Chapter Seventy: Between Shadows and Stars

  Jace leaned against the rough bark of an old oak, his sword balanced on his lap. His breath came in ragged bursts, more from the storm raging inside his mind than the training session he’d just finished. He wiped sweat from his forehead, staring at the blade in his hands. No matter how much he trained, it wasn’t enough. Not for this. Not to silence the burden pressing on his chest, a constant reminder of what he was running from.

  The forest around him, once hostile and filled with danger, now stood as a silent witness. He had turned it into his sanctuary, the place he could retreat to when everything else felt too loud, too close. Out here, in the steady rhythm of combat, things made sense. Out here, there were no nightmares.

  “Still at it?” Dex’s voice cut through the stillness like a splash of cold water. He was standing at the edge of the clearing, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Jace hadn’t even heard him approach. That wasn’t like him.

  “I needed to clear my head,” Jace muttered, sheathing his sword. He stood, forcing his limbs to cooperate despite the fatigue settling into his bones. Dex didn’t move, just watched him with an all-too-knowing look.

  “Right. And by ‘clear your head,’ you mean grind until you can’t stand up straight.” Dex smirked, but it was edged with concern.

  Jace huffed out a breath, glancing away. “Something like that.”

  He didn’t want to explain it—didn’t want to get into how the sound of steel clashing drowned out the other noise, the things he couldn’t control. He trained to quiet the chaos, to forget what was always there, waiting for him in the dark. The ache of Alex’s voice haunted him, the weight of his brother’s screams that shattered the stillness of his dreams. Running from it seemed easier than facing it.

  Dex’s face softened, but he didn’t press further. “Come on,” he said. “Alice and Ell are waiting. We’ve got that meeting.”

  Jace gave a small nod, letting his friend lead the way back toward the academy. The walk was quiet, punctuated by the sounds of leaves rustling and distant students training. As they crossed the courtyard, Dex shot Jace a sidelong glance, but still said nothing. He didn’t have to.

  The library greeted them with its familiar quiet. A subtle glow from the magical dampeners hovered over the room like a bubble of silence, allowing the rest of the world to fall away as they stepped inside. The others were already seated in their usual corner—Alice had her nose buried in a stack of scrolls, Ell fiddling with a small, bright-eyed bird perched on her shoulder. It chirped as they approached, its beady eyes focused on Jace.

  “You’re late,” Alice said, not looking up.

  “Had to drag Jace out of the forest again,” Dex said, sliding into a chair with his usual grin. “You know how it is.”

  Alice raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, though Jace could feel her gaze flick toward him for a moment, assessing. She didn’t have to say anything either—her face gave her thoughts away.

  “Right,” Jace said, easing into his seat. “Updates? Any progress?”

  “Not much,” Alice replied, leaning back with a sigh, fingers rubbing at her temples. “Getting access to the Umbra Maleficarum is proving more difficult than we thought. Too many hoops to jump through—faculty approval is a nightmare.”

  She exchanged a glance with Ell, her expression carefully neutral, though Jace could sense the tension behind it. “But we’re close. We’ve found a lead that might give us what we need, but… it’s complicated. We need more time.”

  “Everything’s complicated with demons,” Dex muttered, drumming his fingers on the table.

  “It’s not just that,” Ell said quietly, her usual lightness gone. Her voice dipped, drawing their focus. “I’m worried about Thistle.”

  Jace stiffened, straightening in his chair.

  “He hasn’t been around in weeks,” Ell continued, her gaze dropping to the table. “And he’s not the only one. We’ve asked around—faculty says some students are leaving to train in the field or join family in other Universities and cities. But something’s off. It just seems too abrupt, too many at once.”

  Jace frowned. “I mean, it’s not totally unheard of, right? Some students need to break away and focus on their skills. I know the feeling.”

  Ell looked up, her eyes sharp. “Yeah, but Thistle’s not answering any of our Magic Missives. Not even a hello. We don’t know if he’s okay… or if he’s even still around.”

