Chapter Thirty: The Terror

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Her eyes darted to the Tower, its surface alive with light and motion. Her breath hitched as she scanned the endless spiral of names—her own gaze widening as recognition hit.

“No…” The word escaped her lips like a gasp, her voice trembling.

The names of every person in the square glowed faintly within the Tower. Not just them—but countless others. Duplicate names, overlapping patterns, threads intertwining into a tapestry of power and despair.

Jace swallowed hard, the weight of the realization pressing down on him like a mountain. “It’s not just the climbers,” he said, his voice raw. “It’s everyone. Even the ones who’ve already climbed.”

Alice’s hands trembled at her sides. “But that means…”

“They’re cut off.” Jace finished the thought, his throat tight. “We’re all cut off.”

A ripple of terror swept through the square as the crowd’s realization spread like wildfire. Travelers screamed, some collapsing to the ground while others clutched at the air as if reaching for something that was no longer there.

And it wasn’t just the Chosen. The gods themselves—tethered to their chosen—felt the severance. Jace could sense it now, faint and distant, a ripple of power unmoored. Without their connection to their followers, the gods were losing their strength, their influence dimming with every second.

The Tower had taken everything.

“Jace,” Alice whispered, her voice barely audible over the chaos. Her eyes locked on his, wide with fear and something else—something he didn’t want to name. “What do we do?”

He didn’t have an answer.

The Tower loomed ahead, its surface aglow with stolen names, its crystalline form humming with an unyielding, alien power.

The air itself seemed to shudder as the Tower claimed its names, the once-hum of energy now a deafening roar in Jace’s mind.

Students and faculty stood frozen, their voices rising in a chaotic chorus of pleas. Desperation filled the air as they called to the heavens, their prayers a raw cry for salvation, a plea to gods they had always trusted.

And then, the heavens answered.

The sky split apart with a deafening crack, a jagged wound tearing through the firmament.

Thousands of bright openings ripped all around them and the gods arrived.

They came in every shape and size, in forms mortal minds could scarcely comprehend.

A woman with skin of molten gold and hair cascading as liquid starlight strode across the district, her steps leaving glowing imprints in the air. A towering figure, half shadow and half blinding light, rose from the ground as if formed from the shifting balance of night and day. They appeared on the streets, in the sky, and above the Tower itself—a thousand pantheons made manifest, their presence as overwhelming as the sun’s first light after endless darkness.

The air turned thick with the scent of ozone and crushed flowers, of blood and burning incense. The gods’ arrival should have been a moment of awe, their brilliance washing over the gathered crowd in waves.

But it wasn’t.

As each god arrived, their movements slowed. First imperceptibly, then visibly, their immense forms faltering mid-step or mid-flight. Their glowing eyes dimmed, their expressions frozen as though caught between horror and confusion. One by one, their celestial brilliance flickered, then faded altogether.

The towering wolf stumbled, its legs trembling as it collapsed into a crouch. Its fur dulled, the stars within it winking out until only lifeless gray strands remained. The molten goddess froze mid-reach, her outstretched hand cooling to lifeless bronze. The figure of light and shadow fractured, both halves coalescing into a dull, brittle stone.

And then they were still.

Stone.

Every god, every goddess, every divine being that answered the unspoken call became statues—immense and unmoving, their once-living forms now frozen relics of their grandeur. Their light extinguished, their auras snuffed out. The wolf’s head drooped, the stars gone from its eyes. The molten goddess crumbled to her knees, her golden glow reduced to cold, lifeless metal. The district became a graveyard of forgotten deities, their vast power reduced to brittle forms that could not hold their weight. A graveyard of the gods.

Screams erupted from the crowd as the devastation became clear. Worshipers rushed forward, calling out to their gods with desperate, breaking voices.

A woman in white fell to her knees before a small, shrine-like structure—a miniature temple she had carried with her to honor her goddess of the harvest. Her shaking hands reached for the figure atop the shrine, a delicate statue carved from alabaster.

“Please,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Please, help us!”

The shrine began to shudder, its foundation cracking with an ear-splitting groan. The woman gasped, clutching the crumbling statue. Her hands tightened around it as though to protect her goddess, but as the structure gave way, it toppled. The alabaster figure fell, shattering into a thousand pieces upon the stone below.

“No!” she screamed, her voice raw and anguished.

The statue’s lifeless hand lay shattered among the debris, its fingers outstretched toward the woman, frozen in a gesture of unfulfilled mercy.

