Chapter Ninety-Nine: Truth

  Jace’s breath came fast, each inhalation feeding the fire that blazed within him. He clenched his teeth, his focus sharpening, the realization sinking deep—this creature had never truly controlled him. It had only fed off his fear, his uncertainty. And now, with the truth blinding him, Jace pushed back, wrenching himself free of the creature’s grip.

  “No more,” he whispered, his voice a promise.

  He felt the tether snap, felt the monstrous presence lose its footing, stumbling back, shrieking in fury. The pressure in his head lifted, and he gasped, his senses flooding back into reality, his consciousness snapping back to his body.

  Jace pulled himself free, his entire being surging with strength and purpose. He rose, eyes blazing, his aura shimmering with the sheer force of the aether coursing through him. And before him, the beast—its monstrous form twisting, cracking—began to shatter.

  A high, keening scream tore through the air, the sound inhuman, filled with desperation and hatred. The darkness that had once seemed so imposing now fractured, breaking apart as though it was made of brittle glass. The creature’s outline blurred, fragments of it tearing away, disintegrating into nothingness. And yet, even in its breaking, Jace knew it was not truly destroyed.

  With a last, furious wail, the shattered remnants of the creature swirled, a tempest of darkness that pulled away from Jace, retreating, fleeing from the light that now blazed from him.

  “Run,” Jace murmured, his eyes locked on the dissipating shadow, his voice steady and unyielding. “Run, but know that I’ll be waiting.”

  The beast gave no reply, only a final, echoing shriek as it fled, dissolving into the night, leaving behind nothing but a whisper of darkness and the memory of its terror. It was not dead, not yet. But it was gone—broken, diminished, and running.

  And then, just as quickly as it had come, the darkness began to dissolve, pulling back, shrinking away from the force that Jace had become. It was no longer in control. Jace was. He stood tall within himself, feeling the weight of Henry’s influence slip away, leaving him with a clarity, a focus that was almost blinding.

  The spirit realm faded away as the battle before him came back into view.

  He was free, not because the darkness had given up, but because he had chosen to face it, to understand it for what it truly was, and to let it fade under the strength of his own light. The world around him felt more alive, more vibrant, more real than ever before.

  Aether poured out from him—raw, pure, unfiltered. It moved through every corner of his being, vibrating through his bones, flowing in his veins like fire and lightning all at once. The power was overwhelming, almost unbearable in its intensity. It was too much. It needed to be released.

  He struggled to his feet amidst the chaos, his senses sharpening with every heartbeat. His gaze swept over the battlefield—the chaos, the desperate fight still unfolding around him. His friends, battered and bruised, were on the brink of collapse, their backs against the wall as the demons closed in, their roars echoing through the blood-soaked air. Shadow’s body lay still beside him, a reminder of everything at stake.

  And Jace acted.

  With a roar of his own, he lifted his hands, the energy surging through him in waves, and let it flow outward. His fingers splayed wide as he focused on those around him, the warriors who had fought so bravely by his side. He felt the connection snap into place—Soul Tether and Aetheric Absorption. One after another, the bonds formed, luminous threads of energy linking him to his allies. He could feel their pain, their exhaustion, the weariness weighing them down. And in response, the aether rushed from him, pouring into each tether, filling them.

  Light blazed through the bonds, the energy flowing in an unstoppable wave, radiating from Jace and into each of his friends. They were bathed in it—so much life, so much light. He watched as their wounds began to heal, the bruises fading, the cuts closing, the exhaustion replaced by strength. They stood taller, their eyes wide as the energy filled them, as the power reignited their spirits.

  Dex, his daggers glinting under the ethereal glow, turned, a fierce grin spreading across his face as the power surged through him. Ell, graceful and swift, leaped forward, her blade flashing with newfound speed and strength. The healers who had been working on Thistle were suddenly enveloped by the light, their auras blazing bright, and they turned their attention outward, the tide of aether healing their wounds and filling their hands with the strength to fight back.

