In a swirl of incense and shifting shadows, Asian spirits emerged, fox-tailed and masked figures gliding over snow without leaving footprints. A young serpentine dragon—young by dragon years at least—coiled lazily in the air, pearl-like eyes serene and patient. Its whiskers drifted like fine brushstrokes, while beneath it, a cluster of robed monks passed in silence, their lanterns painting delicate patterns on the ground. Strange and monstrous creatures followed behind, tusks gleaming, rattling clubs that emitted sharp, crackling sparks, their laughter neither cruel nor kind, but something more inscrutable.
From a distant portal came the whisper of flutes and rattles, followed by beings whose markings recalled jaguar spots and hummingbird feathers. The air tasted of damp earth and fresh rain as shamans stepped forth, skins patterned in spirals of teal and ochre, feathered serpents twisting around their ankles. A hooded figure raised a hand, conjuring a swirl of incense that tasted of cacao and chili, and the world seemed to tilt, acknowledging some older truth.
Yet not all arrivals were framed in warmth or stately grace. Another opening revealed a huge serpent coiled protectively around a silent, hooded traveler. The serpent’s emerald scales caught distant fires and sent them dancing across the snow, while the robed figure’s measured steps needed no companion other than the reptile’s quiet, watchful presence.
No voice governed them. They fanned out into the cold clearing, old myths and new stories pressing against one another, forging an uneasy harmony of flesh, fur, scale, and steel.
Jace watched this congregation, his gaze darting from group to group. Voices in a dozen accents overlapped, laughter and murmurs forming a tapestry of sound. Cultures collided here, drawn by the promise of the Winter Games, and stood together beneath the fractured sky—one half of it a serene winter poem, the other a black, broken cry.
It was then that another figure claimed his attention. A portal shimmered and she stepped through. Her stride was fluid, unhurried, as though time itself bowed to her passing. Her skin glowed like polished bronze under distant suns. Her features were chiseled and striking, balanced as if shaped by wise and ancient hands. She wore obsidian textiles threaded with gold filigree, patterns that teased meaning at the edge of understanding. They spoke of civilizations old as time, of powers that never truly slumber.
She stood among the Egyptians, yet something set her apart, as if she were the calm axis around which all others turned. While a gaggle of female companions chattered and laughed, their voices weaving melodic strands in the frosted air, she remained silent. That silence was not emptiness; it had weight and presence, a gravity that drew Jace’s attention as surely as the Tower in the distance.
Then she looked up and their eyes met. For Jace, it was as if the world’s noise faded, leaving only the quiet spark that leapt between them. Her eyes, dark and bottomless, held something ancient—knowledge older than the stones, deeper than the endless snows. A resonance coursed through him, a quiet chord plucked at the center of his being. It went beyond beauty; it suggested vast landscapes hidden beneath calm waters. The moment stretched, and in it he sensed an inquiry or a challenge. For an instant, he thought he saw something flicker—though he couldn’t tell if it was approval or wry amusement—before she turned away, releasing him as though he had never held her attention at all.
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The crowd thickened, shifting and swirling toward distant gates. Order emerged from chaos as lines formed almost instinctively, those from other kingdoms already headed down toward the city. Some flew, others walked, and even more vanished, using some form of teleportation magic.
A voice cut through the Olympian gathering. Dranice, sharp and clear: “Students of Mount Olympus, you’ll want to go and secure birthing. The district is marked on your maps. Brutus and I have other matters.” His gaze swept over them, as unflinching as the frost underfoot. “Orientation begins at six. Good luck.”
As the final words faded, Jace felt a soft chime in his mind. A glowing prompt hovered at the edge of his vision:
New Quest:
Find lodging.
Meet for Orientation at 6 PM. See map for location.
No instructions beyond that, no gentle mentorship to ease them into a foreign city. Just a challenge placed like bait. Jace scowled, scanning the faces around him. He saw confusion and resolve reflected back. Before anyone could voice a complaint, Dranice and Brutus dissolved into shimmering motes, leaving the hilltop and its pilgrims behind.
The students shifted restlessly, boots crunching in the snow, breath smoking in the chill. Soon they began descending toward the sprawling city, clusters forming and drifting apart, some studying enchanted maps, others simply following the crowd. The lanterns below promised warmth and shelter, but made no guarantees.
Jace lingered a moment, feeling the icy wind nip at his cheeks. The city stretched out before them like a puzzle box waiting to be opened, streets glowing with lantern-light, rooftops dusted in pale gold and silver. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying hints of charcoal and promise.
“Come on,” Marcus said, breaking the silence. A confident grin split his face. “Unless you fancy sleeping out here. Personally, I’d like to get lodging before all the good rooms are taken.”
Jace couldn’t disagree. He fell into step, the crunch of snow beneath their boots a steady companion to his circling thoughts. Other students jostled by, some laughing, some fretting, the air filled with swirling voices. The lanterns along the path flickered welcomingly against the encroaching twilight.
At the crest of the hill, Jace paused to glance back. The portals flickered faintly, their glow dimming as the last of new arrivals moved on. He wondered who that woman was, and if their paths would cross again. Then he turned to follow his friends down the slope, his boots biting into frost that had yet to yield to daylight. The chill settled through his coat as if testing his resolve, reminding him that no warmth was free and no journey certain.
He pressed on, each footstep carrying him closer to whatever waited in that vast, glittering city beneath a sky broken in half.