Chapter Five: Impossible Things


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    The ornate glass quivered, catching the dim light in a dance of shifting blues and silvers, before it stilled, reflecting nothing more than the amber glow of the candlelit room. The students lingering in the hall—sleepless scholars clutching books and parchments—froze, their collective breath caught mid-syllable. But at Mount Olympus University, where magic bled into the mundane, the moment passed like a breeze over water. Attention drifted back to the rustle of pages, murmured theories, and the clatter of quills as though the shimmer had been nothing more than a stray draft.


    Jace sat there for what felt like an eternity, a hollow ache spreading through him, as if the universe itself had been handed to him only to be ripped away again. The weight of it threatened to crush him, emotions roiling beneath the surface, ready to spill over and drown him. He couldn’t bear it alone anymore; the isolation gnawed at him like a living thing. He needed to talk to someone—anyone—who wouldn’t think he was insane. But how could he even begin to explain?


    “Hey, I’ve been lying to you about who I am, and, by the way, I’m the son of the Dark One. My brother? Stuck on the other side of every mirror. And, oh yeah, the fate of all universes somehow hinges on me.” The words in his mind felt ridiculous, heavy as iron and just as impossible to lift. It would go over like a lead balloon, shattering whatever fragile trust he still had.


    And yet, despite the crushing doubt, the need burned in him—urgent and raw. He needed to speak, to share the truth that coiled inside him like a serpent, suffocating him. He needed someone to hear him, to help carry this impossible burden, before it consumed him whole.


    Jace felt it then, a tug deep in his chest, taut as an invisible golden thread pulling him forward. The sensation was familiar now, but still raw, like the memory of pain. His Affinity for Truth—so recently awakened in a blaze of revelation he barely comprehended—stirred within him. He closed his eyes and focused. For an instant, the line almost materialized before him, glistening with an ethereal, otherworldly light that tugged him forward. Jace was quickly finding that the Truth Affinity was less about revealing truths and more about pushing him toward where to look—but the looking was up to him. He was learning to follow these feelings, these perceptions, these glowing pulls toward the unknown. He followed the nudge into the courtyard outside.


    His pulse quickened, each beat a metronome ticking off unfinished business. The campus sprawled around him, worn paths lined with ancient oaks and ivy-covered columns that kept stories of ages past. There was comfort in the well-trodden paths but not enough to quiet the storm in his chest.


    The night stretched wide above him, deep and blue as velvet, pierced by the cold light of a thousand stars. Their fractured glow pooled in silvery puddles across the stone courtyard, painting shadows that shifted as he moved. Yet tonight, the campus felt changed, charged with an energy he couldn’t quite name. The same halls, the same air steeped in old spells and murmurs of power, but something beneath it all had shifted, an unseen ripple that refused to settle.


    He passed the statues that lined the old path, their stony expressions cast in solemn defiance. One, depicting Ares mid-battle with a lion, tilted its head ever so slightly, the marble lips curving into the barest hint of a smile. Jace blinked, his breath catching in his throat. The statues were known to shift occasionally—moving about the campus—but they largely paid no attention to the comings and goings of the students.


    Shadows loomed thick around him, writhing into shapes that defied reason. Only minutes had passed since his escape from the In Between, but it felt like centuries. Time in that place bent and fractured, stretching moments until they shredded into slivers of memory that clung to him now, fleeting and ghostly.


    The tug inside him tightened, gentle but insistent, like the hand of fate itself reaching through the night to guide him. He closed his eyes and let the sensation settle, feeling the golden thread of magic wind around his heart and pull eastward, towards the Hermes district. The line shimmered in his vision, an almost tangible path glittering through the gloom of archways and shadow-laced corridors.


    Jace moved forward, each step striking the stone with steady purpose. The night air, cool and sharp, filled his lungs, grounding him as he tried to exhale the heavy tang of dread and hope entwined. Around him, the campus breathed with muted life. Amber lanterns hanging from wrought-iron posts sputtered, their golden light spilling over the cobblestones, casting long, swaying shadows. The laughter of late-night stragglers sliced through the quiet, brittle and quick, a reminder that even at this hour, Mount Olympus University never truly slept.


    The Hermes district awaited him. The buildings glistened under the starlight, their walls painted in rich swathes of gold and deep green, etched with symbols that seemed to shift like living ink under the lanterns’ glow. The architecture was a maze of elegance and cunning—facades adorned with false windows that watched, balconies with narrow, winding staircases that disappeared into shadow. Secrets lay coiled in every nook and beneath every archway, waiting for the right ears or the right codewords.


