The Grand Festival of Dawn was the troupe's most anticipated showcase of the season. Nobles from across the region filled the golden tent, their jeweled robes glittering beneath the lantern light. This was the kind of stage Naki had dreamed of—the kind that could turn a performer into a legend.
But dreams, she was about to learn, could be twisted into nightmares.
Backstage, Naki chalked her palms, forcing her breath steady. Sky leaned against the ladder, arms crossed, his usual smirk in place.
"Don't look so nervous, clown girl," he teased. "It's only half the royal court watching."
Naki shot him a glare, though her lips quirked faintly. "Easy for you to say. You've never had to prove you belong."
Sky's eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing there, but before he could respond, Rosa's command rang out: "Places!"
The performers rushed to their cues.
Naki climbed the platform, her heart hammering. She wrapped her fingers around the bar, unaware of the danger waiting above—ropes frayed not by chance, but by Bianca's quiet hand earlier that afternoon.
"Leap!" Rosa called.
Naki launched into the air, twisting gracefully, the crowd gasping in delight. For a moment, she soared, the ropes singing under her grip.
Then—snap.
The bar jerked violently as one of the ropes gave way. Naki's fingers burned, slipping as the world tilted beneath her. Gasps and screams filled the tent as she plummeted, twisting desperately to catch anything.
Her hand caught a loose rope, halting her fall just before the ground. Pain tore through her bandaged palm. She dangled there, humiliated, the spotlight now glaring like judgment.
The nobles whispered sharply:"Untrained.""Reckless.""A clown's trick."
Heat rushed to her cheeks as she scrambled down, breath ragged. Around her, the troupe moved on with forced smiles, covering the stumble as if nothing had happened.
But nothing could cover the shame crushing her chest.
Later, outside the tent, Naki sat on a crate, hands trembling. The stars above blurred through her tears.
She didn't notice Sky until he dropped beside her, tossing her a water flask.
"Don't say it," she muttered.
"I wasn't going to," he replied. For once, his voice lacked its usual smugness. "You fell. It happens."
Naki laughed bitterly. "Not to prodigies. Not on golden stages."
Sky was silent for a moment. Then he leaned forward, eyes steady. "Prodigies fall the hardest. But the ones who rise again? They're the ones people remember."
His words landed like a rope thrown into darkness. Naki gripped the flask tighter, her shame still raw but her spirit refusing to die.
Falling stars don't disappear, she told herself. They blaze brighter before they rise again.
And she swore, through her tears, that she would rise higher than ever.