Prologue the Second - Dancer

He closed the book in frustration. A frown played across his features as he leant against the balcony, watching the moon rise.
The oldest, the quiet one, the messed-up good for nothing one. The one with feet that could never dance again, the one without anything to live for.
Brooding was his specialty. He brooded often and brooded well. He contemplated existence as he flicked a speck off his shirt into the crisp, night air. The others were sleeping, and he was alone.
He could throw himself off if he wanted, but he wouldn't.
He was too much of a coward.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he shouted, clutching the rail. "I'll show you! I can still dance!"
A light flickered on opposite him, then flickered off again.
Resting a hand on the warped glass table beside him, he wiped a hand across his brow. He should've died that day.
He was worthless now.
"No, no, no, no..." he muttered. Stepping out into the road. Panic as he realised the car rushing towards him. Screaming lights and broken noise as the pain erupted around him...
They said he would be alright.
But they lied.
The Dancer would dance no more.
But soon...
He would be himself. He could say goodbye to the monsters in his head.
The ringmaster, magician and the lion tamer would meet, and the dancer would dance again.