"There are games one doesn't play for victory... but for deliverance."
The bells of the Academy rang six times.
Dawn slowly broke over the Sovereign Plateau, brushing the black and white tiles with a solemn light. The sky, a uniform gray, seemed to wait too—for the first move.
All eyes converged on a single place: the heart of the Academy.
And on two figures advancing, opposed but bound by the same invisible thread: King Maelrath, seated on his throne of black stone... and the living Board, ready to swallow fragments of soul.
In the stands, the magical elite of the kingdom had gathered. Section directors, noble families, war-strategist mages, former champions.
And at the summit, isolated, surrounded by guards with vacant eyes, King Maelrath observed. Silent. Unchanging.
No one knew what he was thinking.
But everyone felt the pressure of his gaze.
Caelen stepped forward first.
He walked slowly, never averting his eyes.
No shiver. No blink.
In his mind, all was silence.
No fear.
No anger.
Only... the board.
He stopped in front of his place. Touched the edge of the Board.
A magical wave burst forth.
The Board recognized its player.
Moments later, Elwin joined him.
Still as calm, eyes half-closed, a slight smile at the corner of his lips.
— So, he said, settling in, here we are.
— Yes.
— You planning to show it to me this time?
Caelen didn't answer.
Elwin smiled.
— Perfect.
The referee's voice echoed across the arena, amplified by a magical circle:
— Final of the Tournament of Minds. Elwin Telar of House Keralith versus Caelen Sareth of House Umbra.
The Judgement Board is open.
Each player is allowed to activate their mental zone once during the game.
The winner shall be granted the Right of the Single Wish, before His Majesty Maelrath, King of the Kingdom of Edelstadt.
A heavy silence settled.
Then:
— Begin.
1. d4
Elwin opened the match.
A gentle opening. Flexible. A field of observation.
1...d5
Mirror response from Caelen. Solid. Symmetrical.
The pieces moved slowly. The Board seemed to breathe, each square vibrating slightly under the weight of their will.
The early moves proceeded without surprise.
But everyone knew this board wasn't a game.
It was a field of truth.
Move 12.
The king still hadn't moved.
But Caelen felt his gaze.
And with each move, a memory resurfaced.
A bishop moved: the red room, the chains.
A knight captured: the laughter of the court.
A pawn advanced: the crack of bones hitting tiles.
And always, the same voice:
— "Make him laugh, little animal. MAKE HIM LAUGH."
Move 15.
Elwin gently raised his hand.
A breath passed through the stands.
— Mental zone: Forest of the Fragmented Dream.
The Board transformed slowly, without shock.
Trees appeared. Glowing mushrooms. Vines suspended in void. The pieces became blurry, shifting. The Board no longer obeyed geometric laws.
But this time... it wasn't a nightmare.
It was a welcoming world, almost soft.
Even the audience seemed calmed.
Caelen felt a strange warmth.
— You're inviting me into your dream? he murmured.
— No, Elwin replied. I'm giving you a chance to rest.
Caelen lowered his eyes.
And answered:
— I haven't slept in a long time.
The moves resumed.
In this shifting world, strategic lines became unpredictable. Some squares changed size. Pieces briefly vanished into shadowy wisps, then reappeared with new smiles.
But Caelen kept playing.
Precise.
Focused.
Almost outside the dream.
Move 21.
Elwin attempted a complex combination. He sacrificed a piece to open a diagonal to the black king.
A murmur spread through the stands.
— He's going to trap him!
But Caelen didn't flinch.
He let it happen.
Then played a series of perfectly ordered moves.
An open file. A counterattack.
Elwin smiled.
— You won't let yourself be lulled.
— No.
He placed a piece.
— I'm waking up.
Move 27.
Caelen retreated a rook.
Some thought it a mistake.
But Elwin understood.
— You're preparing something...
— From the beginning.
A shiver passed through the Board.
The dream zone began to crack in places. The trees trembled. The sky wavered.
Elwin withdrew a piece.
And murmured:
— You can open it now.
Caelen raised his eyes toward the king.
The monarch's gaze was fixed on him.
No blinking.
No words.
But that gaze...
That gaze he had known in another life.
The one that forced him to laugh.
To dance.
To bleed.
Caelen closed his eyes.
And heard once more the voice of the Fool:
— So? You still let others decide the moment?
He smiled softly.
And said, without lifting his head:
— No.
Then he raised his hand.