"I want him back," the girl demanded, glaring up at the tall stranger in front of her. 

He smiled courteously and gave a slight bow, an introduction without a name. "I want to play a game," his voice was like a harp, every word carefully chosen and plucked into graceful melody.

Terror and rage shook her but she stood her ground. "I won't play anything until you exactly say--” 

"I will give him back," he interrupted calmly.

"When-"

"If," he insisted, "You win my games." His eyes were the cold, placid blue of ice.

"How many?" she pressed, watching a flicker of annoyance cross his face.

The two stared at one another for a long time. The games had already begun, from the moment she entered this shimmering forest.

"Three," he finally declared. "They shall be... Tests of character." He bowed again, this time gesturing down the cobble path in front of her. Just a few paces from him, fog enveloped everything beyond. "Let us discuss the rules over tea."

Cautiously, she followed him, adjusting the backpack slung over her shoulders. The fog swept over her, rippling as it passed. Wisps seemed to move purposefully past her, lifting and playing with her mousy brown hair before drifting away. Time became murky; she lost count of her number of steps. A sighing sound stayed ever-present above the echo of her boots. It could be the rustle of tree branches overhead. Or not.

“Mind the steps.” 

The sudden, nearly human sound of his voice startled her. Turning her eyes back to the path in front of her, she watched the fog rapidly clear away. In its place, a pavilion of white marble stood with honeysuckle vines wrapping the trellises, pillars at every corner and a grand archway. 

She stopped in bewilderment at the doorway. A table made of glass sat grandly in the center of the room with chairs of crystal. The space was lit by soft, flickering candlelight held by boys and girl, still as statues. They stood against the walls with eyes closed. They were young and old, all dressed in the same simple, elegant robes. She walked up to one boy. The wax in his candleholder had overfilled, spilling slowly over and onto his hand. He was as still as the others. 

"You have…” She held back her words, choosing carefully. She would be lucky to leave this place with her brother, much less any strangers. “Many servants."

"Well, it's terribly easy to find people's names nowadays." He sighed airily, "If you'd had a little more imagination, we could be in a casino right now. But, traditional it is." He pulled a chair for her, but she made a point of sitting at the other side of the table. He seated himself at the front, then gestured at the plates abundantly filled with cookies and doughnuts and scones. “Help yourself.” At the center of the table, a porcelain teapot released tendrils of steam. 

Instead, the girl opened her backpack. Inside sat her cellphone- useless- a pile of small bandages, and snacks. She took a granola bar and tore the plastic packaging.

"That's incredibly rude." A glare settled on his face.

She made no reply, not even glancing at the golden plates.

The stranger folded his hands together, his infinite serenity returned. “The first rule of these games is very simple. If I discover your name, you lose.” 

The girl stopped mid-bite. A chill traveled down her spine, though she’d been expecting this-- it was common practice for fairies.

“The second rule is: You may gain help in your endeavors, for a price.” A wolfish grin on his face, he slid nine coins across the table to her. “Each of these is a part of your soul. Spend them all and you are bound here-- though if you win in the process, your brother goes free. Win with at least one...” He nodded magnanimously. “and I’ll return the other eight.”

She finished her granola bar and considered leaving the plastic wrapping on the ground. But, no, she did wish to leave this place alive.

“If you won’t take any time for tea...” The stranger stood. “May we begin?”

“Yes.” She slipped out of her seat, glancing one last time at the candle people. It didn’t help her courage to know what one of her fates could be-- which was likely the point.

“This way.” He gestured at the archway on the other side of the pavilion. Swirling fog obscured the destination. She readied herself and stepped through.

For a moment, everything was black, weightless. Then her feet hit packed dirt and she blinked once, twice, attempting to understand her surroundings. Giant circular walls hemmed her in, while the area inside was nothing but level dirt. A sword lay on the ground in front of her along with a sling and a pouch. Something felt eerily familiar about this place, nondescript as it was.

A man suddenly appeared on the other side of the arena. His entire outfit was slapdash, from the two-horned helmet crooked on his head to the overlong chain mail draped over his ragged clothes. He held a hatchet up to the sky in wordless challenge.

No. No way. It was a Level One Viking from the game she played with her brother, Viking Arena 2. The game he’d spent night and day playing, until he disappeared. A familiar booming voice rang out and confirmed her fears.

ROUND ONE, START!

“What the hell is this?” she shouted to no answer. The Viking charged toward her. She grabbed the sword and held it in front of her, uncertainly. In-game, the Viking models didn’t even have eyes under the shadows of their helms. But her opponent’s weapon gleamed dangerously and the roar of his unintelligible war cry was very authentic. The girl steeled herself, knowing she was small and quick.

