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Chapter One Hundred Five: This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Realities

  Chapter One Hundred Five: This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Realities

  Alex’s eyes went white.

  Not clouded. Not glowing. Pure, searing white, empty and endless. When he spoke, what came from his mouth didn’t belong to him—it was warped, wrong. It came layered, echoing, like a hundred voices whispering through him.

  Jace knew this voice. He’d heard it before, deep in the Trials, when the Oracle had spoken through the veil.

  “The worlds entwine, the end draws near,

  The veils unravel, the path is clear.

  Before winter breathes its final breath,

  Earth and Mythica dance with death.

  When the hour strikes, none may hide,

  All must choose, or be cast aside.

  Winter will linger, but the world will not,

  Before winter ends, all shall be forgot.”

  The floor vibrated. A pulse of energy rippled outward, shaking dust from the rafters. Jace gritted his teeth as a phantom wind howled through the room, despite there being no open windows, no storm outside.

  Alex’s expression remained eerily still, too controlled.

  A cold knot twisted in Jace’s gut.

  The room lurched, and suddenly—he saw it.

  Not in a dream, not in a vision, but here—right now—like reality had split apart just long enough to let him glimpse what lay behind it.

  The battlefield.

  A vast, endless sky, swirling with black storm clouds and fire. A city in ruin, its towers crumbling as monstrous shadows poured from the rift above. A sky split in two, as if the heavens themselves were being torn apart.

  Jace staggered back—and in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

  The room settled. The trembling stopped. But the weight in his chest didn’t.

  Alex finally moved. His hands were shaking. When he spoke again, it was him, his voice raw, human. Jace’s chest heaved, breath sharp and uneven as tension gripped his throat.

  “You stood against our father,” Alex said. “You barely survived. And by sheer luck—or maybe the gods’ fickle favor—you won. But luck runs dry. And the gods… they may not always be here to save us.”

  Alex held his gaze, searching, as if trying to memorize every line of Jace’s face.

  “How? What am I supposed to do?” Jace asked, his throat tight. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself.

  Alex exhaled, his expression unreadable. “I know this sounds insane. And I know I’m asking more than I should. But you have to trust me.” His shoulders relaxed, if only slightly. “First—you need to find the book of prophesies. Rita Nutkins.”

  Jace exhaled sharply. “You’re telling me our last hope hinges on a woman named Rita Nutkins? That name sounds so familiar.”

  Alex’s lips twitched. Then his face darkened. “But Jace… it’s not just a book.”

  Jace felt the air in his lungs still.

  “It’s a door to a future where we win. And someone is trying to slam it shut. Fate isn’t fixed, but the road we’re on is. And it leads to ruin. That book is your only chance to break away—to forge another path before it’s too late.”

  A chill coiled through Jace’s spine.

  Alex pressed on, relentless. “Second—you need to enter the Winter Games. You need to climb the Tower.”

  Jace frowned. “The Tower? You mean the tournament thing? The one that’s been debated all year because people keep dying in it?”

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  Alex’s expression turned grim. “Yes.”

  “And I suppose you want me to win it?”

  Alex held his gaze. “Yes.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Jace let out a slow breath.

  Alex’s next words came low, urgent. Final.

  “This is the only path,” he said. “Fail to do either… and our fates are tied to death and unending darkness.”

  Jace closed his eyes. He let himself sit in the truth, in the unbearable enormity of what his brother was asking.

  Then he exhaled, rubbed his face, and muttered, “Well. That’s gonna be fun.”

  Alex clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing once. “Welcome to the end of the world.”

  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. “I’ve said too much.”

  “Who?” Jason scrambled for balance, barely keeping on his feet.

  “See for yourself.”

  Jason lunged for the window and stared out into the twilight of the In Between. Massive stone legs, jagged and battle-scarred, jutted from beneath the fortress, lifting it higher with each thundering step.

  In the distance, shapes moved—dark, monstrous things, shifting, flickering, like shadows given form. They were teeth and claws and orbs for eyes, bodies twisted into grotesque parodies of something like wolves—or was it bears?

  The fortress groaned again, its legs—massive, spindly things—emerging from beneath the ground, lifting the structure high into the air. The monsters reached them, some clawing at the legs, others leaping, trying to scale the walls. The fortress swiped at them, its limbs crashing down, batting the creatures away.

  “What do we do?” Jason asked, his voice tight with urgency.

  Alex met his gaze, steady and defiant, his aura crackling with quiet intensity. And then, with a boyish grin that defied the years between them, he said, “We fight.”

