Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Tower

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Morning light filtered softly through the hotel room’s wide windows, diffused by the crystalline frost clinging to the glass. The gentle ambiance was broken by a sudden chime—a cascade of ethereal notes that filled the air like a whispered melody. The sound didn’t demand attention so much as guide it, each note rising and falling in a pattern that seemed almost alive. It emanated from a floating orb near the ceiling, the magical alarm glowing faintly as it pulsed in time with the sound.

Jace stirred, his eyes flickering open. For a moment, disorientation tugged at the edges of his mind, the dreamlike state of waking blurred with the lingering pull of sleep. But the enchantment on the bed had done its work; he felt sharper, clearer, as though he’d slept a full night instead of just a few hours. The mattress hummed faintly beneath him, its spell fading the moment he moved.

He stretched, his muscles loose and relaxed, and sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. I should be more tired, he thought, but the residual energy from the bed’s enchantments made his exhaustion feel like a distant memory. The subtle magic of the room—crafted for travelers like him—was almost unnervingly efficient.

The air was cool, tinged with the faint scent of pine and something floral he couldn’t place. Warmth began to rise from the enchanted radiators embedded in the marble floor, pushing back the morning chill. Jace rose, his feet making a soft sound against the ornate mirror on the wall. He half expected to see someone else, but it was just him, just Jason.

With practiced ease, he activated his gear, adjusting the familiar weight of his pack over his shoulder. The orb that had woken him dimmed and floated silently back into its recessed alcove. The magical alarm had served its purpose; now, the day awaited.

Jace entered the lobby, the cold lingering on his cloak as the grand double doors whispered shut behind him. The light filtering through the high, arched windows painted the room in hues of gold and sapphire, casting long shadows across the polished stone floor. The others were already there.

Alice stood beside one of the ornately carved pillars, her fingers idly tracing the edge of a well-worn map spread across the stone ledge. Her blonde hair caught the light, a sharp contrast to her intense, focused expression. Nearby, Marcus leaned against the wall, his foot tapping an erratic rhythm against the floor, the sharp click of his boot echoing in the vast space. Dex, as usual, exuded restless energy, tossing a coin repeatedly and catching it with the precision of someone who never missed. Molly sat perched on the edge of a bench, absently sketching in the margins of a notebook, while Ell loomed silently near the staircase, arms crossed and gaze distant. She stood when she spotted Jace.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up,” Ell called out, grinning as she pocketed the coin. “Starting to think you were going to miss your own climb.”

“Good to see you, too,” Jace replied, his tone dry but his expression softening as he took in the familiar sight of them. It was strange how quickly this motley crew had become his anchor in a world where nothing else felt real.

The walk to the Sapphire Tower was quieter than Jace expected, the usual banter muted by thoughts of what lay ahead.

Even Dex, who could normally banter his way through a hurricane, kept his jokes to himself. Their boots crunched softly on the snow-dusted cobblestones, the sound swallowed by the enormity of the city around them.

They must have dimmed the heat crystals for effect, because even the Merchants Circle was now gently frosted with snow.

The walk passed without notice as they made their way into the heart of the Stronghold; the Inner Circle. And then, the Sapphire Tower came into full view.

It wasn’t just a building. It was a statement. A challenge. A promise. The crystalline monolith stretched skyward, its surface a jagged masterpiece of azure power that captured the sunlight and splintered it into a thousand cascading rainbows. Each step closer felt like walking into a dreamscape—beautiful, yes, but also impossibly alien, a place that didn’t belong in the mortal world.

Jace slowed, his breath fogging in the crisp air. Around him, the city buzzed with life, the energy almost frantic. Thousands of people filled the plaza before the tower—competitors, spectators, mentors, and those who were simply there to witness history. Flags and banners of every color snapped in the icy breeze, their vibrant hues clashing in a chaotic tapestry of university pride. Olympians mingled with their own, their bright cloaks and polished emblems shining like stars in the wintry daylight.