    Even now, students and messengers wove through the labyrinthine paths, their movements quick and deliberate. Boxes stacked high and heavy shifted under urgent hands; parchment-wrapped messages passed like whispers, exchanged with glances full of sly amusement and silent promises. The walls themselves seemed to hum with anticipation, their surfaces alive with shifting patterns that flickered and faded like a magician’s trick. The scent of ink, sweat, and something metallic hung in the air, sharp and thrilling.


    It was as if the district itself had eyes, as if the polished stone and carved wood were watching, waiting, and breathing in the same restless rhythm as Jace. Every corner carried a sense of unspoken mischief, every hidden alley an invitation or a warning. Tonight, Hermes’ domain felt more than alive—it felt sentient, a place balanced on the cusp of revelation.


    The invisible golden glow tugged at him, urging him deeper into the organized chaos. The first familiar face he found was Molly, her dark curls framing her face like a storm as she commanded a small group with the confidence of a general. Her voice cut through the din, clear and commanding, but tinged with an excitement Jace could sense even from where he stood. When she spotted him, her eyes lit up, not just with joy but with something more intense, something that shone with a fierce clarity—relief.


    “Jace!” she called, a grin breaking through the tension that marked her features. Before he could even think to react, Molly flung her arms around him, squeezing tight. The warmth of the embrace was sudden, almost jarring, and when she pulled back, he felt the heat creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks.


    Seriously? He chided himself. Facing down the Dark One, fine. But a friendly hug? Instant embarrassment. He cursed himself silently. He reminded himself that he wasn’t a kid anymore. Nineteen Earth years, twenty in Terra Mythica’s adjusted time—he shouldn’t be reacting like this.


    Molly didn’t seem to notice the little internal dance he’d just performed. Her eyes sparkled with pure, unfiltered joy, completely oblivious to the way he was trying to will away the blush.


    Around her, the chaos surged: trunks piled high and charms glowing faintly as they were loaded into carts that creaked under their weight. The followers of Hecate, now under Hades’ protection, bustled with urgency. They were preparing to transition to the Fields Below, a sanctuary he had fought to secure for them with every hard-won society point. The move was still a week away, yet the air thrummed with the energy of imminent change—a hope so fierce it bordered on desperation.


    Jace’s heart clenched at the sight. His gaze caught Alice, half-hidden in the shadow of a bookshelf, her fingers skimming the cracked leather spine of an ancient tome. She looked up, eyes meeting his with a glimmer of something tender, a silent understanding that twisted his insides. It was brief, a flicker that vanished as quickly as it appeared, but it was enough.


    Nearby, Dex and Ell lounged on a worn leather couch, Dex with one leg draped lazily over the armrest, his ever-present smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He gestured animatedly, a scroll in one hand as Ell leaned in, eyes bright with amusement, her laugh a light, cascading sound that carried like glass chimes in a breeze. Scrolls and lists were strewn around them, their conversation weaving between hurried plans and sly jokes that brought a brightness to the room.


    Marcus stood at the periphery, arms folded across his chest, watching with an expression carved from granite. His dark eyes swept the room, calculating, guarded, until they settled on Jace. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he gave a terse nod—a silent acknowledgment of Jace’s presence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.


    The room pulsed with movement, the followers of Hecate weaving through the space, packing charms, tomes, and relics with practiced haste. The air hummed with the electric anticipation of a storm yet to break.


    “Looks like the Scooby Gang is all here,” Jace said, his voice steady, though a tremor of something raw and unspoken threaded beneath it. The weight of it all pressed on him—the friendships, the fragile alliances, the bonds that had become as much a part of him as breath. He drew in the cool night air, the pull of his Affinity thrumming with renewed urgency. The golden thread vibrated with purpose, then stilled, as if satisfied that its task was complete.


    “We need to talk,” he continued, eyes sweeping across the room, meeting each gaze in turn.


    The group exchanged glances, a flicker of silent worry sparking between them. Molly was the first to move, her gaze unwavering as she approached a stone statue embedded in the wall—a carved face of an old man, weathered and wise, eyes seeming to watch them with a silent, knowing judgment. Its expression was stern, eyes carved to follow anyone who passed. She leaned in and spoke softly, “Tenebrae et Veritas.” When she spoke, her voice carried an otherworldly quality, an echo that seemed to resonate from somewhere deeper than her throat, and the movement of her lips didn’t match the words that filled the air.


