Chapter Seventeen: The Winter Games


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    A few hours later, they gathered near the entrance to the carnival, the air buzzing with energy. The afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden glow, casting warm light across their faces as they stood together, each bringing their own distinct flair to the scene.


    Jace lingered at the edge of the group, his dark cloak shifting subtly in the light, its enchanted threads catching the shadows like smoke in motion. Beneath it, his charcoal tunic fit snugly, blending into his scuffed, practical boots. The faint glow of his White Raven ring flickered as he adjusted the edge of his cloak, his gaze scanning the horizon like a sentinel who couldn’t fully let his guard down.


    Alice had clearly embraced the occasion, her flowing sapphire dress shimmering like liquid starlight under the lanterns. Her hair, swept into a loose braid, glittered with tiny silver charms etched with delicate runes. She held a small satchel at her side that was more ornament than necessity, given that they all had inventories. She was… stunning.


    Ell strutted forward, her boots striking the cobblestones with a confidence that bordered on defiance. Her sleeveless, wine-red tunic, trimmed with gold, clung to her frame, the hilt of a dagger peeking from her belt. A braid, threaded with copper wire, swung behind her as she flashed a grin at Marcus.


    Marcus, by contrast, was the picture of understated elegance. His sleek black coat hung neatly over a dark green high-collared shirt, the silver buttons catching just enough light to gleam. His boots, polished to a mirror sheen, clicked softly as he walked, his usual skeptical expression softened slightly by the carnival’s festive air.


    Molly twirled in place, her layered skirt of teal and gold flaring around her legs. She’d wrapped a black scarf of gossamer fabric around her neck, its ends fluttering behind her like tiny banners. Jeweled star-shaped clips dotted her pinned curls, catching the light with every laugh and bounce in her step.


    Dex shifted awkwardly, pulling at the hem of his well-fitted brown jacket leather as if trying to keep it from wrinkling. His boots were scuffed from overuse, but the care he’d put into the rest of his outfit was obvious, even if he looked unsure about it.


    As they approached the carnival, their senses were overwhelmed by a chaotic symphony of sights, sounds, and scents. Jace slowed, his steps faltering as his gaze swept over the surreal scene before them. They stood just beyond a towering archway that marked the entrance to the next layer of the Merchants’ Circle, its intricate carvings glowing faintly in the lantern light, as if alive with some quiet magic.


    From their vantage point, the Merchant’s Circle had become a tapestry of enchantment. Vibrant lanterns floated in midair, their glowing hues of ruby and sapphire casting dancing patterns across the cobblestone streets below. Strings of lights looped between towering wrought-iron posts, their golden orbs flickering like captive stars. The air shimmered with an almost tangible warmth, carrying with it the mingling scents of spiced pastries, roasted meats, and something floral and sweet—exotic and unplaceable.


    Laughter rippled like music, rising and falling in waves, punctuated by the occasional cheer. Crowds moved in a rhythmic dance, weaving through stalls draped in shimmering silks and banners painted with celestial motifs. The sounds were a cacophony that somehow didn’t overwhelm: the cheerful clinking of coins, and the occasional shout of a vendor hawking wares. At one corner, a juggler tossed flaming torches that left trails of sparkling fire in their wake, while on another, a troupe of instruments hovered in midair, their strings plucked and keys pressed by unseen hands. The notes shimmered as they rose, sparkling like sunlight dancing across a rippling stream, the melody weaving an otherworldly harmony that bound the tapestry of sights and smells together, coalescing into a sort of living thing.


    Stepping close to the gates, they could see the glint of gold and jewels from wares displayed on ornate tables, guarded by merchants whose bright smiles seemed genuine but felt faintly off, like masks that refused to slip. Towering over the scene, a mechanical dragon roared, its brass scales catching the light as it moved in synchronized grace, spilling plumes of harmless, glowing smoke over the delighted crowd.


    The entire district pulsed with life, its festivities so vibrant and alluring that it felt like reality had taken a step sideways into a dream. Yet, from where they stood, the faintest dissonance prickled—something just beyond the surface, unseen but felt, like a distant chord that was slightly out of tune.


    There was something wrong about it all, though he couldn’t quite place why. The warmth wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating, like stepping into a predator’s lair where the trap had already been sprung. The air smelled of cinnamon, clove, and something richer, darker. Sweet, yes, but with an edge that teased the faintest hint of decay.


    Behind him, Molly exhaled sharply, her breath forming one last ghostly wisp before dissolving into the warmer air. “What is this place?” she murmured, her voice filled with wary wonder.


