Chapter One Hundred Thirty: A Kingdom for a Lie

  Night air wrapped its chill around Jace as he stepped into the darkness. He needed to be alone. The conversations with everyone would have to wait—he wasn’t ready to face it yet. It could wait a little longer.

  The air was damp, carrying the faint metallic tang of ozone that seemed to permeate every corner of the world. He let his mind wander, his feet carrying him toward the darker parts of the Stronghold, away from the buzz of Merchant’s Circle. Tonight, though, he had a purpose—a need to escape, to breathe.

  Activating Shift, Jace launched himself toward the rooftops, his movements fluid and silent. The power surged through him, light and exhilarating, propelling him upward. His boots landed softly on the aged stone tiles, his silhouette blending seamlessly with the shadows. He smiled in acknowledgement of his rapid improvements in the skill. Activating Etheric Cloak, he felt a faint shimmer ripple across his body, his form merging with the surroundings, leaving only a faint outline that bent and wavered in the dim moonlight.

  He moved like a wraith over the rooftops, his steps light as he scanned the quiet streets below.

  That’s when he saw her.

  The lithe, hooded figure moving with practiced ease across the street, slipping through alleys and darting between buildings. Jace froze, recognition sparking in his mind. It was her—the stranger who had helped him before. The one who had moved like the wind, precise and unyielding. He’d never gotten a chance to thank her, and now curiosity tugged at him.

  Staying crouched, Jace followed her, keeping his distance as they leapt from rooftop to rooftop. She moved effortlessly, her steps almost weightless, but Jace matched her pace, his Etheric Cloak hiding him from view. His heart pounded in his chest, the thrill of the chase quickening his pulse.

  Then she stopped. Her hooded head turned slightly, her body still as a statue. Jace froze, his breath caught in his throat.

  She’d spotted him.

  Without warning, she bolted, darting across the rooftops with a sudden burst of speed. Jace cursed under his breath and gave chase, pushing his abilities to keep up. His movements were precise but deliberate, each step calculated to match hers. He felt his Moonstone Shard thrumming in his chest, boosting his agility.

  The chase took them over the sprawling city, weaving between chimneys and leaping over gaps between buildings. Jace pushed himself harder, the flicker of her hood always just ahead, like a phantom slipping through his fingers. He barely noticed the night air growing cooler as they ascended higher, the buildings thinning until they reached the outer edges of the city.

  The chase ended at the base of The Wall, a colossal monolith of stone and steel rising into the dark heavens. It wasn’t just a barrier—it was a promise, carved and cast to hold back the creeping void beyond. Crags of black rock jutted from its surface, and the faint glow of warding sigils hummed in the night, pulsing like the heartbeat of the stronghold itself. The Wall loomed so high it seemed to scrape the stars, which blinked down like distant, dispassionate spectators.

  Jace barely had time to catch his breath before the figure vanished into the stairwell carved into the ancient structure. He followed without hesitation, his boots striking the worn stone steps in a rhythm that matched the pounding of his heart. Each step pulled him further from the world below, the biting wind growing sharper, colder. The air thinned, cutting into his lungs with each inhale.

  His dark vision sharpened the scene, pulling the shadows into focus and heightening every detail that might have otherwise been swallowed by the night.

  The stairs twisted upward in a spiral that seemed endless, the walls narrowing and pressing closer with every turn. Sweat mixed with frost on Jace’s brow as he ascended higher and higher, his legs burning, each breath a fight against the altitude.

  Occasionally, narrow slits in the Wall revealed glimpses of the world outside. He caught fleeting sights of the darkness beyond—an unbroken expanse of churning shadow that seemed alive, clawing against reality. It roared soundlessly against the base of the Wall, an ever-present threat that made the sheer scale of the stronghold’s defenses both awe-inspiring and terrifying.

  His quarry remained just out of reach, a shadow flitting ever upward. No matter how hard Jace pushed himself, the top remained elusive, the stairs stretching on as if they had no end. His mind wavered between determination and doubt, the climb becoming not just a physical test but a battle against the exhaustion gnawing at his resolve.

  And then, after what felt like an eternity, the stairwell opened into a vast platform at the summit of the Wall. The biting cold eased as he stepped into the open air, though the altitude pressed heavy on his chest. He stumbled forward, his breath misting as he took in the desolate expanse before him.

  The top of The Wall was a bleak, crumbling ruin. The battlements stood uneven and cracked, their jagged edges lined with dead weeds that still clung stubbornly to the worn stone. Massive siege engines loomed in skeletal disrepair, their hulking frames warped and rusted, their purpose unclear but undeniably long abandoned. Cogs and wheels sat frozen, their mechanisms seized and useless. Jagged ropes hung limp from their reels, the fibers brittle and frayed, snapping like twigs under the slightest breeze.

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  Ward-stones lined the perimeter, their surfaces dulled and chipped. Some flickered faintly, their dim light a feeble attempt at illumination, while others were dark altogether, broken shards scattered across the stone. The faint hum in the air sputtered, its rhythm inconsistent, leaving an uneasy quiet that hung over the platform like a pall.

  Jace stepped cautiously onto the uneven surface, the stone beneath his boots cold and rough. His eyes scanned the scene, taking in the decay with a growing sense of unease. This place felt abandoned, its power forgotten, its purpose a question mark. How could something so vast, so clearly vital, have been left to rot?