    For a moment, there was only silence, and then the statue’s eyes glowed with a faint, amber light. Its stone mouth cracked open, voice low and rumbling. “Granted.”


    With a deep, resonant groan, the ancient fa?ade shifted, stone grinding against stone as a hidden doorway revealed itself. “‘Darkness and Truth,’” she said, her voice carrying that same ethereal resonance as she glanced back at the group. Jace could only assume that hidden passages and secret rooms were more than common in this part of the campus.


    Inside, the room was shrouded in blackness at first, a silence so deep it felt tangible. But then the lanterns flared to life, casting a warm, amber glow that sent flickering light across the space. The light stretched and shifted, dancing over shelves crammed with ancient tomes, curling maps, and trinkets that hummed with a strange, latent energy. The scent was a mix of old parchment and ink, tinged with the ghostly aroma of wax.


    Molly swept her hand across the doorway, muttering an incantation under her breath. The room trembled, the door shifting into place with a deep, resonant thud as sigils glowed briefly along its edges, sealing them in. The warm, rhythmic pulse of protective magic settled into the walls, a silent guardian.


    The others found their places around the room, eyes unwavering as they focused on Jace. He stood at the center, the pull of their collective attention pressing down on him like cold steel. Thoughts surged and crashed behind his eyes, chaotic and vivid.


    “There’s something I need to tell you,” Jace said, his voice rough, every word emerging like shards of glass. It was more than a statement; it was a ripple, breaking the stillness and unfurling the truth he’d buried so deep it felt entwined with his bones. “Everything.”


    The room stilled, the word echoing like a struck chord, carrying with it a promise and a threat, a confession and a plea. He met their eyes, one by one. Molly’s, bright with hope and determination. Marcus’s, wary and hard, like tempered steel. Alice’s, soft but shadowed, concern beneath her composed surface.


    Ell’s eyes shimmered with a mix of curiosity and defiance, her lips pressed into a determined line. Dex, on the other hand, wore a lopsided grin that didn’t quite mask the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a grin that said he was ready for anything but expecting the worst.


    The lantern flames guttered, shadows pooling like ink as Jace’s voice wove through the room. He spoke of everything that had led him there, memories that clung like smoke, curling and binding, of places he had seen—visions that defied reason, twisted facsimiles of reality fractured like shattered glass. He told them of the golden thread that wrapped around him, tugging him forward, of his new Affinity.


    Jace took a breath, deeper this time, and told them more. He spoke of the streets he had grown up on, the lean, dangerous years that had forged him. It was a story most couldn’t fathom at Mount Olympus University, where bloodlines and legacy were as common as breath. He spoke of Alex, his brother, and the night he’d taken a device that wasn’t meant for him and forced his way into the university’s world.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Finally, he spoke of that night, the encounter with the dark one in the depths of his mind. The words came haltingly at first, each one a jagged shard of memory. Alice’s hand found his shoulder, her touch light and trembling, a silent offering of strength. Her smile was fleeting, pale as the last glow of a candle, but it was there.


    He searched their faces for signs of betrayal, disgust, anything that would confirm his fear. But all he found was quiet, listening eyes.


    He told them about the dark one, though not the darkest truth—he couldn’t tell them that he was the dark one’s son. That confession stuck in his throat, bitter and impossible. He was already brushing the edges of belief; to say more would shatter it. He spoke of his Affinity and the way it shaped his perception, pulling back the illusion of a digital game to reveal a reality far more complex and terrifying. His voice cracked with the recounting of the In Between, and the warning Alex had given him, words soaked in dread.


    They listened, absorbing it all, the silence between them heavy and brimming. Jace gave them everything he could, every splinter of truth that cut him from the inside out.


    The room seemed to exhale, settling into a tense silence that wrapped around them like a shroud. The flickering lanterns cast their glow in uneven strokes, shadows stretching across the shelves laden with relics, books, and strange, glinting curiosities. Dust motes swirled lazily in the golden light, as if time itself had slowed to listen. Jace felt the weight of their stares, their collective breath held in anticipation, their emotions woven together in the quiet—a mix of disbelief, curiosity, and something harder to name, a hesitant kind of trust.