  Jace’s vision was awash in light—so much of it, so much aether that he felt he could explode. He could no longer hold it all, and so he funneled it out, extending his hands and binding all those around him, sharing the surge of power. The battlefield seemed to glow, a radiant burst of aether transforming every ally it touched, every soul it tethered.

  The demons fell, collapsing like marionettes with their strings severed, their forms crumbling to the ground in grotesque heaps. Some dissolved into nothing more than puffs of soot and the faint, metallic tang of blood—a fleeting memory of something monstrous, undone in an instant. Without the Dark One’s tether binding them, there was nothing left to hold them, nothing to keep them from unraveling. Jace watched as they withered, one by one, their essence dissipating into the cold air, a dark legacy reduced to ash and echoes.

  Jace stood amidst it all, his breath heavy, his heart pounding, his body still alive with the remnants of aether. Around him, the cheers began to rise—a wave of exultation sweeping through the survivors, their voices raised in victorious cries, the sound echoing across the battlefield.

  As the echoes of victory filled the night, Jace’s gaze swept the chaos, searching. His eyes scanned the bodies of demons, the retreating forms, the triumphant faces of his friends. But the pale boy was nowhere to be seen.

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  Gone, as if he had never been there at all.

  But there were no cheers from Jace or his friends. The triumphant roars of victory that should have filled the air instead gave way to a heavy, suffocating silence. Their eyes were drawn downward, and there she lay—Shadow, unmoving amidst the chaos, her form so still it seemed wrong against the backdrop of the battlefield.

  Jace’s heart clenched, the elation of their narrow victory evaporating in an instant. Slowly, he sank to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out to hold her, to cradle her in his arms. His fingers brushed her cold skin, and a shiver ran through him, an emptiness swallowing whatever strength he’d thought remained. The others gathered around, their weapons hanging limp at their sides, their expressions mirroring the grief etched across Jace’s face.

  It was supposed to be over. They had fought, they had won—but looking down at her, none of it felt like a victory.

  Jace’s focus remained on Shadow, lying still amidst the chaos. Her chest no longer rose or fell, her breaths long since ceased. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—he was too late. The life that had burned so brightly in her was gone, leaving only a hollow shell in its place. The world around him fell silent, the echoes of battle receding into nothingness, the victory meaningless without her.

  And then, something caught his eye. A delicate necklace encircled her neck—a thin chain, barely visible beneath her torn collar. It glowed faintly, a pulse of light too gentle to be natural, shimmering against the bloodied ground. A subtle insistence that caught his attention and refused to let go.

  Jace’s heart gave a weak, tremulous jump, a flicker of hope that cut through the despair. There was something else here. Shadow’s soul hadn’t departed, and the thought clung to him like a lifeline. He leaned closer, his breath trembling, his fingers reaching out to touch the necklace. It pulsed under his fingertips, a steady, soft rhythm, and he could feel it—the presence of something beyond, something holding her spirit captive.

  Jace’s hands trembled as he forced his eyes shut, summoning whatever strength he had left. He drew in a deep, shaky breath and called forth Soul Sense, letting his mind shift, willing himself into the realm beyond sight, reaching out to connect with whatever remained of her. The world twisted around him, colors swirling, his consciousness sinking into the space between worlds—but suddenly, violently, it all snapped back. A force like a tidal wave slammed into him, severing his connection and throwing him backward.

  He flew through the air, his back hitting a stone wall with a crack, the impact stealing the breath from his lungs. The pain radiated outwards, but it didn’t matter. Jace struggled to his feet, ignoring the way his legs shook, the way his head spun. His jaw clenched, tears stinging his eyes. Someone—something—was refusing to let her go. After everything she had done, after all she had fought for, this was how it would end? No. Not if he could help it.

  With a fierce determination, mixed with a rising sense of indignation, Jace moved back to her side. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering over her lifeless body, his eyes narrowing with focus. He activated Soul Sense and his new Word of Truth, feeling the energy rush through him, his senses sharpening as the world seemed to fall away. There was nothing but the glowing threads of existence—the pulse of magic that lingered around her, and the darkness that sought to bind it.

