Part One
THE ACE OF THE TRAVELING CIRCUS
Seventeen years later. The lights dimmed under the tented dome of the Luminescence Circus. A sudden hush fell over the crowd. In the center of the circular arena, surrounded by rows of benches, stood a young performer. Her face was hidden behind an elaborate, colorful mask that resembled either the sun or a lion’s mane. Soaked from the previous act, she waited for the perfect moment to deliver the grand finale. The audience held their breath. Another minute passed, a collective exhale—and then a brilliant burst of firelight pierced the darkness of the tent. Like a vine, it spiraled upward from her hands, touched the ceiling, and exploded into dozens of multicolored flowers. Twirling like snowflakes, they drifted down toward the stunned faces of the spectators.
The arena erupted in thunderous applause. Children bounced with excitement, trying to catch the flowers, while their parents stood and clapped enthusiastically. The performer merely bowed in silence, hiding an indifferent smile behind her mask. For her, this was just another show, following a rehearsed routine for a predictable audience with predictable reactions. Maybe performing in the circus had once brought her joy, but she couldn’t remember those days anymore.
Moments later, the entire troupe joined her on the arena floor, forming a semicircle for the final bow. The girl found herself sandwiched between a stout man in a purple suit with a top hat and a short woman in a matching red outfit. Alfred and Greta were bursting with energy compared to the others. Their smiles were so wide, you might even believe they were genuine. One bow, then another. The performer’s head started to spin. Breathing through the mask was so difficult. Sweat dripped from her forehead into her eyebrows. “Just a little longer,” she reminded herself. Soon, the audience, full of awe, began to trickle out. Alfred clapped his hands twice—a signal that finally allowed her to leave. Another workday on yet another tour was coming to an end.
Dodging the cleaning crew on her way out of the tent, the exhausted performer headed straight for her favorite water barrel. Outside, the sun was shining bright—so bright it hurt to look up. On warm days like this, people her age were usually relaxing outdoors, while she was working. As always.
Leaning over the barrel, the girl deftly removed her odd mask and began splashing water on her face. Though the water had warmed up quite a bit, its touch still brought a sense of relief. The messy bun she’d hastily tied before the performance came undone, and the tips of her light brown hair dipped into the water. If anyone saw her now, they might think she was being held here against her will. And in a way, that wasn’t entirely wrong.
“Alice, I still gotta water the elephant!” a colleague in clown makeup grumbled, waving a whip threateningly—enough to make you want to run. Only the animal trailing behind him paused for a moment.
“I’m going,” she replied, raising her hands in surrender, grabbing her mask, and backing away toward the trailers.
The paint on the smooth wood of the main part of her costume piece was completely smudged. The colorful patterns along the edges had blended together and started creeping onto the white background, meaning she’d soon have to pick up a paintbrush again. Because of the complex water magic routines, she had to repaint the mask far more often. There was no other way— it wasn’t just a costume accessory; it was a crucial item to conceal her identity from the audience.
As she walked across the grounds, the breeze cooled her damp clothes. Alice could have warmed herself up, but she had no energy left, so she just quickened her pace. It didn’t help much. The area around the tent was cluttered with tables under canopies, racks, and boxes filled with who-knows-what. Circus equipment was valued more here than the people. She had to weave through the mess, navigating narrow paths while trying not to bump into other workers.
Eventually, Alice’s path crossed with Stanley, the stable hand. You could smell him from a mile away, but that didn’t stop them from being friends. Truth be told, she didn’t have any other peers her age in the circus. And there he was, peeking out from around a corner. Seeing Alice, he tipped his flat cap, pressed it to his chest, and bowed with a grin on his face.
“Great performance, as always! Though, if you ask me, the flowers at the end were a bit much. The cleaners are gonna have a field day with that mess.”
Alice shrugged. She often felt her very presence in the circus was unnecessary.
“I liked the last routine with the water stingray better. Back then, they didn’t force me to make it rain on stage. I’m soaked and freezing, and the audience wasn’t even impressed.”
Reaching her trailer, she sat down on the step, while Stanley leaned an elbow on a nearby fence post.
“Yeah, though in Alfred’s defense, I’ll admit the fire at the end does look more spectacular than water. Still, you gotta tweak it to ditch those flowers. I dunno. Maybe make a phoenix or something like that?”
