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Terra Mythica: A LitRPG Adventure
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine: An Impossible Confession

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine: An Impossible Confession

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Nine: An Impossible Confession

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The invisible golden glow tugged at him, urging him deeper into the organized chaos. The first familiar face he found was Molly, her dark curls framing her face like a storm as she commanded a small group with the confidence of a general. Her voice cut through the din, clear and commanding, but tinged with an excitement Jace could sense even from where he stood. When she spotted him, her eyes lit up, not just with joy but with something more intense, something that shone with a fierce clarity—relief.

“Jace!” she called, a grin breaking through the tension that marked her features. Before he could even think to react, Molly flung her arms around him, squeezing tight. The warmth of the embrace was sudden, almost jarring, and when she pulled back, he felt the heat creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks.

Seriously? He chided himself. Facing down the Dark One, fine. But a friendly hug? Instant embarrassment. He cursed himself silently. He reminded himself that he wasn’t a kid anymore. Nineteen Earth years, twenty in Terra Mythica’s adjusted time—he shouldn’t be reacting like this.

Molly didn’t seem to notice the little internal dance he’d just performed. Her eyes sparkled with pure, unfiltered joy, completely oblivious to the way he was trying to will away the blush.

Around her, the chaos surged: trunks piled high and charms glowing faintly as they were loaded into carts that creaked under their weight. The followers of Hecate, now under Hades’ protection, bustled with urgency. They were preparing to transition to the Fields Below, a sanctuary he had fought to secure for them with every hard-won society point. The move was still a week away, yet the air thrummed with the energy of imminent change—a hope so fierce it bordered on desperation.

Jace’s heart clenched at the sight. His gaze caught Alice, half-hidden in the shadow of a bookshelf, her fingers skimming the cracked leather spine of an ancient tome. She looked up, eyes meeting his with a glimmer of something tender, a silent understanding that twisted his insides. It was brief, a flicker that vanished as quickly as it appeared, but it was enough.

Nearby, Dex and Ell lounged on a worn leather couch, Dex with one leg draped lazily over the armrest, his ever-present smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He gestured animatedly, a scroll in one hand as Ell leaned in, eyes bright with amusement, her laugh a light, cascading sound that carried like glass chimes in a breeze. Scrolls and lists were strewn around them, their conversation weaving between hurried plans and sly jokes that brought a brightness to the room.

Marcus stood at the periphery, arms folded across his chest, watching with an expression carved from granite. His dark eyes swept the room, calculating, guarded, until they settled on Jace. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he gave a terse nod—a silent acknowledgment of Jace’s presence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

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The room pulsed with movement, the followers of Hecate weaving through the space, packing charms, tomes, and relics with practiced haste. The air hummed with the electric anticipation of a storm yet to break.

“Looks like the Scooby Gang is all here,” Jace said, his voice steady, though a tremor of something raw and unspoken threaded beneath it. The weight of it all pressed on him—the friendships, the fragile alliances, the bonds that had become as much a part of him as breath. He drew in the cool night air, the pull of his Affinity thrumming with renewed urgency. The golden thread vibrated with purpose, then stilled, as if satisfied that its task was complete.

“We need to talk,” he continued, eyes sweeping across the room, meeting each gaze in turn.

The group exchanged glances, a flicker of silent worry sparking between them. Molly was the first to move, her gaze unwavering as she approached a stone statue embedded in the wall—a carved face of an old man, weathered and wise, eyes seeming to watch them with a silent, knowing judgment. Its expression was stern, eyes carved to follow anyone who passed. She leaned in and spoke softly, “Tenebrae et Veritas.” When she spoke, her voice carried an otherworldly quality, an echo that seemed to resonate from somewhere deeper than her throat, and the movement of her lips didn’t match the words that filled the air.

For a moment, there was only silence, and then the statue’s eyes glowed with a faint, amber light. Its stone mouth cracked open, voice low and rumbling. “Granted.”

With a deep, resonant groan, the ancient façade shifted, stone grinding against stone as a hidden doorway revealed itself. “‘Darkness and Truth,’” she said, her voice carrying that same ethereal resonance as she glanced back at the group. Jace could only assume that hidden passages and secret rooms were more than common in this part of the campus.

Inside, the room was shrouded in blackness at first, a silence so deep it felt tangible. But then the lanterns flared to life, casting a warm, amber glow that sent flickering light across the space. The light stretched and shifted, dancing over shelves crammed with ancient tomes, curling maps, and trinkets that hummed with a strange, latent energy. The scent was a mix of old parchment and ink, tinged with the ghostly aroma of wax.

Molly swept her hand across the doorway, muttering an incantation under her breath. The room trembled, the door shifting into place with a deep, resonant thud as sigils glowed briefly along its edges, sealing them in. The warm, rhythmic pulse of protective magic settled into the walls, a silent guardian.

The others found their places around the room, eyes unwavering as they focused on Jace. He stood at the center, the pull of their collective attention pressing down on him like cold steel. Thoughts surged and crashed behind his eyes, chaotic and vivid.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Jace said, his voice rough, every word emerging like shards of glass. It was more than a statement; it was a ripple, breaking the stillness and unfurling the truth he’d buried so deep it felt entwined with his bones. “Everything.”