    Dex broke the silence first, a smirk pulling at his lips. “So, Jason… you chose Jace as your secret identity? Jace? Didn’t want to pick something a little less like, you know, Jason?” His voice held a lilt of humor that cracked the tension.


    Ell elbowed him lightly, the gesture playful and accompanied by a faint grin she couldn’t quite suppress. “That’s what you got out of all that?”


    “So, you guys believe me?” Jace asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the question trembling in the space between them.


    Molly’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “We believe that you saw what you saw. Stranger things have happened. And with the logout feature gone and death looking more and more permanent… well, anything is possible.”


    Alice nodded, her brow furrowed. “It makes a strange kind of sense, but still... why go to such extremes? What’s the endgame here? And why would Excelsior—John Rearden himself—go through all this song and dance? He’d have to be in on it, wouldn’t he? He must know.”


    “Unless that’s why he disappeared. He knew too much? I always suspected some massive conspiracy,” Dex said, his eyes narrowing. “Rearden’s always been shifty. My dad used to say he was a genius, way, way ahead of his time. It could explain where he got all that technology.“ He glanced around, eyes darting conspiratorially.


    Marcus scoffed, the sound cutting through the room like a blade. “Are we really taking this seriously? Conspiracies, other dimensions—and what next, aliens? This is ridiculous.” He met their incredulous looks with a defiant shrug, then sighed, conceding with a rough grunt. “Fine, believe what you want. But let me tell you something—my dad worked with Rearden too, and he wasn’t some misunderstood genius. He was a con artist. Always disappearing, leaving my father to clean up the mess. If you ask me, he was scavenging old tech, probably illegal stuff. Working with AI.”


    He paused, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward. “It’s not aliens or otherworldly powers; it’s just him being slicker and slimier than everyone else. We lost most of our advanced tech in the war, and who’s to say this isn’t all just some hidden system he found? And, of course, I’m stuck here with you all. The son of the lawyer who got all of Rearden’s bills passed—who got the Technopurge put in check. Who covered up for his schemes. Wouldn’t surprise me if this was some mass kidnapping scheme with me as the target.”


    Silence hung heavy in the room as they all stared at him, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief. It was clear—this time, Marcus sounded like the crazy one.


    “Okay, fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That sounds crazy too.”


    A collective nod passed through the group.


    Alice broke the silence, her voice steady but tinged with urgency. “Listen, we can’t rule anything out right now.” The others exchanged glances and nodded, the tension thick in the air, a silent agreement settling over them.


    Ell leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m more curious about how you got in without scrambling your brain. The Devices are tamper-proof.”


    Jace swallowed hard, memories of that night clawing at him. “I thought it would fry me. But something overrode the system and let me through.”


    Ell looked thoughtful. “Now that is odd.”


    “So, you all believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?” Jace’s gaze swept over them, searching for doubt.


    Molly’s expression softened. “No crazier than the rest of us,” she said, a wry smile on her lips.


    Alice nodded, silent support in her eyes.


    Marcus rolled his eyes but said nothing, the fight gone out of him.


    Dex clapped his hands, the sound startling in the hushed room. “Beam me up, Scotty,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.


    Jace’s brow furrowed. “You know I didn’t say anything about aliens, right?”


    “Yeah, but it’s cooler to think of it that way. Besides, technically, if this is another world, then we’re the aliens.” He raised his hands, fingers wiggling like antennae, shooting Ell and Alice a playful glance.


    Marcus’s jaw tightened, but a reluctant grin threatened at the corners of his mouth. “In all this nonsense…” he started, eyes hardening. “I mean, in this totally plausible, very likely story of Jace’s—I mean Jason’s.”


    “Better stick with Jace, in public,” Jace murmured.


    “Right. Even if I believe you, what then? We’re supposed to help you reach the top of the Winter Games? Beat the tower? It’s impossible, never been done, especially not by a Traveler.”


    Dex frown as he nodded. “I really hate to say it, but… he’s right. Even if you made it to the top, the last levels are barred from us. Travelers can’t cross them—something about a safety mechanism built into the system. The Games are a ranking system,” Dex explained, “with prestige and rewards based on how high you climb. Only those at Silver Rank or below are allowed to enter. No Traveler has ever beaten it. Travelers who reach levels near the twenty cap gain elite status, almost like royalty here in Mythica. My dad always said he blew his one chance back in the day. He’d go on and on about how important the Games were, how they could change everything.”


