Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: The Masks We Wear, Continued

  As they headed further into the festival, the chaos of color and sound grew almost overwhelming. Strings of lights looped between tall poles, weaving intricate patterns of amber and gold that cast a warm, flickering glow over the cobbled streets. Banners of every imaginable color rippled in the soft breeze, their edges catching the light like jeweled waves.

  And then, the smell—rich, layered, intoxicating. Roasted nuts coated in something sweet and sticky. Pastries filled with spices that tickled the nose and promised warmth. Meats sizzling on open flames, their juices dripping onto enchanted coals that hissed with fragrant smoke. Jace felt his stomach twist in longing despite himself.

  Marcus stood beside him, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his face locked in its usual judging frown. “It’s an illusion,” he said flatly, his eyes scanning the cheerful chaos. “Probably enchanted to look better than it is.”

  “Maybe,” Ell replied, grinning as she stepped past him, “but who cares? It’s amazing.” She darted ahead, her boots barely making a sound on the cobblestones as she weaved through the crowd with the effortless grace of someone who belonged wherever she landed.

  Alice trailed after her, her pace slower and more deliberate. Her eyes lingered on a stall to their right, its shelves stacked high with glimmering trinkets that seemed to shimmer and shift as if alive. Molly followed at her heels, her laughter light and carefree as her black scarf fluttered behind her like a banner.

  Jace’s stomach tightened with unease. The warmth, the laughter, the lights—it was all too polished, too precise. A carnival plucked from a dream, or worse, something meant to distract.

  The first stall they approached was a ring toss game, deceptively simple in appearance. Wooden poles of varying heights jutted from a polished platform, each adorned with colorful prizes that sparkled in the warm glow of the heat crystals. A stuffed griffon perched on one pole, its beady eyes gleaming, while a delicate golden orb rested precariously on another. A plush wolf pup with silvery fur and tiny embroidered fangs on another, stitched with a mischievous grin. Across from it, a miniature golden ankh—soft and velvety—swayed gently in the breeze.

  The stall owner, a plump man with a face that seemed permanently fixed in a beaming smile, spread his arms wide as they approached. His apron was dusted with flour, or perhaps glitter—Jace couldn’t tell. “Step right up! Test your aim and win a prize! Only the bold and the skilled prevail!” His voice carried with practiced charm, his hand gesturing to a pile of rings polished to a mirror shine.

  Ell stepped forward immediately, digging into her inventory, pulling a silver piece from out of the air and slapping it down onto the counter. “Three rings,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the setup like a hunter sizing up her prey.

  The man handed her the rings with an exaggerated flourish, as if bestowing a great honor. “Good luck, miss. Aim true! Fortune favors the daring.”

  Alice leaned casually against the counter beside her, a smirk playing on her lips. “Bet you can’t hit three in a row.”

  Ell shot her a sidelong glance, her grin curling with confidence. “Watch and learn, my doubting friend.”

  “You’re a bunch of children throwing your money away,” Marcus said, as he watched them with an expression of pure disdain. “These games are always rigged, you know.”

  Ell’s first toss was smooth as silk, the ring arcing gracefully through the air—until it wasn’t. It clanged off the pole, just shy of the mark, and hit the ground with a hollow clatter. Her grin faltered, though only for a heartbeat. The second throw was worse, veering wide enough to draw an exaggerated wince from Marcus. Ell’s jaw tightened.

  Jace’s Truthsense chose that moment to flicker to life, carving faint patterns in the air before his eyes. He saw it then—a subtle shimmer bending the light around the poles, shifting reality just enough to throw off aim.

  He leaned in close and murmured, “Look—do you see it?”

  At first, she didn’t. Her brow furrowed, her gaze darting uncertainly. But then he pointed, his finger tracing the faint distortion in the air. She squinted, her fox-like amber eyes sparking to life with an faint violet glow, the carnival lights reflecting in them like embers catching fire. And then, finally, she saw it.

  She squinted at the target, her grin twisting into something far more wicked. “Ah,” she murmured, her tone dripping with realization. “I see how it is.”

  With a slow breath, Ell raised the third ring, her movements now deliberate, calculating. “Alright,” she said. “Warm-ups are over. Time to show you how it’s done.”

  The ring soared through the air with precision, spinning once, twice, before landing dead center on the tallest pole. It wobbled for the briefest moment—just enough to build tension—then settled with a satisfying thunk. The group erupted into cheers and groans.

