Chapter 5: The Gilded Cage

Jack's feet touched marble so polished it reflected like still water. The Interface flickered as his eyes adjusted to the impossible space around him—a grand foyer that belonged in a Gilded Age mansion, all crystal chandeliers and Persian rugs, but the ceiling stretched up into shadows that defied architectural logic.

"How?" Jack managed, his voice echoing in the vast space.

"Newport has always been a city of mansions," Duncan said, brushing dust from his coat as if they'd taken a casual stroll instead of plunging through dimensional space. "Some are simply better hidden than others."

Dobbs appeared beside them with a soft pop of displaced air, Summer's arm linked through his. She immediately stepped away, her sword still glowing faintly as she scanned the ornate surroundings.

"Gilded Haven," she said, recognition clear in her voice. "I thought this was just a rumor."

"Oh, it's quite real," Duncan replied, leading them deeper into the foyer. "Built in 1887 by Commodore Thaddeus Whitmore—though of course, the good Commodore had no idea he was constructing it directly over a nexus point between realms. We simply... inherited the property when he passed."

Jack noticed the portraits lining the walls as they walked. At first glance, they looked like typical Victorian-era paintings—stern-faced men in naval uniforms, elegant women in elaborate gowns. But their eyes seemed to follow his movement, and he could swear he saw one of the painted figures nod at him.

The Interface provided helpful commentary:

[LOCATION ANALYSIS: EXTRADIMENSIONAL POCKET]

[TEMPORAL STABILITY: VARIABLE]

[MAGICAL RESONANCE: MAXIMUM]

[WARNING: REALITY DISTORTION IN EFFECT]

"Reality distortion?" Jack read aloud.

"Space works differently here," Dobbs explained, producing a tea service from thin air with the casual ease of a stage magician. "Rooms exist when needed, hallways stretch or contract based on intention, and time... well, time is more of a suggestion than a rule."

They passed through a parlor that could have comfortably seated fifty people, then into a study lined with books whose titles shifted and changed as Jack tried to read them. Through tall windows, he caught glimpses of a garden where it was simultaneously autumn, winter, spring, and summer in different sections.

"This is where you've been hiding?" Summer asked, accepting a delicate china cup from Dobbs. "While the Courts tear each other apart over territory and succession?"

"We prefer 'maintaining neutrality,'" Duncan corrected. "The Newport Sidhe have no interest in the grand games of Summer and Winter. We protect this city and its people—both human and Fae."

They entered what Duncan called the Map Room, though the massive table in its center didn't hold any maps Jack recognized. Instead, the polished wood surface showed a real-time view of Newport from above, with pulsing lights marking various locations throughout the city.

"Each light represents a supernatural presence," Duncan explained, noting Jack's fascination. "Blue for friendly Fae, yellow for neutral entities, red for hostiles." He pointed to a cluster of red dots moving through the twisted streets near Jack's former apartment. "The Host is still searching for you, though my labyrinth should keep them occupied for several more hours."

"And after that?" Summer asked.

"After that, we'll need a more permanent solution." Duncan's expression grew serious. "Mr. Frost—Jack—you need to understand the magnitude of what's happening. Your awakening has sent ripples through every Fae community on the eastern seaboard. Within forty-eight hours, there will be representatives from a dozen Courts converging on Newport, all with their own agendas regarding your bloodline."

The Interface displayed a new notification:

[BLOODLINE STATUS UPDATE]

[POLITICAL RAMIFICATIONS DETECTED]

[MULTIPLE FACTION INTEREST CONFIRMED]

[SURVIVAL STRATEGY REQUIRED]

"What kind of agendas?" Jack asked, though he suspected he didn't want to know the answer.

"The Summer Court will want to control you," Duncan said bluntly. "Your potential power makes you a threat to their current dominance. The remaining Winter Fae will see you as either their salvation or their doom, depending on their political leanings. And the Host..." He gestured to the red dots on the map. "They want your blood to unlock the sealed vaults of the Winter Court, claiming the ancient weapons and artifacts stored there."

"Weapons?" Jack's voice cracked. "What weapons?"

"The Winter Court wasn't just known for its beauty and cruelty," Summer said quietly. "They were master artificers. Before their fall, they created weapons that could freeze armies solid, artifacts that could bring eternal winter to entire kingdoms. The Summer Court's victory three centuries ago wasn't just political—it was a matter of survival."

The weight of it crashed down on Jack like an avalanche. He wasn't just some guy who'd accidentally painted a monster into existence. He was a living key to an arsenal of magical weapons, a political chess piece in a game he didn't understand, a target for forces he couldn't hope to fight.

"I never asked for any of this," he said.

"None of us ask for our heritage," Duncan replied gently. "But we must choose what to do with it. Your power is real, Jack. Your bloodline is undeniable. The question is whether you'll let others define what that means, or whether you'll seize control of your own destiny."

"How am I supposed to control anything? Six hours ago, I didn't even know magic was real."

