The game

The scent of crushed wild clover and electric ozone woke Maya first. She sat up on a carpet of iridescent blue grass, blinking against a sky painted in soft lavender. A few paces away, Elina was already on her feet, adjusting the lens of her DSLR camera to capture the strange, translucent blossoms fluttering around them. Chloe was rubbing her eyes, looking around the breathtaking, dreamlike landscape in utter bewilderment.

"Where are we?" Chloe whispered, reaching out toward the nearest trunk—a massive, shimmering oak with bark that rippled like liquid gold. "This place looks like a fairytale."

"Chloe, wait—don't touch that!" Elina yelled, snapping her camera down.

Before the warning could land, Chloe’s fingers brushed the metallic bark. A sharp chime echoed through the air, vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. A flood of terrifying memory rushed through Elina’s mind—the neon skies, the hidden hazards, the rules. She had been here before. They all had.

"It’s not a fairytale," Elina breathed, her face turning pale. "It’s the System. Touching anything activates the first trial."

The golden trunk split open with a sickening screech. Thousands of glowing, obsidian-shelled bees poured out, their hum sounding like grinding gears. They didn’t hover; they targeted.

"Run!" Maya shouted, grabbing Chloe by the jacket as the swarm surged forward.