Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: The Masks We Wear

  A few hours later, they gathered near the entrance to the carnival, the air buzzing with energy. The afternoon sun bathed everything in a golden glow, casting warm light across their faces as they stood together, each bringing their own distinct flair to the scene.

  Jace lingered behind the group, his dark cloak shifting subtly in the light, its enchanted threads catching the shadows like smoke in motion. Beneath it, his charcoal tunic fit snugly, blending into his scuffed, practical boots. The faint glow of his White Raven ring flickered as he adjusted his cloak, and scanned the horizon.

  Alice had clearly embraced the occasion, her flowing sapphire dress shimmering like liquid starlight under the lanterns. Her hair, swept into a loose braid, glittered with tiny silver charms etched with delicate runes. She held a small satchel at her side that was more ornament than necessity, given that they all had inventories. She was… stunning.

  Ell strutted forward, her boots striking the cobblestones with a confidence that bordered on defiance. Her sleeveless, wine-red tunic, trimmed with gold, clung to her frame, the hilt of a dagger peeking from her belt. A braid, threaded with copper wire, swung behind her as she flashed a grin at Marcus.

  Marcus, by contrast, was the picture of understated elegance. His sleek black coat hung neatly over a dark green high-collared shirt, the silver buttons catching just enough light to gleam. His boots, polished to a mirror sheen, clicked softly as he walked, his usual skeptical expression softened slightly by the carnival’s festive air.

  Molly twirled in place, her layered skirt of teal and gold flaring around her legs. She’d wrapped a black scarf of gossamer fabric around her neck, its ends fluttering behind her like tiny banners. Jeweled star-shaped clips dotted her pinned curls, catching the light with every laugh and bounce in her step.

  Dex shifted awkwardly, pulling at the hem of his well-fitted brown leather jacket as if trying to keep it from wrinkling. His boots were scuffed from overuse, but the care he’d put into the rest of his outfit was obvious, even if he looked unsure about it.

  As they approached the carnival, their senses were overwhelmed by a chaotic symphony of sights, sounds, and scents. Jace slowed, his steps faltering as his gaze swept over the surreal scene before them. They stood just beyond a towering archway that marked the entrance to the next layer of the Merchants’ Circle, its intricate carvings glowing faintly in the lantern light, as if alive with some quiet magic.

  From their vantage point, the Merchant’s Circle had become a tapestry of enchantment. Vibrant lanterns floated in midair, their glowing hues of ruby and sapphire casting dancing patterns across the cobblestone streets below. Strings of lights looped between towering wrought-iron posts, their golden orbs flickering like captive stars. The air shimmered with an almost tangible warmth, carrying with it the mingling scents of spiced pastries, roasted meats, and something floral and sweet—exotic and unplaceable.

  Laughter rippled like music, rising and falling in waves, punctuated by the occasional cheer. Crowds moved in a rhythmic dance, weaving through stalls draped in shimmering silks and banners painted with celestial motifs. The sounds were a cacophony that somehow didn’t overwhelm: the cheerful clinking of coins, and the occasional shout of a vendor hawking wares. At one corner, a juggler tossed flaming torches that left trails of sparkling fire in their wake, while on another, a troupe of instruments hovered in midair, their strings plucked and keys pressed by unseen hands. The notes shimmered as they rose, sparkling like sunlight dancing across a rippling stream, the melody weaving an otherworldly harmony that bound the tapestry of sights and smells together, coalescing into a sort of living thing.

  Stepping close to the gates, they could see the glint of gold and jewels from wares displayed on ornate tables, guarded by merchants whose bright smiles seemed genuine but felt faintly off, like masks that refused to slip. Towering over the scene, a mechanical dragon roared, its brass scales catching the light as it moved in synchronized grace, spilling plumes of harmless, glowing smoke over the delighted crowd.

  The entire district pulsed with life, its festivities so vibrant and alluring that it felt like reality had taken a step sideways into a dream. Yet, from where they stood, the faintest dissonance prickled—something just beyond the surface, unseen but felt, like a distant chord that was slightly out of tune.

  There was something wrong about it all, though he couldn’t quite place why. The warmth wasn’t comforting; it was suffocating, like stepping into a predator’s lair where the trap had already been sprung. The air smelled of cinnamon, clove, and something richer, darker. Sweet, yes, but with an edge that teased the faintest hint of decay.

  Behind him, Molly exhaled sharply, her breath forming one last ghostly wisp before dissolving into the warmer air.

  Despite his unease, Jace couldn’t deny the pull of the place. It was as if the glowing crystals and the glistening streets whispered directly to his bones, urging him forward.

  “It’s incredible,” Dex declared, already striding ahead. His boots made no sound against the cobblestones, his confidence as unwavering as the grin he wore. He spun around to face them, walking backward with ease. “Come on!”