"Which brings us to the immediate problem," Dobbs interjected, consulting a pocket watch that showed phases of the moon instead of time. "Your power is magnificent but utterly untrained. Without proper education, you're as dangerous to yourself as you are to your enemies."

Duncan nodded. "The Interface you've bonded with is extraordinary, but it can only guide you so far. You need to learn the fundamentals—how magic works, how Fae society functions, how to survive in a world where your very existence makes you a target."

"A magical education," Summer said, understanding dawning in her voice. "You're offering to train him."

"We're offering him sanctuary while he trains himself," Duncan corrected. "The Gilded Haven exists outside normal space and time. A day here might be an hour in the mortal world, or a week. We can provide resources, guidance, and most importantly, safety while he learns to control his abilities."

The Interface pulsed:

[TRAINING OPPORTUNITY DETECTED]

[RECOMMENDED: ACCEPT SANCTUARY]

[WARNING: REFUSAL LIKELY TO RESULT IN DEATH]

[ALTERNATIVE OPTIONS: NONE VIABLE]

Jack looked around the impossible mansion, at the magic-infused air that seemed to thrum with potential, at the ancient Fae who offered protection he desperately needed. It felt like accepting would mean crossing a line he could never uncross, stepping fully into a world where his old life was just a memory.

But looking at the red dots swarming across the map, at Summer's worried expression, at the Interface's blunt assessment of his survival chances, what choice did he really have?

"What would this training involve?" he asked.

"Everything," Duncan said. "Magical theory, practical application, Fae history and politics, combat training, and most importantly, learning to master your Interface. We have resources here that exist nowhere else—books written by the first Reality Shapers, artifacts that can enhance your natural abilities, training grounds where you can practice without destroying half of Newport."

He gestured, and a section of the wall slid away to reveal a corridor lined with doors. "Each room is specialized for different aspects of your education. Combat training, artistic manifestation, magical research, meditation spaces attuned to Winter Court frequencies."

"And the cost?" Summer asked suspiciously.

"No cost," Duncan replied. "But also no leaving until he's ready. The moment Jack steps outside these walls untrained, he becomes a target again. The Host will never stop hunting him, and there are others—darker things than Bander—who would love to get their hands on Winter Court blood."

Jack walked to one of the tall windows, looking out at the garden where snow fell gently in one section while roses bloomed in another. In the distance, he could see what looked like a massive library, its spires reaching toward a sky that showed both stars and sunlight simultaneously.

His old apartment was destroyed. His few possessions were either frozen solid or scattered across a crime scene that probably had half of Newport's police force scratching their heads. His bank account had forty-three dollars and his phone was sitting in pieces somewhere under a pile of supernatural ice.

But more than that, he could feel the power humming in his veins. The cold touch of Winter magic that felt like coming home to a place he'd never been. The Interface showed him possibilities—skills to unlock, levels to gain, a whole system of advancement that turned his life into something resembling a video game with lethal consequences.

"If I stay," Jack said slowly, "how long are we talking about?"

"That depends entirely on you," Duncan replied. "Some students master the basics in weeks. Others require months or years. The Interface should accelerate your learning considerably, but there are no shortcuts to true mastery."

"And if I leave now?"

"You'll be dead before sunrise," Summer said bluntly. "Bander was just the beginning. There are things in the shadows that make the Host look like playground bullies."

The red dots on the map had multiplied while they talked, spreading throughout the city like an infection. Whatever protection Duncan had woven around Newport, it wouldn't hold forever.

Jack turned back to face them, these strange allies who offered him a chance he didn't deserve and couldn't refuse. "Show me where I start."

Duncan smiled, the expression transforming his aged features. "Follow me, Your Highness. Your real education is about to begin."

They walked deeper into the mansion, past rooms filled with impossible things—a workshop where clockwork automatons assembled themselves, a greenhouse growing plants that sang in harmonious whispers, a armory displaying weapons that seemed to be forged from crystallized moonlight.

Finally, Duncan stopped before a set of double doors carved with intricate frost patterns that seemed to move in Jack's peripheral vision.

"The Winter Archive," Duncan announced. "The most complete collection of Winter Court knowledge outside the sealed vaults themselves. Everything you need to understand your heritage, your power, and your destiny."

Jack placed his hand on the door handle and felt the cold metal respond to his touch. The frost patterns blazed with silver light, and the doors swung open to reveal a library that stretched beyond the horizon.

The Interface flickered one final message:

[TUTORIAL PHASE COMPLETE]

[ADVANCED TRAINING UNLOCKED]

[WELCOME TO YOUR REAL EDUCATION, JACK FROST]

As he stepped across the threshold, Jack felt the last threads connecting him to his old life snap. The struggling artist from Newport was gone, replaced by something he didn't yet understand but could feel growing stronger with every heartbeat.

Behind them, Duncan closed the doors with a soft click that sounded like the locking of a cage—or perhaps, the opening of one.

The real game was about to begin.