The laughter faded into the darkness, but its echo lingered, crawling under Lysandra's skin. The air felt heavy now, like the forest itself had drawn a breath and was waiting to exhale. She rose to her feet, swaying slightly, her shoulder still burning from the shadowpiece's earlier strike.
"Malrik Tharos," Cassian muttered, his grip tightening on his sword. His voice was low, but the tension in it was sharp. "We should've burned his name from history when we had the chance."
"You act as though he ever left history," Thalassa said quietly, brushing debris from her robes. She turned to Lysandra, her expression unreadable. "The Shadow King's hand is already on the board. This wasn't just a test, child. It was a declaration of war."
Lysandra's jaw tightened. Her violet eyes flicked toward the faint silver glow of her birthmark. "War on who? Me?"
"Not just you," Thalassa said. Her voice softened. "But you are the key piece, Lysandra. The one who can disrupt his plans—or fulfill them."
Lysandra stiffened. She hated the weight of those words, the way they felt like a shackle locking her into something she didn't choose. "You keep saying I'm a piece in this game, but I didn't ask to play it."
"No one asks," Cassian said, his tone clipped. He sheathed his sword in one smooth motion and turned toward her, his sharp amber eyes scanning her face. "But whether you like it or not, the board has chosen you. If you don't learn to play, you'll drag the entire kingdom down with you."
His words cut deeper than the shadowpiece's claws. Lysandra opened her mouth to retort but stopped when the wind shifted again. A faint sound echoed through the trees—a whispering, like dozens of voices speaking at once.
Cassian froze, his eyes narrowing. "We're not safe here."
Thalassa nodded. "The forest borders are thin. If Malrik's shadowpieces have crossed, more will follow."
"What borders?" Lysandra asked, scanning the darkness uneasily.
"The kingdom rests on the edge of the chessboard's magic," Thalassa explained. "The forest marks the boundary between what is ours and what belongs to Malrik. And tonight, the lines have blurred."
Lysandra's stomach tightened. She glanced back at the faint trail leading toward her ruined tower. It seemed impossibly far away now, as though she had stepped into a different world entirely.
"We need to leave," Cassian said. His tone left no room for argument.
---
A Dangerous Path
The journey through the forest was silent, save for the crunch of frost beneath their boots and the faint hum of the threads only Lysandra could see. They pulsed faintly now, weaving through the air like ghostly trails of light. Every so often, she thought she saw them snag on the trees, pulling her in odd directions.
"Stop that," Cassian snapped suddenly.
Lysandra blinked, startled. "Stop what?"
"Staring at nothing," he said without turning. "It's distracting."
"I wasn't—" She caught herself. He didn't need to know about the threads, not yet. She had no idea what they meant, and the last thing she wanted was to give him another reason to treat her like a liability.
"Focus," he said. "The forest twists when you're not paying attention. Lose focus, and you'll lose yourself."
"What about the rest of us?" she muttered under her breath.
Thalassa shot her a faintly amused glance but said nothing.
They walked for what felt like hours, the shadows growing deeper with every step. Lysandra couldn't shake the feeling that the trees were watching them, their twisted branches reaching for her like clawed hands. The silver threads tugged at her wrists, and every so often, she swore she saw something move in the darkness.
When they finally broke through the tree line, the sight before her stole the breath from her lungs.
The chessboard capital.
The city stretched out before them, its towers and walls gleaming faintly in the moonlight. It was beautiful, symmetrical, and strange—designed like a massive chessboard, with districts named after the pieces. The Rook's Bastion loomed at the western edge, a fortress-like district with high stone walls. To the north was the Knight's Watch, its spires capped with glowing beacons of light.
And at the center, the Palace of the King. It rose above the city like a crown, its golden spires gleaming in the starlight.
Lysandra's chest tightened. She had grown up in this city, but it felt alien now, like a place she had only dreamed of.
"Welcome back, princess," Cassian said, his voice edged with sarcasm.
Before Lysandra could respond, the ground beneath them rumbled.
---
The Black Queen's Gambit
"Move!" Cassian barked, grabbing Lysandra's arm and yanking her backward as the ground split open.
Dark smoke poured from the crack, curling into the air like tendrils of poison. The silver threads around Lysandra flared to life, snapping taut as though trying to pull her away. But the smoke was faster.
It swirled into a single shape—a towering figure draped in black, its face obscured by a veil of shadow. It held a black Queen piece in one hand, the veins of green light pulsing across its surface.
"Malrik," Thalassa whispered.
The figure didn't move, but its presence pressed against Lysandra's chest like a physical weight. The silver threads around her trembled, their light flickering as though fighting to stay connected.
"Do you feel it, little Pawn?" The figure's voice slithered through the air, low and mocking. "The board has already turned against you. You cannot win."
"Watch me," Lysandra said, forcing her voice to steady.
The figure chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Such fire. But fire burns out."
It raised the black Queen piece, and the world seemed to darken.
Suddenly, the silver threads snapped taut, yanking Lysandra forward. The light around her birthmark flared again, brighter this time, illuminating the figure. For the briefest moment, she saw something beneath the shadows—human eyes, cold and calculating.
"Not yet," the figure said softly.
Before she could react, the figure dissolved into smoke, vanishing into the night. But the ground beneath her feet continued to shake, the crack spreading toward the city.
From the shadows of the forest, more creatures emerged—shadowpieces, dozens of them, their glowing green eyes fixed on the capital.
Cassian swore under his breath, drawing his sword. "We have to warn the court."
"No," Thalassa said, her voice firm. "You go to the court. I'll hold them here."
"What?!" Lysandra turned to her, horrified.
Thalassa's calm blue eyes locked onto hers. "The pieces are moving faster now. You're running out of time, child. You must reach the chessboard before he does."
"Before who does?" Lysandra demanded.
But Thalassa was already stepping toward the shadowpieces, her robes shimmering with silver light. "Move, Lysandra. Or Malrik will take the King."
Lysandra hesitated, the weight of the words pressing down on her. But Cassian grabbed her arm, his grip like iron.
"Run," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Behind them, the shadowpieces lunged toward Thalassa, their claws tearing through the air. The priestess stood firm, her hands glowing as she raised a shimmering barrier of light.
"Go!"
The last thing Lysandra saw before Cassian dragged her away was Thalassa, standing alone against the swarm of shadows, her light flickering like a dying flame.