Author's Notes: This has been in my mind for the last two months and I just had to write it down before I lose interest in doing so. This fic is a sort of Dark Carnival AU. I know I haven't finished Psychokinetic Disaster but I'm already writing the next chapter for that. Forgive me for not updating in a long time. We had Saturday classes and our school schedule's packed with activities. Then there's the exams after this week. I might be able to update in three weeks? I'm not making promises. This chapter is short and I'll to out-wordcount the next one. Yes, out-wordcount is now a word.

Boyxboy content on later chapters

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Rick Riordan.

What The Nefarious Carnival Does To You

Chapter One

The Shadows Say Hello

"See The Siren today! The siren will have you beck his call. A hypnotist who hears the voices of the deep dark depths of the sea; he who calls forth never-before seen sea creature. Last day today!" a man announced.

Visitors chatter to themselves as they enter a large room with turquoise orange peel walls. At the far corner, they see a water-filled glass casing—more like a fish tank but larger that it takes up the whole wall from bottom to top. Spectators walk forward, enthralled by the dark green scenery. A boy who looked seventeen years of age sat on a huge rock waiting for his audience to fill up the room. People of different ages look on mesmerized by the endless dark scenery behind the boy with dark hair and vibrant green eyes as if there was the whole sea right behind him.

Others waited and gaped as they watch curiously as to how the boy can stay underwater for a couple of minutes since they got here. Looking closer, their surprise grew when they actually see him breathing in the water as if it was air of his own. As the door to the room closed, the light dimmed and the floor below the boy who they assumed as The Siren began to light up in bright colors, casting different shapes and figures on the wall and ceiling.

The Siren smirked as he stood up and approached the glass separating him from the audience. His eyes glowing a supernatural green shade as he passed them all looks.

"Welcome to The Siren's Abode," he began,

"As my guests, I shall endow you the mysteries beneath the sea." He said.

His audience sat gaping at him in anticipation, some in awe and some in disbelief. His voice did sound unnaturally clear under the water. Normally he shouldn't be able to talk at all due to the water enclosing him. But then again, he wasn't all that normal. Not one in the Nefarious Carnival is.

He took a step back and closed his eyes. He strained his ears as he sends a signal not humans can hear. The dark green scenery behind him is not at all a wall but, in fact, the illusion of the sea's depths. Little does the audience know that the tank built in the area stretched out far and wide, for the sea creatures don't favor the shallow area. He has Jason Grace, the one who gathered them and built the carnival in the first place, to thank for that. The Siren's lips tilted up as he hears them responding to his call; the rush of energy his fish friends made as they swim towards him and onto the spotlight.

"Lo and behold, the man who bears iron hands; he who came from the pits of hell itself. See him grip onto the hottest materials and set them on fire! The sword of his choice engulfed in flames as he wields it." Another man announced from somewhere away The Siren's Abode.

Visitors gather as they watch the man on stage polishing knives, swords, and tools of different kinds. As they compiled, the boy who looked sixteen years of age with dark and curly hair grabbed three weapons from the desk in front of him and walked towards the end of the stage. He bent down to the nearest person and said, "Pick my poison." He grinned, holding out a knife, a dagger, and a long sword. The volunteer must've been pretty daring for choosing the sword. The boy puts the other weapons away and holds it out for the growing crowd to see.

With his other hand, he dips it on the pail filled with flammable substance sitting on his desk and began spreading it all around the sword. The audience watched patiently as the boy finished. Wiping the oil from his hands to his pants, he held out the free hand and clenched it, the eyes of the audience following the action. Grinning, the boy immediately opened the enclosed fist and there, encircling his hands, is a fiery flame. He hears the audience gasp and clap.

The boy brings his hands together where the sword lights up on fire. Both his hands are now holding the flaming object. Although it was made of steel, the boy somehow caused the metal to be liable in holding the flame, therefore engulfing it in it. He might have a scrawny body —words of wisdom from Jason Grace— but looks were always deceiving, as his friend always says. He raises the sword and he opens his mouth to slowly bring the sword and fire down his throat. The crowd claps and shouts in shock.