  Marcus hesitated, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, as his gaze flicked warily to the towering gates ahead.

  Arches were adorned with more ruby-lit crystals. A banner fluttered above, its silken fabric catching the light and scattering it in dazzling patterns. The words upon it twisted and shifted, symbols rearranging themselves until Jace’s mind made sense of them:

  Welcome All to the Winter Games.

  Beyond the gates, the world burst into riotous color and sound. Strings of enchanted lights looped between towering poles, casting amber and gold patterns over bustling streets. Vendors called out their wares, their voices a blend of cheer and practiced charm. The air was thick with the scent of roasting meats, spiced pastries, and something sweeter still, all combining in a heady mix.

  “Just look at this place.” Dex gestured grandly, spinning again to face the spectacle. “Amazing.”

  Jace lingered by the gates, his unease sharpening. The perfection of it all—the laughter that never faltered, the warmth that never wavered—felt too polished, too precise. It was a picture painted to beguile, not to reassure. Yet, against his better judgment, he stepped forward, the pull of the place tugging at something deep within him.

  They stepped into the world of colors, its vibrant lights and warm laughter enveloping them like a welcoming embrace. For a brief moment, Jace felt a prickle of unease crawl up his spine, sharp and insistent—but then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. In its place, a strange, pleasant fog settled over his thoughts, leaving him oddly content yet vaguely adrift, as though some important worry had been quietly swept away, leaving only the faintest whisper of its absence.

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  He heard it then—no, heard wasn’t right.

  Look.

  It was not a voice, but something deeper, more primal. A vibration thrumming against his mind. It bypassed sound entirely and resonated straight into his core. Instinctively, he checked his HUD, his fingers moving with practiced precision as he searched for any sign of status effects or updates. Nothing. No alerts, no warnings. Just the strange fleeting sensation, one that quickly fell into the back of Jace’s mind as he tried to take in the scene.

  They wandered through the streets, taking in the unbelievable, impossible scene around them. This wasn’t a place of men wearing masks—it was a world of monsters.

  Jace’s pulse kicked up as a massive three-headed beast strolled past, its dark fur rippling with every slow, thunderous step. His instincts flared. Before he could think, a shadow blade materialized in his grip.

  Alice’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, her touch light but firm. “It’s all fake, silly.”

  Jace hesitated, then let the blade dissolve into smoke. He should have known that. But his Truthsense was failing him, its usual pull flickering like a dying candle. It was like something was dulling his edge, making him forget what was real and what wasn’t.

  He exhaled and glanced around, catching the wary eyes of a nearby vendor—a hunched figure behind a stall of glittering trinkets. The vendor wasn’t watching the monster. He was watching Jace.

  That unsettled him more than the beast.

  They moved on, weaving through the shifting lights and trailing silks of the masquerade. Somewhere in the distance, music rose, laughter spilled into the air, and the warm glow of the carnival felt too inviting, too easy.

  “I feel wildly underdressed,” Dex muttered, eyeing a passing figure draped in layers of gilded feathers and shifting scales.

  Jace crossed his arms. “Yeah… where do we get one of those?”

  And then—he stopped.

  The booth should not have been there.

  They had walked this path before—Jace was sure of it—and yet, somehow, the Masquerade Booth now stood waiting.

  A carved wooden sign swung gently above the entrance, its lettering shifting as they approached, the words rearranging themselves like ink spreading through water.

  “Dare to Wear a Mask. Become More Than You Are.”

  The air carried a subtle charge, the same sensation Jace had felt just before a storm cracked the sky open. A warmth, a hum, a pull just beneath the surface of his skin.

  A robed attendant stood at the entrance, their silver mask smooth and unreadable. “One mask per guest,” they said, their voice fluid, as if it carried the echo of many voices layered together. “Once chosen, your form will shift. Your identity will blur. No mirrors inside. Your new face is for others to see, not for you to question.”

  Alice stepped forward first, curiosity flickering in her eyes. Jace wasn’t surprised. She was always the first to follow the threads of something unknown, something forbidden.

  One by one, they entered the tent.

  The space within was far too large.

  It stretched upward, the ceiling seemingly infinite, vanishing into a haze of soft golden lights that pulsed like distant stars. The walls rippled, not fabric but something thinner, something less real.

  Floating masks drifted through the air like moths drawn to unseen flames. Each one was exquisite, sculpted with intricate carvings, lined with delicate filigree, glowing faintly with an inner light. They were not still. Some turned slightly as if considering their wearers, others shivered in the air, waiting.

  Jace felt the pull immediately.

  He reached out, fingers brushing over smooth bone-like ridges, black and edged in silver, its design reminiscent of a dragon’s skull stretched into something long and elegant. The eye slits glowed faintly, runes traced along the brow, whispering in a language he did not know.

