Chapter One Hundred Eighty-Two: A City on the Edge
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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.
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“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.