  Even in this bubble of quiet, the world outside was shifting, turning more dangerous by the day. The possessed were out there, hiding among them, and now people were disappearing. The academy felt more like a cage with every passing day, and no amount of training or skill grinding could change that.

  “We’ll figure it out,” Jace said, though the words felt like a lie. “I’m sure he will turn up.” He wanted to believe it—needed to believe it—but with each passing day, the shadows seemed to grow darker.

  Alice caught his eye, her expression softening for a moment. “Yeah, he will,” she echoed, but her voice held that same uncertainty.

  The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of updates and strategy discussions. Dex was still stuck on the idea of a mass test for the possessed, but Alice shot him down again, explaining how obvious it would make them. Jace barely listened, his mind drifting back to Thistle, to Alex, to all the things he couldn’t control. The more he tried to focus, the more everything seemed to slip through his fingers.

  Afterward, they parted ways for the day—Dex and Ell heading to some advanced enchantment class, while Alice vanished into the depths of the library stacks. Jace, predictably, made his way back to the forest. He told himself it was for more practice, another chance to sharpen his skills and push his limits. But deep down, he knew better.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  He wasn’t just training. He was running.

  With every swing of his sword, with every burst from his Shard, he was trying to keep himself afloat. Keep moving. Because if he stopped—if he let the silence catch up—he feared he’d sink beneath the pressure of it all. Just keep swimming, he reminded himself, the words like a mantra. Because if he didn’t… he just might drown.

  By the time Jace returned to his dorm that evening, silence had settled over him like a heavy cloak. The upgrades he’d made to his sanctuary hadn’t made it feel any less empty. He’d poured his Society Points into transforming the place into something that felt livable. Something that felt like breathing. Something to run to.

  His eyes flicked to the stack of unopened letters on the desk. Invitations. Offers. Other societies had taken notice of the enchanted meals he and Alice had been crafting, but the thought of socializing, networking—whatever they called it—made his skin itch. Popularity. That’s what they were calling it now. But to him, it all felt like noise. As if someone else was reaping the rewards while he drifted farther from what actually mattered.

  He kept busy because there was no other choice. The work—alchemy, cooking, providing Twig with potions—kept his hands moving, kept his mind from spiraling. It funded his growth, sure. It paid back Twig. It was all in service of bigger goals, like saving his brother… but even that reason felt thin, stretched like old fabric. The dream of the Logout Option coming back had shifted from temporary glitch to permanent purgatory. This world wasn’t a glitch anymore. It was life.

  The alchemy, the shop, the food—it was all just something to drown out the echo of Alex’s voice. He’d give anything to hear it for real, to see his brother again, to help him. That ache gnawed at him, a constant, insistent hum.

  He knew that he shouldn’t feel like this. Alex wouldn’t want him to. This place, this dream—Alex’s dream—was something he should embrace. But every step he took, every Society Point he earned, felt like theft. Like he was living a life that wasn’t his to claim.

  That night, like so many before, sleep evaded him. The moment Jace’s eyes closed, the nightmares clawed their way back in. Alex stood there, slamming his fists against some invisible barrier, his face contorted with desperation, his screams ripping through Jace’s mind. Then Sophie—her face twisted, monstrous, her beauty melted away into something grotesque, something wrong. Everything slowed, like they were sinking in black, viscous waves, and from beneath that darkness, Jace felt it again—the mind of the Dark One.

  Black smoke wrapped around Jace, the soul of the Dark One given form. Cold and malevolent, they crawled through the marrow of his bones, up into his soul. Those eyes—blood red, glowing, full of malice—bored into him, while the Dark One’s heart pulsed with a crimson light, throbbing like an exposed wound. Claws of darkness slithered toward him, curling, twisting, reaching. Tufts of thick shadow rose from the beast’s hulking form, its presence suffocating. Jace tried to face it, to stand his ground, but the creature only grinned—its smile venomous, dripping with cruelty.

  The words of their last encounter hissed through the dream, each syllable sharper than a blade: “I should show you how a soul is truly severed, rip you apart, and let my minions feast on your remains while you watch. The demons are hungry. But before I let you die, maybe you can serve your King. Show me everything!”

