**Special Valentine's Day Addition. I hope you enjoy it. Please leave me any feedback you like. Thanks for reading.**

  The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the polished mahogany table, casting delicate shadows against the deep red roses arranged between them. A subtle violin melody floated through the restaurant, weaving effortlessly between the murmur of conversation and the gentle clinking of silverware. The night was perfect.

  Sarah looked across the table at Steve—no, Mack, no—Mackiaveli, the man she had spent the past several weeks trying to hate. But tonight, in the warmth of this moment, she was Sarah again—not Dani, not a fighter, not a coder battling in the digital world. Just Sarah, a woman in love, sitting across from a man who had somehow broken through every one of her defenses.

  He was wearing a sleek black suit, the deep emerald tie neatly knotted against his crisp white shirt. And yet, despite the formal attire, there was still something unmistakably Mackiaveli about him—the confident smirk, the quiet charisma, the way he carried himself like he belonged in every room he walked into.

  "You’re staring." His lips curved as he set his glass of red wine down.

  Sarah rolled her eyes, leaning back in her chair with a small smile. "You look ridiculous in a suit."

  Mack scoffed, adjusting his cuffs. "Ridiculous? Excuse you, I look devastatingly handsome. The woman sitting across from me, however..." He took a slow sip of his wine, letting the silence stretch for dramatic effect. Then, he set his glass down, his voice softer. "...is breathtaking."

  Sarah felt warmth rise to her cheeks. "Smooth."

  "Honest." He reached across the table, brushing his fingers lightly against hers. "I’m glad you’re here."

  Sarah hesitated, then curled her fingers around his. "Yeah," she whispered. "Me too."

  They spent the next hour lost in conversation—discussing everything from their favorite childhood games to the future of Stroma AI and the metaverse. It felt easy. Familiar. Like all the tension between them had never existed. By the time they finished dessert, the restaurant had emptied slightly, the hum of voices fading into the background.

  As they stepped outside, the cool Los Angeles air wrapped around them. A sleek black limousine idled at the curb, waiting.

  "Your chariot, milady." Mack held the door open with an exaggerated bow.

  Sarah snorted. "You’re so extra."

  "And yet, you love it."

  She sighed, stepping inside. "Unfortunately."

  The ride was smooth, the city lights reflecting in the tinted windows as they wove through the streets. Sarah felt herself relax against the plush leather, fingers intertwined with Mack’s.

  "So," he said, turning to her with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have one more surprise."

  Sarah raised a brow. "Another one? First the dinner, now—"

  "You’ll see."

  The limousine slowed to a stop. Sarah turned toward the window, and her breath hitched.

  The Astra Lumina.

  A shimmering night walk through the South Coast Botanic Garden, where the stars themselves seemed to descend into the trees. A world of glowing lights, immersive music, and an atmosphere so surreal it felt like stepping into a dream.

  "Mack..." She turned to him, eyes wide.

  He simply grinned. "Happy Valentine’s Day, Sarah."

  They stepped out into the glowing path, the air humming with celestial energy. Trees were draped in cascading strands of blue and purple light, like constellations woven into the fabric of the earth. The winding walk was lined with luminous arches, stars flickering between them, creating the illusion of a journey through space itself.

  Sarah couldn’t stop staring. "This is insane."

  Mack watched her, the amusement in his eyes softening into something deeper. "You know, you always get this look when you see something you love."

  "What look?"

  "Like you’re standing at the edge of the universe, trying to figure out how to reach it."

  Sarah glanced at him. "And what if I am?"

  Mack’s smile was small, but warm. "Then I’ll help you get there."

  They wandered through the glowing pathways, pausing to take in the cosmic light installations. At one point, Mack pulled her close, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. Sarah sighed into the moment, letting herself fall into the magic of it all.

  The future felt... possible.

  She could see it now. Them. Building something together—not just in Another Life, but in reality. A future that didn’t just exist in code, but in the spaces between their laughter, in the way his fingers traced circles on her wrist, in the steady beat of his heart against hers.

  But then—

  The stars flickered.

  The warmth of Mack’s hand disappeared.

  And everything shattered.

  The roar of the crowd snapped her back to reality.

  No.

