Travis Walder had just switched his controller to drone mode.
The virtual camera rose over the pixelated canopy of coniferous forests. He was searching for a site to mine gold.
His map displayed several yellow patches on the lower slopes of the mountains bordering the forest—potential deposits.
He zoomed in, evaluating the terrain, trying to decide where machinery could be set up. And, of course, making sure no one else occupied the area.
In these worlds, one never knew what kind of beings might lurk in the woods.
The boy bit his lip. He needed resources to finish building his fortress—his only protection for the domain he had carved out—but he didn't have enough villagers or wood to expand the mine, even though he owned vast tracts of forest.
Frustrated, Travis raked his fingers through his messy black hair. Against his pale skin, his eyes—an unusual shade of violet-blue—narrowed toward the horizon. The most promising mountain ranges didn't belong to him.
All that breathtaking scenery was part of a videogame called Chronicles of Sonata, a tactical fantasy world where each player ruled a kingdom of magical creatures—elves, fairies, goblins, ogres, and more.
The goal was to gather resources—gold, oil, magic, wood, minerals—scattered across different regions of the map. Players could use enchanted artifacts and characters, forging alliances or waging wars to expand their empires.
The ultimate objective: amass enough wealth and magic to raise an army powerful enough to conquer a legendary fortress in the heart of Sonata—a mythical realm known as Toskarpa, where a fabled Gem of Power was said to rest.
To reach it, one had to solve a series of cryptic puzzles and collect magical eggs that acted as keys, each unlocking new territories.
But if any player ever made it that far, they would face the greatest challenge of all: a fortress guarded by a monstrous army—zombies, phantoms, and werewolves.
None who had attempted it had ever returned victorious; each failed, losing everything and starting anew.
The 3D world of Sonata was vast and vivid, filled with spectacular landscapes and detail.
With its sweeping drone views, overhead maps, and first-person exploration mode, it had become the gaming phenomenon of the year among teens and adults alike… even beyond that.
Travis and his friends—Brendan Adams and Gaby López—were among its most devoted players.
Each had their own kingdom to fortify and supply. Together they traded resources, launched raids, and formed alliances, hoping one day to uncover Toskarpa itself.
Recently, a new augmented reality mode had been released. Players could now hunt roaming creatures called brexits throughout their real cities, locating them via GPS on their mobile devices.
The feature had stirred controversy after several players ventured into dangerous or restricted areas chasing these grotesque goblin-like beings.
But warnings didn't stop anyone. For thousands of young players—and quite a few adults—the risk was worth the reward.
That night, as usual, Travis sat before his glowing computer screen, headset on, Coke can in one hand, a half-eaten bag of chips in the other.
His algebra notes were scattered across the desk beneath his snacks. After tweaking a few settings on the screen, he leaned back in his chair with a sigh.
He took a long sip of soda and muttered, "Damn it."
"What's wrong, love?" came Gaby's voice through the headset.
"I'm out of resources. No gold to buy lumber for houses or to expand the mine. What's the point of owning half a forest if I can't exploit it? I've got one villager working and he barely brings in enough ore to craft a spoon."
"Welcome to my world," said Gaby. "I live on the coast and don't even have a single bloody ship to trade—just fishing boats."
Travis moved his cursor toward a mountainous region on the map. Snowcapped peaks rose over bustling valleys—villages, smelters, windmills, and a few scattered fortresses defending the prosperous realm of Prince Yalta, Brendan's in-game persona.
"Brendan's the lucky one," Travis muttered. "He even built a railway to transport ore from his mines."
"Yeah, try asking him for help," Gaby said dryly.
"I know… he's stingy."
"Stingy? No, visionary," Brendan's deep voice chimed in. "A good administrator. It's not my fault you two can't manage your kingdoms."
"Oh, the dealmaker speaks," Gaby snorted.
Travis frowned, his eyes fixed on the half-built castle perched on a cliff—his only defense against the inevitable invasion.
"If I don't finish that fortress, I'm done for."
"Brendan," said Gaby sweetly, "maybe you could lend Travis a few resources?"
"Sorry," Brendan replied flatly. "That's not how I do business."
"Rot in hell," Gaby snapped.
Brendan chuckled, his braces glinting against his dark skin.
Two sharp knocks came at Travis's door.
