Chapter 10
Vaelor
Vaelor took in the scene before them. There was a large flat icy plane. Eight players were there. Some sitting, some standing.
“Is that the Slurchan and the Rasilian?” Mara asked.
“It appears so.”
The fact that they looked well rested was suspicious.
The GSG staff were running around prepping for the challenge. One of the little guys came up to them.
“Please put your packs over there.” He pointed to a large ice boulder. The other packs were tossed over there. “Then go stand or sit in a circle side by side.”
He and Mara followed the instructions. The camera drones were hovering close by but not taking images yet.
Mara sat on the ground while he stood next to her in his own circle. A short time later, the rest of the players arrived. None of them looked pleased except for the Bestial male. He wore a very satisfied expression on his face.
The GSG technician ushered the others into their circles. Then in the center of the silver platform, a three dimensional hologram of the Game Master appeared. The drones began whirring.
“Welcome back to the Galactic Survivor Games!”
The amplified voice rolled across the frozen expanse, sharp and energizing. “Players, I hope you enjoyed whatever rest you managed to get last night—because you’re going to need every ounce of strength you have today.”
A brief pause followed, just long enough to let the tension settle.
“Your first challenge is known as the Field of Magnetic Mirrors.”
Before them stretched a vast, flat plain of polished ice, its surface so perfectly reflective it looked unreal.
The frozen field shimmered beneath the pale sun, multiplying the sky, the mountains, and the players themselves into endless fractured images.
Depth vanished. Distance lied. Every step threatened to send them in the wrong direction.
“This field functions as a giant magnetic mirror,” the voice continued. “Your eyes will betray you. Reflections will distort the terrain, conceal hazards, and disguise the true path forward. Trust your instincts—but do not trust what you see.”
A low hum rippled beneath the ice, subtle but ominous.
“You will have thirty minutes to cross the mirror field before the ending call is sounded.”
Another pause.
“As with all timed challenges, your biosuits will be affected. From the moment you enter the field, thermal regulation will begin to fail. The longer you remain on the ice, the less protection your suit will provide. Cold exposure will increase steadily.”
The implications were clear.
“If conditions become unbearable, you may withdraw. Be advised—withdrawal from this challenge results in immediate removal from the Games and automatic disqualification of your partner.”
No sugarcoating. No mercy.
“Failure to complete the challenge within the allotted time will also result in disqualification.”
The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
“Players…”
A beat.
“Get ready.”
Another.
“Get set.”
Then—
“Go.”
Flashing lights and a harsh buzzing sound tore through the air, announcing the start of the Games.
Instinct sent the players surging forward—but momentum became their enemy almost immediately.
The ice beneath their feet was impossibly slick.
Bodies slipped, skidded, collided. Shouts of surprise and frustration echoed as competitors slammed into one another and the ground.
Vaelor adjusted instantly. Ice was familiar to him. This terrain, treacherous as it was, belonged to his people.
Mara’s first step betrayed her.
Her foot slid out from under her, arms flailing as she struggled to stay upright. Before she could fall, Vaelor caught her hand, his grip firm and steady. He shifted his weight, anchoring them both, and began guiding her forward step by careful step.
“Thank you, Vaelor,” she whispered, breathless.
He didn’t answer. His focus remained locked ahead. The mirrors distorted the light so completely it felt like night had fallen—no clear shadows, no reliable horizon. He couldn’t see the other players, but he could hear them. Raised voices. Sharp cries. Fear.
Something was wrong.
If he had to fight, he’d need both hands.
Reluctantly, he released Mara.
The moment he did, the world shattered.
The ice vanished beneath his feet, replaced by scorched ground and smoke-choked air. Fire thundered overhead. The battlefield surged back to life with terrifying clarity.
“Son, what are you doing?” his father demanded.
Vaelor turned, heart pounding. They stood amid chaos—pirates advancing, weapons blazing. These were the bandits who had nearly destroyed their clan. He remembered the screams. The blood. The rage that followed.
“I told you to take the field,” his father snapped.
“But you need someone to watch your back—”
“I am a clan leader,” his father cut in. “I don’t need guarding. Do what I asked. Just once.”
The ground shook violently. Warriors fell. Blood soaked into the earth. Death pressed in from every direction.
“Father?”
No answer.
Panic seized him. Vaelor ran, dodging incoming fire, shoving aside anyone who blocked his path. He would cut down anyone if it meant finding his father.
“Vaelor!”
A female voice—wrong. Out of place.
“Go back to the settlement!” he barked. “This isn’t for you.”
“Settlement?” she called back. “Vaelor, listen to me!”
“I don’t have time. My father needs—”
“He isn’t here!” Her voice cracked, urgent. “We’re not on your home world. We’re in the Games. What you’re seeing isn’t real.”
Games. The word slid past him, meaningless.
Then a small weight hit his back. He spun, ready to tear the intruder away—but the voice was right beside his ear.
“Close your eyes,” Mara said softly. “Listen to me.”
Against every instinct screaming at him to fight, Vaelor inhaled. Exhaled. The battlefield wavered.
“This is an illusion,” she continued. “The Galactic Survivor Games. You’re safe. I need you here.”
The truth settled slowly, painfully. His father survived that day. Had lived long after. Had passed into the afterlife years ago.
Vaelor opened his eyes.
The ice returned. The cold. The mirrors.
And Mara—real, breathing, clinging to him.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “If our eyes can’t be trusted, how do we move forward?”
Mara met his gaze, determination burning through the fear.
“I have an idea.”