Chapter 12
Vaelor
After the first challenge ended, the Grand Master’s image flickered one final time across the sky before the transmission cut off. Silence followed—thick, heavy, almost unreal after the chaos of the Field of Magnetic Mirrors. One pair of players had been disqualified. The all-female team.
Mara didn’t say a word, but Vaelor felt the shift in her beside him. Relief mixed with something darker. Guilt, perhaps. Survival always came at a cost in the Games, and today it had claimed its first victims.
Once the announcement was complete, the camera drones buzzed away, their cold, unblinking lenses retreating into the sky. The small green technicians vanished with them, leaving the remaining players alone on the ice once more.
They fell into a steady rhythm as they made their way across the frozen terrain toward the next campsite, though it was slower than either of them would have preferred.
The ice thinned here, giving way to packed snow and jagged stone that jutted through the surface like dark scars.
Each step required thought. Balance. Effort.
The cold bit less sharply with movement, but exhaustion clung to them in a way warmth couldn’t chase off.
The Field of Magnetic Mirrors had taken more than energy—it had scraped something raw inside them both.
Vaelor felt it in the heaviness of his limbs, the faint pressure behind his eyes, as if his mind had not fully settled back into his body.
Mara lagged half a step behind him.
Not enough to call out, but enough that he noticed. Her breathing was measured, her steps careful, deliberate. She was pushing through something she hadn’t named out loud.
Her boot slid on a patch of half-buried ice.
She stumbled, momentum tipping her forward before she could recover. Vaelor reacted without thinking, his hand shooting out to catch her arm and steady her before she went down.
“I’ve got it,” she said quickly.
She pulled free almost at once, straightening, her jaw set. Pride flashed in her eyes—sharp, stubborn. She took a few firm steps ahead, as if distance itself could prove she didn’t need the help.
Vaelor didn’t comment. He slowed his pace just enough to stay beside her instead of in front, close without crowding her space. He understood that kind of stubbornness. Had been shaped by it.
The illusions had drained her. He knew it as surely as he knew the feel of ice beneath his boots. Reliving something painful, being trapped inside it with no way out, left a deeper fatigue than any physical challenge. The body could recover. The mind took longer.
The wind whispered across the snowfields, carrying silence instead of threat, but neither of them spoke. Words felt unnecessary. Too heavy. For now, it was enough to keep moving forward—together, even when neither of them wanted to admit they needed the other.
Mara slowed suddenly.
Vaelor noticed at once. He turned, half-expecting danger, but she was crouching near a cluster of rocks partially buried in the snow. She brushed ice aside with her glove and picked one up—a smooth, flat stone streaked with veins of silver and gray.
For a moment, she just held it.
Then she slipped it into her pack.
Vaelor frowned. “Why carry unnecessary weight?”
She glanced up at him, surprised, then smiled faintly. “My father always collected rocks from the places we traveled.”
That wasn’t the answer he’d expected.
“He said every world leaves its mark,” she continued, rising to her feet. “That history isn’t just something you read about—it’s something you can hold. He kept shelves of them. Labeled, cataloged. Each one meant we’d been somewhere that mattered.”
Vaelor resumed walking beside her. “And you keep them too?”
“Not usually,” she admitted. “But… I don’t know. This place felt like one I wouldn’t forget. Good or bad.”
He considered that. A warrior carried trophies of battle. Weapons. Scars. But this was quieter. More enduring.
“You believe objects remember,” he said.
She shrugged. “I believe people do. The rocks just help.”
They walked on, the wind whispering over the ice. Vaelor found himself glancing once at her pack, then away again, unsettled by how such a small habit revealed so much about who she was—and who she’d been raised to become.
Another reminder that she was carrying more than survival gear into the Games.
And that some weights were worth bearing.
They reached the next campsite just before sunset, the lavender sky deepening toward dusk. Tents dotted the area, spaced carefully apart. Blaine was already at work, building a fire with practiced ease before turning his attention to his shelter.
Mara dropped her pack and unzipped it, reaching inside. Then she froze.
