Chapter 9
Mara
Mara woke up and took down her tent herself. She was hoping to surprise Vaelor. But he surprised her.
“Are you ready?”
She jumped when he came up behind her. “Where did you come from?”
“I was standing by the fire pit. I’ve been up for a while waiting on you.”
“Oh.” She glanced over and only now noticed that his tent was already taken down.
“Has everyone else already left?”
“Not everyone. The Bestials have been going at it all night. Their partners are still by the fire waiting for them to finish.”
Mara could feel her cheeks getting hot from blushing. The groans of pleasure had also kept her up throughout the night. Her imagination kept picturing Vaelor and her creating those erotic sounds. He would probably be horrified if he knew she fantasized about him.
“Okay. Um. I’m ready to leave.” She quickly put her pack on before he could take it. Mara was determined to carry her own weight.
“Let’s go.”
As they made their way out of the encampment, she noticed that he was being more vigil, like he was on high alert.
“Did something happen?”
“There was someone outside your tent last night. They got scared away, but it was concerning.”
“Maybe someone got confused about the tents. They all look alike to me.”
“They would not have run away scared of being caught if they were simply confused by the tents.”
“Did you recognize who it was?”
“No. But their behavior is suspicious. Make sure you don’t wander off. Stay where I can see you.”
She could appreciate him wanting to keep her safe. It wasn’t personal for him. He can’t win if she doesn’t make it to the end. But at the same time, she didn’t like being ordered or controlled. It didn’t sit well with her. She chose what she could commit to.
“I’ll be careful.”
As they walked through the icy trees, they came out into an open area. Mara was amazed.
“Wow. This is incredible. Have you seen anything like this before?”
The sun hung low but bright, its light catching on the ice that coated the trees, the ground, the distant mountains.
Everything glittered, not blinding, but sharp and beautiful, like a field of scattered diamonds.
Each step sent a faint crunch through the frozen earth, the sound carrying farther than it should have in the open stillness.
The wind brushed past in cool, steady breaths, not biting but persistent, slipping through clothing and against skin as a quiet reminder of how exposed this world was.
The air itself felt startlingly clean—crisp and untouched, filling the lungs with something pure.
There was no smog, no residue of industry or life gone wrong. Just cold, honest air.
Above it all, the sky stretched wide in a soft lavender, muted and unreal, as if the planet existed half in dream, half in silence. It was beautiful in a way that made you pause—and dangerous in the way beauty often was. A place that did not care whether you survived it or not.
Vaelor looked around as well. “Yes. My home world is much like this.”
Oh, he was talking about his world. She had to know more. “It’s a cold planet, right?”
“Yes.”
“And the sky? What color is it?”
“The sky has a permanent golden hue caused by high-altitude frozen crystals refracting light. Unlike the white puffy clouds here, Crytharia has ice-clouds—thin, jagged streaks of silver that actually chime when they collide in high-altitude winds.”
“Earth had puffy clouds and one sun, but we only have one moon, not three like here.”
“Crytharia has two suns.”
“Two suns? Really?”
“Yes. There is a Cold Sun, it’s a dim white dwarf and a Warm Sun, which is a smaller red ember.
These two suns cause extreme temperature swings from our Cold Season and our Warm Season.
Instead of three moons, Crytharia has one giant moon that shattered long ago.
It created a ring of glowing ice-rocks that is now a permanent bridge of light across the night sky. ”
“That sounds incredibly beautiful, but cold. How do your people survive a cold like that?”
By his hesitation, she could tell that he was having a hard time determining what and how much to reveal about his people. It made sense. She was a stranger and he was far from his home. Trust would not come easy to any of them. She waited patiently, letting him decide what he would reveal.
“During the Cold Season, the most brutal period in Crytharia, the surface becomes uninhabitable due to plummeting temperatures. Very little hunting or plant life is available on the surface. My people retreat into Clan-Settlements carved deep beneath the surface.”
“The underground shelters are built close to the planet’s warm core, which provides the necessary heat for life to persist. We have natural hot springs and fresh water that we use for daily life, cleansing, drinking, cooking, plumbing, and gardening.
“You have gardens underground?” Mara asked, fascinated.
“Yes. We have Bioluminescent Gardens that are grown in geothermal-heated tunnels. The gardens provide food when the surface is locked in ice.”
“My father would love to see how all that works. He is a Professor of Comparative Xeno history and Culture.”
At the confused look on his face, she laughed and continued to explain.
“I guess you don’t have those on your planet.”
“No.”
“It means that he teaches students about the historical development of alien civilizations. Comparisons between past and present societies. How cultures evolve technologically, socially, and politically. Patterns of rise, collapse, stagnation, or adaptation. How ancient decisions shape modern behavior and conflicts.”
“Is this useful to help your people to survive?”
She bit her bottom lip. It may not be useful to his people. Not really. How could she explain this so that he would understand?
“He taught so the next generation wouldn’t have to learn everything the hard way,” Mara said quietly.
She hesitated, then looked at Vaelor, really looked at him. “Did your people ever tell stories about your ancestors? About battles they shouldn’t have fought, or choices that cost too much—so the young would understand what not to repeat?”
Her voice wasn’t challenging. It was curious. Almost hopeful.
He nodded but didn’t elaborate.
“Because that’s all my father was trying to do,” she added. “Different worlds, different species… same mistakes. He believed if we shared the stories, maybe the next generation would survive them. Maybe they would make a different decision, a better one.”
Vaelor was silent longer than she expected.
“When our young are taught,” he said at last, “we tell them stories of victory.”
He glanced toward the frozen horizon, jaw tightening. “We speak of strength. Of honor. Of battles.”
His gaze returned to her, steady and unflinching. “But the stories that shaped me most were the ones told in private. Quietly. The ones about what went wrong. About leaders who chose pride over restraint.”
He paused.
Mara was surprised at the admission and realized that it cost him more to admit to it than he liked.
“Those stories kept me alive, drove me to do better.”
Then, after a breath, he added, almost reluctantly, “Your father understood something my people often ignore. That the lessons meant to protect the next generation are rarely the ones spoken aloud.”
Both of them remained silent after that. Something passed between them. A sort of understanding. Hopefully, this will help bring them together as partners so that they get through their first challenge which awaited them.