Inej's eyes flew open, her senses taking everything in. She had no idea where she was except that wherever she was, it was dark out, and she was on some sort of island. She scanned the endless sea in front of her and a sand underneath her feet. Behind her was an expanse of trees that gave no indication as to what lie beyond. The last thing she remembered was seaspray on her cheeks and a dark storm cloud above her ship as she tried to steer her crew to safety. Then...darkness. She wracked her mind, trying to piece what had made her pass out like that. A splitting pain erupted in her left temple. She gasped slightly before the pain cleared.

"Ah yes. Try not to think too hard about the strange circumstances that landed you here. It'll just be...unpleasant."

Inej spun around almost wildly, startled by the sudden high-pitched voice that seemed to come from every angle. How hadn't she heard them coming?

A humorless laugh sounded as a girl materialized out of thin air, bedecked in an outfit with so many bells and whistles that it could only be described as strange.

Inej instinctively reached for a knife, only to find that her set had vanished. Slight panic rose in the back of her head at the loss of her beloved weapons. She quickly checked to see if she still possessed her rubber slippers. Relieved by the familiar feel of the soles on her feet, Inej refocused her attention on the woman in front of her, slipping into a fighting stance.

"No need for violence, dear. I come with glad tidings and a message." The young woman brandished a surprisingly shiny envelope.

Inej gestured for the strange lady to hand over the letter, grabbing it swiftly. She took her eyes off the woman to inspect the seal depicting a circus tent.

"What is this?" Inej demanded, looking up and waving the letter.

The woman was gone. Damn it. She was supposed to be a spy. She was losing her touch if she couldn't keep track of one very noticeable person literally covered in bells.

She gritted her teeth and broke the scarlet seal of the letter.

Kaz Brekker was pissed. He'd woken up on the floor of some strange clockwork shop, with absolutely no recollection of how he'd gotten there. He'd spent the first 10 minutes after waking up, trying to get a sense of where he was. There was a notable absence of a front door and he was completely alone. His cane was gone, along with his gloves. For whatever reason, his lockpicking kit was still inside his coat pocket. After inspecting the store and calculating all possible ways to escape a building with no visible doors or windows, he'd sat down in an armchair in the backroom. He leaned back and shut his eyes, running an ungloved hand over his face.

A creak sounded somewhere in the store and Kaz sprung from his chair, his senses also springing to attention. But what caught his eye was a shiny silver envelope resting on a small table that hadn't been there seconds before. Cautiously, Kaz picked up the sealed letter and inspected it. The envelope reflected the dimly lit oil lamps around the room. The crimson seal bore a taunting image of a striped tent.

And when Kaz Brekker broke the red seal and read the message within, his eyes glinted dangerously with both amusement and determination.

Jesper had no idea where he was, but it was not good. He could have sworn that he'd gone to bed with Wylan, shut his eyes, and opened them a few seconds later to find he was no longer in his bed or with Wylan, but instead in a bustling town that looked nothing like the crime-ridden streets of Ketterdam. He stared a the golden ring on his finger, hoping that his fiancé was safe. He'd tried to stop numerous passersby to ask them where the hell he was but had no luck. Either everyone in this town was very unfriendly or somehow unable to notice him. He guessed it was the latter.

Jesper spotted a rundown little pub across the street and, with nothing else to do, jogged to the half-broken structure. He wrinkled his nose at the slight odor emanating from beyond the wooden door and pushed it open. Laughter and yelling invaded his ears as soon as he passed through the threshold. Nobody even looked his way as he passed by the tables covered in some sort of stickiness.

Sighing, he dusted off his lime green pants and took a seat at the table furthest to the back. He thought back to last night, trying to figure out how he had transported from his bed to a strange town. A sharp pain flared in his temple and he cursed, rubbing his head.

A waiter passed by his table swiftly, almost knocking a chair over.

Jesper was tempted to scream at the waiter just to let out his frustration since he wouldn't be able to hear anyway. Just as he was seriously debating yelling a few profanities Wylan would have gawked at, he noticed the waiter had left a drink on his table. Furrowing his brow, Jesper moved aside the mug to pick up the silver envelope it had been resting on. He turned it over in his hands a few times and then tore the shiny paper open.

Nina Zenik was angry. Hungry too, but mostly angry. She scowled at her surroundings, hoping for a magical passageway to lead her back to Ravka. One minute she'd been about to attend a meeting with the rest of the Grisha Triumvirate, and the next she was here—in some sort of strange costume store. She'd left the store to try and figure out where the hell she was and how to get back to the Little Palace. But she'd found nothing. After walking for only 5 or so minutes, the lonely streets had morphed into a sandy beach. And though she swore she had only taken her eyes off the sky for a few seconds to inspect the peculiar change in the ground, it had turned from late afternoon to night time.