A phoenix. Made of fire. After rain. And then wind, too.
“Wow, you’re really going all out!” Alice exclaimed with a smirk. “You know I don’t have that much control over my magic yet, and it’s way too dangerous. Though it’s a cool idea—giving nightmares to dozens of kids.”
“Aw, too bad.” He paused to think, which he didn’t do often, honestly. “But the flowers still aren’t it. Better to feed ‘em to the horses than waste them like that.”
A brief silence settled over their conversation.
“You heading to rehearsal?” Stanley asked. “Alfred wanted you to come.”
She didn’t remember it, let alone feel like going. And she didn’t care that her almost-adoptive father insisted. Her heart just wasn’t in the performances, plain and simple. More than that, she rarely took interest in other people’s acts, didn’t help with set design, and didn’t brainstorm her own routines. It’s just how things worked—when you do the same thing for years, it gets old fast. Instead, the young sorceress preferred to focus on learning and honing her magic, because that was what could help her escape the trap of the circus tent.
Before Alice could come up with a better excuse, a raspy voice called out from the side—Alfred’s.
“There you are!” he exclaimed joyfully, looking at her. “That was incredible! The fire—that’s exactly what we need. And the way it burst into sparks! You’re the real ace of our show!”
Lowering her gaze, she forced a weak smile.
“Thanks. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d like it that much. But can we please replace the rain and the flowers at the end next time, because…”
Before Alice could finish, Alfred cut her off.
“I’m afraid there won’t be a next time.”
Fear, joy, relief, anxiety—she didn’t know what to feel after those words.
“What do you mean, no next time?”
He reached under his coat and continued.
“A letter came from the Academy.” Alfred pulled out an envelope with a broken seal from his pocket, unfolded it, cleared his throat, and read aloud: “The GrINMANS Committee has reviewed your application for admission. Considering your abilities and motivation, we are pleased to inform you that Alice Sanders has been accepted for study in the Department of Water Elemental Mastery. Please accept our heartfelt congratulations! Submit the listed documents for further processing.” He folded the letter and looked up at Alice with a faint smile. “Well, congratulations to you. Greta’s years of teaching weren’t for nothing. So, are you happy?”
Getting into the Academy was every sorcerer’s dream, and she was no exception. All the great mages started their careers at this institution. There was no other like it in Elendor. It was where sorcerers learned to master their magic, paving the way for prestigious positions at court or in the military. Graduating from GrINMANS was pretty much Alice’s only shot at leaving the dreary circus life behind. She’d hoped to get in after passing the exams, but she wasn’t sure Alfred would let her go. He always dodged the topic in conversations, so doubts crept into her mind now.
“Of course, I’m thrilled. But what about my acts? If I go to the Academy, I won’t be able to perform anymore.”
A quiet, sad chuckle escaped the man’s lips.
“Greta insisted you go. You’ll learn all those magical tricks there, and, God willing, you’ll make something of yourself. You’re a special sorceress. It’s a waste to keep those unique powers in a circus.” He handed her the letter. “Go pack your bags. The Academy won’t wait long.”
“Thank you.” Alice practically jumped off the step with excitement. “Really, thank you so much. You won’t regret this!”
Hugging Alfred, she quickly turned and darted into the trailer.
***
Packing didn’t take long. The circus didn’t pay much, so there wasn’t a lot to choose from. Alice took only her best clothes, her circus mask as a keepsake, and her pendant—a gold ring tied to a string. The ring was engraved with a phoenix and an inscription of symbols she couldn’t decipher. It was the only thing she had from her biological parents. Maybe that’s why, among all her belongings, she treasured it the most.
In the morning, waking up in her trailer for the last time, Alice hurriedly dressed, tied her hair up, grabbed her suitcase, and stepped outside. The usual clamor of the circus grounds surrounded her, but this time, it was missing one voice. Without hesitation or fuss, Alice said her goodbyes to everyone and headed to the train station to catch the first train.
Along the way, fear gripped her at times, but the hopeful anticipation of adventure ultimately won out. Behind her lay an old, gloomy life; ahead was the unknown. For now, there was only the train compartment, a cup of hot tea, and the flickering trees outside the small window.