sharp, warm sting pushed itself into her side. She swiveled at its source, severely stunned, only to find Jax kneeling in front of her — holding Pomni’s dagger. The blade sunk past her lamellar armor and drove into her skin, just beneath her rib. The same one he touched — the same one where he felt her breathing. Jax looked up at her, a somber shade seeping into every one of his pores. She smiled down at him, the pearly scales falling from her eyes. She knelt to his level, gripping the dagger that stuck into her — moving her hand across until it clasped around his own. 

Those lily pad eyes stared back at him. They were exactly like how he remembered them. 

“So, you didn’t forget our promise after all?” Ribbit muttered, her strength slowly draining. “All I wanted was for you to find me, so that I could see you one last time. You’ve grown since I’ve been away — somehow.” 

He finally recognized her voice, that same cushioned sound which drizzled onto him like crisp snowflakes thawing on his skin, coating him in a richness only rivaled by melted chocolate. He knew it was her. 

“You know, I always thought you were everything I couldn’t be — now you’re everything that I’ve lost. I never knew if I wanted to love you or become you. I hated myself for not being able to do both. After you, all that I did, and all that I used to be — was only ever possible because I was terrified of losing every reminder of you. I lived just to spite myself, because I was terrified of leaving you a second time, and every memory I clung to kept you alive. My soul was made from yours, a part of you always remained as long as I stayed.”

Ribbit’s eyes blinked weakly as her smile softened around the edges, smoothing out with each labored sigh that inhaled Jax’s words, letting them soak into whatever life was left within her. “It’s time to be brave now, my knight.” She ran her hand along the side of his face, cradling it for as long as she was able. “This is where we have to part ways, for now. We’ll find each other again, but before that time comes, keep me with you. Make it out for me.” 

Jax’s hands left the dagger, encircling around her cloak instead, rumpling it from the desperation of his embrace. He felt her slump against his shoulder, no longer feeling her kindred heartbeat patter alongside his own.She turned translucent, fading away in her vanishing vestments as they fell formlessly into his arms, her buoyant lily eyes drifting into the resurgent dawn. He clutched nothing but her fabric, as delicate as the purest lace. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Pomni waited solemnly until Jax’s hands unfurled themselves from Ribbit’s robes, his own head falling onto her emerald shoulder as his eyes fluttered shut with groggy reluctance. She picked him up, lulling him into her arms while she placed him on the back of her horse, fastening his arms around her waist. His eyes sleepily opened with lethargic, heavy blinks before promptly closing and drooping into Pomni’s back.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” she called back to him, one hand on the reins while the other clamped his gauntlets securely to her middle. 

They rode for some time to the edge of the woodlands, right where craggy thickets met the placid moors leading to the castle. Here, Pomni led her horse off the traveled trail and ventured towards the sound of rushing water in the distance, hidden amongst a dense patch of trees. She stumbled out of the thick copse and onto the banks of a bountiful oasis, split down the middle by the snaking prattle of a flourishing riverside. Prosperous foliage was abounding with leaves like April’s warm voice whispering in the wind, wildflowers of every blushing tint dotted the swaying grass like ethereal freckles. The water was as crisp and clear as freshly cut diamonds, a symphony of birds trilled in the leafy treetops as they welcomed the emergent morning in all of its shiny splendor. 

Pomni lowered Jax from the horse, he grumbled unconsciously at the idea of being wrested away from his dreamy, cloud quilted pillow that just happened to be the back of the jester’s tunic. She set him down onto the grass with an endearing, serendipitous serenity; nestling her legs under his back and placing his head right in her lap. Taking out both of her hands, she pressed her thumbs to the base of his ears, rubbing in lazy, kneading circles — just like he did in the Circus. Nobody was supposed to uncover what it did to him, and despite everything, she did. 

“How’d you know about this spot? I never told anyone about it.” Jax cocked an inquisitive, sleepy glare at her. 

“I know you,” Pomni replied sincerely. 

Jax’s entire body was laden with heavy dollops of perfumed nectar, gazing up at Pomni with blinks that lifted like boulders, conciliatory surrender brimming in his upturned eyes. She started humming a tune that he was all too familiar with, as the daisies encircling them tickled the tips of his eyelashes. Numbing sparklers sizzled in his head like a stovetop igniting to life, crackling with each circle that Pomni scrubbed into him like she was scrambling every coherent thought in that stubborn head of his. 

“Your mettle seems a little blunted,” she laughed down at him when he finally managed to open his eyes. “Come here, we need to do something you’ve needed for a very long time.” 

She heaved him up to his feet, her laurels hugging the grooves of his rigid armor, her entire body enveloped around him like the folds of a rose, those dizzying pinwheel eyes gazing deeply inside each vulnerable bone beneath his impenetrable plates. Her bells waved like dainty windchimes, ringing with a balmy tenderness he thought he’d never hear again. The babbling river grew louder, and before long Jax felt himself wading waist deep in cool water. He nudged against the graceful, coral-pink petals of a lotus flower floating on its verdant lily pad, its feathery, ruffling leaves blossoming with a renewed shimmer in its golden center that seemed to wink at him playfully. You look beautiful. I’m glad you were able to escape, in your own way. I hope you’re doing ok. 

The brook’s current coursed around Jax, whirling around his creaky exterior as it resisted the ebbing waters flowing past him. 

“You trust me, right?” Pomni clasped around both of his shoulders, a type of charm in her tone like the dainty strings of a heavenly harpsichord. 

“Always,” Jax answered.

“That’s what I like to hear.” 

She dunked him under the water, her arms holding tightly onto his pauldrons, ensuring that he stayed below the surface. The river above rushed like a sky teeming with an endless cascade of shooting stars, their tails glistening and burning up in the depths of incomprehensible space. Pomni’s silhouette loomed just beyond, bending with each curl of the creek as it swirled around her distorted form. The only thing he was sure of were those undeniable eyes descending upon him, spinning like roulette wheels, already decided on the outcome of his destiny. Everything he once knew washed away with the coursing tide, rising and disappearing with the bubbles that escaped from his mouth to the water’s edge. 

All of the pain was whisked away, all of the loss swished out of his body, all of his walls eroded and were swept towards a place he never had to return to. While these languid rapids surged past every bend of his armor, scrambling his face as they ran past, Pomni could finally see what happened when he held his breath. He couldn’t hide it this time — he didn’t want to hide anymore. He was more enamoring than the most vibrant garnet, glittering like millions of gemstones polished out of their rough exterior. She couldn’t pull her eyes away, not wanting to put an image like his at risk of corroding in her transient, unpredictable memory. If it was possible, he would already be wedged between the pages of her favorite book just to preserve every wispy line and phoenix-fired cell of his being that emanated like October leaves. She drank every last droplet of a second where she could see what he really looked like when he let her unlatch his impenetrable locks. 

His vision blurred, gradually dimming at the rims of his lids. He didn’t care if he came up for air, as long as it was because of her. His life is in your hands. Are you sure you want to do this? Her hands cinched even harder around his armor, sealing him into place — pressing her pretty leaf deeper between the pages. Is it going to mean something? 

She let go. It always has meant something.

When Pomni finally yanked him up to the pure, facile plumes of daylight, Jax felt like he was seeing her for the first time. She was the key to his door. She was everything he fought for, even when his only enemy was trapped inside a mirror. He wanted to remember her more than his own name. 

Please, keep looking for me. Don’t ever stop.