  With a shared nod, the two brothers moved in perfect sync. They sprang forward, the air crackling with raw energy as they vaulted through the open window. The wind roared past them, and for a split second, there was only the rush of freefall and the pounding of their hearts. Alex accelerated mid-air, a burst of energy propelling him forward in a streak of light and force. Jason was right beside him, using Soul Step to close the final distance and soften his landing, the ground quaking beneath their feet as they plunged into the chaos. Their hearts pounded, adrenaline surging, swords already drawn and poised for battle.

  Jason sidestepped a swipe of jagged bones and gnashing teeth, his Affinities flaring to life as he darted between the massive, stone legs of the fortress. Shadows gathered around him, coiling, forming into vines that lashed out, wrapping around one of the creatures, pulling it to the ground. He stepped, his body flickering, disappearing from one spot and reappearing in another, his sword already in his hand, its blade biting into the flesh of a massive, black-furred beast.

  Beside him, Alex moved like a storm, power crackling through the air, which shimmered with raw, electric energy. Bursts of green and violet light erupted from his hands as he spun, each movement fluid and deadly. The monsters that surged toward them were grotesque amalgamations—hulking forms with the massive bulk of bears, but supported by unnaturally long, sinewy legs. Their gaping mouths were filled with rows upon rows of jagged teeth, and exposed bone jutted through their fur in sharp, uneven spikes, giving them a nightmarish, skeletal armor.

  Alex struck with wild grace, each blow precise, his eyes blazing with a fierce joy that made him seem almost untouchable. For a fleeting moment amidst the chaos, Jason felt it too—the rush of battle, the shared thrill of fighting side by side with his brother, back to back, just like when they were kids playing at heroes.

  But the creatures kept coming, wave after wave, their grotesque forms shifting and adapting with each surge. They grew larger, their skin hardening into a dark, chitinous armor that deflected Jason’s blows. His breaths came ragged now, each swing of his sword met with mounting resistance. The fortress shuddered violently, its massive legs quivering under the relentless onslaught, cracks forming in the stone as it struggled to hold its ground. The thunderous roar of the beasts and the grating scrape of claws against rock filled the air, drowning out even the pounding of Jason’s heartbeat.

  “Jason!” Alex shouted over the roar of battle, straining to pierce the chaos. “They’re coming here because they can sense you. It’s taking everything I have to dampen your essence, but it’s not enough. They’re like white blood cells, honing in, and more keep finding you. If you don’t leave now, they’ll overwhelm us. There’ll be too many, even for me.”

  Jason gritted his teeth, his heart pounding. “I’m not leaving you! Come with me.”

  Alex smiled, a sad, knowing smile. “This is where I’m needed. For now, at least. There’s so much I wish I could say, so much I’ve wanted to tell you over these years. But you have to trust me.”

  Something cracked deep inside Jason, a pain sharper than any blade he had ever known. His chest tightened, and his voice shook as he yelled, “I won’t leave you! Not again.” The final words fell softer, almost a whisper, meant more for himself than for Alex—a plea born of old scars and unhealed wounds, remnants of beginnings and ends.

  Alex’s smile widened, softening into something genuine and heartfelt. His eyes, fierce with determination but a moment ago, now glistened with a rare vulnerability. “I love you, bro.”

  Alex paused, mid-fight, his hands moving in a fluid motion, drawing symbols in the air. The world behind Jason shimmered, a portal opening, its edges rippling like water. Jason felt the pull, an invisible force wrapping around him, tightening like a vice. It dragged at him, relentless and irresistible, making every muscle strain in protest. It felt like the universe itself was rejecting his very presence. He tried to fight it, to anchor himself, to Soul Step, but it was no use—his body surrendered to the powerful current, drawing him back.

  “No!” he shouted, reaching out, but it was too late. The portal pulled him under, the world spinning, twisting—colors and shapes smearing into chaos until—

  He landed hard, the ground beneath him cold and unforgiving, the impact jolting through his bones. Disoriented, he blinked rapidly, his vision clearing just in time to see his reflection flicker in the towering, ornate mirror before him—its silver frame cracked and ancient, swirling with faint remnants of energy. He had burst through it, tumbling out in a rush of cold wind and shadows that dissipated into the air.

  The mess hall stretched around him, alive with the familiar murmur of voices, the clatter of cutlery, and the warm, rich scent of roasted meat and spiced bread. The portal sealed with a resounding thrum, the shimmering surface of the mirror solidifying back into glass, trapping the battles of the In Between—and his brother—behind it.

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