Chapter Seventy-Eight: Of Endings and Beginnings

  Dawn arrived far too soon, dragging its light into the world with a cold, indifferent certainty. It slipped through the Shopping District, touching rooftops and shopfronts with hesitant kisses of silver. Then, it crept across the trees, brushing their branches with delicate touches.

  It didn’t explode or dazzle; it crept, shy and subtle; pale lines through the thinning branches, reaching for something just out of sight.

  The golden edges of dawn barely hidden beneath the horizon, teased what might be.

  The world breathed with it, spaces between the leaves coming alive with shifting patterns, like it was painting possibilities across the ground. It was the kind of light that made you think of the road ahead—paths waiting to be walked, choices waiting to be made.

  But the cold? The cold wasn’t having any of it. It clung to the earth like an old miser, hoarding the last bits of warmth and refusing to release its hold. Morning frost bit at Jace’s nose, his breath turning to mist as if the air itself was telling him to slow down, to remember that endings always came before beginnings. There was no promise in the frost—just the cold certainty of change, creeping in with icy fingers, worming into bones and hearts alike.

  The trees around him stood stripped bare, skeletal and brittle. What leaves remained clung on like a gambler’s last chip, trembling on branches that no longer cared. When the wind kicked up, they fell with a sigh, spiraling down to the earth where they joined the fallen, crumbling into nothing. Autumn was on its deathbed, gasping its last breaths while winter sharpened its knives in the distance.

  Jace’s boots crunched through the mess of fallen leaves. His steps didn’t follow the light’s hopeful dance—no, they echoed in the past. With every exhale, it felt like he was letting go of pieces of that past, his breath small clouds in the chill.

  It was a balance, a tipping point, like the entire world standing on the edge of a knife, caught between the end of one thing and the start of something more.

  By the time they arrived, the tinkers were already at work, securing the last of their wares, their hands moving with the practiced ease of those long accustomed to balancing chaos.

  The carts themselves were marvels of controlled disorder. Every available inch was crammed with oddities—rusty tools, cracked lanterns, and brittle maps. Somehow, they managed to carve out space, a small island amongst the clutter, for the five passengers.

  Getting comfortable became its own skirmish. After a few sharp elbows and muttered curses, they finally managed to wedge themselves onto the rickety makeshift bench, its creaking frame groaning under the weight of their effort. Beneath them, a tattered tapestry clung to life, its once-vibrant patterns of mythical beasts now faded into ghostly outlines.

  Amid the clutter, Jace’s gaze lingered on a brass cup. It gleamed with unusual brightness, almost smug in how untouched it was, as though the dust and grime of the world hadn’t dared approach it. Delicate engravings spiraled along its edge. Something about that cup felt off, unsettling, like a song just slightly out of tune.

  Curious, Jace reached out to it. When his fingers brushed its surface, a sharp jolt raced up his arm, and for a fleeting second, a face—shadowed and twisted—flashed in his mind. He felt a terrible sense of wrongness, anxiety, and deep regret.

  “Careful,” Lara’s voice broke the moment, her eyes catching his with a mischievous glint. “Some of these items have teeth. Best not wake anything up.”

  Jace’s hand recoiled instinctively, his skin tingling. The feeling faded quickly, like smoke dissipating in the wind. He made sure to keep his distance from it for the rest of the trip.

  The cart jolted violently, struggling against inertia before clattering down the uneven trail, its wheels rattling over every bump and dip in the path. Silence settled over them as they bumped along, the wheels creaking with every rut.

  They moved steadily through the Zones—first Two, then Three, and finally out of Zone Four. The tinker and his granddaughter each carried a Ward Stone, humming faintly with protection magic.

  Alice flicked open her inventory with a practiced swipe, pulling out three smooth, softly glowing Ward Stones. The stones cast long, slanting shadows across the ground as she handed them to Dex and Ell, casual and unhurried, like she was tossing out pieces of candy.

  “How in the name of Hades’ lost sandals did you even have time to make these?” Dex raised an eyebrow, spinning the stone between his fingers like it was a coin. The glow caught his crooked grin, making him look even more pleased with himself than usual.

  Alice stared at him, blankly. “That’s not a saying.”

  Dex shrugged, his smile never faltering. “Feels like it should be.”

  Alice shook her head, the gesture somehow managing to mirror the collective feeling of the group. “I started crafting them the day the logout option vanished.”

  The group exchanged looks, clearly waiting for her to elaborate.

  “What? I like being prepared.”

  Dex held up the stone, squinting. “So... perfect little monster-proof bubble?”

