Chapter One Hundred Six: Family Matters

  The ornate glass quivered, catching the dim light in a dance of shifting blues and silvers, before it stilled, reflecting nothing more than the amber glow of the candlelit room. The students lingering in the hall—sleepless scholars clutching books and parchments—froze, their collective breath caught mid-syllable. But at Mount Olympus University, where magic bled into the mundane, the moment passed like a breeze over water. Attention drifted back to the rustle of pages, murmured theories, and the clatter of quills as though the shimmer had been nothing more than a stray draft.

  Jace sat there for what felt like an eternity, a hollow ache spreading through him, as if the universe itself had been handed to him only to be ripped away again. The weight of it threatened to crush him, emotions roiling beneath the surface, ready to spill over and drown him. He couldn’t bear it alone anymore; the isolation gnawed at him like a living thing. He needed to talk to someone—anyone—who wouldn’t think he was insane. But how could he even begin to explain?

  “Hey, I’ve been lying to you about who I am, and, by the way, I’m the son of the Dark One. My brother? Stuck on the other side of every mirror. And, oh yeah, the fate of all universes somehow hinges on me.” The words in his mind felt ridiculous, heavy as iron and just as impossible to lift. It would go over like a lead balloon, shattering whatever fragile trust he still had.

  And yet, despite the crushing doubt, the need burned in him—urgent and raw. He needed to speak, to share the truth that coiled inside him like a serpent, suffocating him. He needed someone to hear him, to help carry this impossible burden, before it consumed him whole.

  Jace felt it then, a tug deep in his chest, taut as an invisible golden thread pulling him forward. The sensation was familiar now, but still raw, like the memory of pain. His Affinity for Truth—so recently awakened in a blaze of revelation he barely comprehended—stirred within him. He drew in a breath and stilled, shutting out the noise. For an instant, the line almost materialized before him, glistening with an ethereal, otherworldly light that tugged him forward. He was quickly finding that the Truth Affinity was less about revealing truths and more about pushing him toward where to look—but the looking was up to him. He was learning to follow these feelings, these perceptions, these glowing pulls toward the unknown. He followed the nudge into the courtyard outside.

  His pulse quickened, each beat a metronome ticking off unfinished business. The campus sprawled around him, worn paths lined with ancient oaks and ivy-covered columns that kept stories of ages past. There was comfort in the well-trodden paths but not enough to quiet the storm in his chest.

  The night stretched wide above him, deep and blue as velvet, pierced by the cold light of a thousand stars. Their fractured glow pooled in silvery puddles across the stone courtyard, painting shadows that shifted as he moved. Yet tonight, the campus felt changed, charged with an energy he couldn’t quite name. The same halls, the same air steeped in old spells and murmurs of power, but something beneath it all had shifted, an unseen ripple that refused to settle.

  He passed the statues that lined the old path, their stony expressions cast in solemn defiance. One, depicting Ares mid-battle with a lion, tilted its head ever so slightly, the marble lips curving into the barest hint of a smile.

  The statues were known to shift occasionally—moving about the campus—but they largely paid no attention to the comings and goings of the students.

  Shadows loomed thick around him, writhing into shapes that defied reason. Only minutes had passed since his escape from the In Between, but it felt like centuries. Time in that place bent and fractured, stretching moments until they shredded into slivers of memory that clung to him now, fleeting and ghostly.

  The tug inside him tightened, gentle but insistent, like the hand of fate itself reaching through the night to guide him. He closed his eyes and let the sensation settle, feeling the golden thread of magic wind around his heart and pull eastward, towards the Hermes District. The line shimmered in his vision, an almost tangible path glittering through the gloom of archways and shadow-laced corridors.

  Jace moved forward, each step striking the stone with steady purpose. The night air, cool and sharp, filled his lungs, grounding him as he tried to exhale the heavy tang of dread and hope entwined. Around him, the campus breathed with muted life. Amber lanterns hanging from wrought-iron posts sputtered, their golden light spilling over the cobblestones, casting long, swaying shadows. The laughter of late-night stragglers sliced through the quiet, brittle and quick, a reminder that even at this hour, Mount Olympus University never truly slept.

  The Hermes District awaited him. The buildings glistened under the starlight, their walls painted in rich swathes of gold and deep green, etched with symbols that seemed to shift like living ink under the lanterns’ glow. The architecture was a maze of elegance and cunning—facades adorned with false windows that watched, balconies with narrow, winding staircases that disappeared into shadow. Secrets lay coiled in every nook and beneath every archway, waiting for the right ears or the right codewords.

