Chapter 22
Vaelor
He stood at the boundary with the other players, the cold biting through even his Crytharian resilience.
Jagged ice pillars rose like the ribs of some ancient beast, and between them lay sudden drops that could swallow a person whole.
If a player stopped moving, the cold would freeze them in place. Disqualification by deathly stillness.
They stepped forward.
Twenty feet in, Mara faltered. Vaelor sensed it before he heard her breath hitch.
She glanced down—and stiffened. “Vaelor…”
He followed her gaze. Stars shimmered beneath her boots, as if the ground had become a window into the cosmos. When she looked up, more stars stared back, scattered across the sky in impossible patterns. The Veil was playing its tricks.
Mara swayed, clutching her head. “What is happening,” she groaned, voice thin with dizziness.
Vaelor reached out, steadying her arm. “The Veil bends perception. Up becomes down. Down becomes sky. Trust your balance, not your eyes.”
“Like the Field of Magnetic Mirrors?” she asked.
“Exactly.”
Around them, the darkness thickened, swallowing sound and shape. Even the crunch of their boots seemed muted, as if the Veil didn’t want witnesses.
He knew the others would struggle, especially the Bestial species, whose strength often betrayed them in places requiring finesse. But Mara… she had a sharp mind, adaptable, quick. If she could push past the disorientation, she would endure.
Vaelor tightened his grip on her shoulder, guiding her forward through the labyrinth of ice and illusion. This challenge wasn’t just about distance. It was about willpower, clarity, and refusing to let the darkness inside the Veil become the darkness inside oneself.
And the Veil was only just beginning.
The farther they traveled, the slicker the ice became. The ground had shifted from rough frost to a glassy sheen that reflected nothing, not even their own shadows. Mara muttered under her breath, arms out for balance.
“This is like ice skating,” she grumbled. “And I was terrible at that.”
Vaelor moved beside her with effortless grace, his steps light and sure. “Crytharians are raised on terrain like this,” he said. “You will adapt.”
“Not before I fall on my face at least twice.”
He almost smiled.
Ahead of them, the sounds of struggle echoed through the Veil. Gora, the towering Bestial female, kept trying to muscle her way forward, her boots scraping loudly as she fought for traction.
“Strength won’t help you here,” Vaelor called out to her.
Gora growled in frustration. “Strength helps everywhere.”
Not today, Vaelor thought.
Farther ahead, the Slurchan and the Rasilian were using other players as leverage—shoving, grabbing, anything to gain purchase on the slick ice. Their bodies slid and collided like clumsy boulders.
Mara turned to look—and walked straight into a massive black ice boulder.
“Ow—!” She clutched her nose, eyes watering.
Vaelor froze. The sharp, metallic scent of her blood hit him instantly, slicing through the cold. His instincts surged—protect, shield, eliminate threats—but he forced them down. Overreacting here could get them both killed.
“Mara,” he said, voice tight, “you’re bleeding.”
“It’s fine,” she insisted, waving him off. “Just a bump. Keep going.”
He watched her for a moment longer, ensuring she wasn’t hiding real injury. Then he nodded and moved ahead.
They had barely taken ten steps when Mara stumbled again—this time over something large and unmoving. She gasped and dropped to her knees.
“Gora?” Mara leaned forward. “Gora, what happened?”
The Bestial’s face was twisted in pain, her leg bent at an unnatural angle. “Ice… gave way,” she hissed. “I fell.”
“Your partner?” Mara asked.
“Gone.” Gora’s voice was bitter. “Left me.”
Mara slid an arm under Gora’s shoulders. “We’re getting you to the end.”
Vaelor stiffened. “Mara, helping her will slow us down.”
“Then we’ll be slow,” she shot back. “I’m not leaving her.”
Before he could argue, a prickle ran down Vaelor’s spine—danger, sharp and immediate. He didn’t think twice about it. He acted.
“Down!” he barked, throwing himself over both females.
They hit the ice hard as razor-thin shards whizzed overhead—ice picks, fast and deadly. They embedded themselves in the ground where the three of them had been standing seconds earlier.
Mara’s breath trembled. “Vaelor… what was that?”
He lifted his head, scanning the darkness. “Those weren’t natural formations falling.”
“You mean—”
“Someone threw them,” he said, voice low. “Someone is hunting us in the Veil.”
Vaelor pushed himself up first, scanning the darkness for movement. Nothing. Only the endless black ice stretching in every direction, swallowing sound and light.
“Are you both able to stand?” he asked, offering his hands.
Mara groaned but nodded, brushing shards of ice from her biosuit. “Yeah… I think so.”