    “Mine too,” Marcus said. “Except my dad actually made it to twenty.” He glanced at Dex with a smile that was more menace than joy. “I’ve been trained for this since I was a kid, drilled on every detail. At least, every detail that you can.”


    “What do you mean?” Jason asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.


    “The Games change every year, and they’re different for everyone who enters,” Alice added, earning an appreciative nod from Marcus.


    “Exactly,” Marcus continued. “I probably know the Games better than most, my father was obsessed. There are ten floors and the one thing never changes: the eight floor is the cap for Travelers. Almost no one even reaches it, let alone gets past.”


    Alice’s voice was a whisper, delicate and fierce. “That’s only the first impossible thing.”


    Ell snorted. “Right, we’re supposed to track down Rita Nutkins’ Book of Prophecies? We’ve already searched everywhere, remember? All we’ve managed to find are fragments and quotes scattered through other texts. Honestly, I’m starting to think it’s just an inside joke among the other authors.”


    Dex spread his hands, a grin splitting his face. “Two impossible things. That’s not so bad. We’ve faced worse.”


    Molly’s voice cut through the chatter, soft and otherworldly. “Jace, I believe you. This universe is full of unimaginable things. I’ve seen them, things that have no place in any world.” Her eyes darkened, a secret surfacing. “I’ve… been visited.”


    “By what?” Jace asked.


    “Spirits.”


    Marcus scoffed. “We’ve all seen spirits here. That doesn’t prove anything.”


    “No,” Molly said, her voice steady. “Spirits from back home. My grandmother… she was very sick when I left. She visited me when she died.”


    A heavy silence followed, the air thickening as they all exchanged glances. Marcus’s skepticism faltered, confusion and an uneasy respect warring on his face.


    Alice’s eyes shone with quiet empathy. “I’m sorry, Molly.”


    Molly’s smile was small, resolute. “It’s okay. She’s in a better place now, somewhere in Terra Mythica. Bodies can’t cross worlds easily, but souls… they can slip through the cracks.”


    The silence held, but this time it was not heavy with doubt. It hummed with a shared understanding, fragile but unyielding.


    Alice broke the charged silence, clearing her throat. “Guys, what’s really crazy is that I was actually just passing through to borrow a book I knew Molly had.” She held up a thick, weathered tome, its dark leather cover cracked with age and etched with gilded symbols that shimmered faintly in the lantern light. “It’s on the origins of magical histories in Mythica. And it covers the Winter Games.”


    A murmur of interest rippled through the group as Alice placed the book down with a soft thud, the sound echoing in the quiet room. They all leaned in, faces lit with the anticipation of discovery. Jace’s eyes traced the worn title, fingers itching to touch the pages that might hold the answers they desperately needed.


    Alice flipped through the book with practiced precision until she found the section she wanted. She spread the tome open to a large, detailed map, the paper thick and crackling under her touch. The map was painted in deep, rich colors—blues, silvers, and greens—marked with swirling lines of ancient runes that seemed to shimmer as the lanterns caught them.


    “Supposedly, long ago,” Alice began, her voice low and steady, “this world was formed from shards of the original Prismata, the filter of aether and energy that flows through the universe.” Her finger traced a line across the map, landing on a spot marked with a dark blue symbol. “There are said to be deposits of these original World Shards hidden throughout the land, each one holding immense power. This one here, under the Winter Games, is a piece of the original Sapphire Shard—Mind, Illusions, Intelligence.”


    Dex let out a low whistle, eyes narrowing.


    Ell glanced at him before leaning closer, her gaze sharp and focused. “You’d think someone would have mined them,” she said.


    “These deposits are highly illegal to mine and nearly impossible,” Alice continued, her expression growing serious. “Even reaching them would require the power of a near-Transcendent Speaker. But this World Shard,” she tapped the map again, “is what fuels the Games, granting them their ability to shift and change for every person who enters.”


    Molly’s eyes widened as she leaned forward, the lantern light catching in the dark coils of her hair. “And the kingdom built around it?”


    Alice nodded, flipping to an illustration of towering battlements and deep, shadowed forests. “This was once part of Roandia, a kingdom that stretched across the land before it was shattered by the Dark One’s campaign. Here,” she pointed to a jagged border on the map, a line that looked like a scar, “is where they managed to push back his forces, creating this last stronghold. It’s fortified, with protections meant to keep his armies at bay, a massive barrier that divides his territory from the Games.”