  Even now, students and messengers wove through the labyrinthine paths, their movements quick and deliberate. Boxes stacked high and heavy shifted under urgent hands; parchment-wrapped messages passed like whispers, exchanged with glances full of sly amusement and silent promises. The walls themselves seemed to hum with anticipation, their surfaces alive with shifting patterns that flickered and faded like a magician’s trick. The scent of ink, sweat, and something metallic filled the air, sharp and thrilling.

  It was as if the district itself had eyes, as if the polished stone and carved wood were watching, waiting, and breathing in the same restless rhythm as Jace. Every corner carried a sense of unspoken mischief, every hidden alley an invitation or a warning. Tonight, Hermes’ domain felt more than alive—it felt sentient, a place balanced on the cusp of revelation.

  The invisible golden glow tugged at him, urging him deeper into the organized chaos. The first familiar face he found was Molly, her dark curls framing her face like a storm as she commanded a small group with the confidence of a general. Her voice cut through the din, clear and commanding, but tinged with an excitement Jace could sense even from where he stood. When she spotted him, her eyes lit up, not just with joy but with something more intense, something that shone with a fierce clarity—relief.

  “Jace!” she called, a grin breaking through the tension that marked her features. Before he could even think to react, Molly flung her arms around him, squeezing tight. The warmth of the embrace was sudden, almost jarring, and when she pulled back, he felt the heat creeping up his neck, staining his cheeks.

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  Seriously? He chided himself. Facing down the Dark One, fine. But a friendly hug? Instant embarrassment. He cursed himself silently. He reminded himself that he wasn’t a kid anymore. Nineteen Earth years, twenty in Terra Mythica’s adjusted time—he shouldn’t be reacting like this.

  Molly didn’t seem to notice the little internal dance he’d just performed. She beamed, radiant with unfiltered joy, completely unaware of how hard he was trying to will the blush from his face.

  Around her, the chaos surged: trunks piled high and charms glowing faintly as they were loaded into carts that creaked under their weight. The followers of Hecate, now under Hades’ protection, bustled with urgency. They were preparing to transition to the Fields Below, a sanctuary he had fought to secure for them with every hard-won society point. The move was still a week away, yet the air thrummed with the energy of imminent change—a hope so fierce it bordered on desperation.

  Jace’s heart clenched at the sight. His gaze caught Alice, half-hidden in the shadow of a bookshelf, her fingers skimming the cracked leather spine of an ancient tome. She looked up, eyes meeting his with a glimmer of something tender, a silent understanding that twisted his insides. It was brief, a flicker that vanished as quickly as it appeared, but it was enough.

  Nearby, Dex and Ell lounged on a worn leather couch, Dex with one leg draped lazily over the armrest, his ever-present smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He gestured animatedly, a scroll in one hand, while Ell leaned in—her smile bright with amusement, her laugh a light, cascading sound that carried like glass chimes on a breeze. Scrolls and lists were strewn around them, their conversation weaving between hurried plans and sly jokes that brought a brightness to the room.

  Marcus stood at the periphery, arms folded across his chest, watching with an expression carved from granite. He scanned the room, every glance measured and guarded, until his focus landed on Jace. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he gave a terse nod—a silent acknowledgment of Jace’s presence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them.

  Ell gave Dex an odd look as he started talking to himself but he ignored her.

  The room pulsed with movement, the followers of Hecate weaving through the space, packing charms, tomes, and relics with practiced haste. The air hummed with the electric anticipation of a storm yet to break.

  “Looks like the Scooby Gang is all here,” Jace said, steady, though a tremor of something raw and unspoken threaded beneath it. The weight of it all pressed on him—the friendships, the fragile alliances, the bonds that had become as much a part of him as breath. He drew in the cool night air, the pull of his Affinity thrumming with renewed urgency. The golden thread vibrated with purpose, then stilled, as if satisfied that its task was complete.

  “We need to talk,” he continued, eyes sweeping across the room, meeting each gaze in turn.

  The group exchanged glances, a flicker of silent worry sparking between them. Molly was the first to move, her gaze unwavering as she approached a stone statue embedded in the wall—a carved face of an old man, weathered and wise, features frozen in silent, knowing judgment. She leaned in and spoke softly, “Tenebrae et Veritas.” When she spoke, her voice carried an otherworldly quality, an echo that seemed to resonate from somewhere deeper than her throat, and the movement of her lips didn’t match the words that filled the air.