  It was his.

  The moment the mask touched his skin, the world tilted.

  A rush of sensation—warmth and cold colliding, something threading through his bones, stretching, shifting. His vision darkened for a moment, and then—he was different.

  Jace turned his hands over. They looked the same, but… they weren’t. His fingers remembered claws that weren’t there. His cloak had lengthened, its fabric thicker, its edges flickering like trapped smoke. His shoulders sat differently, his body felt sharper, quicker, heavier and lighter all at once. The magic wrapped around him like a second skin, whispering that he was something else.

  And then Alice stepped out, and Jace’s thoughts simply stopped.

  She was breathtaking.

  Her mask was an impossibly intricate thing, woven silver filigree curling into the shape of a siren’s face, delicate but unearthly. Her gown had darkened into something sleeker, shifting like liquid, deepest sapphire with threads of shimmering pearl, clinging in places it hadn’t before.

  Her hair had changed, brighter and paler, silver at the edges as if she had stepped into moonlight and never left. Her skin almost glowed, faint iridescence shimmering at her collarbone, trailing to where her dress dipped lower than it had before. When she turned, the light caught on scales—small, delicate, glittering along the backs of her hands, her arms. Not quite human anymore.

  Her eyes met his, and Jace suddenly understood why sailors threw themselves into the sea.

  Then Ell emerged, and things did not get easier.

  Where Alice was elegant, Ell was fire.

  Her mask was a fox’s grin, a kitsune trickster, sharp and mischievous, lacquered in deep red and gold, its edges flowing into a shifting halo of smoke. Her outfit had become something richer, more daring, her tunic deep crimson edged with obsidian black, long sleeves slitted to reveal skin underneath.

  Nine phantom tails flickered at her back, disappearing and reappearing like embers caught in a windstorm. Her braid had darkened, threaded through with golden chains, swaying just enough to be noticeable. Her eyes burned amber beneath the mask, practically daring him to stare.

  “Like what you see?” she teased, voice silkier than usual. She turned, letting the fabric of her new attire shift just enough to be intentional.

  Jace blinked. He needed to start breathing again.

  And then Molly stepped forward.

  She had become a living myth, draped in layers of forest green and black, her mask a sharp-edged, feathered, and fierce and it reminded Jace of a forest spirit.

  Her hair, once dark and soft, now gleamed with streaks of deep emerald, almost metallic, shifting when she moved. Delicate talon-like markings curled along her arms, her cloak light enough that it drifted behind her like wings. She carried herself differently—less reserved, more untamed.

  She glanced at him, lips curving slightly. “Not bad,” she murmured, and Jace was beginning to think he was in serious trouble.

  Then Dex stormed out, ruining everything.

  “I AM A MINOTAUR,” he declared, standing a full head taller than usual. His mask was bronze and thick-horned, his shoulders broader, his stance more exaggerated, more bullish.

  Jace sighed, pressing a hand to his face. “Of course you are.”

  Marcus was last, as always, emerging in shadow-draped robes, his mask a wraith’s face, smooth black with runes that shifted if you looked too long. His eyes burned pure white, giving the impression of something ancient, something half-forgotten.

  “You all look ridiculous,” he said.

  Jace smirked. “Says the walking death god.”

  Marcus didn’t dignify that with a response.

  Dex clapped his hands together. “So, uh… what now?”

  The silver-masked attendant reappeared beside them, gesturing toward the glowing archway beyond.

  “Now,” they said, “you join the Masquerade.”

  Beyond the threshold, the world awaited—a city of monsters, all glittering and golden, wrapped in disguise and legend.

  One by one, they stepped forward.

  And the Masquerade swallowed them whole.

  Look.

  Jace felt the word again. A single word. Not spoken, not thought, but impressed upon him, heavy with meaning and yet maddeningly vague. And then it was gone.

  His gaze dropped to his ring, and he caught the faintest pulse of energy from the White Raven. It thrummed softly, still siphoning fragments of his aether as it healed itself, its final awakening growing ever closer—just under seven percent left. The hum grew stronger, a subtle rhythm beneath his skin, almost a heartbeat. He did some mental math and estimated it wouldn’t be more than a few weeks, at the current rate.

  He saw that his Truthsense was active in his HUD, a tiny glowing symbol indicating it was working. It reached out to the world, and it felt like squinting through a fog. The connection wavered, faltering like static on a broken signal. He concentrated harder, feeling it struggle against something unseen, something just out of reach. Whatever it was, it wasn’t letting him through.

  It felt like a thousand tiny lights were blinding his Truthsense, all coming from different places.

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  (I feel like a kid awkwardly hawking Girl Scout cookies outside a grocery store.)