The platform came into focus, a wooden structure hastily erected at the tower’s base. It was simple but sturdy, its rough boards lending a stark contrast to the crystalline perfection towering above. Atop it stood the Regent, their silver-trimmed robes shifting in the wind like liquid light. He stood alongside his assistant, laughter bubbling between them as his eyes darted to the crowd, quick and watchful, like he was always searching for something—or someone.

Jace’s gaze swept over the Olympian crowd until he spotted Brutus, towering above the others like a living monument. Finding him wasn’t exactly a challenge. If Brutus was here, the Master of Games couldn’t be far; the man had a knack for appearing.

The Olympian students clustered in groups, their nervous energy palpable. Some lingered near the base of the Sapphire Tower, craning their necks to take in its shimmering height. Others stood at a distance, their expressions a mix of awe, trepidation, and barely contained excitement. The tower seemed to pull at them, its crystalline surface gleaming like a promise—or a threat.

Jace exchanged a glance with the others. They had a moment before the ceremony officially began, so they wove their way through the crowd and headed toward the tower themselves, drawn by the same magnetic pull.

The base of the structure shimmered, alive with shifting light. Names—thousands upon thousands of names—were etched into the glass, glowing faintly like embers in a dying fire. They moved, rearranging themselves in intricate, fluid patterns, as if the tower itself were a living thing. Jace’s eyes followed the letters as they danced. These weren’t just names. They were the records of those who had come before. Every triumph. Every failure. Every soul that had dared to step forward.

“The names rewrite themselves when someone falls, marking the number,” Alice murmured as she stepped up beside him. Her voice was soft, almost reverent, as if anything louder might shatter the fragile stillness that hung around the tower. She reached out, her gloved fingers brushing the cool surface of the crystalline structure. For a fleeting moment, the swirling letters stilled, as though recognizing her touch, before continuing their ceaseless dance.

The group’s eyes caught on the names etched into the glass—each one accompanied by a number, a stark and unforgiving reminder of how far that climber had made it before they fell.

The Regent, standing tall upon the platform, raised his hands, his voice cutting through the growing din with practiced authority. “Silence!” he commanded, his tone sharp and unyielding. The crowd stilled, their desperate cries dying down to murmurs as all eyes turned to him.

“Know this, once you sign your name, the gods will not save you,” the Regent began, his voice resonating across the square. “Not now. Not here. For you stand before the Tower, bound by a pact forged millennia ago—a covenant older than any of us, older than this city, older than even the gods you revere.”

He gestured to the towering crystalline monolith behind him, its surface alive with shifting names. “This Tower is not merely a test. It is a binding. Long ago, when the gods roamed freely among mortals, they recognized the danger of their interference. Their gifts, their powers, their favor—it became a burden, a temptation that corrupted mortals and gods alike. And so, they made a pact.”

The Regent’s gaze swept over the crowd, his eyes cold and unyielding. “The gods swore never to interfere, to neither give nor take from any mortal whose name is inscribed upon this Tower. From the moment your name is etched into its surface, you are cut off. No blessings, no protection, no power drawn from your devotion. You stand alone, until the Tower itself deems your climb complete, your name erased upon success… or death… or retreat.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the gathered students and faculty. “This is the rule. The unbreakable law of the climb. No prayers will reach them. No divine hand will lift you. If you ascend, you do so on your own strength, your own will. That is the trial. That is the price.”

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as the Regent’s words sank in, their faces reflecting disbelief, fear, and anger.

“And yet,” the Regent continued, his voice now softer but no less commanding, “it is by this very pact that the Tower’s power remains absolute. It grants you the chance to rise beyond even the gods, to carve your own fate into the annals of eternity. But understand this—those who falter, those who hesitate, those who pray for salvation that will never come… they are the ones whose names will never cross out. They will linger here, in eternal limbo, neither alive nor truly dead.”

He stepped back, his golden robes shimmering in the morning light. “This is the pact of the gods. And this is the choice before you. Will you rise? Or will you fall?”

