Fatefall - 15

Chapter 15 - Jett 

I started with Dusan, the Fate of Soul, the one without much true power. Obviously, my Grace wasn’t strong enough to drain him of his power entirely, but I weakened him enough that we could capture him.

Fortunately for Jett, the hallway puzzle was relatively easy to solve. 

He’d never been one for reasoning his way out of situations, preferring to act now and accept the consequences later. At the first intersection, he’d planned to test random hallways and hope for the best. He’d hung back to avoid the other competitors, so he wasn’t worried about rushing. If the creators of the Trial really wanted the competitors to be challenged, the hallways wouldn’t be the only puzzle to be solved. 

He certainly hadn’t been prepared to find the words Your destination is this way engraved on the arches of the tunnels. 

The words were written the exact same on each arch of the intersection, and they were coated with some sort of luminescent paint to make them obvious to even the most oblivious competitors. 

“It’s like they’re not even trying,” he mumbled to himself. 

The Graced of Deceit didn’t just create illusions, but they could see through them too, hence why the strongest of the Graced of Deceit were generally employed by the royals. Living lie detectors.

So when Jett glanced at the engravings above the tunnels, he could sense the lie in the tunnel to the right. It left a bitter taste on his tongue and his Grace recoiled. 

The rest of the intersections were just as easily solved. His Grace did most of the work for him, and since he wasn’t actively maintaining any illusions---besides the slight changes to appearance that Poppy had been so kind to point out---no exhaustion befell him. 

It turned into a mindless work that Jett was grateful for. He was back on the streets again, living breath to breath, moment to moment. His Grace exposed the false passageways just as easily as it had provided cover in the marketplace. The familiar hum of adrenaline in his veins comforted him more than he cared to admit. 

The rest of the tunnels passed in a blur and Jett rounded a final corner only to come face to face with a pair of wooden doors covered in runes. Gross. No one used runes anymore except pretentious nobodies who thought they were fancy. 

Jett didn’t see any sign of the other competitors and he briefly wondered if either a) he’d been the only one to solve the tunnel puzzle or b) if he’d gone the wrong way. He quickly dismissed both options. The other competitors had made it this far---they were obviously intelligent in some way, and they were probably working together. He also felt confident that his Grace was functioning properly. Meaning everyone else was probably already inside, fighting for the gems. 

He needed to hurry if he wanted to swoop in, grab a gem, and go. 

Jett moved to open the door, but the second his fingers grazed the knob, the world dropped away. 

Suddenly he was back in Aecheral, standing alone in the sandy square of his city. The wind tousled his hair and he had to flick his dark bangs out of his face. He hated the bangs, which was partially why he’d “permanently” altered his appearance to get rid of them. A glance down at his hands confirmed his suspicions. 

Ten fingers. 

No Graced of Deceit could completely alter their appearance. There was always some trait that remained the same---a mole, a freckle, or in Jett’s case upon his arrival in Xegalla, a missing finger. 

Somehow, the door was sifting through his memories. 

The world dropped away again and Jett’s stomach protested with a wave of nausea. He fought back the urge to vomit. Luckily enough for him, he’d emptied the contents of his stomach after waking up from the sedatives back in the first room. 

And then he was standing back in the tunnels with the rune-covered doors before him. Amazement and shock rolled through him. Had the challenges really been that easy?

Jett went to open the door again, but a guttural cry had him whipping around. 

He recognized the voice and it sent a thousand knives slamming into his stomach. Another shriek, definitely out of pain. Sage.

Jett stumbled backwards as the firelight revealed a vaguely human-shaped shadow crawling down the passages. Sage rounded the corner a moment later, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him, his face a bloody mess. Fates, that was a lot of blood. 

“Help…me,” Sage croaked, ruby trickles oozing from the corners of his mouth. 

Jett pressed himself against the wood of the door. He’d never liked blood and the fear that crashed against his chest reminded him of why. Who had done this?

He knew he shouldn’t just leave Sage to die, but…Fates, what had happened? Was he even worth saving? Jett immediately cursed himself for the thought. Everyone was worth saving, even Graceless noble boys who clearly didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. 

“They’re…coming,” Sage continued, his face a mixture of shock and horror. Jett didn’t move. His muscles had frozen. Heavy boots pounded down the hallways. Memories gathered at his temples, ready to burst at a moment's notice. He knew those footsteps. Golden Guard.

The people who’d arrested his parents were coming for him.

And they’d injured Sage so grievously that Jett couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not anymore. Fates. He needed to get out of there, to leave, to run. If he could just open the door--

“We know you’re back here,” called a voice that sent terror singing through Jett’s bones. “You can’t hide forever, kekordei.” Jett shuddered at the Aecherian slur. His classmates used to hurl the word at him and he’d even used it a few times himself, until his parents explained that it meant something like abomination. 

But why would a member of Xegalla’s police force be using a slur from Aecheral? 

Sage held out a hand, grasping weakly for Jett, who pressed himself closer against the doors. Another question pressed to the front of his mind: why would the Golden Guard harm Sage? And only Sage’s face seemed to be injured, so where was all this blood coming from?

Illusion, Jett’s mind whispered. This isn’t real. 

Why did it feel so real, then? He couldn’t ignore the doubt hovering at the back of his mind. If he was wrong---and Sage really was in danger---he would be sentencing them both to death.

It isn’t real. It can’t be, he reminded himself.

“Sorry about this,” he mumbled to Sage, though he knew the boy was an illusion. A conjuring of his imagination. Why his mind had picked Sage was beyond him. Or maybe it wasn’t. Jett really didn’t have time to think about it. 

