Chapter One Hundred Eighty: The Room of Secrets

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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.

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.

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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.