Jace swallowed hard, his gaze lifting to the tower’s heights. He couldn’t see the top, only the endless stretch of sapphire rising into the cloud-speckled sky. It felt as though the tower were staring back at him, sizing him up, measuring his worth against the names already written in its history.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Ell’s voice broke the tension, her tone lighter but not without its own edge of awe. “In a ‘probably going to kill us all’ kind of way.”

Dex shifted nervously, his hand fidgeting with the edge of his cloak. “Still time to back out, right?” he muttered, earning a glare from Marcus.

“No one’s backing out,” Jace said, his voice firm but low. He adjusted the strap of his pack, the familiar weight grounding him. “We didn’t come this far just to turn around now.”

“Let’s go,” he said finally, stepping forward. The others followed, their steps steady, their resolve unspoken but palpable.

The tower loomed over them, casting its shadow across the plaza as they approached. It wasn’t just a test. It was a reckoning. And as they passed beneath its crystalline arch, Jace couldn’t shake the feeling that the names etched into the glass were watching.

Alice froze mid-step, her head tilting slightly as her eyes fixed on a single point among the swirling names etched into the tower. Her pupils caught a faint luminescence, a flicker that betrayed her Sight flaring to life—the gift that peeled back the curtain of the world, letting her glimpse what others couldn’t. She stayed like that, motionless but utterly intent, as if hearing a whisper meant only for her.

“Jace,” she murmured, a soft urgency threading her voice. She gestured him closer without breaking her gaze. “Look at this.”

He stepped beside her, following her line of sight. Among the endless dance of letters, a name stood out, glowing briefly before slipping back into the whirl: Rita Nutkins. The moment stretched as Jace stared, the name hitting him like a strike to the chest.

He hadn’t expected to see her name here, and now that it stared back at him, he realized how naive that had been. Of course she would’ve come here. A lot of people had, chasing glory or something even more dangerous. But something wasn’t right. His gut twisted, his Truthsense humming faintly, off-key and insistent. And then it clicked. His chest tightened.

Her name didn’t have a number beside it.

“Do you see it?” Alice asked, her voice quieter now.

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Jace nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “There’s no number.”

Dex edged closer, his face clouded with confusion. “What does that mean?”

“It means she never came out,” Jace replied, his voice low but steady. “And it means we’ll need to keep our eyes open in there.”

The words settled heavily between them, and for a moment, the group stood in uneasy silence. The tower loomed above, cold and vast, a silent witness to the countless stories etched into its glass.

The Regent stood tall on the grand platform at the base of the tower, his golden robe gleaming in the morning light. The crowd stretched before him, a sea of eager faces, each carrying a mix of determination and trepidation. He raised a hand, and a deep, resonant silence fell.

“Today, we stand on the precipice of history,” the Regent began, his voice resonant and commanding, sweeping over the crowd like a rising tide. His words carried an almost hypnotic cadence, drawing the listeners in despite the chill in the air. “Before you lies the climb—a trial of strength, of will, and of spirit. Many have faced it, few have proven themselves worthy.”

For a moment, his polished smile faltered, the crack so subtle it might have gone unnoticed. But in that instant, his veneer slipped, revealing something raw and venomous beneath. His eyes scanned the crowd with thinly veiled disgust, his lips curling ever so slightly in contempt.

“And I seriously doubt,” he continued, his tone hardening just enough to cut, “that any of you will be.”

The mask snapped back into place with a practiced ease, his smile broad and inviting once more. But the warmth in it was false, as hollow as the promises that had led them all here. His gaze lingered, predatory and calculating.

He paused, his piercing gaze sweeping across the gathered contestants. “But know this,” he continued, his tone hardening like steel. “The names you scribe on this sacred Sapphire mark more than your participation. They sever the bonds between you and your gods. From the moment your name appears, your deities cannot aid you, cannot empower you, and cannot receive your devotion. Here, you stand alone. Not as chosen, but as challengers. And pray.”

A ripple of unease passed through the crowd, but the Regent pressed on, his voice unwavering. “This is the price of the Climb, the proof of your resolve. For only those who face the trials unaided can ascend to true greatness. Now, step forward. Write your names and claim your fate.”