  No, no, no—

  Sarah blinked, her breath catching in her throat as her vision refocused. The soft glow of the Astra Lumina was gone, replaced by the blinding spotlights of the coliseum arena. The night air was no longer cool—it was electric, charged with the energy of thousands of spectators.

  And in front of her, standing in the combat ring, was a Minotaur-like beast of an avatar.

  Rhino Thorn.

  He was massive—easily twice her height—with three thick horns jutting from his skull. His body was covered in dark, armored plating, and his tusks, coated in saliva, glistened in the arena lights as he snorted, his red eyes locking onto her.

  The announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "WELCOME, AVATARS, TO THE FIRST ROUND OF THE TOURNAMENT OF CONTESTANTS! ON PLATFORM ONE, WE HAVE DANI SHAW VERSUS RHINO THORN!"

  Dani barely processed the words. She was still wearing her dress. The elegant, silky material of the gown she had been wearing on her date with Mack was still on her body.

  What. The. Hell.

  Rhino Thorn charged. Dani’s heartbeat slammed into overdrive. Her body refused to move. The ground shook beneath his thundering steps, his massive hooves digging into the stone as he barreled toward her.

  Her muscles locked. The dress felt real—too real. This wasn’t the first time she had entered a fight. This wasn’t the first time she had faced an opponent ready to tear her apart. But something about this moment—about being ripped from something so beautiful, from something so real—felt wrong.

  The crowd’s cheers blurred into static. Her vision tilted. The world slowed. And then—A voice.

  "You must learn to weave your codes."

  Dani gasped, her head snapping toward the source—but there was no one there.

  What—

  "Weave them."

  The moment the words registered, the world collapsed into darkness. Sarah bolted upright, gasping for air. Her hands clenched the fabric of her sheets, her heart hammering against her ribs. The dream was still fresh in her mind—the warmth of Mack, the enchanting walk under the celestial glow, the feeling of something real slipping through her fingers. And then—

  The arena. The fight. The voice.

  "You must learn to weave your codes."

  She exhaled, rubbing her temples. It was just a dream. But why did it feel like something more? Her subconscious was trying to tell her something. Something critical. She needed answers. She needed to train.

  Sarah logged in to her private server, appearing in the vast, empty white room she had trained in before. It was a blank slate—a controlled environment where she could experiment with code without the pressure of an opponent breathing down her neck.

  She sat cross-legged on the floor, closing her eyes. The usual routine would be to clear her mind, let her thoughts drift, and focus on one task at a time. But today?

  "Maybe I should try something different."

  Instead of shutting everything out, she let all of her thoughts flood in. Her fingers twitched. Lines of code flickered in her HUD.

  What if...

  What if she could code weave like the voice had said? She reached out mentally, feeling the strands of fire within her digital self, imagining them as threads instead of raw power. Nothing. No response. Frustration bubbled up.

  "I’m missing something."

  She focused harder, thinking of real weaving, like a tailor threading fabric.

  Weave, don’t command.

  Instead of forcing fire to exist, she visualized threading it through herself, blending it into her movements, letting it become an extension of her rather than something she wielded.

  Suddenly—Her fingers tingled. A soft flicker of flame danced in her palm. Her breath hitched. Not just fire. Controlled fire. A structured pattern instead of chaos. Sarah grinned.

  "This is it. This is code weaving."

  She stood up, rolling her shoulders, extending her hands as the fire began to shift and reform in the air around her.

  Sarah stopped momentarily and pulled up her system settings, adjusting the time dilation manually. The White Room allowed for some manipulation of time flow, though it wasn’t as extreme as what she had experienced in Vesta’s realm.

  Sarah took a deep breath, standing in the center of her private White Room. The space around her was infinite, blank—a vast, empty void designed for one purpose: pure training. She accessed her settings. Time Dilation. This was one of the perks of high-tier coding spaces in Another Life. A few adjustments, and—

  "Time Dilation: 5x Speed."

  A confirmation window appeared:

  WARNING: Time Dilation activated. Extended use may cause mental fatigue.

  Five hours here would be one hour in the real world. That meant she had time to push herself—hard. She exhaled slowly, engaging the setting. The world around her shimmered, as if the simulation itself acknowledged the change. She flexed her fingers, feeling the subtle warmth in her palms, the residual sensation of fire waiting to be born

  Confused and a little shocked, Sarah paused before activating the training as she thought.