  “Beginner’s luck,” Marcus muttered, stepping up with the resignation of a man forced into the fray. He slapped a coin on the counter, collected his rings, and lobbed the first with a lazy flick of his wrist. It struck true, sliding cleanly onto a pole.

  Ell groaned in mock agony. “Oh, come on!”

  Marcus raised an eyebrow, as if to say naturally, while Alice smirked.

  He repeated the action two more times, each ring landing on a pole with supernatural precision. The carnival worker reluctantly handed Marcus three tiny stuffed monsters—a dragon with shimmering scales, a griffin with mismatched wings, and a three-headed cerberus with button eyes. Marcus distributed them with casual grace, one to each of the girls, who accepted their prizes with varying degrees of enthusiasm. The worker’s face had settled into the weary resignation of someone who’d seen far too many losses in one day and was silently willing them to move along. Taking the hint, they drifted away from the booth, Ell still utterly flabbergasted at having her moment of glory so thoroughly eclipsed.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “I thought this was ‘just a children’s game’?“ Alice said.

  Marcus shrugged. “I was a child once.”

  Ell groaned and the playful ribbing continued as they moved to the next booth, Ell walking with just enough swagger to be insufferable.

  “You only hit those because I figured out the trick,” she chided Marcus, her tone half-serious. “I exposed the weakness. You just took advantage of it.”

  “What are you two even talking about?” Dex asked, confusion written across his face.

  “The booths are rigged,” Jace said, his gaze flicking back to the ring toss. “Not just this one—all of them. The whole carnival is layered with enchantments and illusions. My Truthsense is straining just to keep up, and it’s like trying to read through a fog. It’s giving me a headache.“ He gestured toward the game. “This one? The targets aren’t where they look. The light bends just enough to throw off your aim—it’s a spatial trick, subtle, but enough to make sure most people miss.”

  Marcus showed a rare grin. “Good thing I’ve got better aim and sharper eyes.”

  “Sure,” Ell deadpanned, tossing her braid over her shoulder, but her smirk betrayed her.

  Dex chuckled and headed over to a booth with a red canopy over it. “I’m sticking to the food stalls.”

  “Come on, don’t be such a wet blanket Dex,” Ell called, her grin sharp with mischief. She pointed ahead to a twisting, lopsided structure, its dark frame looming at the end of the path. “Look at that! We have to go in.”

  The entrance to the Funhouse twisted unnaturally, its warped facade rippled like a mirage beneath the glow of enchanted lanterns. Above the door, a sign shimmered and flickered, its letters constantly rearranging themselves, slipping between languages—never holding still long enough to be read.

  A carnival barker stood at the entrance, their face hidden beneath a porcelain mask, its expression eerily neutral. “Step inside, brave souls! The Maze of Reflections! The House of Faces! Only those with keen eyes and steady hearts will find their way out unchanged… if you find your way out at all!”

  Jace’s Truthsense tugged at him, a flicker of unease curling in the back of his mind. Something was wrong. But when he tried to focus, the thought slipped away, like waking from a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

  He barely had time to process it before Dex strode forward. “Oh, hell yes,” he said, clapping his hands. “I love these things.”

  Ell grinned. “Bet I get out first.”

  Marcus scoffed. “We are literally walking into a trap for fun.”

  “Exactly,” Alice said, smirking as she pushed open the door. “Shall we?”

  “How sad,” Molly said; light, almost wistful. She tilted her head, as if listening to something just beyond their hearing. “Traps must be terribly lonely. Always waiting, always emptying. People struggle to escape, but no one ever asks if the trap wants to be left behind.”

  The group paused, exchanging glances.

  Ell blinked. “Right. Okay.”

  Then, as if nothing had happened, they all went back to what they were doing.

  Molly smiled to herself, completely unbothered.

  The moment they stepped in, the world shifted.

  Mirrors stretched in every direction, floor to ceiling, endless reflections fracturing into infinity. The air carried the scent of something cool and metallic, like rain before it falls.

  Jace caught his own reflection in the nearest mirror, and for a second—just a second—his face wasn’t his.

  His breath hitched. He turned his head. The reflection didn’t move with him.

  Then someone bumped into him, and the moment shattered.

  “Watch it,” Ell muttered, shaking off the illusion as she moved ahead, her fox-like mask flickering in the glass.

