Lux [h.s]

two

Surprisingly enough, Cora's aunt didn't get mad at her when she told her what she'd done.

She stood there, in front of her, a frown on her face as she listened, and asked to see the mysterious gold rose as soon as Cora finished speaking.

Cora found it odd, but she took the metallic flower out of the drawer and handed it to her aunt.

The older woman brought it closer to her face and studied it for a long moment, the skeptical look on her face turning into an impressed one. She cleared her throat, hiding it away in the pocket of her plain mauve dress. "I hope you made our guest feel welcome," she told Cora, giving her a severe look. "You're not to mention this with anyone, Cora."

Cora frowned. "Why?" It wasn't like her aunt to act this way.

Her aunt shook her head. "If you want to successfully work here, you should know it's always better not to ask any questions." She patted her shoulder. "You needn't worry, my dear. I'll take on our newcomer personally."

Cora found her decision weird but was glad the mysterious stranger was no longer of her concern, so she chose to accept the new terms without a word. The man certainly wouldn't have missed her, and although she was sad she hadn't had the opportunity to discover anything about him, she too wouldn't have missed him.

The following day was the first of her weekend. Her aunt had agreed to let her have some free time over breakfast that morning, since things would be slow. They always were during the week of the Fair.

The Fair was a bit of its own myth when it came to their world. It came to Beilyn every year in autumn and there it stayed for a week, unprecedented means of fun and entertainment. But it was so much more than just that.

Nobody could tell precisely when it had started, pinpoint a year in which that empty square just outside the city centre had first been occupied—which was peculiar, considering everyone agreed it was recent. Nobody's parents had grown up with the Fair, nor people of Cora's age had had it as part of their childhood. Yet, it was nearly a tradition—nobody would ever dare to miss it.

People from all over Andar came to Beilyn with the sole objective of attending the Fair since it only did six stops during the colder months, just to disappear into nothingness as soon as spring started. It was surrounded by an impenetrable fog of mystery, which seemed to do all but deter people from attending.

Maybe it was its enigma, or its faint aura of danger, that intrigued everyone to that point, or maybe it was the thrilling excitement people got at the slight possibility of seeing one of the most mysterious shows of the country with their bare eyes.

To an outer observer, the Fair was the peak of entertainment as they knew it: fun rides, pastel-coloured candy, shiny fireworks and never seen before toys. But those who had taken a closer look knew that it was a more enigmatic, even sinister, place than it seemed, its mystery starting with the owner himself.

The owner was the biggest enigma of the Fair: no one knew where he'd come from, what he was like, what his plans for the future were. His name was a secret to most, and few could say they'd caught a glimpse of him.

He didn't attend his Fair. Nobody would've seen him walking on the street with sweet sugar in his hand, nor sitting close to the rides to make sure everything was working smoothly. It wasn't that he didn't care about his own creation, because everyone could see his dedication in the way the Fair seemed to offer something crazier and more majestic every single year, without fail. His lack of attendance, though, had made the prospect of seeing him even more exciting, and many were the people that went there with the only goal of meeting him—how unlikely to happen it may be.