Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six: Afternoon Tea
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The fortress seemed to shiver as they approached. Jason watched as the walls rippled, bones shifting, stone grinding, until teeth sprouted along the doorway. The entire structure seemed to lean towards him, ready to consume.
“Whoa…” Jason stepped back, his mind flicking to his inventory. The familiar weight of his sword materialized in his grip, a rush of relief coursing through him.
“Hey, hey,” Alex said, holding up a hand. “You can’t just rush in. Give it a pet, let it know you’re friendly.”
Jason shot him an incredulous look, but Alex merely gestured for him to put his sword away.
“What, you’ve never petted a house before? Come on, we don’t have all day.”
Jason vanished his sword into his inventory and reached out, his fingers brushing against the rough surface. It was warm, pulsing, like touching the belly of some enormous beast. Slowly, the teeth retracted, the door opening to allow them inside.
“See? Easy,” Alex said, motioning for him to enter.
The inside was a maddening labyrinth of twisted staircases and warped hallways—impossible angles and paths that led in spirals, upwards and downwards without any logic. The air was thick, and the walls seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting with a slow, deep rhythm. Alex led Jason into a room that might have been a kitchen—a massive table at its center, cluttered with artifacts, objects that looked both ancient and dangerous.
Alex put on a kettle. “I never liked tea before. But I’ve grown accustomed to it here.”
Jason glanced around, his eyes catching on an intricately carved statue that seemed to move when he wasn’t looking directly at it. “This place… it’s insane.”
“It’s home,” Alex said simply.
The kettle whistled, and Alex poured them both a steaming cup. Jason took it, the warmth settling into his hands. He brought the cup to his lips, and instantly a notification popped up in his vision—the System text overlaying his sight.
Mystic Brew Consumed: +5 Focus, +3 Clarity for the next hour.
“How?” Jason blinked, almost spilling the tea.
“How are you still seeing prompts here?” Alex asked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Yeah, that would be Jack. Somewhere along the way, working with John Rearden, he started using prompts to communicate. It was a way he could interact without focusing directly—more like a reflex. Helps humans acclimate. Something about the mind rejecting new places. A system’s familiarity helps smooth the transition. It doesn’t all make sense, but it works. Fewer deaths on transfer, apparently.”
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Jason frowned. “You know Jack?”
Alex took a sip of his tea, nodding. “We all know Jack, in one way or another. At least, anyone that’s connected to Terra Mythica. He’s part of why… I’m still here.”
They drank in silence, the warmth of the tea at odds with the cold, unsettling presence of the room. Jason struggled to shake the strangeness of the moment—sitting here, drinking tea, with his brother who had somehow lived centuries in a world that defied reality.
Alex finally spoke, his voice low and serious. “It’s time you knew the truth.” He met Jason’s eyes, the weight of the words clear. “There’s a war coming, Jace. Not just in Terra Mythica. It’s already begun—here, between the forces of Chaos and Order. And we… we’re at the center of it.”
Alex paused, a shadow passing over his face. “There’s so much you don’t know about the path ahead, Jason. And I can’t tell you everything. There are rules, boundaries to this place. But with the war that’s coming, there are two things you need to know.” He leaned in, his voice dropping low with a solemn intensity. “You need to find the Book of Prophecies. Rita Nutkins. It holds the key. And you need to win the Winter Games.”
“The Winter Games?” Jason’s brow furrowed. He’d heard murmurs about the event, a heated debate among students over whether it should even take place this year. But despite the uncertainty, the Archmage had declared it would proceed as planned.
“Are you going to question everything I say? Yes, the Winter Games,” Alex said, his tone exasperated but patient. “Once a year, in Mythica, the Games take place. Students from across the world converge at a massive tower in the heart of Mesopotamia, known locally as Roandia.”
“Roandia?” Jason echoed, an eyebrow quirking in playful defiance.
Alex’s lips twitched, a hint of a smirk. “Listen, I’m older and wiser than you now. And I can still take you down.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Jason shot back, a grin splitting his face as dark swirls of shadow began to coil around him, his cloak pulsing with latent energy.
Alex shook his head and let out a sigh, but a flicker of pride lit up his eyes.
“Our parents… they were part of this too.”
Jason nodded. “The Dark One, I know.”
Alex’s gaze sharpened. “I know you know bits and pieces. But this is important. Roandia—it’s where we were born,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Jack’s interest in us isn’t a coincidence. We hold pieces of the puzzle, Jason.”
Jason’s brows knit together, frustration seeping into his voice. “What does that even mean?”
Alex exhaled, the sound heavy with restraint. “Ugh, I sound just like Jack now. Listen, this place doesn’t allow certain truths to be spoken outright. Just having you here bends the rules to the breaking point. It takes nearly all of my power just to hide you from them. But listen to me—Rita’s Prophecies and the Winter Games. You have to win, Jason. Everything depends on it. Everything.”
Before Jason could react, a deep rumble shivered through the air. The walls groaned, the floor tilted sharply, and the entire fortress began to shift, rising as if it were waking from a long slumber. The tremors grew fiercer, each shudder more violent than the last.
“They’ve found us,” Alex said, a shadow crossing his face.
“Who?” Jason scrambled for balance, barely keeping on his feet.
“See for yourself.”