Chapter One Hundred Eighty-One: Impossible Things

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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.”

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“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, but one thing never changes: the twentieth floor is the cap for Travelers. Almost no one even reaches it, let alone gets past. There are rumors of ten more levels above that, but it’s just that—rumor. No one’s ever confirmed it. It’s impossible.”

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.