  Alice snorted in the most endearingly unladylike way. “Not even close. Think of it more like… really bad cologne. Monsters don’t wanna be anywhere near it, but it’s not stopping anything big from charging at you with fangs out.”

  She nodded toward the stone. “High-rank crystals? Sure, those are your invisible walls—like the University’s Hearth Stone. But those are for people who can toss around a few thousand gold without flinching. These? They’re wards. Basic, keeps most things uncomfortable. Big difference.”

  Jace thought back to when he had used his last... on his trip to Sophie. He’d had to turn it on and off a few times to “save battery.” He wondered if it would’ve tipped him off sooner if he had kept it on.

  Ell nudged Alice, smirking. “Nice work.”

  Alice’s smile flickered, almost too brief to catch. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m still low-rank with these. They’re like Jace’s—good for a few hours, tops, before they need a refill of moon juice. So don’t get any bright ideas about full protection.”

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Well, I think this is great,” Jace added. “It worked last time for me. I’m sure we’ll be fine. What’s the worst that could happen, anyway?”

  The moment he said it, Alice’s eyes snapped toward him, deadpan enough to stop the wind. “Did you seriously just say that?”

  Dex groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Oh, fantastic. You’ve done it. We’re doomed. Something nasty is definitely waiting for us now.”

  Ell snorted, barely containing a laugh as she gave Jace a mock pat on the shoulder. “Good job, Jinx. Why don’t you go ahead and summon the apocalypse while you’re at it? ‘What’s the worst that could happen.’ Almost as bad as, ‘Well, it couldn’t possibly get any worse.’”

  Alice shook her head, smiling. “You’re all children.”

  “Children with really bad luck,” Dex muttered under his breath, tossing the stone into the air and catching it with a quick flick of his wrist. “But hey, maybe we’ll stink them out. Call it ‘Eau de Please Don’t Eat Us.’”

  Jace pulled a Ward Stone from his inventory with a slight flick of his wrist. The dull glow danced between his fingers as he passed it back and forth. They had all agreed to take turns activating theirs, each ward offering a thin layer of protection. A gamble, sure, but a necessary one. The Tinker upfront cradled his own like it was more than a tool, like it was personal. He smiled as he listened to the group banter.

  Alice, however, conspicuously didn’t hand a Ward Stone to Marcus. She only had three, but even if there had been a fourth… well, that was a thought for another time.

  Marcus, as if sensing the unspoken slight, didn’t miss a beat. With a well-practiced flourish, he reached into his inventory, pulling out a stone far more impressive than theirs—its light brighter, its veins of gold flickering with an arrogance that matched his smirk.

  “Don’t be scared, children,” he said, tone a perfect condescension. He held the crystal up, letting it catch what little light filtered through the trees. “I’ve got a real Ward Stone. High-tier. You know, the kind that actually works.”

  His grin widened as if daring someone to argue, but the challenge hung in the air, unanswered.

  Trees rose up on either side, their twisted branches knitting together overhead, casting the path in a web of shifting shadows. The light that filtered through was faint, fractured—just enough to remind them the world hadn’t yet swallowed them whole.

  The air grew heavier with the scent of pine and damp earth. Towering evergreens loomed ahead, their branches interlocking like arms, casting long, jagged shadows across the trail. The underbrush, once sparse, gave way to a dense carpet of needles, muffling the world as they moved into the heart of the forest. Each breath felt colder, the world narrowing to the path between the towering trunks, where the light barely dared to reach.

  Shadows curled between gnarled trees, the canopy above thick enough to choke the sky. Jace caught the scent of snow—sharp, metallic—as the wind slashed through the leaves. Overhead, thunder rolled like a distant predator.

  The cart shuddered to a halt with a groan of old wood and metal, the sound swallowed by the quiet of the forest.

  Ahead, a massive tree, its roots exposed and twisted like knotted veins, lay sprawled across the road. The path they’d been following disappeared beneath it, swallowed by the darkness. The horses stamped and snorted, nostrils flaring as if they could sense what the group could not yet see.

  “We can’t go through here,” the tinker muttered, voice shaky as he tugged at the reins. The horses, usually reliable, stood rigid, eyes wide with a deep-rooted fear. Their breaths came out in panicked puffs, hooves shifting nervously but unwilling to move forward.

  Sensing an opportunity to show his fearlessness, Marcus stood up in the cart, his skin crackling with faint golden sparks, the electric hum radiating a subtle glow. Lara shot him a stern look, gesturing sharply for him to sit back down.

  “I can take care of that tree,” he said, his voice confident and defiant. “A little lightning, and we’re through.”

