The moment the cold iron touched his skin, the world folded .
He remembered Elara’s words: A DreamTale is a story you wear. You can wear it, or it can wear you. dreamtales comics
He stopped running. He turned to face the Ringmaster. “You’re wrong,” Leo said, his voice shaking. “My story isn’t weak. It’s not written yet. And you don’t get to be the author.” The moment the cold iron touched his skin, the world folded
Leo tried to wake up. He clawed at his own mind. Nothing. The iron ring on his finger was now a manacle, chaining him to this place. He stopped running
Leo backed away, and his heel hit a rusty girder. He looked down. The shadow of the Ferris wheel was not a shadow. It was a staircase. And at the top, the rib-cage cages held things that might once have been human, now just wind-chimes of bone, singing the Ringmaster’s single, horrible note.