"Still playing that damn game?" came Grandma Edna's voice. "It's nearly midnight, and you've got school and work tomorrow!"
"I'm logging off, Grandma! I was doing homework," Travis shouted back.
"Sure you were," she replied. "I left a basket of clean laundry by the door—and for heaven's sake, go to bed!"
Her slippers shuffled away down the hall, punctuated by the sound of a door slamming.
Travis smirked and opened a group chat with his friends.
Travis_Knight: Guys, I'm out. The Gestapo just knocked.
Queen_Edalos: Good luck. I should sleep too. By the way—have you ever dreamed of strategizing?
Prince_Yalta: Constantly. That's the secret of my success.
Travis grinned and typed again.
Travis_Knight: See you at school. Anyone finish the algebra?
Queen_Edalos: Nope.
Prince_Yalta: No. We're counting on you.
Queen_Edalos: Algebra hates me. Help us before class?
Travis_Knight: Fine.
Queen_Edalos: How's your grandfather?
Travis_Knight: Haven't heard from him. Think he's in Italy.
Prince_Yalta: Looking for dinosaurs in Italy?
Queen_Edalos: For the last time, Brendan—he's a paleographer, not a paleontologist.
Travis smiled faintly. "I found an email," he said. "It mentioned sites in Rome. So yeah, probably Italy."
"Brilliant deduction," Gaby teased. "Good thing it didn't mention Mars—you'd think he was on another planet."
"You know that's impossible," said Brendan, ever literal.
"I was being sarcastic," Gaby sighed.
"Elon Musk says we'll get there," Brendan countered. "He already sent a car into space—guess he plans to die there."
"It was a mannequin!" Gaby protested. "And that car's gonna fall apart from solar radiation. Nothing to do with Travis's grandpa being on Mars!"
Travis laughed. "Well, Italy or Mars, he could be anywhere. Anyway, if Grandma catches me, she'll break down the door."
"My aunt's already banging on mine," said Brendan.
"And Mama Lupe's after me," added Gaby. "See you tomorrow—and Travis, finish that homework."
"Yeah, yeah."
Just then, a notification popped up on Travis's screen:
Duke_Tofi wishes to form an alliance with you.
Travis frowned. "Do either of you know a 'Tofi'?"
"Nope," said Gaby.
"No," added Brendan.
"He's sent me multiple alliance invites."
"If you don't know him, don't accept," warned Gaby.
"I could use the resources…"
"Could be a hacker," said Brendan.
"And you already have us," Gaby reminded him.
Travis nodded. They logged off, leaving him alone.
He lingered, checking his stats, when a chat window blinked open:
Duke_Tofi: Hello.
Travis raised an eyebrow and typed back a casual Hey.
Duke_Tofi: I've sent you an alliance request. We could make a great team—conquer realms, amass resources, build an army, and march on Toskarpa together. Interested?
Curious, Travis inspected the player's profile. The "duke" ruled over northern islands with a Viking aesthetic—trade posts, shipyards, decent resources.
His avatar wasn't a face, just a thumbs-up emoji over a backdrop of mountains that looked like the Alps. Probably European, Travis guessed.
Travis_Knight: Thanks, Duke_Tofi. I'm already allied with some friends, but I'll think about it.
Duke_Tofi: ☹️
The chat showed the stranger typing again—but Travis logged out before the message appeared.
He opened the door, picked up the laundry basket his grandmother had left—a neat pile of freshly folded clothes smelling of fabric softener—and glanced down the hall.
A faint light glowed under her bedroom door.
He set the basket aside and sat back at his desk to finish his algebra. The equations came easily, if tediously.
When he was done, he slipped the papers into a folder and tucked it into his backpack.
A thunderclap shook the windows. Rain began to fall over Los Angeles. His phone buzzed—a message from Gaby:
Don't forget the homework!
Travis smiled, tossed the phone onto the bed, and lay down.
He put on his headphones, letting "Blind Love" by Real Life wash over him as he stared at the ceiling, where two model ships from Star Wars hung suspended: the Millennium Falcon and an X-Wing.
As usual, his thoughts began to drift with the music—and for some reason, they circled back to the mysterious Duke_Tofi.
What was that guy doing right now?
He wondered—just as sleep crept over him—while the rain drummed harder against the roofs of Los Angeles.