Chapter Twenty: Something's Wrong

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The next food stall they found was quaint, adorned with garlands of dried herbs and tiny glowing lanterns. The vendor, a plump woman with ruddy cheeks and bright, eager eyes, greeted him with a wide smile.

“Good day, sir! Fresh candied imp, straight from the fire. Guaranteed to melt in your mouth!”

Jace’s stomach turned at the thought but Dex ordered one without hesitation.

The woman’s hands worked quickly, plucking a skewer from the grill and wrapping its base in a small square of parchment. She handed it to Dex with the same infectious smile. “Enjoy, sir.”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Jace said, forcing a polite smile while glancing sideways as Dex took an enthusiastic bite. “This place is… really something. Lot’s of illusion magic here. How do you manage to keep it all running?”

The woman’s cheerful demeanor wavered—not enough to draw attention from the others, but just enough for Jace to notice. Her smile flickered, a tiny crack appearing in the mask of practiced ease. She let out a strained chuckle, adjusting the skewers on the grill with fidgeting hands. “It’s… hard work. We… we do what we can.” Her voice was lighter now, brittle around the edges, like she was reciting lines from memory.

Jace’s eyes narrowed as his unease crystalized. In the flickering lantern light, he caught it—a faint shimmer around her neck, subtle and almost imperceptible, but familiar. His instincts bristled, warning him there was more to this woman than her bright smile.

Something unspoken lingered in the air, an invisible thread winding its way around him, tugging at the edges of his awareness. His Truthsense stirred again, sharp and insistent, dragging his mind back to the cold, frost-covered windows they’d passed earlier. He could see them now—small, dirt-smudged faces peering out, their wide eyes dull with hunger and hopelessness. A wave of anger surged through him, sudden and fierce, catching him off guard.

How could he have forgotten? No—he hadn’t forgotten. Not really. It was more like he hadn’t cared, like the weight of it had been pushed aside, smothered beneath the carnival’s glow. He hated himself for that. But now it all came rushing back, crashing over him like icy water.

And there it was again, that feeling. A question she didn’t want him to ask, one that hung heavy in the silence between them. Which, of course, made it impossible for him to ignore.

“And the families outside, in the Commoners’ District?” Jace pressed, lowering his voice. “Do you know where their parents are? The ones struggling in the snow, freezing and starving just a few minutes away?”

The question cut through the warm, bustling carnival like a blade, and Jace caught the brief, panicked flicker in her eyes before she looked away.

Her expression froze. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Her bright eyes darted to the side, as though looking for someone—or something. Her hands trembled faintly, and for a moment, she looked sad.

“I…” she began, but the words caught, strangled by something unseen. She glanced over her shoulder, a quick, nervous motion, before snapping back to him with a tight smile. “Thank you for your patronage,” she said abruptly, her voice clipped. She turned away, her movements stiff and mechanical, as if retreating from something far more dangerous than Jace’s questions.

He stood there, watching her work in silence. The cheerful rhythm of the carnival continued around him, oblivious to the tension that now coiled in his chest. He looked at the crowd, at the glowing stalls and laughing children, and felt a cold knot tighten in his gut.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, their weariness deepening with every step.

Jace broke the silence, his voice low and steady. “Whatever is happening here, we need to stay sharp. Something is blurring my senses. At first, I thought it was just the quantity of illusion spells all clumped together… which, it might be. But there’s something else… something I can’t quite reach.”

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Marcus frowned, checking the faint glow of his Interface Stone. “Nothing shows up in my status effects,” he said.

“Same here,” Ell added, her tone clipped as her hand lingered on the hilt of her dagger.

“Trust me, my Truthsense might be too low level to pierce it… but someone is hiding something. It’s hard to hold on to, but something—something is very wrong.”

Alice’s voice broke in, her words quiet so as not to be overheard. “High-level illusion and charm magics can bypass Interface Stones if they’re tailored for it. Won’t even show up in Status Effects. Something this subtle and pervasive? It would take serious power though. Above Gold Rank.”