Around the square, others reached for their gods, pleading for aid, but their prayers fell into the void. Statues broke apart under the weight of their divine forms, collapsing into rubble. Others stood whole but silent, their once-vibrant features now dull and unseeing.

The higher-ranked individuals—the champions and paragons of the gods—fared no better. Their faces paled, their breaths came shallow and ragged, and their limbs trembled with weakness. Auras that had once shone bright as suns now flickered like dying embers. Some clutched at their chests, gasping as though the severance had ripped something vital from within.

Chaos erupted in every direction. People screamed, wailed, and clung to each other, their fear feeding on itself in a self-consuming loop. Some tried to flee, shoving their way through the crowd with wild, desperate eyes. Others stood paralyzed, their faces slack with disbelief. The square became a storm of sound and motion, a cacophony of sobbing, pleading, and shouted prayers that went unanswered.

“Jace,” Alice’s voice cut through the pandemonium, sharp and strained. She grabbed his arm, pulling him back as a statue teetered above them. “We need to get out of here!”

Jace barely registered her words. His gaze was locked on the Tower, its surface alive with swirling names. Every name. Every man, woman, and child in Terra Mythica etched onto its crystalline facade.

Alice followed his gaze, her breath catching in her throat as she saw it too. The vast mosaic of light, stretching upward into infinity, held the names of everyone—those who had climbed, those who had not, even duplicates etched as though mocking their individuality. The Tower had claimed them all.

And the gods, the beings who had ruled Terra Mythica for eons, were powerless to stop it.

The Regent was nowhere to be seen.

And the Tower stood tall, indifferent to the ruin it had wrought.

Jace staggered back a step, his breath catching in his throat. A crushing emptiness rushed into the void left behind—a tether severed so violently it felt like his soul had been stripped bare. Hades’ presence, faint yet constant, was gone, as if plucked from the fabric of his being. The absence left him gasping, the world around him suddenly heavier, every edge sharper, every shadow deeper.

"How do you kill a god?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, raw and broken. “Kill their believers.”

Alice stood still, her expression grim.

The weight of her words rippled through the air like a stone cast into still water. Cries erupted across the square. People clutched at their chests as if trying to reclaim something lost, some collapsing to their knees. A man screamed, “Selene! I can’t feel her!” His voice cracked, despair ripping through it. Another fell forward, clawing at the cobblestones, muttering prayers that faltered into silence as the void claimed them.

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Jace clenched his fists, trying to ground himself. “Bound. Frozen. Whatever power is behind this… it’s killing them.” His voice was low, barely audible over the rising panic. “Their power is draining, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”

The ground trembled beneath their feet. A deep, resonant boom rolled across the square, the kind that made bones shiver and hearts lurch. All eyes turned to the towering barrier wall in the distance. Once an unyielding shield of shimmering energy, it now flickered weakly, its light sputtering like a dying flame. Cracks began to splinter across its surface, faint lines at first, but spreading wider with every passing second.

“There is nothing to fear!” A nobleman, his voice thin and cracking, climbed onto the wooden platform at the square’s edge. “This barrier has stood for centuries—it will hold!” He gripped the railing with white-knuckled intensity, his words desperate rather than commanding.

Jace’s gaze locked on the darkness pressing against the other side of the wall. It pulsed, alive and hungry, testing the barrier like a predator toying with its prey. The shield’s light dimmed further, its cracks glowing faintly, embers on the verge of snuffing out.

A deafening crack tore through the air, sharp and final. A jagged piece of the barrier wall broke free, falling away and dissolving into nothingness as it touched the void. The darkness surged, pressing forward, rippling with raw anticipation.

The noble’s voice rose, shrill and panicked. “It will hold! It must hold!” But his trembling tone betrayed him, the lie crumbling in the face of the inevitable.

“It won’t.” Jace’s voice was steady, cutting through the chaos with chilling certainty. His jaw tightened as another tremor shook the ground.

The barrier flickered violently, its light collapsing in on itself. The void surged, pouring through the growing fractures like a tide breaking free. Whatever power had been set into motion was unstoppable now, and Jace knew this was only the beginning.

Amid the chaos, Jace spotted Lyra at the edge of the crowd. She stood out, fragile yet upright, as though sheer willpower anchored her to the cobblestones. He cut through the throng, guiding the group carefully. Maybe Lyra had answers, or at least a clue to make sense of the madness unraveling around them.