“What the hell?”
Vaelor turned. She was holding up her tent—if it could still be called that. The fabric was shredded, slashed clean through multiple places. He crossed the distance quickly and took it from her, examining the damage. There was no repairing it. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.
The look on Mara’s face twisted something inside his chest.
“Who would do this?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Vaelor said. But he would find out. Someone had sabotaged her deliberately.
“What’s going on?” Blaine asked, approaching with his own tent slung over his shoulder.
“Someone destroyed my tent,” Mara said.
“What asshole would do that?” Blaine snapped.
“It could have been anyone,” she said, frustration sharpening her tone.
“You can share my tent,” Blaine offered immediately.
Vaelor’s eyes narrowed. Was that the plan? Sabotage her gear to force proximity?
“No need,” Vaelor said flatly. “Mara will stay with me in my tent.”
The air tightened. The two males faced one another, neither willing to yield.
Mara stepped between them, palms raised. “Wait. There might be a spare tent somewhere.”
Blaine shook his head. “Packs only came with one of each essential. No extras.” He glanced at Vaelor, then back to Mara. “Go sit by the fire while I set up. I’ll feed you.”
“She will share my tent,” Vaelor repeated.
Mara shoved them both. “You know what? I’ll sleep by the fire.”
She stormed off before either of them could respond.
Blaine laughed under his breath. “Guess she told us.” He turned back to his tent.
Vaelor watched Mara go, jaw tight. If she was sleeping by the fire, he would be there too. He wasn’t leaving her supplies unguarded—or her.
He grabbed both packs and carried them over.
Mara sat on a log, hands stretched toward the flames. She looked up, surprised, when he dropped the packs beside her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m sleeping by the fire as well.”
“You don’t have to.”
He shrugged and crouched, opening her pack. He pulled out the inflatable bedding and handed it to her. “Just because your tent was destroyed doesn’t mean you should suffer. Between the fire, your suit, the bedding temperature, and the blanket, you’ll stay warm.”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Thanks.”
He set up his own beside hers.
“I’ll be fine,” she said again. “You don’t need to be out here with me.”
“Someone sabotaged you,” he said evenly. “That means they sabotaged me. We stay close. We watch for more.”
She considered that, then nodded. “Yeah. That makes sense.”
“You should check your food rations.”
“I am hungry,” she admitted.
She pulled out a meal pouch and set it in a pan near the fire. “Let me smell it before you eat,” he said.
“Why?”
“My senses are stronger. I’ll know if it’s been tampered with.”
Her eyes widened. “Do you really think someone would mess with my food and water?”
“I’m not ruling it out.”
She handed him the water first. He sniffed, then returned it. “It’s fine.”
He did the same with the food. “Safe.”
“Thank you.”
“I should thank you,” he said quietly. “For today. I don’t know if I would have pulled myself out of that illusion without you.”
She stared into the fire. “Me too. I was stuck reliving the worst moment of my life.”
“I assume the audience enjoyed it.”
She snorted softly. “I don’t think they saw what we did. Probably just us acting… off.”
He frowned. “I didn’t see anyone else’s illusions.”
“Exactly. I think it only affected our minds.”
“It was effective.”
“Yeah. Makes me dread what’s next.” She shivered.
“Are you cold?”
“I’m okay. I’ll adjust my suit later.”
They ate in silence. One by one, the other players retreated to their tents. Mara’s movements slowed, exhaustion claiming her. She climbed into her bedding and turned onto her side, facing him.
Vaelor kept watch, eyes scanning the dark. But they kept returning to her.
Her face softened in sleep. Her hair, usually tied tight, spilled loose around her shoulders, glowing silver in the firelight. His fingers ached to touch it.
He had crossed galaxies, fought wars, survived horrors—and somehow found her.
Mara Sinclair was a contradiction. Small and delicate in appearance, unyielding beneath it. Clever. Curious. Kind. Fierce.
He didn’t know why she was here. But he would find out.
And when he won—
He would make sure she survived to go home.