    “This is the Merchant’s Circle,” Alice said, her voice soft and tinged with awe. “They transform it into the outer rings of celebration before the contestants take on the tower.”


    Despite his unease, Jace couldn’t deny the pull of the place. It was as if the glowing crystals and the glistening streets whispered directly to his bones, urging him forward.


    “It’s incredible,” Dex declared, already striding ahead. His boots made no sound against the cobblestones, his confidence as unwavering as the grin he wore. He spun around to face them, walking backward with ease. “Come on!”


    Marcus hesitated, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as his gaze flicked warily to the towering gates ahead.


    Arches were adorned with more ruby-lit crystals. A banner fluttered above, its silken fabric catching the light and scattering it in dazzling patterns. The words upon it twisted and shifted, symbols rearranging themselves until Jace’s mind made sense of them:


    Welcome All to the Winter Games.


    Beyond the gates, the world burst into riotous color and sound. Strings of enchanted lights looped between towering poles, casting amber and gold patterns over bustling streets. Vendors called out their wares, their voices a blend of cheer and practiced charm. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meats, spiced pastries, and something sweeter still, all combining in a heady mix that tugged at the edges of reason.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    “Just look at this place.” Dex gestured grandly, spinning again to face the spectacle. “Amazing.”


    Jace lingered at the edge of the gates, his unease sharpening. The perfection of it all—the laughter that never faltered, the warmth that never wavered—felt too polished, too precise. It was a picture painted to beguile, not to reassure. Yet, against his better judgment, he stepped forward, the pull of the place tugging at something deep within him.


    They stepped into the world of colors, its vibrant lights and warm laughter enveloping them like a welcoming embrace. For a brief moment, Jace felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine, sharp and insistent—but then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. In its place, a strange, pleasant fog settled over his thoughts, leaving him oddly content yet vaguely adrift, as though some important worry had been quietly swept away, leaving only the faintest whisper of its absence.


    He heard it then—no, heard wasn’t right.


    Look.


    It was not a voice, but something deeper, more primal. A vibration thrumming at the edges of his awareness. It bypassed sound entirely and resonated straight into his core. Instinctively, he checked his HUD, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he searched for any sign of status effects or updates. Nothing. No alerts, no warnings. Just the strange persistent feeling.


    Look.


    A single word. Not spoken, not thought, but impressed upon him, heavy with meaning and yet maddeningly vague.


    What did it mean?


    His gaze dropped to his ring, and he caught the faintest pulse of energy from the White Raven. It thrummed softly, still siphoning fragments of his aether as it healed itself, its final awakening growing ever closer—just under seven percent left. The hum grew stronger, a subtle rhythm beneath his skin, almost a heartbeat. He did some mental math and estimated it wouldn’t be more than a week, at the current rate.


    He saw that his Truthsense was active in his HUD, a tiny glowing symbol indicating it was working. It reached out to the world, and it felt like squinting through a fog. The connection wavered, faltering like static on a broken signal. He concentrated harder, feeling it struggle against something unseen, something just out of reach. Whatever it was, it wasn’t letting him through.


    It felt like a thousand tiny lights were blinding his Truthsense, all coming from different places.


    As they moved deeper into the festival, the chaos of color and sound grew almost overwhelming. Strings of lights looped between tall poles, weaving intricate patterns of amber and gold that cast a warm, flickering glow over the cobbled streets. Banners of every imaginable color rippled in the soft breeze, their edges catching the light like jeweled waves.


    And then, the smell—rich, layered, intoxicating. Roasted nuts coated in something sweet and sticky. Pastries filled with spices that tickled the nose and promised warmth. Meats sizzling on open flames, their juices dripping onto enchanted coals that hissed with fragrant smoke. Jace felt his stomach twist in longing despite himself.


    Marcus stood beside him, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his face locked in its usual judging frown. “It’s an illusion,” he said flatly, his eyes scanning the cheerful chaos. “Probably enchanted to look better than it is.”


    “Maybe,” Ell replied, grinning as she stepped past him, “but who cares? It’s amazing.” She darted ahead, her boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones as she weaved through the crowd with the effortless grace of someone who belonged wherever she landed.


    Alice trailed after her, her pace slower and more deliberate. Her eyes lingered on a stall to their right, its shelves stacked high with glimmering trinkets that seemed to shimmer and shift as if alive. Molly followed at her heels, her laughter light and carefree as her black scarf fluttered behind her like a banner.


