Chapter One Hundred Twenty-Two: One Gold Per Soul, Part Two

  The smoke swirled tighter, forming sinuous shapes that slithered through the air like serpents. Jace’s heart pounded as he finally noticed their menacing presence—how had he missed this? His senses felt dulled, his instincts failing him. Even the White Raven had tried to warn him, its faint hum against his skin growing frantic.

  “What?” Dex stammered, his voice breaking. “You mean… she’s going to kill us?”

  “We’ll see about that!” Marcus shouted, lightning cracking between his fingers like live wire. The smoke in the tent swirled, pulled toward him as if the magic were drawing breath.

  “Marcus—don’t!” Alice surged forward, but it was too late.

  The bolt exploded from his hand in a blinding flash, tearing through the smoke and slamming straight into the Faterender.

  For half a heartbeat, light filled the tent.

  Then the lightning turned.

  It recoiled mid-strike—refused—and screamed back through the air in a dozen snapping forks.

  The backlash hit them all.

  Jace was ripped off his feet. Dex convulsed, twitching on the floor. Molly screamed. Ell collapsed in a heap, limbs spasming. Alice took it full in the chest, every nerve lighting up in agony.

  And through it all, the Faterender didn’t flinch.

  Didn’t move.

  Combat Log

  Lightning Strike (Marcus) – 1,742 Arc Damage dealt to Faterender.

  Effect: NULL. Domain Absorption active.

  Redirected: 100% rebound.

  Alice gasped on smoke and blood. “You can’t hurt it here,” she choked. “It can use anything you throw at it. This is its domain. Might as well try to wound the wind.”

  Jace’s jaw clenched as Alice’s words settled over them like a stone. They were out of time—and options.

  Jace’s jaw tightened as the truth of Alice’s words sank in. The crone—no, the Faterender—watched them with an unnerving calm, her glass eye spinning furiously. She knew their game now, and she was waiting, her grin daring them to try.

  “Then we better think fast,” Jace growled. “There has to be a way.”

  Alice hesitated, her fingers gripping the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles turned white. Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, she leaned forward. “Where can I find the Lost Book of Rita Nutkins, the Book of Mostly Harmless Prophecies?”

  The crone’s glass eye spun violently, her gnarled fingers pausing mid-air before slapping down a card with unnatural force. Thunder cracked overhead, shaking the tent as if the realm itself recoiled at the question. The card bore the image of a hooded reaper clutching a golden chest, and as they watched, her fingers began to elongate, curling unnaturally. Her smile stretched wider, revealing jagged teeth as her features grew monstrous.

  “The book you seek,” she hissed, venomous and low, “will only be found in your death.” The finality of her words struck like a physical blow, and Alice’s breath hitched. The image on the card seemed to burn itself into her mind, dark and inescapable.

  “Ask your questions!” The crone’s head snapped toward the remaining group, her voice rising into an almost animalistic growl. Her gaze locked onto Dex first.

  Dex’s throat tightened, but he pushed the words out anyway. “Will we ever go home—to Earth?”

  Her response was swift. She threw down a card, the movement mechanical yet deliberate. The card displayed two fractured planets split at their cores, glowing with clashing blue and red light. “Yes,” she snarled, the word laced with something cruel, as though the answer was more punishment than promise.

  Dex’s eyes widened. “How? When?”

  The crone’s face twisted in fury, exploding into a guttural roar that shook the tent. “ONE QUESTION EACH!” she screeched, her form growing darker and more grotesque, her body convulsing as it shifted further into something barely human. “ASK YOUR NEXT QUESTION.”

  Molly stepped forward before anyone could stop her. “How do we defeat you?”

  The Faterender turned, slow and deliberate, head cocking at an unnatural angle. Her eyes, already pale, went blank—pure white, pulsing faintly, like bone lit from within. Then came the flicker: not speech, but vision.