  Jace exhaled slowly. His Truthsense was pulling again. Not a clear message, not a warning—just a feeling. A tug. But nothing looked out of place. The mirrors were just mirrors. The masked carnival workers were just…

  He turned to look at one, standing motionless at the entrance, their smooth, featureless mask catching the dim light. His gut twisted. What was wrong with them?

  He blinked. The thought slipped away.

  Alice grabbed his sleeve, pulling him forward. “Come on,” she said, glancing at him with an amused tilt of her head. “Losing your nerve already?”

  They moved deeper, their reflections stretching unnaturally, turning at strange angles, distorting into shapes that weren’t quite right.

  Somewhere behind him, Dex cursed. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This place is messing with me.”

  “Same,” Molly said. “I just saw myself with four arms.”

  Ell laughed. “Maybe it’s showing us our true selves.”

  Jace frowned, his grip tightening on his cloak. The wrongness was settling into his bones, into his skull, but every time he tried to focus on why, it slid away, just beyond his reach.

  Then he turned a corner and—Alice was alone.

  The reflections had changed. The noise of the others had faded.

  Jace and Alice stood in a narrow hallway of mirrors, the carnival’s distorted glow flickering around them. The mirrors weren’t normal here—the reflections were softer, closer, the glass warping light in a way that made the air itself feel thicker.

  She stepped forward, looking at their images, tilting her head slightly.

  “This place is strange,” she murmured.

  Jace exhaled, forcing himself to breathe past the tightness in his chest. “Yeah. Understatement of the year.”

  Alice turned to him, really looking at him. Her mask—still the siren’s elegant face—framed her eyes, making them seem brighter, deeper, more unreadable.

  Her gaze flickered down, just briefly, before meeting his again.

  The air between them shifted.

  Jace swallowed. “I—“

  Her fingers brushed his, just barely.

  A choice.

  For a second, the mirrors didn’t reflect them at all.

  Then—a whispering laugh.

  Not theirs.

  A shadow passed behind them in the mirror—but there was no one there.

  Alice stepped back, inhaling sharply. Jace whipped around, scanning the space behind them. Nothing. Just their reflections stretching out into the infinite.

  The spell was broken.

  From somewhere ahead, Marcus called out, “I found the way out!”

  Alice let out a slow breath, shaking her head as if dislodging something. She reached for his hand again. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

  They stepped beyond the archway, and suddenly, they were not alone.

  It was darker then and the streets glowed with shifting lantern light, casting flickering shadows across a sea of monsters. Not crude, cartoonish things, but wonders of myth and nightmare—each as intricate and unsettling as their own disguises. Scaled serpents in flowing silk robes, horned demons with ember-lit eyes, stags crowned with twisting branches, hollow-faced wraiths trailing cloaks of mist.

  A woman passed them, her mask that of a weeping banshee, silver tears etched into its surface, her gown whispering against the cobblestones like a funeral procession. Behind her, a towering man with the mask of a Minotaur, his fur dusted with gold leaf, walked arm in arm with a lithe, feline-like figure, her long, sleek tail flicking behind her as she laughed.

  Some masks were simple, others so elaborate they seemed woven from legend itself. A man with shattered porcelain for a face turned his hollow gaze toward Jace as he passed, his gloved fingers trailing along the edge of a stall that sold jewelry pulsing with living light. Nearby, a woman with spiraling ram’s horns and skin painted like the night sky watched them from behind the glow of a burning brazier.

  It was otherworldly. Unreal. And yet, the warmth of the bodies moving past, the distant hum of music, the soft cadence of voices—it all felt alive.

  Jace barely had time to take it in before Alice grabbed his hand.

  His head snapped toward her, startled, but she only flashed him a grin, sharp and knowing.

  “Come on,” she said, low and edged with mischief. “If you stand still too long, the world will pass you by.”

  Her fingers curled more tightly around his, cool against the warmth of his skin. The press of her palm, the slight tug—it sent a thrill of something unfamiliar through him, something sharp and electric. He could feel the strength in her grip, the way her siren’s mask made her look almost unreal—too beautiful, too strange.

  For a few precious heartbeats, he forgot himself.

  Then Ell pushed past with a laugh, her kitsune tails flickering behind her. “Move it, lovebirds, we’re blending in.”

  Jace scowled, but Alice only laughed and pulled him forward, leading them deeper into the masquerade, through the swirling magic of the monsters.