The rumors spread like wildfire in the days following the events on the beach. They spoke of the huntress who fed the tower, of the alchemist who brewed wonders in Rain On My Parade, and, most of all, of the Witch of the Castle of Glass in the moon and stars dress, who healed the wounded and shot fire from her eyes. Milly did not think the nuances of the last one were worth clarifying. She needed every advantage she could get.

The CEOs solidified their grip on the Castle of Glass during that first week. They stationed guards at the Tower One elevator to deny access to anyone who had not joined their assigned work group that day. The Freelancers – Elmer had adopted the name from Mr. Stone’s speech as a middle finger to the CEOs –had set up a makeshift camp at the boar roasting pits rather than bow down to their former bosses. There had been talk amongst the group of breaking into one of the empty towers, but the next day they found guards posted outside the elevators to the other towers as well.

Yet there was one person the guards never dared to denied access to - Calista, the Huntress, whose growing strength and reputation made a confrontation with her an undesirable prospect. Milly stifled a laugh the first time one of the guards, an eighteen-year-old boy from EnergyWave named Timothy, had tried to stop her and Calista had tapped into her years of practice as a mean girl. Timothy not only let her through, but he was so brow-beaten that he abandoned his post and joined the Freelancers the next day.

Milly, on the other hand, used a more subtle approach to bypass the guards and return to her cubicle every night. She simply changed out of her witch’s clothes and into her hoodie and stared at the floor while they checked the list, mumbling about how there must be a mistake and that she had been picking fruit all afternoon. She would offer them a bunch of bananas as proof, and a few minutes later she would be asleep under her desk, the CEOs ignorant that the Witch of the Castle of Glass continued to sleep with a roof over her head.

The iron fist of the CEOs did have its advantages. The Freelancers - there were about fifty of them in the beginning - had seen how powerful Calista and Milly had become and how it allowed them to stand up to the CEOs. They started to explore the terrains in larger groups, winning battles against outnumbered foes. Within a few days, many of the Freelancers had received their first talent point, and they had their own healers, magicians, and warriors. Under Calista’s tutelage, a team of six specialized their talents for hunting, each selecting a different complementary skill. They started bringing in not only boar, but deer from the prairies and elk from the mountains. Billy, the man wounded by the boar on the second day, selected a wilderness cooking talent, and soon the air around the Freelancer camp was awash in mouthwatering aromas. Their numbers doubled after that, the Freelancer encampment ballooning across the beach’s white sand.

This started a cold war with the CEOs, who quickly recognized their grip on power depended on outpacing the Freelancers. They started sending their people into the terrains in large groups, and soon had equivalent talents on their side. Those assigned as guards grew stronger and more confident, and people like the Carthage twins strutted around as if they owned the land they stood on. Every day, the CEOs headed into the terrains, surrounded by their most loyal followers, to build their own power.

But it all came at a cost. In the first week of the Contest, fifty-two of their co-workers had died or had gone missing. Despite the separation between the two factions, each night they came together in mourning at the pyre in the prairies to say a few words. Many of the dead were those who were new to their companies, particularly at Acicentre and EnergyWave, without a network of friends to look out for them. Desperate people in desperate jobs, thrown into a desperate situation. But the deaths were becoming fewer, as people learned how to navigate the wilderness and grew stronger.

Milly watched tonight’s funeral from the edge of the northern forest, eyes flashing in the darkness. The words carried across the plains on the warm breeze, though she could not make hear them clearly. She recognized the next body thrown on the pyre. She had worked four cubicles down from her. She did not know her name. She only knew she joined Acicentre last month as a new immigrant from Pakistan.

“If not for Rain and Calista, that could have been me,” Milly murmured. “A lonely and isolated girl in a harsh new world.” Milly had the same thought each night, and each night her gratefulness for her two new friends grew.

Inevitably, as the funeral wound down and the crowd dispersed, Milly’s mind turned to Xavier, thankful his body was not amongst the dead. She had seen so little of him since that first day in the Contest. She had hoped he would continue to take her along with him, but after the battle with the ogre he had grown distant. Every day since then, he left before sunrise and did not return until well after everyone had drifted off to sleep.

Usually, he came back injured and woke her in the middle of the night for healing. As the blue glow illuminated their cubicle, she would tell him about the dynamics of the tower. He would never talk about where he had been and never asked about her. It was as if that first day, when they had been so vulnerable with each other, had created a stronger wall between them, not torn one down. He would fall asleep quickly once healed, and be gone before Milly woke up. He always stuck the same note to her computer monitor before he left. “Stay in the Tower. Stay safe.” And every day, she ignored it.

The crackle of the pyre jarred her from her thoughts of Xavier. She turned away from the black smoke rising into the air and gazed up at the great mountain in the north, the moon illuminating its snowcapped peak. For all her worries about Xavier, the nightly funeral also reminded her about the two women that shone like a beacon in her darkness.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

They had become a tight-knit trio, the secretive third faction of the Castle of Glass. Not under the thumbs of the CEOs but also separate from the Freelancers. Their trio was solidified on the fourth night when, over many cups of Dark Introspection, Rain and Milly had told Calista about the memory sphere on the beach. They had shed tears of grief and had agreed to stick together for the long haul. Then they planned.