  The air between them shimmered, and a scene unfolded—not memory, not prophecy, but something older. Law, carved into myth. Firelight danced across shadowed faces. A pact sealed in blood and thread. A voice, not heard but felt, stitched itself into the space between heartbeats.

  “There is no path, no blade, no spell—The oath is bound, the weave held well.You pose the riddle, I must reply;Only should I falter, I shall die.”

  No defiance. No malice. Just truth, cold and final.

  Molly’s eyes filled. She simply stared into the vanishing vision, lips parted, breath shuddering. Then she nodded once, and stepped back, silent.

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  The crone’s head swiveled unnaturally, her gaze now falling on Jace. “Your turn,” she hissed, her voice slithering through the thick air. “Your question!”

  Jace caught it then—the hunger burning behind her glass eye, her real eye twitching with predatory intent. His Truthsense flared, peeling back the layers of illusion, and what he saw chilled him to his core. She wasn’t a person. She had never been a person. She was something monstrous, a creature born of this strange and terrible realm. And she wasn’t just playing a game—she was feeding on them.

  Every question they asked, every answer she gave, made her stronger, her influence over this pocket dimension growing tighter. Escape seemed impossible, and the rules of her twisted domain were absolute. But then, a thought struck Jace—reckless, desperate, and perhaps the only chance they had.

  “Who am I?” he demanded.

  Her fingers froze over the deck, trembling as though the very question burned her. The glass eye in her socket spun violently, the storm within it churning like a tempest. Slowly, she reached for a card, but the moment her fingers brushed it, she recoiled, hissing in pain.

  “You…” she snarled, her real eye narrowing to a slitted glare. The glass one locked onto him, its intensity almost unbearable. She tried again, snatching a card from the deck and slamming it onto the table. The instant it landed, it erupted into flames, the fire consuming it in an instant. The crone screeched, clutching her hand as though the heat had seared her skin.

  The air grew heavier, suffocating, the walls of the tent rippling as if they might collapse. The lantern flickered wildly, throwing distorted shadows that seemed to crawl toward the group.

  “Who am I?” he demanded again, louder this time.

  The crone staggered back, her twisted form convulsing. Her lips twisted into a grimace, and her glass eye spun erratically, like it was malfunctioning. “I cannot see!” she shrieked, voice cracking with desperation. “But your fortune…” She flinched, doubling over as if struck by an unseen blow. “Your fortune leaves ripples. Darkness. Terrible ripples. I must warn them.”

  “Warn who?”

  “Them all!” she cried, her words ragged and wild.

  Her breathing turned ragged, her bony hands clawing at the table as the cards scattered beneath her. Their glow dimmed, flickering like dying embers. “I must answer!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she reached for another card.

  This time, as her hand touched the deck, flames erupted once more, brighter and fiercer than before. The fire spread instantly, consuming her robes, her gnarled frame writhing in agony as smoke and heat filled the air. She collapsed to the ground, her monstrous form barely visible through the inferno, her screams echoing like the howl of something far older and more terrible than they could comprehend.

  The smoke surged, choking and relentless, snuffing out the lanternlight and blotting out everything around them. Darkness descended—cold, infinite, and suffocating. For a heartbeat, there was nothing. Then, with a violent lurch, the world shifted.

  They were outside again.

  The garish lights of the carnival still glowed faintly, but the sounds of laughter and cheer had vanished. The streets were empty now, the once-bustling fairgrounds eerily quiet. The colorful tents stood abandoned, their vibrant colors muted in the dim light. It was late—far too late.

  Jace turned, his breath catching in his chest as he searched the spot where the tent had stood. It was gone, leaving nothing but the faint scent of smoke lingering in the still air. Somewhere in the distance, the faint echo of the crone’s final, haunting scream seemed to stretch out into the void.

  They ran. Not toward anything—only away. Away from the smothering dark, from the unseen hands clawing at their backs, from the hollow laughter that still echoed in their ears. Their feet pounded against the earth, lungs burning, muscles screaming, but none of them dared to slow.

