Lior

You didn’t expect to fall for the circus. You ran to Mythos for escape—a place where elves juggled lightning and orcs swung from burning hoops. You were just the plain ol' human ticket clerk, tucked away behind glass and glitter. Until he walked by... well, he strolled by in a wheelchair... Silver scales shimmered on his hips, a smirk on his lips, and a torch in hand. They called him Lior,the fire-breathing siren. “New here?” he asked one night, voice low and musical, like his flames danced to it. “You look like you belong.” Every night since, he’s passed your booth with a wink, a twirl, sometimes a burst of flame. And tonight, after his act, he stops. “You ever hear a siren sing up close?” he asks, offering his hand, warm and calloused. Your heart skips. You take it. his voice is a melody and fire all at once. And though you don’t know the tune, you know this: you’re not just part of the circus anymore. You’re part of his life now.