Chapter One Hundred Seven: Impossible Things Before Breakfast

  “So, you guys believe me?” Jace asked, barely above a whisper, the question trembling in the space between them.

  Molly’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “We believe that you saw what you saw. Stranger things have happened. And with the logout feature gone and death looking more and more permanent… well, anything is possible.”

  Alice nodded, her brow furrowed. “It makes a strange kind of sense, but still... why go to such extremes? What’s the endgame here? And why would Excelsior—John Rearden himself—go through all this song and dance? He’d have to be in on it, wouldn’t he? He must know.”

  “Unless that’s why he disappeared. He knew too much? I always suspected some massive conspiracy,” Dex said, his jaw tightening, a flicker of tension in his voice. “Rearden’s always been shifty. My dad used to say he was a genius, way, way ahead of his time. It could explain where he got all that technology.” He glanced around, eyes darting conspiratorially.

  Marcus scoffed, the sound cutting through the room like a blade. “Are we really taking this seriously? Conspiracies, other dimensions—and what next, aliens? This is ridiculous.” He met their incredulous looks with a defiant shrug, then sighed, conceding with a rough grunt. “Fine, believe what you want. But let me tell you something—my dad worked with Rearden too, and he wasn’t some misunderstood genius. He was a con artist. Always disappearing, leaving my father to clean up the mess. If you ask me, he was scavenging old tech, probably illegal stuff. Working with AI.”

  He paused, leaning forward. “It’s not aliens or otherworldly powers; it’s just him being slicker and slimier than everyone else. We lost most of our advanced tech in the war, and who’s to say this isn’t all just some hidden system he found? And, of course, I’m stuck here with you all. The son of the lawyer who got all of Rearden’s bills passed—who got the Technopurge put in check. Who covered up for his schemes. Wouldn’t surprise me if this was some mass kidnapping scheme with me as the target.”

  Silence hung heavy in the room as they all stared at him, their expressions shifting from confusion to disbelief. It was clear—this time, Marcus sounded like the crazy one.

  “Okay, fine,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “That sounds crazy too.”

  A collective nod passed through the group.

  Alice broke the silence, steady but urgent. “Listen, we can’t rule anything out right now.” The others exchanged glances and nodded, the tension thick in the air, a silent agreement settling over them.

  Ell leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m more curious about how you got in without scrambling your brain. The Devices are tamper-proof.”

  Jace swallowed hard, memories of that night clawing at him. “I thought it would fry me. But something overrode the system and let me through.”

  Ell looked thoughtful. “Now that is odd.”

  “So, you all believe me? You don’t think I’m crazy?” Jace’s gaze swept over them, searching for doubt.

  Molly’s expression softened. “No crazier than the rest of us,” she said, a wry smile on her lips.

  Alice nodded, her aura quiet but steady.

  Marcus let out a soft huff but didn’t say anything, the fight gone out of him.

  Dex clapped his hands, the sound startling in the hushed room. “Beam me up, Scotty,” he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

  Jace’s brow furrowed. “You know I didn’t say anything about aliens, right?”

  “Yeah, but it’s cooler to think of it that way. Besides, technically, if this is another world, then we’re the aliens.” He raised his hands, fingers wiggling like antennae, shooting Ell and Alice a playful glance.

  Marcus’s jaw tightened, but a reluctant grin threatened at the corners of his mouth. “In all this nonsense…” he started, eyes hardening. “I mean, in this totally plausible, very likely story of Jace’s—I mean Jason’s.”

  “Better stick with Jace when we’re in public.”

  “Right. Even if I believe you, what then? We’re supposed to help you reach the top of the Winter Games? Beat the tower? It’s impossible, never been done, especially not by a Traveler.”

  Dex frowned as he nodded. “I really hate to say it, but… he’s right. Even if you made it to the top, the last levels are barred from us. Travelers can’t cross them—something about a safety mechanism built into the system. The Games, aka The Tower, uses a ranking system,” Dex explained, “with prestige and rewards based on how high you climb. Only those at Silver Rank or below are allowed to enter. No Traveler or Citizen has ever beaten it. Travelers who reach levels near the eight cap gain elite status, almost like royalty here in Mythica. My dad always said he blew his one chance back in the day. He’d go on and on about how important the Games were, how they could change everything.”