Once her opponent was close enough, she dashed. Avoiding the hatchet that swung straight down- just like in the game- she thrust her sword into her opponent’s stomach. He fell over, instantly inanimate. Level ones have low health, after all. 

The girl sighed and shook herself. “Nothing is real here. At least, only the danger.” She walked back over to the sling and found the pouch to be full of stones. “Well?” she called out to the open sky, “Didn’t I win?”

ROUND TWO, START 

She spun around, seeing another Viking drop out of nothing into the arena. “What? Really?” she yelled incredulously. But with no answer, she had no choice but to face the threat in front of her.  

This one was a ranged attacker, made obvious by the bow in his hands. If the logic from her game held, he would fire quickly but deal little damage. She swiped the sling off of the ground-- next to it, the body of the first Viking was gone but its hatchet remained. The girl fumbled with the unfamiliar weapon and her first stone pinged uselessly into the dirt. She ducked as an arrow whizzed overhead and tried again.

#

You are low on stamina. Buy more? 

The giant red letters flashed over the girl’s head. She leaned on the hilt of her sword, exhausted from many battles, as yet another enemy toppled onto the dirt. With a scream of frustration, she slung a stone into the blinking words. It traveled through, sailing across the arena until it arced over the walls, disappearing from sight. 

Thinking quickly, she dashed to the fading form of her last opponent. She pulled away its chain weapon, studying the barbed hook at one end. 

ROUND TEN, START 

The thunderous announcement told her a new enemy waited at her back. With all the strength she could muster, she threw the hook toward the top of the wall.  

Up, and up… just a little more. The hook clanged onto the top of the stone and held. 

With a sigh of relief, she glanced behind her. Thankfully, this enemy was a defensive build, with tough plate armor and a nasty battleaxe clenched in both hands. Frozen in combat stance, it waited for her to move toward it.

Instead, she shook some of the weariness from her arms, determination momentarily blocking out the ache in every muscle. The girl took hold of the chain, hand over hand slowly pulling herself to the top. Near the end of her strength, her fingers gripped cracks in the mortar and she heaved herself onto the rampart. Taking heavy breaths, she slowly recovered.

But He was already there. “Delightful performance,” He applauded with a mocking grin. “Congratulations, truly. Only two to go.” 

She watched as he walked up to nothing at all. Reaching his hand out, he turned as if twisting a door handle, am archway yawning into existence in front of him.

“Shall we?”

She could only spare a glare as a response. Eventually, she pulled herself to her feet and stepped through the doorway.

Another flash of darkness until she landed on a strange surface as firm as concrete, but soft. She found herself in the middle of a bright blue sky, platforms hanging in the air all around her. Distantly, she caught a glow-- at the highest platform, a silver key floated in soft light. She looked about, trying to find the trick or puzzle. All of the platforms, though varying in height, were in front of or behind her, none to the sides. She resolved to move forward and see what happened. Gathering her courage, she leaped onto the nearest platform, a little ways below her. 

The girl was just short, her chest slamming into the side as her arms frantically grabbed on. She hauled herself over, not daring to look down. She brushed herself off, thankful the pain was already fading. She studied her target once again, shading her eyes from the sheer, unnatural brightness of the sky.

The key seemed just as far away as before. But, wait, what was lurking beneath her? Cautiously, she peered over the side of the platform. A swirling whiteness stretched on just as endless as the sky. The girl took a deep breath, then launched herself into the air.

She fell, terrifyingly fast for a few heartbeats. But the moment her feet touched the clouds, her descent slowed gently. As though she was sliding through soft down feathers, the clouds cushioned her and tickled her face. 

At the bottom, she found herself in a green meadow filled with flowers. A golden key glowed next to another disconnected door.

“Well done.” The words sounded hollow as the stranger stepped beside her.   

She solved that game quickly. Too quickly. She watched as he stood tensely, dark intensity in his storming eyes.

“I’m almost there.” She stood tall, refusing meekness.

“‘Almost’ is a relative term,” he spoke cold steel, tersely gesturing toward the door. “You may do the honors.”

She took the key and turned the lock. 

“I do believe…” 

She glanced back, and the stranger continued haughtily.

“That I’ve improved your brother’s situation. He’s a rather tasteless, immature, talentless individual. There’s no bright future waiting for him out there.”

The door swung open, once again showing nothingness. But she turned away, blazing, marching up to him and crossing her arms. “Take that back. Or I’m not going.”

“There’s nothing to take back. I can only tell the truth, girl.” He looked down on her with a wicked grin.

Lightning quick, she stepped behind him and shoved him toward the door. He stumbled, before vanishing. His voice lingered for a moment, laughing uproariously.

She calmed herself, shaking her head. Then, she walked purposefully through the door.