High above, the blue glow lifted and turned to gold, illuminating the board as with rays of dawn. The first dawn, and the last. Across a field of perfectly-graphed squares, flashes of invisible lightning crackled from beneath the visors and helms of the opposing armies. This was their only challenge. As mute and still as death they waited, listening and feeling for the signal to begin.

Beside her King, the White Queen stood, paler than sun-bleached bones. Her slender sword, held upright with the point between her armored feet, was thinner than the breath of the northern wind, and twice as sharp. Before her ranked a single line of soldiers, all in perfect symmetry, and smaller than every other combatant of the board. Over their helmeted heads the White Queen’s gaze flashed into the Black Queen’s midnight eyes.

Deeper than the darkest nightmare was the Black Queen’s garb, so black that it absorbed all light, giving forth neither sheen nor shadow. Her own sword was held as straight and tall as her opponent’s, but it was like a wispy shadow. It had not been made to meet mighty blows. Beneath her flowing robe was a short, curved knife, as hard and cold as obsidian.

Through the air over the field a low hum passed, so deep and melodic it seemed but the memory of a dream. Immediately after, a stronger hum vibrated the ground beneath the armies’ feet. With a low, slow grind the pawn directly before the White King advanced two squares.

A pause. Then, with another grind, the pawn before the Black Queen also advanced two squares, stopping one block diagonal from the white pawn. There was no turning back now.

Shattered blocks of black stone ricocheted across the board, some flying off into the outer darkness, others glancing against other black pawns’ shields. The war was begun.

The White Queen smiled, but then, so did the Black. What was this shadow sovereign’s design that the needless death of her own should elicit such a response? The entire board trembled as the Black Queen eased forward through the gap left by her obliterated pawn. Raising her shadow-sword, she thrust it to the hilt through the white pawn’s breastplate. He crumbled away.

But so did her sword, and the White Queen saw her chance. Slipping through the gap before her King, she stopped diagonal of the midnight foe. Then the Black Queen moved – but not away. Discarding her blade-less hilt, she stepped one square down the diagonal line, now standing before the White King. The White Queen smiled. What a foolish move – or so she thought.

A black flash shot through the air, whisking past the White Queen’s upraised sword, and imbedding itself in the White King’s throat. A final glance, and the White Queen saw the obsidian hilt. With a scream of agony and a sigh of death the entire White army crumbled to dust, leaving nothing but the White King’s crown.

The Black Queen smiled.

Game over.