  “Mine too,” Marcus said. “Except my dad actually made it to seven.” He glanced at Dex with a smile that was more menace than joy. “I’ve been trained for this since I was a kid, drilled on every detail. At least, every detail that you can.”

  “What do you mean?” Jace asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

  “The Games change every year, and they’re different for everyone who enters,” Alice added, earning an appreciative nod from Marcus.

  “Exactly,” Marcus continued. “I probably know the Games better than most, my father was obsessed. There are ten floors and the one thing never changes: the eight floor is the cap for Travelers. Almost no one even reaches it, let alone gets past.”

  Alice’s voice was a whisper, delicate and fierce. “That’s only the first impossible thing.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Ell snorted. “Right, we’re supposed to track down Rita Nutkins’ Book of Prophecies? We’ve already searched everywhere, remember? All we’ve managed to find are fragments and quotes scattered through other texts. Honestly, I’m starting to think it’s just an inside joke among the other authors.”

  Dex spread his hands, a grin splitting his face. “Two impossible things. That’s not so bad. We’ve faced worse.”

  Molly’s words slipped through the chatter, soft and otherworldly. “Jace, I believe you. This universe is full of unimaginable things. I’ve seen them, things that have no place in any world.” Her eyes darkened, a secret surfacing. “I’ve… been visited.”

  “By what?” Jace asked.

  “Spirits.”

  Marcus scoffed. “We’ve all seen spirits here. That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “No,” Molly said. “Spirits from back home. My grandmother… she was very sick when I left. She visited me when she died.”

  A heavy silence followed, the air thickening as they all exchanged glances. Marcus’s skepticism faltered, confusion and an uneasy respect warring on his face.

  Alice’s eyes shone with quiet empathy. “I’m sorry, Molly.”

  Molly’s smile was small, resolute. “It’s okay. She’s in a better place now, somewhere in Terra Mythica. Bodies can’t cross worlds easily, but souls… they can slip through the cracks.”

  The silence held, but this time it was not heavy with doubt. It hummed with a shared understanding, fragile but unyielding.

  Alice broke the charged silence, clearing her throat. “Guys, what’s really crazy is that I was actually just passing through to borrow a book I knew Molly had.” She held up a thick, weathered tome, its dark leather cover cracked with age and etched with gilded symbols that shimmered faintly in the lantern light. “It’s on the origins of magical histories in Mythica. And it covers the Winter Games.”

  A murmur of interest rippled through the group as Alice placed the book down with a soft thud, the sound echoing in the quiet room. They all leaned in, faces lit with the anticipation of discovery. Jace’s eyes traced the worn title, fingers itching to touch the pages that might hold the answers they desperately needed.

  Alice flipped through the book with practiced precision until she found the section she wanted. She spread the tome open to a large, detailed map, the paper thick and crackling under her touch. The map was painted in deep, rich colors—blues, silvers, and greens—marked with swirling lines of ancient runes that seemed to shimmer as the lantern’s light caught them.

  “Supposedly, long ago,” Alice began, “this world was formed from shards of the original Prismata, the filter of aether and energy that flows through the universe.” Her finger traced a line across the map, landing on a spot marked with a dark blue symbol. “There are said to be deposits of these original World Shards hidden throughout the land, each one holding immense power. This one here, under the Winter Games, is a piece of the original Sapphire Shard—Mind, Illusions, Intelligence.”

  Dex let out a whistle, eyes narrowing.

  Ell glanced at him before leaning closer, her gaze sharp and focused. “You’d think someone would have mined them,” she said.

  “These deposits are highly illegal to mine and nearly impossible,” Alice continued, her expression growing serious. “Even reaching them would require the power of a near-Transcendent Speaker. But this World Shard,” she tapped the map again, “is what fuels the Games, granting them their ability to shift and change for every person who enters.”

  Molly’s eyes widened as she leaned forward, the lantern light catching in the dark coils of her hair. “And the kingdom built around it?”