He gestured to the tower behind him, its surface smooth and glimmering faintly. The contestants hesitated, glancing at one another before a brave few stepped forward.

They approached the slab in reverent silence, raising trembling fingers to its surface. As they pressed their fingertips against the stone, blue lines of light sprang to life, forming their names in glowing, elegant script. The stone seemed to hum with approval, and the contestants stepped back, their faces pale but resolute.

One by one, the entrants stepped forward, their movements stiff with apprehension. The air hummed with an unnatural charge as each person pressed their hand against the crystalline tower, the surface gleaming like polished ice. With every touch, a name etched itself onto the glass, glowing faintly before dissolving into the intricate latticework that twisted and turned within the structure. It was a small but irrevocable surrender—each name becoming a part of the tower’s eternal design.

Jace lingered at the edge of the crowd, his heart thundering in his chest. He watched the steady progression of initiates, each adding their name to the shimmering monolith. The moment pressed down on him, an invisible force heavy as lead. Finally, the line in front of him thinned, and his turn came.

The polished stone beneath his boots seemed to mock him with its pristine perfection. Each step toward the tower felt deliberate, every sound drowned by the sharp crackle of the charged air. Jace raised his hand, hesitating as the surface of the crystal seemed to ripple under his touch. Then, with a slow exhale, he pressed his fingers against it.

A flash of light burst forth, blinding in its intensity. His name burned into existence—Jace—as if branded by fire itself. The letters glowed brighter than those before, a searing intensity that lingered for a heartbeat longer than it should have. Then, they dissolved, shooting upward into the swirling mosaic. For a breathless moment, all seemed still.

Then came the severance.

It hit him like a blade, sudden and sharp, slicing through the tether he hadn’t realized was so vital. The constant, steady presence of Hades—the faint hum of energy that had always been there—was gone. A hollow ache bloomed in its place, raw and gnawing. Jace staggered back, gripping his chest as if he could hold onto the piece of himself that had been ripped away.

Ell stood at the base of the platform after inscribing her name, her braid glinting in the tower’s faint glow. Her knuckles whitened as they gripped her blade, her stance taut with barely contained tension. “From here on out, it’s just us,” she said, her voice low and resolute.

Jace descended the steps, his breathing shallow. “It feels… wrong,” he murmured, the words barely audible over the murmur of the crowd.

Around them, the effects rippled like a silent explosion. Entrants clutched their stomachs, staggered, or fell to their knees. Faces paled, breaths quickened, and a quiet despair filled the air. Jace scanned the gathering, noting how differently each reacted to the severance. Caspen, poised and aloof, seemed untouched, his lips curving into a faint smile. The royals, insulated by their divine heritage, bore little change. But for most, the loss was a wound they could not yet comprehend.

Instinct took over, and Jace checked himself, his mind racing through his list of abilities. Relief flooded him as he felt his powers still thrumming beneath the surface, though their source felt distant. Hades’ gifts, embedded deep within his essence, had survived through the ability evolution—they had become bound to him, powered by his own soul. But that tether—his connection to his god—was gone.

Before Jace could react, he was swept up in the crowd, and it took everything he had no to lose his friends in the sea of people. They made their way back to their University banners.

The Regent’s voice shattered the stillness, cutting through the collective haze like a blade. “The climb awaits,” he declared, his tone sharp and commanding. “Those who have written their names, take your positions. The path to glory begins now.”

More the entrants stepped forward, their movements stiff with apprehension. Each person pressed their hand against the crystalline tower, the surface gleaming like polished ice. With every touch, a name etched itself onto the glass, glowing faintly before dissolving into the intricate latticework that twisted and turned within the structure. It was a small but irrevocable surrender—each name becoming a part of the tower’s eternal design.

But writing their name was only the first step.