  For a beat, there was only silence, and then the statue’s eyes glowed with a faint, amber light. Its stone mouth cracked open, low and rumbling. “Granted.”

  With a deep, resonant groan, the ancient fa?ade shifted, stone grinding against stone as a hidden doorway revealed itself. “‘Darkness and Truth,” she said.

  Jace could only assume that hidden passages and secret rooms were more than common in this part of the campus.

  Inside, the room was shrouded in blackness at first, a silence so deep it felt tangible. But then the lanterns flared to life, casting a warm, amber glow that sent flickering light across the space. The light stretched and shifted, dancing over shelves crammed with ancient tomes, curling maps, and trinkets that hummed with a strange, latent energy. The scent was a mix of old parchment and ink, tinged with the ghostly aroma of wax.

  Molly swept her hand across the doorway, muttering an incantation under her breath. The room trembled, the door shifting into place with a deep, resonant thud as sigils glowed briefly along its edges, sealing them in. The warm, rhythmic pulse of protective magic settled into the walls, a silent guardian.

  The others took their places around the room, their focus locking onto Jace. He stood at the center, thoughts surging—chaotic, vivid, impossible to pin down.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” Jace said, his voice rough, every word emerging like shards of glass. It was more than a statement; it was a ripple, breaking the stillness and unfurling the truth he’d buried so deep it felt entwined with his bones. “Everything.”

  The room stilled, the word echoing like a struck chord, carrying with it a promise and a threat, a confession and a plea. He met their eyes, one by one. Molly’s, bright with hope and determination. Marcus’s, wary and hard, like tempered steel. Alice’s, soft but shadowed, concern beneath her composed surface.

  Ell’s eyes shimmered with a mix of curiosity and defiance, her lips pressed into a determined line. Dex, on the other hand, wore a lopsided grin that didn’t quite mask the flicker of uncertainty, a grin that said he was ready for anything but expecting the worst.

  The lantern flames guttered, shadows pooling like ink as Jace’s voice wove through the room. He spoke of everything that had led him there, memories that clung like smoke, curling and binding, of places he had seen—visions that defied reason, twisted facsimiles of reality fractured like shattered glass. He told them of the golden thread that wrapped around him, tugging him forward, of his new Affinity.

  Jace took a breath, deeper this time, and told them more. He spoke of the streets he had grown up on, the lean, dangerous years that had forged him. It was a story most couldn’t fathom at Mount Olympus University, where bloodlines and legacy were as common as breath. He spoke of Alex, his brother, and the night he’d taken a device that wasn’t meant for him and forced his way into the university’s world.

  Finally, he spoke of that night, the encounter with the dark one in the depths of his mind. The words stumbled out at first, jagged and uneven, like broken glass scraping his throat. Then the dam broke.

  The lonely hours spent training in secret. The gnawing need to be more—stronger, sharper, enough. And beneath it all, the terrible certainty pressing against his ribs, whispering a truth he couldn’t ignore.

  Alice’s hand found his shoulder, her touch light and trembling, a silent offering of strength. Her smile was fleeting, pale as the last glow of a candle, but it was there.

  He searched their faces for betrayal, for disgust—anything to prove his fear right. But all he found were calm expressions, steady and listening, waiting for him to continue.

  He told them about the dark one, though not the darkest truth—he couldn’t tell them that he was the dark one’s son. That confession stuck in his throat, bitter and impossible. He was already brushing the edges of belief; to say more would shatter it. He spoke of his Affinity and the way it shaped his perception, pulling back the illusion of a digital game to reveal a reality far more complex and terrifying. His voice cracked with the recounting of the In Between, and the warning Alex had given him, words soaked in dread.

  They listened, absorbing it all, the silence between them heavy and brimming. Jace gave them everything he could, every splinter of truth that cut him from the inside out.

  The room seemed to exhale, settling into a tense silence that wrapped around them like a shroud. The flickering lanterns cast their glow in uneven strokes, shadows stretching across the shelves laden with relics, books, and strange, glinting curiosities. Dust motes swirled lazily in the golden light, as if time itself had slowed to listen. Jace felt the weight of their stares, their collective breath held in anticipation, their emotions woven together in the quiet—a mix of disbelief, curiosity, and something harder to name, a hesitant kind of trust.

  Dex broke the silence first, a smirk pulling at his lips. “So, Jason… you chose Jace as your secret identity? Jace? Didn’t want to pick something a little less like, you know, Jason?”

  Ell elbowed him lightly, the gesture playful and accompanied by a faint grin she couldn’t quite suppress. “That’s what you got out of all that?”