  And then he saw it.

  A thin, dark tendril, coiled tightly around her spirit, its energy thrumming with malevolent intent. It was there, buried beneath the light of her necklace, a force unseen but unmistakable. It twisted around her essence, holding her in place, preventing her from passing on. Jace’s jaw set, his eyes blazing with an inner fire.

  “This isn’t how your story ends,” he whispered, his voice a promise.

  His fingers traced the intricate designs etched into the pendant, the patterns shifting beneath his touch as if trying to hide their secrets. But Jace wasn’t going to stop now. He summoned his Word, his essence flaring as he drew upon Soul Severance, his will focused entirely on breaking that tether.

  The air around them shimmered, the tension crackling, the energy palpable. Jace poured his power into the effort, each breath a struggle, each heartbeat echoing with a sense of finality. The world dimmed, all his surroundings fading, the noise, the people—it was all meaningless compared to what lay before him. Victory on the battlefield meant nothing without Shadow.

  He gave a final push, his entire being channeled into that one desperate act. And then, with a sudden jolt, he felt it—the connection snapped, the dark energy shattering under the force of his will. The necklace broke apart, pieces scattering across the blood-stained ground as Shadow’s body began to glow.

  Light enveloped her, the glow radiating outwards, her edges blurring, the harshness of death giving way to something softer, something far more beautiful. Her hair turned to golden light, her body lifted gently from the ground, her mortal form giving way to an ethereal figure beneath. The shadows that had bound her fell away, replaced by a luminescence that seemed almost divine.

  Golden radiance enveloped her completely, lifting her into the air, her body suspended, weightless, pure. Jace could only watch, his breath caught in his throat, his tears still fresh, now mingled with awe. The grief in his heart remained, but there was something else—something that spoke of hope, of transcendence.

  A whisper of movement caught his ear. He looked over, and there, among the survivors, he saw Alice. She knelt, her eyes wide, her face filled with wonder as she breathed a single word, “Clio... the Muse of History.”

  The others around her, students and teachers alike, bowed their heads, sinking to their knees in reverence. All but Jace, who remained on the ground, his heart pounding, his eyes fixed on the glowing form above.

  From the light, Shadow—no, Clio—spoke, her voice melodic, gentle, carrying with it the warmth of ages. “Thank you, Jace,” she said, her gaze meeting his, a smile gracing her lips. “You have freed me.”

  Her voice resonated through him, a sound that carried not only gratitude but also understanding, a connection deeper than words. “A dark force, hidden and ancient, had bound me here,” she continued, her voice filled with sorrow and strength. “It was magic, long forgotten—nearly a thousand years old.”

  Jace looked up, tears streaming down his face. “I couldn’t save you,” he whispered, his voice raw, breaking with emotion.

  Clio descended, her form still radiant, and as she touched down, she knelt before him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. “You did more than save me, Jace,” she said softly, her eyes shimmering, still carrying the essence of Shadow he knew so well. “You set me free.”

  She extended her hand, and in her palm appeared a small, shimmering drachma, glowing with a soft, golden light. “Take this,” she said, her voice kind. “A token. May it serve as a reminder that hope exists, even when forgotten.”

  Their hands touched for a moment, the coin warm against his skin, the connection fleeting but filled with meaning—a whisper of fate, a promise of something beyond the darkness.

  And then she leaned closer and gave him a long kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Jason.” She whispered. “Thank you for being there for me when I was lost and so very alone.”

  She stood back and a new light engulfed her.

  Her face changed, her eyes glowing as if some vital essence was moving through her. She rose into the air, her ethereal glow brightening. When she spoke again, her voice was deeper, trembling with a resonance that didn’t belong to her—a voice touched by something otherworldly. It echoed across the field, her words filled with warning of something ancient and far darker lingering on the horizon.

  “The Prophecy Nears. One lost to ages past - so speaks the Muse of Histories Teachings.”

  Her words unfolded like a forgotten melody.