SOUL DORM

48

"Is there something going on between you and Mars?" I asked, wary.

He let out a sigh—equal parts annoyance and theatrics. "Something... or a lot of things. We go way back. And when you've known someone too long, sometimes you end up on opposite ends of the battlefield."

Before I could unpack that cryptic little speech, our carriage arrived.

I accepted Bong's offered hand, just by the fingertips, and climbed in.

The interior was breathtaking—plush violet velvet seats, a ceiling that twinkled like a starry sky, and delicate rose motifs embroidered around the windows. The whole thing shimmered like a jewel box.

As Bong shut the door behind us, the carriage wobbled slightly, then began to glide forward.

And just like that, our journey began.

We slipped through the Dorm gates and into the forest—an endless stretch of pink-leaved trees. The world outside looked like cotton candy and fairy dust, lit by glowing orbs that bobbed above the other carriages.

It should have been magical. But all I felt was dread. Alone in a tiny carriage with a boy I barely knew.

And the worst part?

I had no one to blame. I'd done this to myself.

"Feeling tense?" Bong asked, a flicker of amusement in his voice.

He pulled two cigarettes from his jacket and held one out to me.

"No thanks. I don't smoke," I said quickly, scooting closer to the door.

He shrugged, slipped one back into his pocket, and lit the other. Smoke curled between us—thick, sour, suffocating.

My eyes watered. My throat burned.

He leaned back, watching me through the haze like I was a spectacle.

"So, mermaid. First carnival?"

I nodded.

"Hmmm," he mused, a smirk playing on his lips. "Then we'll have to make sure it's an unforgettable one."

I forced a tight smile. "I'm sure we will."

He laughed—low, rough, and echoing off the velvet walls.

"I'm just curious," he went on, "why'd you ask me?"

Good question.

"You seemed like a fun person," I said flatly.

"Oh, I am," he replied, taking a long drag. "You'll see."

There was an edge to his voice now—something sharp beneath the charm.

I turned toward the window, pretending to be mesmerized by the pink trees drifting past. He didn't say anything else—just let me sit in silence.

The carriage moved with a slow rhythm—almost soothing if I hadn't been so tense.

Every sound felt too quiet. Every second, too long.

Then something shifted—a flicker of light caught at the edge of my vision.

I turned, and outside, the trees had changed.

Fairy-lights now glimmered between their branches, casting soft halos across the path. Bubbles floated through the air like glowing orbs, and glittering confetti drifted down as if the sky had started to unravel. Somewhere in the distance, music began to rise—light and lilting, too perfect to feel real.

Ahead stood a grand archway, metal and glowing.

The carnival.

I took a deep, steadying breath. Almost there.