Chapter 2
Vaelor
Vaelor of the Frostbound Clan stood on the icy mountain peak, gazing out over his beloved home world.
Crytharia was a realm of cold and stone, a planet shaped by ice and endurance.
Most of its people lived beneath the surface, carving their Clan-Settlements close to the planet’s warm core where life could survive.
The air was warmer than it should have been, carrying a faint unease he couldn’t name. Far below, blue-green lakes glittered like fractured crystals against the white expanse, beautiful and dangerous all at once. This was his world—harsh, resilient, and worth any price to protect.
There were two seasons. The Cold Season, which was the most brutal period on Crytharia.
The surface temperatures plummet to their absolute lowest, making the frozen landscape nearly uninhabitable.
During this time, the Frostbound Clan and other inhabitants must retreat deep into subterranean shelters to survive, relying on the warmth of the planet’s core.
The Warm Season offered a brief reprieve where the air became notably warmer than usual for the ice-covered world.
It was the only time clans could safely venture to icy mountain peaks to look out over their lands or engage in activities on the surface before the intense cold returns.
During this time hunting for fresh meat is the most prominent.
The meat is prepared to last throughout the Cold Season.
Vaelor took a deep breath. He could detect the scent of melting ice and hear in the distances the faint sound of shifting ice panels breaking over the water. A few aerial creatures flew overhead, also searching for fresh food. There would be stews made from the fresh catch.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
He turned to face the speaker. Anchora was one of the clan’s elders, and an old family friend. She knew his struggles better than anyone.
“I have to.”
“There has to be another way.”
He sighed. “Crytharia is constantly under siege by other worlds and pirates. Joining the games will bring attention to our predicament and will help us finally be recognized and accepted into the Galactic Nations. The prize money will go a long way toward providing our planet with defenses and allow us to expand our Clan.”
“You’re our clan leader, let someone else go in your place.”
Shaking his head, he looked out over the mountains once more. “I have a blood debt, and I chose to use this as my penance.”
Anchora placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You saved our clan.”
“At the cost of those that died.”
“It was a hard choice, but you made the only one you could. You saved the females, children, and older weaker people. Your father was wrong in trying to attack the pirate ships. Those warriors who died, their blood is on his hands.”
The memory of that terrible attack came to his mind. It was one he would never be able to shake.
The warriors of the Frostbound clan had been pinned down. His father chose the cliff that they were on.
“We should have waited for the other clans,” he told his father.
“They are weak and show no bravery! We will defeat our enemy without them.”
Vaelor looked back at the females and children that were hiding in a crevice of the mountain wall. His father should never have attacked when the most vulnerable of his people were there. It was too dangerous.
“We can’t keep this up. Let’s take the females and children back to the settlement and wait for these pirates to leave our world.”
“I will task you with that. I will lead our warriors into victory. Go now!" his father ordered.
There was no arguing with Vorlor when he made his decision. Looking at the other warriors, they all nodded their understanding and accepted their fates.
He cleared his throat. “My father is not here to answer for his actions but I am. I must atone for the wrongs done. I don’t have ties or family any longer, so if something happens to me, it should not be a loss.”
“That is untrue! You are our leader! It would devastate our clan to lose you.”
“I’ve reached out to the other two clans. Their leaders agreed to lend warriors to protect the clan while I am gone.”
“I see that your mind is set on this path.”
“It is our best chance to save our people.”
There was movement below that caught his eye. “Are the hunters still out hunting?”
“Yes. They are trying to stock up for the Cold Season.”
“Make sure that they are careful when leaving. The hunters are most vulnerable now. Without the cover of the Cold Season storms, they are easy targets for any ship passing through the system. This season brings warmth and life, but it also brings more attacks and the most blood.”
Anchora cleared her throat. “Our underground gardens are struggling to produce edible plants and seeds.”
Vaelor thought about their unique gardens.
The bioluminescent plants grew from the geothermal-heated tunnels of the Clan-Settlements.
It was a stark contrast with the vast, white stone walls exterior.
Each of the inhabitants lived in small structures built from stones cut from the mountain walls.
There were flowing streams for fresh water that was irrigated for the gardens and pipes brought the water to each stone home.
Though each home was independent, there was a communal center where his clan gathered together to perform tasks such as butchering fresh catches, prime and prep meat for the Cold Season, and cooking stews and soups to be shared.
“If we can’t hunt during the Warm Season, our people will eventually die out.”
“That is exactly why I must do this. I am the strongest in our clan. I have no familial ties relying on me.”
“Very well. When will you tell the rest of the clan?”
“Tonight. I leave tomorrow for the south post. A ship will come for me there. I don’t want to lead others anywhere near our clan stronghold.”
“I’ll let the others know.”
“Thank you Anchora. You’ve been a good friend.”
“Make sure you come back. We need you.”
He wasn’t so sure about that, but he appreciated the sentiment. As he walked back down from the peak, he nodded at others of his clan that came above ground to appreciate the Warm Season and fresh air.
As he passed, they greeted him with easy smiles and familiar words, and he returned them without thought.
Nearby, children played across the ice, their laughter carrying on the cold air, untouched by worry or fear.
The sight settled something steady in his chest. This was what mattered.
Their safety, their peace, their unshaken trust in the world around them.
If entering the Games was the price to keep it that way, then it was a price he would willingly pay.