  Jace saw flashes of images, of strange visions, of war and of city lights and the blaring of car horns.

  Jace’s body tensed, his heart hammering in his chest as the Dark One’s words slithered around him, squeezing tighter, tighter—until it felt like he might break. The smile on the beast’s face never wavered, its jagged teeth glinting as if it already knew how this story would end.

  Jace sat up in bed, drenched in cold sweat, his breath ragged. His heart hammered in his chest, but the room remained dark and quiet, save for the steady ticking of a clock in the corner.

  And then, as always, Shadow was there. She sat beside him, her dark eyes full of quiet understanding. She didn’t say anything, didn’t ask what had happened. She just waited, her presence a steady anchor in the storm.

  Jace swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the lie was thin.

  Shadow didn’t reply, but she didn’t need to. She just sat with him until the tremors passed and sleep, reluctant and heavy, dragged him back down.

  The next day, Jace slipped into his leather armor, feeling the familiar creak of the straps and the weight settling on his shoulders like an old regret. It was a ritual by now, this dance with the forest.

  The days had grown shorter, the crisp bite of fall settling over the Academy like a blanket of quiet anticipation. Leaves had begun to turn, streaks of gold and deep red painting the trees surrounding the campus, and a chill crept into the air that wasn’t there just weeks before. It had been nearly a month since Jace last felt the oppressive heat of summer.

  The Star Ceremony and Midnight Festival were just three weeks away, their presence looming like a storm on the horizon, darkening everything in its path. Jace knew he should feel something—excitement, anticipation, anything. He’d reached Bronze Three, and made strides most would kill for. But excitement? No. That emotion felt as distant as a forgotten dream. He just… couldn’t.

  The University had shifted, not just in mood but in tempo. Urgency buzzed through the halls, conversations hushed and clipped, like everyone was holding their breath. Training sessions felt sharper, study hours more frantic, as if the walls themselves were bracing for something unavoidable. Even the sky seemed to hang heavier, a brooding weight that pressed down on everything.

  Jace could feel it too. The forest, usually a place of solace during his training, now felt like a ticking clock. The cold bite in the air was a constant reminder of how fast time was slipping away. Every swing of his sword, every flicker of magic, seemed to add to the mounting pressure. Three weeks. Not enough time.

  And with each passing day, that creeping sense of inevitability gnawed at him, burrowing deeper, whispering that no matter how ready he was, it wouldn’t be enough.

  Every morning, he stalked through the trees with the quiet focus of a hunter, his eyes scanning the underbrush for anything foolish enough to cross his path. Each strike was precise, every cast of his magic sharp, but as he pushed himself harder, there was an uncomfortable truth gnawing away his mind.

  He wasn’t getting stronger. Not really.

  His muscles burned, his mind stretched thin with concentration, but it wasn’t enough. What had once been explosive leaps forward now felt like crawling, and the thrill of gaining EXP had dulled into a slow, agonizing drip. His Aether, once eager to grow, now begrudged him every fraction of an increase. It was like the System itself was rolling its eyes at him. Oh, you’re still here? Same grind, same mobs? Cute.

  Maybe Dex had been right, maybe it was time to go back to class and pretend to be normal for a while. But normal didn’t sit well with Jace. Never had. He’d spent too much time running toward this—toward power, toward purpose—and now that he was neck-deep in it, the progress felt like quicksand.

  Plateau, they called it. He hated the word. Hated the reality more.

  Each day was a reminder that no matter how many enemies he felled, or how many spells he mastered, it would never feel like enough. There was always that itch under his skin, that hungry thing in his gut that whispered, More. You can do more. And when the gains didn’t come, it only got louder, more insistent. The silence between fights was the worst, though—that creeping uncertainty that he wasn’t just chasing power, but running from something darker, something he wasn’t ready to face.

  “Maybe I should go back,” he muttered to himself, feeling the cold forest air sting his lungs. He wasn’t even sure if he meant classes—or life. Whatever that was.

  In the quiet spaces between the grind, he felt unsure. Unsure if he was running toward something—or running from all the things he refused to confront—caught between shadows and stars.