Another day, another show. He thought to himself, grinning around the blade inching down his esophagus.

"Step right up! Step right up everyone and see the Harbinger of Doom on stage! Last day today! See him reanimate the undead, cast dark illusions before your very eyes, and listen to him call upon the spirits of the dead." An announcer who was dressed in a black robe gestured for the people to enter the looming dark cave located not too far from the others.

Girls and boys of all ages walk briskly as they enter the cave and into darkness. The light at the end lures them in as they trudge forward. The stage held nothing but a coffin, a table with a black candle stacked on an ominous-looking skull, and a black blanket lay sprawled on the floor. There were no signs of human activity with the exception of the spectators coming in for the show. At least, not human enough.

The candle held the one brightness that compelled the people into surrounding near it. Unlike ordinary candles, this had the brightest flare and stood tall and unwavering. Once the cave was filled, unfocused eyes looked around for their entertainer. A sudden movement on stage caught them staring at the dark material laying there. Slowly, the dark blanket forms a bulge. The bulge grows bigger until the ends of the blanket was lifted off the ground and a pair of dark shoes stood. The figure stayed still for a moment, letting the crowd whisper among themselves in curiosity and wonder.

Arm-like figures spread outwards and rip the blanket away from his form. His because the thing —or rather, the person— who appeared below it was a boy no older than thirteen. He had black unruly hair and dark brown eyes that resembles a pit of darkness.

"Good evening, ladies and gents." The one known as the Harbinger of Doom announced to his audience. The boy dropped the blanket and stepped forward with his arms still outstretched, a small grin stretched on his lips. He could clearly see the surprise in their eyes to see this necromancer look of no appropriate age to be hosting such a dark show. Especially one involved with the dead.

"I am the one known as the Harbinger of Doom, for I shall come collect you in your death." He said, his smile growing slightly. It wasn't true but it wasn't a complete lie as well. The boy could see part of the audience who were young teenage girls melt in their place and some who shivered at the thought. He rolled his eyes mentally and continued on.

"Anyone afraid of the dark is welcomed to leave this instant." He stopped, pausing dramatically as he turned his head to the side where they came in through the entrance earlier. "Oh, but that's not possible now, I'm afraid. Who knows what could be lurking in the dark, ready to drag you ten feet under." He snickered evilly when he saw the audience shift nervously in their places; some going as far as to look around them. Got them where I want them, he thought to himself. "Which reminds me: has anyone seen the endless pit a few feet from here? Be careful. If you fall, you'll never see the daylight of tomorrow." He added.

The crowd only herded themselves closer to the candle and started backing away from the deeper parts of the cave. "Why do you have an endless pit here?!" one woman shouted. The Harbinger of Doom turned towards the source of the voice and stared emotionlessly.

"It is where the spirits pass through when I summon them either to talk to them, to let them possess someone, or just plainly drag someone into the depths of the earth." As if on cue, the ground below them shook slightly. The spectators gasped in fear.

"But that's nothing compared to the place you're in now— the darkness. The fear of the dark is something irrational, so to speak. You may never know what's watching you or what's hiding in it. You just assume things that are... not real." The boy said as he stepped away from the candle. One hand outstretched as if he was caressing the shadows that the coffin was making, the people watching him cautiously.

"But don't worry. There is nothing to fear of—" he was cut off when the only light source in the room blew out, "the dark." He drawled. The audience screamed in terror as they looked around blindly, effectively hitting once or twice the person beside them.

"See? Nothing to be scared of. Just a few..." They heard the boy trail off. Girls were whimpering and clutching onto their friends. A sudden rush of cold wind had the audience gasping and yelping in fright. "Escaped souls." A voice whispered loudly, jolting the audience when a light source came on. In the center of the cave where they shied away from stood the boy holding a skull that sported a red candle. This one different from the one sitting on the table. The Harbinger of Doom grinned creepily, the effect of the shadows casting onto his face effectively making him look eerie.

"Let the night be filled with fears."