When children were enveloped in their blankets and sealed with a good night’s kiss, there were little whispers that lurked behind their resting eyelids and fine lashes.  The shadows that swirled in the depths of their minds, spoken in whispers and soft, sleepy comfort.  The monsters rustling behind locked closet doors, the eerie tap-tap-tap of the window after dark, the ticking of the clock in still air.  Well of course, I am speaking of the Circus of Nightmares.  

The traveling circus appeared and disappeared wherever it chose, stealing away lives as it went.  First, the music would reach your ears, muddling your senses until you became a captive of the circus.  At nightfall, people would be drawn out of their homes, held hostage by the enchantments of the circus.  It was a game of predator and prey; when humans felt the safest, the circus would entrap them in illusion.  However, the ringmaster was no mere mortal, and simply couldn’t be, as they held such power.  The beings that ran the Circus of Nightmares were as lethal as death itself, but held not a shred of the mercy it carries.  Wrath, Lust, Greed, Envy, and Pride.  In the center of it all, a young mortal, caught in a cage of her own making and corrupted by Envy.  Millenia ago, just prior to the birth of the Circus of Nightmares, Envy and Wrath fought a brutal war with one another.  Once the dust settled, Envy would tell you she chose to leave Wrath and the circus behind, like the inferior beings they were.  Wrath would tell you Envy was banished, shamed and cast out of her very own act.  Envy spent the centuries tucked between the shadows, plotting Wrath’s demise.  Out of her planning sparked the idea of Invidia, the mortal girl who had reminded Envy far too much of herself.  Invidia, once a beloved young daughter, had been transfixed by Envy and everything she promised.  Legends say that the naive humans who entered the circus would be attracted to whatever sin was most akin to the worst deed they were capable of.  Their own flaws would lead to their eventual imprisonment within the circus, and would slowly poison their minds.  

Invidia was once a young village girl who had crept from her own home once she heard the intoxicating notes and golden gleam of the Circus of Nightmares.  The night sky was pitch black, but the stars blazed bright and luminous.  She could hear lively chatter dance through the air, thick with excitement and wonder.  Her eyes stung with the heat of the golden flames licking the entrance of the tent.  Before her eyes lay a ring of crimson and gold striped tents of varying sizes and shapes.  She felt the scent of warm caramel and crisp apples wafting through the air, almost tasting them.  Though of course, this was all familiar to Invidia, as this was her second time entering the circus.  As a young village girl, she had fallen to the wiles of the circus, and had been drawn into Envy’s tent of billowing silks and poisonous promises.  The day Envy had left behind her act, she had chosen to take Invidia with her.  She tore the old Invidia to shreds, wiping away her memories and ambitions, replacing them with only the thought of envy left.  Her old life, her family, her name; they became a thing of the past, drowned out by the need for revenge.  Cursed with immortality and virtually untouchable by the lure of the other sins, Invidia had been broken apart and forged into something new.  

A gust of cool air dragged her back to reality, reminding herself of the task she was sent for.  One by one, each of the sins and their acts would fall to Envy and Invidia, and the circus would be little more than ruins.  Her feet led her closer to Pride’s tent, but unlike the others gravitating toward Pride, each footstep was of her own volition.  When she reached the massive cascade of fabric, her eyes stung as she lifted her gaze toward it.  With the swath of night spread out behind and the glittering gold trim of the tent, it could have been glowing.  The striped curtains parted with the sea of bodies, and a wave of gold assaulted Invidia’s senses.  At the center of the tent stood an enormous crystal hourglass with what looked like liquid gold dripping through.  It stood in the middle of a circular arena made for gladiators and warriors; the grandeur of the ring was an embodiment of Pride, and the people willing to die for it.  From the roof of the tent hung what looked like large, elaborate bird cages.  Inside each one, a ball of warm light flickered, its edges soft and blurred.  They dangled at various heights, illuminating the tent and arena far below.  Pride’s amphitheater belonged not in a circus, but in a palace.  Each tier of seats was covered with delicate gilded spirals resembling vines, and tipped with sparkling gems as leaves.  Spectators sat on the edge of their seats, cheering on some great feat, while others elected to stand, forming a ring around the arena.  She wove through the crowd of onlookers, attempting to catch a glimpse of the display of strength and power.  After mumbled sorries and muttered pardons, she saw a young man panting, sword in hand, facing off an enormous lion.  The two circled one another in a twisted dance, and the audience awaited with baited breath.  The young man’s lips were curled in a sneer, his teeth bared so that he looked more beast than human.  Invidia found the sight pitiful, as the boy and every other person in that tent had no doubt been influenced by Pride’s allure, intoxicated and reckless, ready to do anything for their own arrogance.  Just as the lion lunged and the man swung his sword, a large golden cage descended upon the fighter, and the lion burst into an explosion of iridescent grains of sand.  The audience burst into raucous applause as the illusion of the lion settled onto the arena floor.  The man in the cage looked bewildered, but not a single person in the audience took notice as the cage gave a heavy groan, and started to rise toward the roof of the tent.  Of course, this was the game of Pride.  Invidia knew that soon another audience member would enter the arena, fight the same fight, and lose to Pride and his lions.  The cycle would continue on, the heartbeat of the arena entangling with the fighter’s, until they felt the need to fight like their need for oxygen.

