The Flying Star
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 1
The canvas roof of the Aurelius Circus glowed like a lantern against the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with sawdust, sugar, and anticipation. Every seat was full; every eye fixed on the silver line stretched high above the ring — the realm of Aneli Vale, the Flying Star.
From below, she looked like a figure cut from light. Her costume was the color of sunrise, sequins catching the spotlight in bursts of flame. The audience could see only her confidence — the elegant poise, the raised chin — but those close enough could see the faint tremor in her hands as she adjusted her balance pole.
She always felt it, that tiny shake.
It was the heartbeat before flight.
“Ready, Aneli?” called the stagehand from below.
She nodded, eyes fixed on the opposite platform. Her partner had already crossed; it was her turn for the solo — the final act of the night, the one that made the crowd rise to its feet. She inhaled slowly. The drumroll began, a deep, rolling thunder beneath her bare feet.
Then, silence.
She stepped onto the wire.
Every sound in the tent fell away. Only the faint hum of the tightrope remained — the faint metallic vibration that thrummed through her bones. She moved forward, one foot, then the next, her arms sweeping with practiced grace. The light blinded her, but she knew where every beam was, every inch of the rope beneath her toes. The air was warm. She smiled.
She reached the midpoint. The crowd began to clap softly — the polite rhythm of held breath.
Then came the leap.
Aneli bent her knees, swung the pole upward, and launched into the air — a twisting pirouette that always looked effortless. Time slowed. The lights turned to streaks of white and gold. For an instant, she was nothing but motion, a flame suspended between earth and sky.
Then — a sound like a gunshot.
The wire snapped.
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