The theater buzzed with excitement, murmurs from the audience weaving into a low hum that seemed to seep into my bones. The lights were dimmed just enough to cast long shadows across the stage, while the curtains shimmered like dark water, hiding everything behind them. I stood in the wings, navy-blue dress catching glints of stage lighting, feathers brushing my shoulders, heart pounding so fiercely I thought it might shake the entire theater.
Jess was crouched near the props table, whispering last-minute encouragement. Daniel hovered by the control board, checking the timing of lights, smoke, and sound cues. I glanced at them both and swallowed the lump in my throat. Their eyes were wide, nervous but trusting, silently telling me: You've got this. We believe in you.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of dust, wax, and polish from the stage. My palms were sweaty, but my fingers tingled with anticipation. Two years of hiding. Two years of pretending. And now… now it was just me, alone on stage, pretending to be a regular magician. Nobody in the audience had any idea who I really was. To them, I was a new act. Another performer in a long evening of illusionists, card tricks, and bunnies.
A shiver ran down my spine at the thought. They didn't know. They couldn't know. And that was perfect. I had the element of mystery, the perfect camouflage.
The announcer's voice echoed through the theater, clipped and professional. "And now… for our next act—please welcome… Miss Clara Duval!"
I stepped forward, the applause polite, expectant. Not overly excited. Not frenzied. Just enough to acknowledge me, a new performer, a magician whose reputation didn't precede her. Perfect.
I raised my hands, smiled, and gave a small bow. "Good evening," I said, voice steady despite the adrenaline racing through my veins. "I'm delighted to be here tonight. I have a few illusions to show you—some old, some new—but all designed to amaze, to make you wonder, and perhaps… to make you believe in a little magic."
The applause came again, a polite, welcoming murmur that made me nod in acknowledgment. Perfect. They were ready for magic. They were ready for me.
I began with simple flourishes—cards, silk scarves, coins. The audience watched politely, leaning forward slightly, murmuring encouragement. Some faces were bored, some intrigued, and some curious. Perfect. I fed on it, my confidence building with every trick.
A coin vanished from my hand. I made a scarf float through the air as if carried by invisible threads. A card appeared behind a child's ear, eliciting a genuine laugh from the audience. Each reaction, small and measured, added to the tension coiling in my chest. They thought I was ordinary. That was exactly what I wanted.
Jess and Daniel's eyes met mine from the wings every so often, small nods of approval. My heart swelled. I could do this. I could be Ava again. I could reclaim the stage without revealing my secret… not yet.
I pulled a rabbit from a hat next, letting it hop gently in my hands before returning it to the stage. The audience chuckled, some whispering to their companions about the classic trick. Classic, yes. But the finale… the finale would be unforgettable. That was where Ava would step into the light, where the world would finally recognize her.
Every move was deliberate, every gesture calculated to lull them into thinking this was just another performance. They didn't need to suspect. They wouldn't see it coming. The suspense was mine to control.
Finally, I moved to the centerpiece of the act: a tall, rectangular box placed center stage, polished black with a faint shimmer under the lights. The audience murmured, leaning forward in anticipation. I could see their curiosity spike. Good. That meant they were invested. That meant the moment of revelation would hit like a thunderclap.
I paused at the edge of the box, hands resting lightly on the smooth surface. The audience leaned in instinctively, not knowing what was about to happen. Not knowing that I had planned every heartbeat, every motion, every shadow that would soon conceal—and reveal—the truth.
I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of every eye on me. Every trick before this had been preparation, a rehearsal for the real magic. The trick they expected, the trick I would perform, was about to begin.
I stepped forward, heart hammering in my chest, palms warm and slightly damp. The audience's murmurs faded to a tense silence as I opened the top of the box. The smoke mechanisms whirred quietly, lights dimmed to the perfect intensity, and I felt the familiar thrill of stepping into the unknown.
One foot crossed the threshold. Then the other.
I was inside.
And the world outside the box had no idea what was coming.