After their names faded into the swirling mosaic, the students rejoined their factions and formed lines before the glowing arches to enter. With quiet determination, they pressed forward and stepped into the crystalline surface itself. The polished wall shimmered faintly as it accepted them, their figures vanishing as though swallowed whole. There was no dramatic sound, no blinding light—just an eerie, unsettling stillness as they disappeared.

Light burst from the platform beneath the tower, pulsing in rhythmic waves that seemed to match the racing of Jace’s heart. A choral fanfare swelled, ominous and exultant, as if heralding both triumph and doom.

A dozen luminous arches shimmered to life at the Tower’s base, each glowing with an ethereal brilliance. Around them, the representatives of the various Universities assembled in orderly groups, their formations stretching into long, disciplined lines.

Jace went back and stepped into formation alongside the Olympians. Whatever lay beyond, there was no turning back now.

“You ready?” Alice asked, her voice steady but low.

Jace flexed his hands, forcing his breath to even out. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, though the unease simmering in his chest betrayed him.

The air shifted then, subtle but undeniable. It wasn’t the cool breeze from the snow-draped streets or the faint hum of magic that lingered in the tower’s shadow. It was something darker, heavier—an almost tangible ripple that coursed through the crowd like an unseen wave. Jace froze, the fine hairs on the back of his neck prickling to attention.

He watched as hundreds of students vanished into the tower arches, their faces set with grim resolve or nervous trepidation. The line moved steadily, an orderly flow of bodies that the tower consumed without pause. Behind them, murmurs rippled through the crowd, a nervous rhythm that matched the growing tension in the air.

His Truthsense flared, bright and searing, a beacon demanding his attention. It burned hot in his mind, insistent and unrelenting. But it offered no answers—only the overwhelming certainty that something was deeply, undeniably wrong.

His friends stood close behind, their unease mirroring his. They were getting closer, only a few rows of entrant ahead of them before they would reach the arch. But Jace thrust out a hand, stopping them in their tracks. The line behind them pressed forward, students muttering their frustration as the flow of bodies surged toward the tower. Jace, however, stood firm, forming an eddy in the river of Climbers.

“What’s the holdup?” a small man muttered, shooting Jace a sharp look before pushing past him.

Jace didn’t respond. His gaze remained fixed on the spot where the last student had disappeared, the faint shimmer of the crystal rippling as another stepped forward. The unease that had been a whisper at the back of his mind now roared like a warning bell.

“Jace,” Alice prompted, her voice low but steady. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, struggling to put the sensation into words. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “It’s just… something feels off.”

“Of course it feels off,” Ell replied, her tone sharp with frustration. “It’s a giant magical tower eating people. What part of this isn’t off?”

“It’s more than that,” Jace said, his voice strained.

“Move it already!” someone snapped from the line behind them, a student shoving past with a scowl. Others muttered complaints, their irritation barely concealed as they moved around the group.

“You’re holding everyone up,” Marcus said through gritted teeth, his strained attempt at politeness barely masking the frustration in his eyes as he watched others pass them, slipping further ahead.

“Something’s wrong,” Jace repeated, his voice quieter now, as though the words were meant for himself more than anyone else. His eyes were locked on the shimmering surface, the way it pulsed faintly as it absorbed each student. “I don’t know what it is, but—”

“Jace,” Marcus interrupted, his tone harsh. “If you’re scared, fine. Say so. But don’t drag us into it. We’re already drawing too much attention.”

“Shut it, Marcus,” Dex snapped, his tone sharper than his usual laid-back demeanor. “If Jace says something’s off, then something’s off.” He turned to Jace, his expression caught between skepticism and concern. His eyes betrayed that he didn’t entirely believe his own words, but he wasn’t about to let Marcus steamroll his friend. “What’s going on, man?”

Around them, students pressed forward, some casting annoyed glances their way while others whispered among themselves. The line moved steadily, flowing around Jace and his friends like water around a stubborn stone.