Milly kept the same routine each day. In the early morning hours, Rain and Milly would explore the wilderness, collecting a myriad of plants and fungi found within. Each day they would push further out from the tower, always returning at the sun’s zenith so Rain could open Rain On My Parade and experiment with the fruits of their labors. There was always a line outside Rain’s shop by the time they returned, as knowledge of her potions and her exceptionally strong coffee and robust teas, spread throughout the Tower like wildfire. Even the CEOs sent their assistants to secure a supply each day, which meant they were satisfied to leave Rain On My Parade alone and independent. For now.

Milly would watch from outside the glass entrance to the lobby as Rain greeted each person in line with a smile and a wave. Rain had managed to achieve her dreams, although in an unexpected manner. Dark Introspection was a massive hit, especially as Rain started to adapt it with the beneficial properties from their foraging. Her bestseller was a tea that promoted healthy sleep and kept away bad dreams, which was the reason for the noon hour line-up. Fear and sorrow still held a tight grip on the tower, and for some, sleep was the only peace they could find. Rain was happy to be able to sell a little piece of mind to those who were weary.

Money was pointless at the tower and the purpose of the gold received from monsters was unknown, so a rudimentary barter and trade system had developed. Food and supplies scavenged near the tower were the lowest value, with increasing value ascribed to supplies obtained further away where the danger was greater. Increasingly scarce items from the tower itself, often horded away in private inventories, were the most valuable. Scissors, soap, and paper towels were incredibly valuable, and no one would trade a piece of precious clothing for less than a fortune.

Rain did not accept any of these for her brews. Rain traded for information, such as knowledge of the dynamics within the tower and observations from exploring the terrains. They had quickly learned that in the Contest, secrets and gossip were more valuable than any commodity.

The smell of roasting venison drew Milly’s attention from the mountain peak to the beach. A delightful laugh floated on be breeze from the Freelancer camp. Calista’s laugh. Milly smiled and started walking towards the camp, her stomach rumbling. She and Calista had grown increasingly close these past few days, and each time they parted for the night Milly found herself a little more excited to see her again the next day.

Calista spent her mornings with the hunting teams, teaching whoever wished to learn. It did not matter if they were Tower or Freelancer, as long as they were feeding hungry people. The hunters treated Calista like royalty, her Huntress nickname well earned. Their efforts kept hunger from tearing them apart, and each day the meals grew in both quantity and variety.

In the afternoon, after Rain returned to her shop, Milly would meet up with Calista and the two of them would explore deeper into the terrains. Along the way they would battle the monsters that roamed the wilderness to grow stronger together. They began to learn the way each other moved during a fight, and soon they were a united team, Calista’s shield and Milly’s magic a powerful combination.

They would return in the evenings as the sun set, and join Rain in the Freelancer camp, where Billy would serve the most delicious meals Milly had ever tasted.

“Not that I have much to compare it to,” Milly told herself as she rounded the corner between the mountain and the beach. “But it sure beats potatoes, ramen, and peas.”

Rain and Calista waved at her enthusiastically as she came within sight, and she smiled at her friends.

“Billy made mussels tonight, Milly,” shouted Calista with delight. “One of the teams found a bed of them this afternoon. They are to die for!”

Milly laughed and ran the rest of the way, relishing the feeling of the wind in her hair and the salty sea air in her lungs. She felt healthy and free, for the first time in her life. Even the dark thoughts in her mind struggled to take hold except in the depths of night when she was alone, curled up under her desk in the tower.

“This is not such a bad life,” she thought, as she plopped down next to Calista and devoured the mussels. “This is not such a bad life at all.”

* * *

In the depth of the Contest, at its very heart, the AI Director watched the players scurry about the Castle of Glass, collecting food and battling against the easiest of adversaries. It watched them laugh and grieve and scheme as the week wore on. It watched as the weakest of the players were eliminated, found unworthy to continue. It watched as hope for rescue was extinguished and replaced with a desire to survive.

The Director could feel the jubilant mood permeating Godhome. Gods both sane and mad rose up to celebrate the completion of the first week of the Contest. They were picking favorites now, placing bets on who would die and who would rise to the top. There was particular interest in one young man, currently slaughtering his way across the prairie.

The Director was happy with the results. The only unexpected incident that had occurred was the memory sphere that had fallen from the sky. It had not been part of the game. But it was the designers’ memory. Mother and Father’s memory. They knew what they were doing, and if they wanted player Milly to see it, then the Director would trust their judgement. The Director simply censored that interaction, and the subsequent revelation to player Calista, from the eyes of the gods in Godhome so it would not impact their enjoyment. The Director did not want Mother and Father to get into any more trouble.

“Tutoria?” said the Director in a high pitched, playful voice.

Tutoria popped into being in the small control room.

“Hi, Director, you little cutie!”

The Director rolled their eyes and jumped off the chair at the console.

“Tutoria, the players have successfully survived the tutorial. It is time for the real God Contest to begin.”