Chapter 32
Vaelor
Vaelor reached the finish line with Mara leaning heavily against him, both of them soaked, shivering, and barely able to stand.
The ice beneath their feet felt like it was tilting, the world still spinning from the cold and the frantic swim through the sub-glacial tunnel. But they were alive. They had made it.
He kept one arm around Mara’s waist, steadying her as she caught her breath. Her lips were blue, her eyelashes tipped with frost, but she was conscious—fiercely, stubbornly conscious. Relief washed through him like warmth.
A sharp crack split the air.
The glacier ahead of them fractured open, and a towering hologram of the Game Master erupted upward in a swirl of blue light. He hovered above the ice like a smug deity presiding over a battlefield.
“Welcome, competitors—and congratulations to those who survived Challenge Five!”
The hologram audience materialized behind him, roaring with excitement, waving banners, chanting names. Vaelor ignored them. His focus stayed on the tunnel entrance.
Not everyone was out yet.
The Game Master’s voice boomed theatrically.
“Our first arrivals—Vaelor of Crytharia and Mara Sinclair of Earth! A flawless execution under extreme pressure!”
Mara swayed slightly. Vaelor tightened his hold. He needed to get her somewhere warm and dry.
A wet, slapping sound echoed from the tunnel. The Slurchan oozed out—flattened, wobbling, barely holding shape. But alone.
The Rasilian did not follow.
The Game Master’s tone shifted, solemn but still performative.
“The Rasilian did not complete the challenge. He succumbed to the floodwaters. The Slurchan has been disqualified.”
Vaelor’s jaw tightened. He had not liked the Rasilian, but drowning in the dark was a cruel end.
A sudden splash drew his attention.
Dugan appeared from the tunnel—dragging Blaine’s limp body across the ice.
Mara inhaled sharply. Vaelor felt a cold, sharp fury ignite within his chest. He felt cheated out of ending the human himself.
Dugan collapsed to his knees, water streaming off his metal-reinforced limbs. Blaine lay unconscious beside him, pale and unmoving.
The Game Master zoomed in dramatically.
“And what a twist, ladies and gentlemen! Blaine of Earth failed to hold the door—succumbing to hypothermia before his partner could return!”
The hologram audience erupted.
“He’s not dead,” Dugan said. “I resuscitated him.”
The Game Master played out as if he didn’t know what happened.
“How is that possible?”
Dugan lifted his head, voice hoarse. “He passed out. I had to unlock the gate myself. Swim back. Open the door. Drag him out.”
Vaelor stared at him, stunned despite himself. Dugan had done the impossible—alone.
The Game Master nodded approvingly.
“A remarkable feat of endurance and loyalty. Dugan and his partner advances.”
Vaelor’s fists clenched. Blaine had nearly killed Mara with the toxin. He had shoved her into danger during the Predator Walk. And now he had nearly cost Dugan his life as well.
The urge to finish what he started—to end Blaine—burned hot and violent.
But Mara leaned into him, trembling from the cold, and the fire inside him shifted. Protecting her mattered more than punishing Blaine—for now.
The Game Master raised his arms again, voice booming with excitement.
“Competitors—rest, recover, and prepare yourselves. Only two teams remain. The final challenge awaits.”
The hologram burst into a shower of blue sparks and vanished.
Silence fell over the glacier.
Vaelor looked down at Mara, her breath was still unsteady, her skin pale but her eyes bright with determination.
“We made it,” she whispered.
He nodded, though his gaze drifted to Blaine’s unconscious form. “Yes. But the cost grows.”
And Vaelor knew one thing with absolute certainty:
When the final challenge was over, when nothing could disqualify him, Blaine would answer for everything.
*****
Mara’s legs gave out the moment the Game Master’s hologram vanished.
She tried to hide it—of course she did—but Vaelor felt the tremor run through her body as she leaned into him.
The sub-glacial tunnel had drained her completely.
She was shaking from cold, exhaustion, and the brutal effort it had taken to reach the gate.
Without a word, Vaelor swept her into his arms. He had already grabbed the two packs from the technician that had been guarding it. But she weighed so little, he barely felt the extra weight.
She made a soft sound of protest. “I can walk.”
“You are barely standing,” he said, voice low but firm. “Rest.”
Her head dropped against his shoulder, and she didn’t argue again.
Vaelor turned away from the main camp. He would not risk Blaine being anywhere near her. Even unconscious, Blaine was a threat. And Dugan—though Vaelor respected him more now—deserved space to deal with his partner without Mara caught in the middle.
He scanned the glacier until he found what he needed: a narrow fissure in the ice wall, half-hidden by a drift of snow. Inside, the space widened into a small, sheltered cavern. The walls glowed faintly with trapped bioluminescent frost, casting a soft blue light.
Perfect.
Secluded.
Safe.
Vaelor carried Mara inside and gently lowered her onto a natural shelf of ice. She shivered violently, her skin pale, her lips still tinged blue.
He moved quickly, pulling out the inflatable bedding and then moved her to it. She crawled under the attached blanket.
He gathered shards of dry frost-lichen from the cave walls, arranged them in a small pit, and struck his flint. Sparks danced, then caught. A warm orange flame bloomed, pushing back the cold.
Mara blinked at the fire, her eyes heavy. “You… found us a cave.”
“I found a little bit of privacy,” Vaelor corrected softly. “You need rest. And warmth.”
He removed the heavy fur skin from his pack and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sank into it, pulling it close, her body slowly relaxing as the fire’s heat reached her.
Vaelor knelt beside her, checking her hands, her face, the pulse at her throat. Her skin was still cold, but color was returning. Her breathing steadied.
“You are safe now,” he murmured.
Her eyes lifted to his, soft and tired. “Because of you.”
Vaelor felt something tighten in his chest, something fierce, protective, and dangerously close to tender.
He looked away, feeding more lichen into the fire. “Because we are a team.”
But the truth was simpler.
He would have carried her across the entire glacier if he had to.
He would have fought the cold, the beasts, the Games themselves.
He would have done anything to keep her safe.
Mara shifted, leaning slightly toward him. “Stay close. Please.”
He didn’t hesitate.
Vaelor sat beside her, letting her rest against him, letting the fire warm them both. Outside, the wind howled across the ice, but inside the cave, there was only the crackle of flames and the steady rhythm of her breathing.
For the first time since the Games began, they were alone.
And Vaelor intended to keep it that way.