  “No,” Loren hissed, his usual jovial tone replaced with cold urgency. The perennial twinkle in his eye had dimmed, replaced by something grim. “You fry that tree, and every beast in this forest will be on us faster than you can blink. No, we’ll find another way.” He shared a nod with Lara before adding, “We’ll need to take the shorter path.”

  With a swift tug of the reins, the group veered off the main road; the trees closing in around them, forming a darkened corridor.

  The road narrowed, the thickening forest pressing in from both sides, branches like hands reaching down to brush against the tops of the carts. They struggled to fit, forced to stop more than once to repack their wares just to squeeze through. The air felt heavier with each step, as if the weight of the trees themselves bore down on them.

  As they walked behind the cart, Dex shifted beside Jace, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be found, fingers twitching for the hilts of his daggers. “This place feels... wrong,” he muttered, his voice tight.

  Behind them, Alice clutched her spellbook so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, searching for anything out of place. A chill crept through the air, her breath fogging in the sudden cold as tension settled over the group like a shroud.

  The temperature dropped sharply, biting into their skin. The ground beneath them became slick with a layer of frost, but it wasn’t winter’s touch—it was something darker.

  A brook babbled loudly as they approached, its rushing water growing more pronounced with each step along the winding path.

  Jace moved forward, one hand on his xiphos, the other steadying Alice as she edged closer. Her sharp gaze flicked toward the treeline, pupils dilated like a prey animal sensing a predator. “Something doesn’t feel right,” she whispered, her voice barely a thread in the wind.

  Ell scanned the shadows, her eyes briefly flickering with a sharp amethyst glow. “We’re not alone,” she murmured, the words carrying an edge of certainty that sent a chill through the group.

  The air around them stilled, the faint rustle of leaves silenced. It felt like the forest had sucked in a breath, waiting—watching. Every step, every whisper of fabric, seemed too loud, like they were trespassers in something’s domain. Something old. Something hungry.

  Jace stopped, frowning. “Do you hear that?”

  Alice paused beside him, listening. Her brow furrowed. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “That’s what I mean.” Jace pointed toward the brook, now terribly silent. “It was flowing a moment ago...”

  Her eyes darted to where the brook had once gurgled and shifted over the rocks. Now, it sat deathly still, the water unmoving, yet not frozen. It was unnervingly unnatural.

  A ripple—subtle, almost imperceptible—spread across the surface of the brook beside the road. Jace’s heart skipped. A single leaf floated across the water, only to be sucked under as though the stream itself had come alive.

  “We need to leave. Now,” Lara said, her face pale as the moon. She flicked the reins harder this time, but the horses stayed rooted in place, their fear palpable.

  The ground shuddered.

  Alice held up her Ward Stone, its glow pulsing like a heartbeat in the dark. One by one, the others followed suit, their stones igniting with a faint, steady light. But then something shifted. A flicker. The stones began to brighten—too bright—almost blindingly so. Jace squinted against the harsh glow, but his eyes locked onto his stone as tiny cracks spiderwebbed across its surface.

  “Wait…” he muttered, his voice tinged with confusion. The fissures deepened, spreading like veins of poison. Amethyst dust trickled from the cracks, glittering in the pale light before vanishing into the wind. Energy seeped from the stone, as if being siphoned away, drawn to something unseen.

  Before anyone could react, there was a sharp, crystalline snap. Jace flinched as the stone in his hand shattered into a thousand glittering shards, slicing into his palm. His breath caught, the pain sharp and immediate, blood already beading and running down his fingers.

  Around him, the others let out cries of alarm. Ell cursed under her breath, shaking the fragments from her hand, red streaks blooming across her skin. Dex grimaced, sucking in air through his teeth as he cradled his bleeding hand. Marcus stared at his broken Ward Stone with narrowed eyes, his fingers curling into a fist, blood dripping steadily from the cuts.

  Alice’s stone was the last to break, exploding in a burst of light that left her reeling. She winced, pulling her hand back as slivers of crystal fell into her lap. Her brow furrowed, eyes widening in disbelief as she stared at the ruined stones around them.

  “That… shouldn’t be…,” she whispered, shaking her head, voice tense. “This isn’t possible.”

  Jace’s breath hitched as the water in the brook churned violently. From the ripples, something massive began to emerge, its form swirling, spiraling upwards from the depths. First a head, then shoulders, then arms—an enormous figure made entirely of liquid. It rose to an impossible height, towering over them, and when its eyes—cold and luminous—locked onto Jace, he felt a jolt of fear that sliced through him.

  “Water elemental!” Lara’s shout broke the spell.