  Why had this place been left like this?

  He glanced over the edge and saw the world far below, distant lights twinkling in the darkness like embers clinging to life. He straightened, his gaze drawn outward toward the void. It churned and twisted beyond the Wall, pressing hungrily against the faint, failing glow of the ward-stones.

  He turned, his breath curling in the frigid air, and saw a figure standing between the battlements, a faint silhouette etched against the infinite void. The wind caught her cloak, whipping it into jagged arcs that fluttered like a tattered banner, a stark contrast to the stillness of her stance. She stood as though she were an envoy of the darkness itself, a harbinger poised at the threshold.

  Jace took a step forward. “Who are you?”

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said.

  The figure turned, and Jace’s breath caught. The hood fell back, revealing silver hair that shimmered in the moonlight and deep blue eyes that regarded him with quiet amusement. Lyra. He blinked, momentarily stunned, before regaining his composure.

  She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a faint smile. Jace stepped closer but kept a respectful distance.

  “What do you think?” she asked, her tone light, yet something unspoken lingered beneath her words, elusive and difficult to define. She gestured toward the expanse beyond the Wall, where the darkness churned endlessly, shifting like it had a will of its own. “Whenever we visit the Stronghold, I try to come here. To think. To be alone.”

  Jace hesitated, his response caught for a long moment. He could sense the quiet she sought, the kind that settled over wounds too deep to close easily. “I’m sorry,” he said, barely louder than the wind. He understood that kind of silence. “I’ll leave you to it. I just… wanted to thank you. For what you did back there—with Caspen.”

  Lyra leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the endless void beyond the Wall. The silence was profound, broken only by the faint rustle of the night wind, and the void seemed to pulse with its own quiet menace.

  “Well, you’re here. Might as well have a seat and enjoy the view.”

  The faint shimmer of moonlight caught the silver in her hair, giving her an ethereal glow. She seemed lost in thought, something unspoken resting on her shoulders. She perched on the edge of the Wall, her legs swinging freely over the abyss below, her arms braced against the chilled railing.

  “I try to remind myself that this is what we’re fighting. Not each other,” she said finally, her voice soft but edged with a weariness that spoke of deep, hidden cracks. It sounded more like a mantra—one she’d clung to for far longer than she cared to admit.

  Jace studied her for a moment, his gaze drifting to the endless void beyond the Wall. The words slipped from him before he could stop them, quiet and tentative. “What are you trying to get away from?”

  She turned slightly, her expression flickering with something guarded, though she didn’t seem surprised by the question. “I’m not sure if it’s just one thing,” she said after a moment, her tone measured but unsteady, like she was feeling her way through her own thoughts. “The Egyptians… the Pharaoh has been good to me. They’ve become more my family than anyone else has. But even with them, I sneak away sometimes. To think. To breathe. To remind myself who I am when no one’s looking.”

  Jace nodded, unsure what to say. His Truthsense hummed faintly in his mind, but it wasn’t what told him she was being honest—it was the familiarity of her words, the echoes of his own past reflected in them.

  Jace eased down beside her, his Etheric Cloak billowing in the frozen winds, its faint glow casting a soft, wavering light against the darkness. The cold bit at him, but the cloak held it at bay, just enough to let him focus. He nodded silently, words eluding him as he watched her. There was a quiet strength in her profile, a resolve etched into her features, but beneath it lingered something raw—an unspoken pain that hung heavily in the space between them.

  After a long moment, Jace shifted, boots scraping against the stone edge of the Wall as he stared out at the horizon. The forcefield shimmered faintly, a translucent barrier that held back the roiling black void of the Dark One’s territories. Beyond it, nothingness stretched endlessly, a blank canvas of despair that swallowed the night sky. Closer to the Wall, the heavens clung to a fading sense of normalcy—a deep indigo bruised with purple, the stars trembling like they knew what lay just a heartbeat away.

  “Strange view, isn’t it?” Lyra’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet like a blade. She sat beside him, her posture relaxed, though her fingers gripped stone tightly enough to whiten her knuckles.

  “Strange’s one word for it.” Jace glanced at her, her silhouette stark against the faint glow of the barrier. “You’ve stepped in before. Twice, actually. Back in the marketplace and the Commoners’ Circle. Why?”

  She sighed, her breath fogging briefly in the cold air before the world consumed it. “Because it was wrong.” Her tone was clipped, but her gaze remained fixed on the horizon, the muscles in her jaw tightening. “And because… it’s complicated.”

  “Complicated how?” he pressed, leaning slightly toward her.

  For a heartbeat, she didn’t answer. Her shoulders snapped back, rigid as a soldier bracing for impact. When she finally spoke, her words were sharp, unwavering.

  “I am the second daughter of Tetzomoc, the Obsidian Flame. Huey Tlatoani. Supreme Speaker of the Aztec Empire.”

  The sharp edges of her aura melted into something smaller, almost fragile. “That used to mean something, you know.” She let out a rueful laugh. “Before I was born, my father warred with the Pharaohs. It didn’t end well.”

  She picked up a small pebble from the ground and hurled it at the darkness. The moment it struck, ripples of iridescent purples and shimmering twilight cascaded outward, like light dancing on the surface of a disturbed pond.