Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Four: Jason's Lost and Found
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With a weary sigh, Jace stood and stretched, muscles aching with the satisfying fatigue that followed a day well spent. It had been days since the Midnight Festival and the whirlwind of chaos that came with it. The weight of those events still lingered, pressing down on everything like the aftermath of a car crash—tense and bruised. But it was beginning to ease. Moments of quiet and comfort had started to slip through the cracks, fragile and welcome.
The night around him felt softer, carrying a sense of calm that resonated deep within—like releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, letting a silent resolution settle into his bones. For the first time in what felt like forever, the pieces of his life seemed to align, hinting at where he fit within the sprawling chaos. Here, he could carve out meaning, find purpose amidst the tumult.
He moved around his dorm, the soft creak of floorboards underfoot breaking the quiet. His gaze caught on the old mirror affixed to the wall. It was a relic, tarnished and simple, half-forgotten amidst the swirl of magic and upheaval that had come to define his existence. He paused, an unease coiling in the back of his mind. The reflection stared back at him, but something was wrong. A subtle misalignment, a lag as though the mirrored image were acting of its own accord, a second too slow.
Jace stepped closer, a frown etching lines into his brow. His breath stilled, and a tingling pulse swept over him as his affinity for Truth and Soul awakened, sharpening his senses as though they were being fine-tuned by an unseen hand. The air around him thickened, buzzing with a latent energy.
And then he saw it. The reflection didn’t just lag; it shifted. Its eyes were wide and its mouth moved soundlessly, shaping a word he could not hear, only feel in the marrow of his bones.
“Jason.”
His name trembled through him like a whisper from the past. His eyes narrowed, heart pounding. “Alex?” he said, voice splintered with disbelief and hope.
In the mirror, the reflection nodded, desperation etched into every line of its face. The hand in the glass moved, palm pressing against the surface as though it could break through. A silent plea, a bridge between worlds.
Jace didn’t think, he simply reacted. His own hand rose and met the cool surface of the mirror. Ice against his skin, then heat, then something that defied the reality he knew. The glass quivered, rippling as though water had been disturbed by an unseen current. The pull was immediate, inescapable. Before reason or fear could take hold, he was swept forward—tumbling through the mirror, into the unknown, the reflection shattering around him in a thousand silent shards.
The dorm room stood quiet in his absence, the candle’s flame flickering in a final, solitary dance. No witness remained to the event, only the mirror, now dark and unmoving, reflecting nothing but the empty room.
The world shifted beneath Jason’s feet, colors bending, angles distorting, as if reality itself had forgotten what it was meant to be. For a breathless heartbeat, there was nothing but the cold, metallic taste of fear, and then gravity remembered him, flinging him into a landscape without form or function.
Jason crashed against the ground, the impact jarring his bones, driving the breath from his lungs. He rolled to his knees, groaning, taking in the world—or what passed for a world here. He stood amidst a land of distortions and contradictions, where space itself twisted into spirals and stretched into eternity, then folded into nothingness, all within a heartbeat. The horizon bent inward, impossibly close, while the sky fractured like a kaleidoscope of shattered seasons—summer bleeding into winter, and autumn smoldering into the pastels of spring.
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Jason staggered to his feet, his eyes adjusting to the mad play of colors and shapes. He was surrounded by bizarre trees with branches that dipped and curled like the hands of beggars, leaves shimmering in hues that defied description. Strange birds wheeled above him, their cries dissonant, like a broken music box. This wasn’t Terra Mythica—nor was it Earth. It was a different kind of madness.
He felt Truth and Soul coursing through him, pulling apart the veil of the world. A notification appeared in his mind.
You have entered a null space.
A world between worlds.
All things come, all things go, yet this place never was and always will be. It is the crossroads of the lost and found, where all realms touch and overlap. In the grand cosmic dance, you now stand upon the floor, caught between the steps.
Jace was only just beginning to tap into the depths of his new Affinity—Truth. It granted him an insight that cut through the superficial, revealing details he had once only brushed against. His ability to Identify grew sharper, peeling back the layers of reality and exposing what truly lay beneath. With each use, he felt as though he was no longer just observing the world, but understanding it on an elemental level.
He could feel it in the air: an undercurrent, an endless hum, as though the landscape itself pulsed with life, malevolent or indifferent. A chill ran through him.
He took a step forward, his footfall echoed—no, reverberated—as if the sound had a mind of its own, bouncing off walls that weren’t there. A path seemed to unfurl before him, a staircase that had no visible end, its steps snaking into the mist until they disappeared entirely.
“Jason!”
Jason’s eyes snapped wide at the familiar voice, his heart thundering with a mix of shock and hope. He spun, and there he was—Alex, standing tall and commanding against the backdrop of the twisted, ever-shifting sky. He was perched on a looping stone archway that defied the very laws of gravity, a figure carved from shadow and light. The boy Jason had known was gone, replaced by a man draped in flowing robes as dark as midnight, trimmed with glimmers of silver thread that shimmered like stars. Strange symbols etched into the fabric pulsed faintly, their meaning just out of reach—even for Jason's newfound insight. His long hair cascaded down in loose, unruly waves, and intricate rings glinted on his fingers—each a testament to some battle won or power claimed.
Alex leaped down effortlessly, his boots landing with a whisper against the ground, defying the weight of his presence. He stood before Jason, shoulders broad and adorned with a cloak that looked as though it had been woven from storm clouds and shadow. Chains of obsidian and polished onyx wound around his forearms, catching the light in sharp, biting reflections. His eyes, deep and sharp, told stories of battles fought, realms traversed, and a power that had become second nature.
“Alex?” Jason breathed, voice cracking under the strain of emotion, his entire heart threatening to spill out in that single word. He took a step forward, and Alex's arms moved without hesitation, pulling him into a fierce embrace that was both a reunion and a shield against the chaos around them.
When they parted, their eyes met, glistening with unshed tears that mirrored each other’s—an unspoken acknowledgment of the time lost, the battles fought alone, and the ache of absence finally mended.
“I knew you’d make the jump,” Alex said, his voice deeper now, resonant and steady, yet laced with something cold—not unkind, but changed, like a well-worn map etched with tales of long days far behind. Despite the hardness, Jason saw the brother he remembered. The tear that slipped down Alex’s face said everything that words could not.