_“What is it, mom?” Adam nagged like a bee buzzing impatiently in front of his mother’s face. Christmas morning came quick that year, bringing flurries of snow along the coast of Goldmere island._

_The wrapped box fell into his small, bony hands, opening in less than a second. _

_A toy carousel, adorned in gold and velvet, horses, embellished with saddles of silk and bells. It spun wildly, like it always would at every carnival Adam’s mother would take him to. _

_He smiled widely, revealing baby teeth and innocence. _

_“I love it!”_

Winter came again for Goldmere, rooftops covered in layers of snow that looked like sweet icing on gingerbread homes. The air was thick with the smell of hot cocoa and warm butterscotch cookies.

Adam stuffed his now large hands into the pockets of his overcoat, tucking his reddened face into his scarf. This Christmas was a lonely one, with his mother growing ill. It was the first year he ever felt helpless.

Advertisements for the world-famous Mystic Mayhem carnival hung about, the founder, Sir Xade’s handsome face staring at Adam.

The glittering carousel, a relic from the depths of his childhood, was now sitting in his closet, collecting dust. But he still kept it.

_Ridiculous, _He thought to himself as he strolled down Juno Avenue, the thin layer of ice coating the streets nearly making him stumble.

He was nearly an adult now. There was no time for dwindling on childish dreams.

When he arrived home, Adam found his mother, now frail and dreary-eyed, laid on the sofa, quietly reading a Leo Tolstoy novel, a vinyl record playing ambient jazz music playing in the background.

“Welcome home,” Her voice was soft, eyes warming as they always did once he arrived home from school when he was young. If he closed his eyes, Adam could remember the image of lemon-rosemary pudding and tall glasses of milk that his mother had prepared sitting on the table after school, with her gentle smile welcoming him in.

He kissed her on the forehead, heart tightening with nostalgia and mealoncholy.

“Hi, mom.”

Tears pricked his eyes.

As always, he cooked dinner, placing peeled potatoes in a pot over the stove, along with steamed carrots and asparagus.

“Adam,” His mother croaked out, voice faint.

“Yes?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if rethinking something.

“There’s something I’d like to show you.”

Adam raised a brow, helping her up as she directed him out the living room and down the hall to the closet.

Inside, it displayed remnants of childhood memories stacked upon the warped wooden shelves, dust floating lazily through the air like fireflies.

The old toy carousel from ten Christmases ago still sat amongst them, the eyes of the horses finding his, filled with sadness for being left behind.

His mother reached out for his, quivering hands brushing away the thick layers of dust that coated it to reveal its once loving colors.

“You remember this, don’t you, Adam?” She asked, eyes hopeful.

Adam swallowed back the pain sitting at the base of his throat. “Of course. I loved it as a kid.”

The two of them left the closet and sat on Adam’s bed, the mattress shifting with their weight.

“You’re father was a reckless man, did I ever tell you that?”

“Mm-hmm,” Adam’s father had been absent for most of his life since he was a newborn, lost to a horrific accident. His mother always told wondrous tales about him, and how they met under the golden light of a ballroom dance.

She handed the carousel to Adam, who took it with care. The memories of it fell through, making his heart swell.

“Your father never died, Adam.”

The words clicked in his head, and suddenly, he felt his skin prickle. “What?”

She shook her head, shoulders slumping with a silent tear rolling down her cheek. “It is true that he fell into a horrible accident, but . . . that’s not the whole story.”

Adam waited for her to continue, the nausea growing acute.

“Your father was the founder of a stunning carnival in the big city. Mystic Mayhem. He promised me the world,” She laughed then, as if recalling a faraway memory she could never return to. “Then I was pregnant.”

Silence followed.

“It wasn’t long until I found out they were twins. One was you,” She touched Adam’s cheek, pouring as much guilt into her voice as she could. “And Apollo.”

“Apollo?” Adam whispered, body shaking from one revaluation to the next.

“It wasn’t long until I realized your father wasn’t the man I fell in love with. He used cruel methods to bring a show, and hypnotized his audiences. I had to leave.”

More tears pave roads down her face.

“So he made a deal with me. He’d spare my life if I took one boy, and he kept the other, and left far away where I’d tell nobody about this. To be sure, he placed a hex on me where I’d vaporize to nothingness when I told his secret. You are the only one who knows now, Adam.” Her body hiccups with the rhythm of endless sobs.

“He’s turned your brother into a monster. Go to the Mystic Mayhem. Find my Apollo. Please.”

Adam reeled back from horror and shock as his mother vaporized before his eyes. Body reduced to nothing. It left a thin smoke clinging to the air, the scent of her rosemary perfume and caramel candies gone.

He sobbed. He tried to desperately find traces of her through the air to hang on to.

His mother.

His dear mother.

He took the carousel, the last thing his mother placed her caring hands onto, and held it close to his heart, mind spinning with fear, hatred, and confusion.

_Find my Apollo_

_Please_

__

The name Apollo floated through his mind as he buried his face into the bedsheets.

For what felt like days but was only a few flimsy hours, Adam weeped and screamed, searching for any sing of his mother only to realize that she was truly gone.

_Apollo_

__

He stood on quivering legs, knees buckling.

The front door of the house swung open, Adam stepping out into the moonlit night with a leather-bound bag in hand. The carousel sat inside, the only treasure of his mother left.

His mother had one final wish.

He had to fulfill it.