Jace turned to his friends, his throat tight with uncertainty. “I’m not scared,” he said, though even to his ears the words lacked conviction. “It’s just—”

“Listen,” Marcus said sharply, his voice laced with urgency. “The others are getting farther ahead with every passing second. You said it’s important to make it to the top—well, every moment we waste is stacking the odds against us. Out here, a minute means nothing, but in there? That’s a thousand. An hour? That’s a month and a half. Every second we stand here, they’re pulling farther ahead.”

Ell looked pained by it but nodded in agreement.

Jace’s breathing quickened, his hands clenching at his sides. Every instinct screamed at him to stop, to wait, but he couldn’t explain why. The tower called at them, its crystalline surface alive with swirling patterns, as if daring him to step forward. He felt the heat of his friends’ stares, their unease blending with their impatience.

Finally, he exhaled and nodded, though the motion felt hollow.

“Alright,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Let’s go.”

But his feet remained planted, his body unwilling to follow his words. Around them, the line continued, the tower consuming student after student. The stillness between the hums of energy pressed against him like an invisible weight, and the wrongness in his chest grew, clawing at his thoughts.

Alice reached out, her hand brushing his arm. “Jace,” she said softly, “are you okay?”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “I can’t describe it. It’s just…”

The air shifted—a subtle but undeniable change, like the faintest tug on a thread in the fabric of reality. It wasn’t something Jace could see or hear, but he felt it—a pressure settling just beneath his skin, threading into his veins and pulling tight.

His breath hitched as his eyes scanned the crowd. The once-steady tension in the square thickened, transforming into something heavier, more oppressive. Faces that had been filled with determination or quiet resolve now showed flickers of unease. Voices murmured low and discordant, rippling through the gathered Climbers like an undercurrent of doubt. It wasn’t panic—not yet—but it was growing, a dissonant note in the harmony of their purpose.

Jace turned back to the Tower, its crystalline surface reflecting the glow of the shifting names within. The names spiraled in intricate patterns, constantly rearranging, each etching itself into the glass before dissolving into the swirling mosaic. His heart pounded as he stared, his Truthsense flaring hot in his mind, screaming.

And yet… he couldn’t see it.

Jace clenched his fists, frustration coiling with his unease. He drew in a shaky breath and pushed his aether into his Truthsense, sharpening it, feeding it with everything he had. The air around him seemed to thrum in response, faint ripples distorting the light as his power surged.

Nothing.

He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, the strain building behind his eyes. The hum in the air grew louder, resonating in his skull. Still, he saw nothing. An illusion—there had to be one. Something was obscuring the truth, hiding it just beyond his reach.

More. He needed more.

Blood trickled from his nose, warm and sticky as it ran down his lip. He ignored it, channeling deeper into his aether. Pain bloomed behind his eyes, sharp and blinding, but he didn’t stop. His Truthsense burned bright and furious, tearing through the veil like a blade—until the world itself seemed to split apart.

And then he saw it.

Jace collapsed to his knees, his vision swimming as blood streaked from his eyes, his ears ringing with the distant sound of someone calling his name. Alice—her voice. Concern etched in its tone, but it barely registered.

Because now he saw it.

The names.

Hundreds. Thousands. Millions. They appeared on the Tower’s surface, faint at first, then blazing bright before weaving seamlessly into the endless mosaic. Names that weren’t being written by any entrant.

The names of those who had climbed before.

The names of everyone in the crowd.

The names of millions more.

The screams started slowly, but they rose in a crescendo, cutting through the murmurs like a knife. Travelers and Citizens alike clutched their heads, some dropping to their knees, blood streaming from their noses and eyes. Others fell entirely, writhing or lying still, their faces twisted in pain.

Jace’s gaze snapped to Brutus, a towering figure in the distance. His hulking form crumpled as if struck down by an unseen hand, his knees slamming into the polished stone with a sickening thud.

“Jace!” Alice’s voice cut through the chaos, sharper now, closer. Her hand hovered near her weapon, her body tense and poised to strike. “What’s happening?”

He forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. His voice caught in his throat as he gestured to the Tower. “Check the names,” he rasped.

“What?” Alice’s brow furrowed, her head tilting as she followed his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Just look!”