A man surged forward from the mass, his graying beard flecked with frost and his weathered face taut with defiance. Every step he took carried the weight of battles fought long ago. “This is madness,” he bellowed, his voice slicing through the rising din. “I want no part of your games!” His arm thrust forward, trembling as he leveled a finger at the Tower itself, as though sheer force might topple its shimmering glass spire.

The crowd stilled, a collective intake of breath freezing the air as his indignation crumbled. His gaze fixed on the swirling, iridescent surface of the Tower, and all the fire in his expression flickered out.

“No,” he whispered, the word catching like a fragile thread. “No.” His outstretched hand quivered, the strength in his defiance unraveling. “How… How is my name here?” His voice rose, trembling under the weight of disbelief.

Jace’s gaze followed the man’s. Among the twisting names on the Tower’s surface, one burned brighter, the letters briefly holding their shape: Tobias Thren. The name pulsed once, like a heartbeat, then dissolved back into the restless glass.

Lyra was beside him now, her silver eyes clouded with unease. “Tobias,” she said softly, though her voice carried a sharpened edge, “don’t.”

But he didn’t seem to hear. His hand stretched forward, his fingers brushing the Tower’s glowing arch. The crystalline sheen brightened, glowing faintly under his touch. Tobias staggered, his face twisted with desperation as if he could pry the truth from the Tower itself.

“Lyra!” Jace called, his friends trailing close behind. “What’s happening? What does it mean?”

Lyra shook her head, her expression grim. “I don’t know,” she said, “but Tobias is about to do something reckless.”

The air grew heavy. Tobias pressed his palm against the Tower, and for a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, the world seemed to exhale.

A burst of energy erupted from the Tower’s base, a ripple of raw, unseen force that sent Tobias hurtling backward. He crashed onto the cobblestones, a sharp cry of pain cutting through the stunned silence.

“You can’t enter,” Lyra said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, though faint tremors betrayed the tension in her frame. “Not unless you meet the conditions.”

Tobias groaned, dragging himself to a seated position. His trembling hands scrabbled against the stone. “Conditions?” he spat, his voice raw with fury. “What conditions? I didn’t agree to this!”

“You don’t have to,” Lyra replied, her tone darkening. “That’s the point.”

Alice edged closer to the Tower, each step deliberate and weighted. Her silver-blonde hair caught the faint glow of the swirling names, though her eyes shone with a light of their own. Her Sight, sharp and unrelenting, peeled back layers hidden from mortal view. She reached out, her fingers trembling as they hovered near the Tower’s surface. “It’s not just us,” she murmured, her voice distant, like a whisper pulled from the edge of a dream.

Jace stepped beside her, his presence grounding as his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Alice’s gaze never wavered from the glass, her breath slow and shallow. “The names,” she said, her voice fragile but unwavering. “There aren’t just hundreds. Or thousands. There are millions. Maybe billions.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy as lead. Jace’s stomach knotted, the weight of her revelation pressing against him. The ground beneath his feet felt unsteady, as though the world itself threatened to shift out of place. “What are you saying?” he asked, his voice low, though he feared the answer.

Alice turned to him, her eyes shimmering with unearthly light. Her words fell like a death knell. “It’s everyone. The whole world. All of Terra Mythica has been severed from the gods.”

The realization struck like a hammer on glass, shattering the tenuous calm. The crowd around them erupted in a cascade of panic. Voices rose, sharp with anger and desperation. Some surged toward the Regent’s platform, shouting demands and accusations, their faces flushed with fear. Others crumpled to their knees, tears carving paths down pale cheeks as the enormity of their loss overwhelmed them. The square was a chaotic symphony of grief, disbelief, and raw terror.

“This can’t be real,” someone nearby muttered, their words trembling like a candle in the wind. “The gods wouldn’t abandon us.”

Jace’s chest tightened as he scanned the square. The suffocating tide of despair clawed at him, threatening to pull him under. He turned to Lyra, her form ghostlike in the roiling turmoil. “We need answers,” he demanded, his voice steely. “Now.”

Before Lyra could respond, a deep, resonant boom reverberated through the air. It rolled across the square like the heartbeat of the earth itself, warped and unnatural. The sound silenced the crowd in an instant, dread filling the void left behind. All eyes turned toward the barrier wall encircling the city.

The once-pristine shield of light flickered erratically, its radiant surface veined with cracks that glowed like molten fire. Each fracture pulsed, the rhythm unsettlingly alive.

“Stay calm!” the Regent’s voice broke through the heavy silence as he scrambled atop the platform. His arms spread wide in a gesture of reassurance, though his eyes betrayed him. “The barrier has stood for centuries. It will hold!”