Gora gritted her teeth as he helped her upright, her broken leg trembling under the strain. “I can walk,” she growled.
“No,” Vaelor said firmly. “You can lean on us. Mara, take her other side.”
Mara slipped under Gora’s arm without hesitation. “We’ve got you.”
Gora huffed, clearly unused to being helped. “Bestials do not need—”
“You do now,” Mara cut in, her tone gentle but unyielding. “Friends help friends.”
Vaelor led the way, every sense sharpened. The ice beneath them had grown even slicker, like walking on polished glass. Each step required precision. Behind them, the wind howled through the jagged pillars, carrying with it the faint echo of something moving.
They pressed forward, inch by inch.
“Vaelor,” Mara whispered, “do you think whoever threw those ice picks is still out there?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “And they are patient.”
Gora snorted. “Let them come. I will—”
A deep rumble vibrated through the ice.
Vaelor froze. “Quiet.”
The rumble grew louder, rolling beneath their feet like a living thing. Mara’s eyes widened. “Is that… under us?”
Before he could answer, the ice ahead of them fractured—thin glowing lines spiderwebbing outward. A massive slab shifted.
“A sink drop,” Vaelor hissed. “Move!”
He grabbed Mara’s arm, pulling her back just as the ground gave way. Gora stumbled, her injured leg buckling, but Mara held fast, anchoring her with surprising strength.
The slab of ice slid into the abyss with a thunderous crack, disappearing into darkness.
Mara’s breath came fast. “That… was too close.”
Vaelor nodded.
Gora exhaled shakily. “I would have fallen.”
“You didn’t,” Mara said. “That’s what matters.”
Vaelor guided them with careful steps. The air grew colder, sharper, as if the Veil itself resisted their progress. But then—faintly—a shimmer of pale light appeared ahead.
“The threshold,” Vaelor murmured. Relief flickered through him, though he kept it hidden. “Once we cross it, the challenge ends.”
Mara tightened her grip on Gora. “Then let’s finish this.”
Together, they pushed forward, leaving the dangers of the Black Ice Plain behind as they crossed into the dim glow marking the end of the Obsidian Veil.
Vaelor allowed himself one slow breath. They survived. But someone out there had tried to make sure they didn’t.
And he intended to find out who.
The moment their boots crossed the shimmering boundary, the oppressive darkness of the Obsidian Veil peeled away like a lifted curtain.
Light—bright, artificial, but blessedly steady—washed over them.
Mara sagged with relief, still supporting Gora’s weight.
Vaelor kept a steadying hand on both of them until they were fully clear of the Obsidian Veil.
A booming voice echoed across the challenge grounds, amplified by unseen speakers.
“Vaelor of Crytharia and Mara of Earth—challenge complete.”
Mara straightened, breath misting in the cold air. Gora leaned heavily on her, but her pride kept her chin high.
The Game Master continued, tone shifting into something more formal.
“They have brought with them the Bestial competitor, Gora, who was unable to continue on her own.”
Gora grunted. “I could have—”
“No,” Mara said softly. “You couldn’t.”
Vaelor hid a smirk.
The Game Master’s voice sharpened.
“However, Gora and her partner, Felon, are hereby disqualified.”
Gora stiffened. “What?”
“All pairs must finish the challenges together. Felon arrived without you. You arrived without him. Disqualification is mandatory.”
Mara’s jaw tightened. “He left her behind.”
Vaelor nodded once. “And he will answer for that.”
Gora said nothing, but the fury in her eyes was unmistakable.
Around them, the other players were gathered in loose clusters. Every one of them looked battered—scraped, frostbitten, shaken. Some were still catching their breath. A few sat hunched over, clutching bruised limbs.
But two players stood apart.
The Slurchan and the Rasilian.
They looked… almost refreshed. Their bodies—gelatinous and fluid for the Slurchan, crystalline and angular for the Rasilian—seemed barely affected by the cold of the Veil. They watched Vaelor, Mara, and Gora with unreadable expressions.
Mara noticed too. “They look like they just took a stroll.”
Vaelor’s eyes narrowed. “Their physiologies give them advantages here. But that is not all.”
“You think they’re hiding something?”
“I think,” he said quietly, “that the Veil was not the only threat in that challenge.”
Mara shivered—not from the cold.
The Game Master’s voice boomed again, signaling the end of the round. But Vaelor’s attention stayed on the Slurchan and the Rasilian.
They were too calm.
Too composed.
Too aware.
Were they part of the sabotage as well? The ice picks thrown at them were not going to be the last of the threats they would face.