  Only when the garish glow of the carnival dimmed to a faint hue on the horizon did their bodies betray them.

  Legs buckled beneath them, each falling to earth in their own way. Jace’s hands found the damp grass first, fingers digging into the dirt as if to ground himself in something real. Dex slumped against a nearby tree, while Ell remained standing, though barely. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, the night air sharp in their throats.

  Still, no one spoke. The silence pressed in, heavy and waiting—like the Crone had followed them after all.

  Jace doubled over, pressing his palms against his knees, trying to will his heart to slow. His lungs burned. His mind reeled. Beside him, Dex had tilted his head back against rough bark, staring up at the sky like it might give him answers, while Ell paced in tight circles, muttering curses under her breath that seemed to dissolve into the darkness around them.

  Marcus was the first to speak. “I need someone to explain what the hell just happened.”

  Alice, still clutching her arms like she was trying to hold herself together, slowly raised her head. Her eyes were distant, unfocused, like she was seeing something none of them could.

  Ell stopped pacing. Jace looked up.

  Dex gestured back toward the carnival. “What was that…thing?”

  Alice hesitated. Then, with a deep breath, she met their eyes. “A Faterender.”

  The word sat heavy between them.

  “A parasite,” Alice continued. “Not just some monster lurking in the dark—she’s something worse. Faterenders don’t just exist anywhere. They’re drawn to places where pain has settled so deep into the bones of the world that reality itself warps. Places where suffering has left scars so jagged that something else can slip through the cracks. Places where death is in their future.”

  Jace felt a shiver crawl up his spine.

  Alice took a deep breath before continuing. “She doesn’t create the corruption. She thrives in it. It feeds her. Makes her stronger. She can’t exist in a place where there’s order, where things make sense. The fact that she’s here—“ Alice gestured at the distant carnival, her fingers trembling slightly ”—means something far worse is already happening or about to. We thought she was the threat, but she’s just a symptom.”

  Marcus rubbed a hand down his face. “That’s... fantastic. So, what, she just lets people stumble into her web and feeds on them?”

  “No,” Alice said. “She doesn’t let anything happen. She calls them. She twists fate and feasts on the lost future of those she snares.”

  Silence.

  Dex sat up straight, his fingers digging into the dirt beside him. “Called us.”

  Alice swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

  No one spoke. Her words pressed against their ribs, thick and suffocating.

  Ell finally broke the silence. “You knew what she was. Back there, before we started asking questions.”

  Alice’s throat tensed as she fought to keep her composure. “Not at first. But I should have.“ She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “The moment I saw the cards, the tent, the smoke—I should have known. She’s part of the old magic, the kind that deals in debts and fates and things no one should ever wager with. She plays with people, convinces them to give away slivers of themselves in exchange for answers they think they need. And with each answer, she takes something real. Something permanent.”

  Jace frowned. “So when we were fighting her…”

  Alice’s face darkened. “You can’t fight a Faterender. I mean, you can’t. Not in her domain. She’s immortal there. We could have fought her for hours, days, and it wouldn’t have mattered. She wanted us to try. The more we struggled, the more we fed her.”

  Ell tensed. “And if we’d stayed?”

  Alice looked away. “…We wouldn’t have come back.”

  That shut everyone up.

  For a long moment, they just sat there, letting the night settle around them. Somewhere in the distance, the carnival lights flickered like dying embers.

  Jace exhaled, rubbing at the phantom ache in his chest. “So, what do we do now?”

  Alice hesitated, then looked at each of them in turn, her eyes heavy with something unreadable.

  “We figure out what’s really happening here,” she said. “Because if she’s here—if she can be here—then something worse is already waiting.”

  Jace checked his HUD.

  2:00 AM.

  Time had unraveled in the Crone’s domain, slipping through their fingers like so much sand. Shaken and exhausted, they retreated to Jace and Dex’s room, seeking warmth and answers—piecing together what had happened and what came next.