But his words were hollow, a prayer cast to an empty sky. The wall quaked under another deafening boom, the cracks widening as shards of light splintered away, dissolving into the encroaching void. Beyond the failing barrier, the darkness writhed—an ancient, malevolent force pressing against the fractures, eager to consume.

“It’s failing,” Alice whispered, her voice almost swallowed by the rising wind. Her glowing eyes reflected the collapsing barrier, the fear in them stark. “The barrier… it’s breaking.”

The Regent’s composure shattered. “It will hold!” he shouted again, but this time his voice cracked, betraying the tremor of fear beneath his insistence.

Jace’s gaze darted to the Tower, its swirling names relentless, heedless of the chaos consuming the square. The frigid air bit into his skin, but it was the void pressing against the barrier that seeped into his bones, filling him with a hollow, creeping cold. He clenched his fists, the weight of the moment bearing down on him.

The gods weren’t coming. The Regent had no answers. The crowd’s hope had withered to ashes.

Jace’s pulse quickened as the choice before him solidified: step into the unknown, to whatever the Tower demanded, or be swallowed by the void and the despair it carried.

The air in the square was thick with dread, pulling taut with each passing moment. Then it came—a deep, resonant boom that rattled the ground and stole the breath from their lungs. All eyes turned to the barrier wall, its once-flawless shield of shimmering light trembling under unseen force. The glow faltered, sputtering like a flame caught in a storm.

Cracks snaked across the surface, faint at first but spreading like jagged lightning. Pulses of dim light escaped the fractures, the faltering heartbeat of a failing defense.

“Stay calm!” the Nobleman shouted, scrambling onto the platform. His hands rose high, as if his gestures alone could restore order. “This barrier has stood for centuries! It will hold!”

The words rang hollow. His darting eyes betrayed his confidence as the shield shuddered and the fractures deepened. Beyond the wall, the darkness churned—alive and malevolent. Tendrils of shadow slithered against the cracks, testing the fractures with patient malice.

Another boom, louder than the first, ripped through the square. Pieces of the barrier splintered away, dissolving into the void beyond. A sharp, icy wind swept through, carrying the stench of decay.

Jace clenched his fists as the cold bit into his skin, but it was the oppressive weight pressing against his chest that unsettled him. The darkness wasn’t just testing the barrier anymore; it was testing them.

“It’s failing,” Alice whispered, her glowing eyes fixed on the cracks. “The barrier… it’s breaking.”

Panic erupted like a dam bursting. Some bolted, instincts screaming for escape despite nowhere to run. Others froze, paralyzed by terror. Cries of confusion and raw fear drowned the Regent’s frantic attempts to restore order.

A deafening crack split the air, sharp and visceral. A jagged shard of the barrier broke free, vanishing as it met the void. Darkness surged forward, its tendrils spilling into the breach with ravenous hunger. The cold struck Jace like a blow, clawing into his core and wrapping tight.

“It will hold!” the Nobleman shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his own desperation. “It must hold!”

The barrier dimmed further, its light reduced to erratic flickers. Another tremor sent shards cascading into the void, the darkness pulsating in triumph. Its presence bore down on the square like a living force, each beat spreading a fresh wave of despair.

Jace’s gaze snapped to the Tower, its swirling names indifferent to the chaos. No answers would come—not from the Regent, not from the gods. Whatever severed their connection and unleashed this void was beyond their understanding. And it was far from over.

“This isn’t just about us anymore,” Jace muttered, his jaw tight. “It’s bigger than we imagined.”

Lyra’s hand gripped his shoulder. “We need to stay calm,” she said, her voice steady against the rising storm. “Panic won’t help.”

Another roar tore through the square as a massive chunk of the barrier shattered. A shockwave of raw energy forced Jace to brace himself, the flash blinding and scorching the air. When he lowered his arm, his stomach twisted.

The darkness surged, unrestrained now. From its depths, horrors began to emerge—shifting, grotesque forms with too many limbs, glowing eyes, and shapes that defied reason. They poured from the void like a tide of nightmares, their movements erratic yet purposeful.

Jace’s breath hitched as the first monstrous figure stepped forward. The trials hadn’t even begun, and the world was already unraveling.

They came in waves, an unending tide of grotesque horrors that defied reason. Their forms twisted and wrong, jagged claws scraping against the ground as glowing eyes burned through the smoke-filled air. The undead surged forward, snarling and shrieking, their decayed bodies trailing dark mist that clung to the battlefield like an omen.