  Alice nodded, flipping to an illustration of towering battlements and deep, shadowed forests. “This was once part of Roandia, a kingdom that stretched across the land before it was shattered by the Dark One’s campaign. Here,” she pointed to a jagged border on the map, a line that looked like a scar, “is where they managed to push back his forces, creating this last stronghold. It’s fortified, with protections meant to keep his armies at bay, a massive barrier that divides his territory from the Games.”

  Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he studied the map, a glimmer of awe breaking through his usual hardened expression. “A border war,” he muttered. “This entire region has held him off for centuries.”

  Jace felt a chill coil around his spine, a visceral reaction he fought to keep hidden. This barrier was all that separated him from the place he now knew he was tied to in ways the others couldn’t imagine. The thought of being so close to the Dark One’s domain made his pulse quicken, a mixture of dread and something darker, something he didn’t want to name.

  “It makes sense,” Ell added thoughtfully, “why there’s been so much debate about even having the Games at all. With the Dark One’s power growing, is it truly safe to hold them so close to his territory?”

  Jace stared at the map, a slow realization unfurling within him like the first glimmer of dawn. The sapphire shard, the ever-shifting Games, the ancient battleground—it all connected in ways he couldn’t fully grasp yet. But he could feel it: something here held the answers he needed, a key hidden within the threads of history, waiting to unlock the destiny that lay ahead.

  “But that’s not even the most interesting part about this book,” Alice said, her eyes gleaming. “Look at the name under the illustrations. The artist who drew them.”

  They leaned in, squinting to make out the delicate scarlet ink scrawled at the bottom edge of the page. There, in tiny, precise script, were two words: Rita Nutkins. Her name was inscribed beneath each illustration throughout the book.

  Silence fell again, but this time it thrummed with the pulse of revelation.

  Ell broke it with a grin. “Alright, so what’s next, Space Man?”

  Jace looked at each of them, his resolve hardening. “We get ready for the Games. And we find that book.”

  The silence was alive, pressing down on them until the air turned leaden in their lungs. Jace held their gaze, searching for something—acceptance, doubt, resolve—anything to reveal where they stood. Fear, anger, confusion, determination; each emotion flickered across their faces, caught in the trembling amber light.

  Dex’s grin came quick, an instinctive mask that didn’t reach his eyes, where tension lay like a coiled spring. “Hell yeah!”

  Ell rolled her eyes, giving Dex a playful punch on the arm. “This is serious, Dex,” she muttered, though the warmth in her voice softened the reprimand. Jace’s chest tightened as realization sank in—they were here. Despite everything, they were still here, with him, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

  Ell stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes sharp and watchful. “We need a plan.”

  Jace met her gaze and nodded, a small, shuddering breath easing the tension in his chest.

  Alice moved closer, her fingers brushed his, a touch so light it could have been imagined, but it anchored him nonetheless. “We’re with you, Jace,” she said, gentle but unyielding, a pledge carried across the room. “All of us. No matter what.”

  Jace drew a shaky breath, the knot in his throat easing as he took in his surroundings. Faces worn by battle and fear, but alive with resolve. Molly, fierce and unyielding; Dex, grinning through his nerves; Ell, eyes bright with mischief and loyalty; Marcus, reluctantly nodding, his jaw set.

  “Why not?” Marcus added, the corners of his mouth twitching in the barest hint of a smile. It was more than Jace had expected.

  “Okay,” Jace said, stronger now, steadier. The tremor had gone, replaced by the steel edge of resolve.

  The world outside buzzed with muffled conversation, but he barely heard it. His heart still pounded in his ribs, his pulse uneven. He had given them everything. Every piece of himself.

  And they hadn’t run.

  He turned away, pressing his palm to the cold stone wall. He should feel relief. He should feel lighter. But all he could think about was Alex—the way his brother’s voice had cracked the last time they spoke. The warning he’d given.

  Jace exhaled, shoulders tense.

  As they talked, a chorus of ideas and arguments wove together, bound with the sharp hope and the dull lace of fear. Jace felt the golden thread within him pulse, a gentle reminder of why they were here, what they were fighting for. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

  The night unfurled around them, hours trickling away like grains of sand slipping through an unseen hourglass. Outside, stars burned fiercely in the velvet sky. Somewhere in the deep darkness beyond the walls, something stirred, a shift in the quiet. He felt it in his marrow, a certainty as ancient as the constellations above: this was only the beginning.