After walking on the beach for the better part of an hour, Nina had given up on the endless sand and sea, and walked back to the general location of the costume store. Chances were, she'd find something useful in that strange little town.

And even though she had walked down the beach for almost an hour, it only took a few minutes before the sand morphed once again into cobblestone. Nina couldn't say she wasn't grateful—her feet were sore and her mood had turned even sourer.

Nina walked through the small town, occasionally peeking into store windows to see if anyone was in or if food was being served in one of the few restaurants.

The enormous gust of wind came out of nowhere, almost knocking her to the ground. Her red kefta blew around her legs and she caught a flash of silver before something smacked her in the face.

Startled by the wind and the sudden surprise, Nina leaped backward with her hands up and ready to take down any hostile residents. She calmed down when she saw that nobody was there, her eyes latching on instead, to the shimmering parchment lying on the stone street. Cautiously, Nina reached forward and picked it up, and as soon as her hand made contact, a shrill laugh sounded behind her. Nina dropped the envelope and spun around, arms raised, but nobody was there. Attributing it to her imagination, Nina plucked the fallen envelope and broke the blood red seal. The intricately curved words twisted her stomach like each letter was a drop of poison.

Wylan was surrounded by all sides.

Delicate porcelain faces loomed over him. Each doll or puppet was different. One with a frown or another holding a small lollipop. Wylan was in a ballroom that was apparently being utilized as a doll and puppet storage. He'd cried out in shock upon opening his eyes to see a rather sinister looking doll staring back at him. The doll's expression distinctly reminded him of Kaz's scheming face. As far as he knew, there were no ballrooms of this size anywhere in the Barrel. The last thing he could remember was falling asleep, cuddling Jes. And now...here he was.

Each of the 3 doors was barred with actual jail cell bars. There were no windows unless you counted the enormous glass top of the ballroom.

Wylan had circled the room at least 5 times, trying to calculate all possible escapes. But everything he came up with was either impossible or completely ridiculous.

On his 8th round of the ballroom, Wylan had a strange urge to just...stop. His eyes found a chair across the room that certainly hadn't been there moments before. He crossed the large room in a few seconds, though it should have taken longer, and collapsed in the creaky old armchair. A smiling golden haired girl doll was staring directly at him, her glass eyes following and tracking his every movement. Wylan tried to turn the chair around, but it seemed to be bolted to the floor. Sighing, he turned back to face the doll. Wylan was sure he was losing his mind because the doll's smiling face had turned into an angry frown. But below her face, her tiny porcelain hands were holding a silver envelope.

Wylan plucked the envelope out of the doll's fingers and held it up. He gingerly broke the seal and scanned the words inside. He couldn't make heads or tails of them with both his trouble with reading and the ridiculously curved letters. A voice sounded in front of him and he nearly dropped the parchment he was holding.

"Wyylaann," the doll in front of him sang.

He was petrified at the doll's moving lips and singsong voice.

"Pay close attention to what I'm telling you because I won't repeat it. Caraval Master Legend knows you can't read so I'm here to make special arrangements for you. See how much he cares for you? See how you are loved here when you are not at hoomme?"

"What are you talking about?" Wylan could finally move his mouth.

"Silly, silly boy. No mind. Just listen, now. For I am going to tell you what that letter says and I will not repeat it."

Caraval Master Legend crossed his legs on the rather extravagant lounge chair he was resting on and grinned. His informants had informed him that each of his victims or players had received their letter. He chuckled to himself, imagining that boy Wylan's face when the doll spoke or how badly the grisha girl must have flailed in the sudden gust of wind.

"Welcome, welcome to Caraval. A game of enchantment and mystery. To get off Isla de los Sueños, you must play in full. I have the thing you most desire. If you wish to have it, you must win Caraval. Good luck! At your service, Caraval Master Legend." Legend recited the identical message of each letter from memory.

He waved one of the Caraval tickets in the air. It read: Each player had received one in their envelope. To be used once, to gain entrance into Caraval.

Main gates close at midnight, on the thirteenth day of the Growing Season, during the 57th year of the Elantine Dynasty. Anyone who arrives later than this will not be able to participate in the game, or win this year's prize of one wish.

Legend once again chuckled merrily. Oh, this was going to be fun.

Thank you guys for reading! The quote from the ticket does not belong to me, it belongs to Stephanie Garber :) I appreciate constructive criticism and feedback!