  “Vesta has training videos. Wow! Ok, Let’s go!”

  Sarah chuckled and pressed the enter button on the training module. Her HUD flickered, and a holographic tutorial screen appeared, displaying Vesta’s face—calm, wise, and almost playfully smug, as if she had been expecting this moment.

  "I will take you through a few stages of training to help you learn how to weave your code and unite it with your element and avatar combat skills," Vesta’s pre-recorded message explained.

  "You can also use it for healing, traps, shields, and buffs. It’s code, so it can do anything you can think of creating. The key is not to force it—but to weave it."

  Sarah clenched her fists. This was it. If she wanted to stand a chance in the competition, she had to become something more than just a decent coder with fire abilities. She had to master Code Weaving.

  She focused. Her first attempt was clumsy, a rush of adrenaline sending power surging through her fingers. A weak flicker of fire puffed into existence, barely lasting a second before dissipating into nothing.

  She gritted her teeth. She tried again—this time with more concentration. A tiny spark danced at her fingertips, flickering uncertainly. And then—nothing. Her frustration flared hotter than the flames she was trying to summon.

  "Come on. Just work."

  Vesta’s words echoed in her mind.

  "You’re thinking like a coder.

  You’re trying to force a function when you should be weaving an element."

  She took a slow breath, relaxing her shoulders. Instead of treating fire as a script to execute, she thought of it as an extension of herself. She moved her fingers—not commanding, but guiding—and suddenly, the flames lingered.

  Her HUD flashed the update. A small grin tugged at her lips. This was different. This was progress.

  Now, the fire wrapped around her fingers, glowing like thin golden threads. She tried to loop them together, braiding the flames into rings, but the moment she lost focus—

  WHOOSH.

  The heat exploded outward, the rings unraveling into pure, chaotic energy before vanishing.

  "Damn it!"

  Her hands curled into fists, the frustration creeping back in.She had control for a second—but control wasn’t enough.

  Vesta’s message played again:

  "You are trying to contain the fire. Fire is movement, Daughter of Fire. Let it breathe."

  Sarah closed her eyes. She let go of the need for perfection. Instead of locking the flames into static shapes, she let them flow, allowing them to twist through the air like silk ribbons caught in the wind. And this time—they didn’t disappear. They danced at her fingertips, bending to her rhythm.

  Her heartbeat quickened. She was starting to get it.

  A steady orb of fire floated in her palm, stable for the first time. Sarah stared at it, mesmerized. It wasn’t flickering. It wasn’t unraveling. It was waiting. She willed it to grow.

  Instead of bursting out of control, the flames expanded smoothly, stretching outward like molten glass being shaped by a master artisan. This was it. The key wasn’t force—it was understanding the rhythm. She wasn’t just coding fire. She was weaving it into herself.

  The fire moved with her now, wrapping around her wrists and shoulders, reinforcing her armor like a living entity. She launched small projectiles, shaping the flames into arrows, shields, and whips at will.

  She tested its offensive capability—quick, controlled bursts. She tested its defensive strength—reinforcing her armor, shaping protective barriers in an instant. Every movement felt natural. The fire wasn’t just an ability anymore. It was a part of her. She was Daughter of Fire.

  The final step. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The fire didn’t need commands anymore. It pulsed beneath her skin, woven into her very presence. She could sense it—not as a tool, but as an extension of herself. She raised her hands—flames ignited on instinct.

  She moved her body—her armor absorbed the heat, reinforcing its durability. Her legs burned with speed, her hands flickered with raw energy, and her breath carried the warmth of a smoldering ember. Sarah smiled.

  This… this is real power.

  She had mastered it. She was ready. She checked the time. Her stomach dropped.

  "Oh, shit."

  She was two and a half hours late for the competition.

  This is part of a series of stories that have lived solely in my head for many years, and I’ve finally started writing them as serialized fiction books. If you think the story sucks, feel free to tell me—it’s all part of the process. That said, I’m also looking for constructive criticism, so any suggestions are welcome and will be considered as I work to improve the series.