He could feel his Grace pulsing at his fingertips, sensing the illusion. It was subtle, cleverly hidden so the seams between reality and illusion were too blurred to find. There would be no unraveling this illusion. 

Which meant letting it play out---no matter what the end result may be.

Jett closed his eyes and clenched his fists as the Golden Guard members rounded the corner. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’snotreal. His body begged to differ. 

Time seemed to slow as a blade whistled through the air. Jett braced for its searing edge against his skin but the pain never came. 

He hesitantly opened his eyes, half shocked and half relieved to find himself alive and the illusion washed away. The picture of Sage dying on the ground had burned itself into his mind, but at least now he could calm his pounding heart. It wasn’t real. 

Jett was done with this Fates-forsaken temple. He wanted the Trial to be over and he wanted to go home to Evangeline and he wanted his parents to be free. 

He pushed these thoughts aside, reminding himself of the task at hand. Get the gem. That was what mattered. Steal the gem, find his teammates, escape the temple. Simple. No reason to panic. 

Jett flung open the doors and entered the room where the gems were held only to be met with pure chaos. 

About eight other competitors had engaged in a full out brawl. Punches echoed across the stone walls and there was a loud crack as someone’s head hit a pedestal in the center of the room. Jett winced as the competitor slumped over and didn’t move again. 

Hurry up, he hissed at himself. If he waited any longer, there wouldn’t be any gems left. 

He darted towards the fights, searching for any glint of a gem. Jett guessed that the gems were probably moonstone, which was Medea’s “special jewel”. A flash of silvery-blue caught his attention and he lunged at the color, determined to snatch the gem and bolt before anyone could realize what had happened. 

Instead, a hand grabbed the hood of his jacket and Jett lost his balance, toppling down the steps of the platform that the pedestal was located on. 

Another flash of moonstone. 

He scrambled to his feet and pounced, his fingers finding purchase this time. The gem felt … wrong in his palm. Almost as if--

Jett ducked just in time to avoid a hit to the head. The illusioned gem crumbled to dust in his hand. He cursed under his breath, trying to run from his attacker and hopefully grab another jewel in the process. 

He called upon his Grace, trying to mask himself in shadows in an attempt to avoid detection. His focus elsewhere, Jett completely missed the competitor standing in his path and they barreled into each other, dropping to the floor. 

Jett dropped his Grace as a tinkling sound caught his attention. A gem hitting the ground. 

His hand shot out blindly, seeking the gem just as a boot crushed his wrist. Jett tried to wriggle free, but suddenly another competitor was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. 

“I don’t think so,” the competitor said. 

Fear wrapped around Jett’s throat like a noose, squeezing tighter and tighter. 

“Did you really think you could waltz in here like you owned the place and steal my gem?” Their breath was hot on Jett’s neck and he fought back a shout. 

The pressure increased on his wrist and his bones cried out. 

“I know just who you are,” they continued. Jett froze. Did they know that he was a refugee? Would they turn him in-- “You thought you were so clever when you stole from me all those years ago. I doubt you even remember it.”

The competitor grabbed a hold of Jett and hoisted him to his feet before throwing him against a wall. Jett felt the stone digging into his skin. Wait, was that a second competitor? 

“You have a lot of enemies, Jett.” The way the competitor hissed his name sent shivers up Jett’s skin. “And we’ve been waiting for years to get our revenge.”

Jett struggled futilely as another competitor held his shoulders in place while the first competitor slammed his fist into Jett’s stomach. Metal dug into flesh. The competitor must have been wearing brass knuckles or rings or--

Another fist to the gut. Jett fought to suck in a breath, his panic sinking into his bones. 

Someone ripped off his mask and then came the blows to the face. His world became agony and his mouth filled with the taste of blood. He couldn’t couldn’t fight back, couldn’t even breathe. Stars burst into his vision and his consciousness fled. Jett retreated into the back of his mind, watching the affair from afar, a silent observer. 

Vaguely, he recalled that there was something important he was supposed to be doing. Something to do with a scavenger hunt? A pickpocketing challenge with Evangeline? No, Evangeline wasn’t here. The game was against a different girl---one with red hair. Oh, and a second girl with two different colored eyes. And a prince and--

The competitors threw him to the floor, done with their little game. Jett curled his knees to his chest, trying to prevent any more pain from finding him. 

Fates, every part of him felt bruised and battered. He would be lucky if his nose wasn’t broken. He forced back his tears and focused on climbing to his feet. The world spun and trembled underneath him and Jett leaned against the wall for support. 

He needed to find a gem--

His vision tinted black at the edges and he inhaled deeply, determined to make it out of this room. You’re going to live, he told himself. Just find your way to the exit and one of your teammates can find you and help you. They would understand. They would have to. 

The room had emptied out by now and Jett stumbled towards the open archway, every step shooting bolts of fiery pain through his limbs. He had just made it to the arch when a blur of pale color rushed towards him. Jett tried to run, but the figure latched onto his shoulders, holding him still. Jett groaned in pain. 

“Jett? What happened?”

He barely had enough time to register the voice as Sage’s before darkness overwhelmed him.

Author's Note

This chapter was pretty difficult to write because I wanted to make Jett's challenges just as complicated as everyone else's, but his Grace was the easiest to turn into a "maze" type situation. The action in this scene also challenged me, so let me know what you think (Jett's reaction to the stressful situations so far are actually the opposite of what i had planned).