Peering through the hourglass, Invidia saw a distorted view of a set of steps leading up to a dais, where none other than Pride himself sat, accompanied by two lions with golden fur and teeth like daggers.  With his cold, bronze skin and amber eyes, he lounged upon a throne, his lips turned down in distaste.  With a surge of glee, Invidia realized something.  After thousands of years of putting on the same charade, watching the same show with the same outcome, Pride found himself bored.  She tilted her head in thought, recalling an old conversation with Envy many years ago.

“My dear girl, don’t you see what we all have in common?” Envy sneered.  Malice laced her tongue, as it did whenever she spoke of the other sins.

“We must look within ourselves for what we want, and we thrive off of what we can take.  Pride will forever seek out the most dauntless, who will fight to the death for their own pride.  The day he receives a blow to his own will be his downfall.  It is in our nature to be self destructive, Invidia.”  At the last sentence, her voice became gentle, though withdrawn.

She inhaled sharply, the beginnings of a plan brewing in her mind.  A doomed act.  A restless sin.  A single bet.

The fights continued on, and the crowd roared until the sound became deafening.  All the while she kept her eyes on Pride, noting each expression that passed over his face, cataloging every sigh and idle tap of his foot.  Then, at the perfect time, she chose her moment to pounce.  In her next breath, she strode into the arena, speaking directly to the man sitting on the throne.  

“Why do you sit here and continue to suffer through this?  I can outdo any idiot who enters this ring to fight a mere cub,” she scoffed.  Invidia needed to play her part, appearing as a young, arrogant mortal, but ready to take on the world in the name of pride.

Pride tilted his head, examining the girl in front of him.  Some ridiculous mortal, but with blazing bronze eyes, face full of a kind of fire.  He recognized that look; he had practically invented it after all.  But it had truly been centuries since a human had stood up and made such a declaration.  She was to meet the same fate as all the others; her soul caged and all hope of pride or ambition stripped.  He gave a cold, humorless laugh that silenced the entire tent.  

“You seek a challenge, is that it?  Well, why don’t we make a bet?”  A cruel grin spread across his face.  There were no winning bets against Pride.  It was simply impossible.  

He spread his arms wide, addressing both Invidia and the crowd.  “Slay the most ferocious beast I have, and you will have earned a rightful place upon my throne,” then he chuckled darkly, “Lose… and be ripped to shreds.”

Invidia watched an inhuman smile spread across his face. 

“Done,” she replied, refusing to flinch.

“Then pick your weapon,” the smug, royal quality in his voice never left.  With a flick of his wrist, the liquid in the hourglass froze, suspended as droplets in the air.

Invidia strode forward, eyeing an array of daggers, longswords, and spears that had materialized in front of her.  She knew each blade was cursed, laced with power that would ensure her own loss.  Envy had gifted her with a delicate silver chain dangling an empty hourglass meant to ward off Pride’s enchantments.  She tugged on the talisman till it pooled into the center of her palm in shimmering coils.  Swiftly, she wrapped the chain around the handle of one of the blades, grasping the bound leather.

“Fine, Invidia.  Have it your way,” he said, lifting a mocking eyebrow.

Then he began to shift.  His smile stretched until it split his face, unveiling rows of glistening teeth.  His irises grew wider, overtaking the whites of his eyes til they were melted pools of gold.  She watched his nails darken, extending into sharp, gleaming points.  Before her prowled an enormous lion, three times the size of his “pets”.  A small part of her felt only horror staring into the eyes of the growling beast.  For a terrifying moment she imagined blood spattered sand and the wrought iron bars of a cage.  Narrowing her eyes, she took her stance directly opposite the lion, raising the sharp blade.  

Later, all Invidia would remember was the lion leaping, and the glint of cold steel arcing toward its yawning jaws of death.  A line unbidden came to her in the instant; “The day he receives a blow to his own will be his downfall.  It is in our nature to be self destructive, Invidia.”

As dawn rose, Invidia’s silhouette stood strong against the deep blue sky.  Streaks of orange and pink light casted a heavenly glow upon the collapsing tent.  Turning back, she watched the once massive and magnificent tent self-destruct, disintegrating into sand.  A breeze picked up, blowing swirls of it away in gusts of wind.  Lifting the hourglass talisman by the chain, Invidia watched it sway back and forth with a smirk.  It was filled with a pool of gold.

Pride was done for.  Next was Greed.