    Jace’s stomach tightened with unease. The warmth, the laughter, the lights—it was all too polished, too precise. A carnival plucked from a dream, or worse, something meant to distract.


    The first stall they approached was a ring toss game, deceptively simple in appearance. Wooden poles of varying heights jutted from a polished platform, each adorned with colorful prizes that sparkled in the warm glow of the heat crystals. A stuffed griffon perched on one pole, its beady eyes gleaming, while a delicate golden orb rested precariously on another. A stuffed wolf pup with silvery fur and tiny embroidered fangs sat coiled on one pole, its eyes glinting with a mischievous spark, while a miniature golden and plush ankh dangled from another.


    The stall owner, a plump man with a face that seemed permanently fixed in a beaming smile, spread his arms wide as they approached. His apron was dusted with flour, or perhaps glitter—Jace couldn’t tell. “Step right up! Test your aim and win a prize! Only the bold and the skilled prevail!” His voice carried with practiced charm, his hand gesturing to a pile of rings polished to a mirror shine.


    Ell stepped forward immediately, digging into her inventory, pulling a silver piece from out of the air and slapping it down onto the counter. “Three rings,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the setup like a hunter sizing up her prey.


    The man handed her the rings with an exaggerated flourish, as if bestowing a great honor. “Good luck, miss. Aim true! Fortune favors the daring.”


    Alice leaned casually against the counter beside her, a smirk playing on her lips. “Bet you can’t hit three in a row.”


    Ell shot her a sidelong glance, her grin curling with confidence. “Watch and learn, my doubting friend.”


    “You’re a bunch of children throwing your money away,” Marcus said, as he watched them with an expression of pure disdain. “These games are always rigged, you know.”


    Ell’s first toss was smooth as silk, the ring arcing gracefully through the air—until it wasn’t. It clanged off the pole, just shy of the mark, and hit the ground with a hollow clatter. Her grin faltered, though only for a heartbeat. The second throw was worse, veering wide enough to draw an exaggerated wince from Marcus. Ell’s jaw tightened.


    Jace’s Truthsense chose that moment to flicker to life, carving faint patterns in the air before his eyes. He saw it then—a subtle shimmer bending the light around the poles, shifting reality just enough to throw off aim.


    He leaned in close and murmured, “Look—do you see it?”


    At first, she didn’t. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting uncertainly. But then he pointed, his finger tracing the faint distortion in the air. She squinted, her violet eyes sparking to life, the glow of the carnival lights reflecting in them like embers catching fire. And then, finally, she saw it.


    She squinted at the target, her grin twisting into something far more wicked. “Ah,” she murmured, her tone dripping with realization. “I see how it is.”


    With a slow breath, Ell raised the third ring, her movements now deliberate, calculating. “Alright,” she said, her voice laced with challenge. “Warm-ups are over. Time to show you how it’s done.”


    The ring soared through the air with precision, spinning once, twice, before landing dead center on the tallest pole. It wobbled for the briefest moment—just enough to build tension—then settled with a satisfying thunk. The group erupted into cheers and groans.


    “Beginner’s luck,” Marcus muttered, stepping up with the resignation of a man forced into the fray. He slapped a coin on the counter, collected his rings, and lobbed the first with a lazy flick of his wrist. It struck true, sliding cleanly onto a pole.


    Ell groaned in mock agony. “Oh, come on!”


    Marcus raised an eyebrow, as if to say naturally, while Alice smirked.


    “I thought this was a children’s game?” Alice said.


    Marcus shrugged. “I was a child once.”


    Ell groaned and the playful ribbing continued as they moved to the next booth, Ell walking with just enough swagger to be insufferable.


    “You only hit those because I figured out the trick,” she chided Marcus, her tone half-serious. “I exposed the weakness. You just took advantage of it.”


    “What are you two even talking about?” Dex asked, confusion written across his face.


    “The booths are enchanted,” Jace said, cutting in as his gaze drifted back toward the ring toss. “All of them are. This whole place is filled with enchantments and illussions, even my Truthsense is working overtime to try and figure it all out. It’s giving me a headache. The ring toss one had an alternative spatial curve—light bending just enough to make the targets look like they’re in the wrong spot on each throw.”


    Ell grinned, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Good thing I’ve got better aim and sharper eyes.”


    “Sure,” Marcus deadpanned, but his smirk betrayed him.


    Dex chuckled and headed over to a booth with a red canopy over it. “I’m sticking to the food stalls.”