They fell silent, the implications sinking in like stones in still water. Nervous glances passed between them, unspoken fears threading through the group.

“Come on, I want to see what’s behind the scenes,” Jace said, his voice low as he moved toward a thick curtain strung between two elaborately painted caravan carriages. Their faded designs—intricate spirals of stars, moons, and mythical beasts—seemed to shift faintly in the dimming light of late afternoon.

The group slipped past the curtain, the lively hum of the carnival muffling behind them. The vibrant music and laughter seemed to vanish into the shadows, replaced by the steady thrum of unseen machinery and the muted rustle of work in progress.

The path narrowed, gravel crunching underfoot as they moved deeper into the underbelly of the carnival. The grand, glittering facades gave way to the bare, skeletal framework of the operation. Wooden beams braced sagging tents, their fabric patched and worn. Strings of dim lanterns swayed overhead, casting uneven light on the makeshift workspaces below.

The further they wandered into the carnival, the more the air seemed to shift. The warm laughter and flickering lights dulled, replaced by a strange.

In the half-light, they could make out figures moving with purpose—workers hunched over crates filled with shimmering artifacts, others bending to repair props that glowed faintly with lingering enchantments. The air smelled of oil, wood shavings, and something faintly metallic.

A giant wheel lay tilted on its side, its surface carved with runes that pulsed in time with the rhythmic clatter of a nearby contraption. Beside it, a towering automaton—a hulking creature of brass and iron shaped like a sphinx—sat dormant, its eyes dark but its joints twitching faintly, as though dreaming of motion.

Jace slowed, his eyes scanning the scene with growing unease. Here, in the shadows, the carnival felt less like a celebration and more like a machine, its cheer carefully constructed by hands that worked in silence.

He felt an odd sensation in his mind, like blood rushing back to a numb limb—an ache that built as his senses stirred to life. It was as if a curtain had been lifted, the fog that had dulled his awareness slowly receding. Perhaps back here, behind the carnival’s façade, they were shielded from some of the enchantments at work. The pain was subtle at first, a dull throb that sharpened as his perceptions expanded, raw and unfiltered, leaving him acutely aware of everything around him.

Workers moved with an odd rhythm, their steps unnaturally synchronized. Their faces were frozen in smiles that felt wrong—too perfect, too vacant, like puppets forced to mimic joy. It sent a shiver crawling up Jace’s spine.

Jace and the others crouched behind the massive wheel, its towering frame casting a deep shadow over them. Still, Jace couldn’t shake the sense that their caution was unnecessary. The workers moved with single-minded focus, their gazes fixed on their tasks, never once glancing up or acknowledging their surroundings. It was as if nothing outside their immediate work existed.

And then he saw it. A faint glint caught his eye, something golden reflecting in the weak lantern light. He froze, his breath hitching in his throat as he focused. Around the workers’ necks, barely visible, were chains—thin, shimmering links of gold that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The chains were subtle, easy to miss, but now that he’d seen them, he couldn’t look away.

Ell’s sharp intake of breath broke the silence. She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Their smiles… they’re not real.”

Jace nodded silently, his eyes narrowing as he studied the scene. There was something deeply unsettling about the way the workers moved, their hollow expressions betraying no hint of awareness. Whatever magic bound them, it wasn’t just subtle—it was deliberate, powerful.

As they lingered in the shadows, one of the workers looked up. Jace’s stomach clenched. For a moment, no one moved, caught in the silent tension stretching between them. The man’s eyes fixed on them, dark and unblinking, like twin voids that swallowed all light. He was massive, his frame rippling with muscle beneath a sweat-streaked tunic. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if every step carried the weight of purpose.

The muted hum pressing against Jace’s senses grew louder, a dull roar in his ears. His thoughts felt thick, like syrup, slipping through his grasp as he struggled to focus. The man tilted his head, unnervingly bird-like, then took a step forward. His boots crunched against the gravel, the sound unnaturally sharp in the oppressive quiet.

“Go,” Jace hissed under his breath.