    Alice nodded, flipping to an illustration of towering battlements and deep, shadowed forests. “This was once part of Roandia, a kingdom that stretched far and wide before it was shattered by the Dark One’s campaign. And here,” she pointed to the jagged line on the map, a scar that divided the land, “they built an enormous wall—a barrier of magic that holds his forces back, fortified with ancient protections.”


    Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he studied the map, a glimmer of awe breaking through his usual hardened expression. “A border war,” he muttered. “This entire region has held him off for centuries.”


    Jace felt a chill coil around his spine, a visceral reaction he fought to keep hidden. This barrier was all that separated him from the place he now knew he was tied to in ways the others couldn’t imagine. The thought of being so close to the Dark One’s domain made his pulse quicken, a mixture of dread and something darker, something he didn’t want to name.


    “It makes sense,” Ell added, her voice thoughtful, “why there’s been so much debate about even having the Games at all. With the Dark One’s power growing, is it truly safe to hold them so close to his territory?”


    Jace stared at the map, a slow realization unfurling within him like the first glimmer of dawn. The sapphire shard, the ever-shifting Games, the ancient battleground—it all connected in ways he couldn’t fully grasp yet. But he could feel it: something here held the answers he needed, a key hidden within the threads of history, waiting to unlock the destiny that lay ahead.


    “But that’s not even the most interesting part about this book,” Alice said, her eyes gleaming. “Look at the name under the illustrations. The artist who drew them.”


    They leaned in, squinting to make out the delicate scarlet ink scrawled at the bottom edge of the page. There, in tiny, precise script, were two words: Rita Nutkins. Her name was inscribed beneath each illustration throughout the book.


    Silence fell again, but this time it thrummed with the pulse of revelation.


    Ell broke it with a grin. “Alright, so what’s next, Space Man?”


    Jace looked at each of them, his resolve hardening. “We get ready for the Games. And we find that book.”


    The silence was alive, pressing down on them until the air turned leaden in their lungs. Jace held their gaze, searching for something—acceptance, doubt, resolve—anything to reveal where they stood. Fear, anger, confusion, determination; each emotion flickered across their faces, caught in the trembling amber light.


    Dex’s grin came quick, an instinctive mask that didn’t reach his eyes, where tension lay like a coiled spring. “Hell yeah,” he said, his voice steady but betraying the faintest quiver, a ripple of fear threading through it. Jace heard it as clearly as a heartbeat.


    Ell rolled her eyes, giving Dex a playful punch on the arm. “This is serious, Dex,” she muttered, though the warmth in her voice softened the reprimand. Jace’s chest tightened as realization sank in—they were here. Despite everything, they were still here, with him, ready to face whatever lay ahead.


    Ell stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes sharp and watchful. “We need a plan.”


    Jace met her gaze and nodded, a small, shuddering breath easing the tension in his chest.


    Alice moved closer, her fingers brushed his, a touch so light it could have been imagined, but it anchored him nonetheless. “We’re with you, Jace,” she said, her voice gentle but unyielding, a pledge carried across the room. “All of us. No matter what.”


    Jace swallowed hard, the tightness in his throat loosening as he looked around. Faces worn by battle and fear, but alive with resolve. Molly, fierce and unyielding; Dex, grinning through his nerves; Ell, eyes bright with mischief and loyalty; Marcus, reluctantly nodding, his jaw set.


    “Why not?” Marcus added, the corners of his mouth twitching in the barest hint of a smile. It was more than Jace had expected.


    “Okay,” Jace said, his voice stronger now, steadier. The tremor had gone, replaced by the steel edge of resolve. “Let’s get to work.”


    As they talked, the room filled with the rhythm of their voices, a chorus of ideas and arguments woven with sharp hope and the dull thud of fear. Jace felt the golden thread within him pulse, a gentle reminder of why they were here, what they were fighting for. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.


    The night unfurled around them, hours trickling away like grains of sand slipping through an unseen hourglass. Outside, stars burned fiercely in the velvet sky. Somewhere in the deep darkness beyond the walls, something stirred, a shift in the quiet. Jace felt it in his marrow, a certainty as ancient as the constellations above: this was only the beginning.


    He was quickly pulled from his thoughts as a loud voice boomed through the station, summoning all new students. Jace reluctantly left the book, shop, and now frowning shopkeeper, and joined the gathering crowd, waiting for further instructions.