The ground beneath Kaelen and Lyra cracked, then dissolved into shards of glowing dust. They fell—not downward, but sideways, spinning as gravity twisted in ways their bodies weren't meant to endure.
When they landed, it wasn't on stone or soil.
It was on a vast expanse of obsidian tiles, stretching endlessly in all directions. Each tile pulsed faintly with starlight, like a galaxy caged beneath glass. The horizon bent impossibly, as though the world itself was a sphere turned inside out.
Lyra staggered to her feet, clutching her head. "What is this place?"
Kaelen's chest rose and fell heavily as he scanned the endless grid. His fingers tightened around the relic, which pulsed faintly in response. "A board," he whispered. "We're standing on a board."
The eye above them widened, its voice echoing from every direction.
"Correct, little flame. The Spiral Game has begun. Every piece has its place, every move a consequence. You wished for freedom—earn it."
Across the grid, figures began to appear. Towering shapes of glass and fire. Armored titans carved from starstone. Some resembled knights, some beasts, some entirely alien forms, each taking a square as though obeying invisible rules.
Lyra's stomach dropped. "It's… like a cosmic chessboard."
Kaelen's gaze hardened. "No. It's worse. These aren't just pieces. They're living beings—warriors, monsters, slaves of the Thread."
One figure stepped forward—a humanoid with a crown of fractured suns burning above its head. Its body shimmered, part machine, part void, eyes hollow as collapsed stars. The King.
The eye boomed again.
"Each turn, a price. Each move, a sacrifice. Win, and you crawl another step from the abyss. Lose…"
The ground at the edges of the board split open, revealing a seething ocean of black fire. Faces screamed within the flames, stretching upward before being dragged under again.
Lyra's face paled. "This isn't a game—it's a slaughterhouse."
Kaelen gripped her hand tightly, his voice low but steady. "Then we don't play by its rules. We make our own."
The King raised its hand, and the pieces began to move. The titans thundered across the board, their footsteps shaking the very tiles. One beast, shaped like a serpent woven from shattered moons, slithered forward with impossible speed—straight toward Kaelen and Lyra's square.
Lyra yanked her blaster free, breath sharp. "Guess it's our turn."
Kaelen lifted the relic, its glow spreading across the board like defiance made light. "Then let's show them—we're not just pieces. We're players."
The serpent lunged, jaws unhinging wide enough to swallow them whole.
Kaelen swung.
The relic's blade cut across the tiles, leaving a burning scar in the grid itself. The serpent's body shattered into fragments of constellations, scattering across the board—only for the pieces to reform on another square.
Lyra's eyes widened. "It respawns! The board brings them back!"
The First Thread's laughter rippled across the stars.
"Yes. Nothing ends here… except you."
Kaelen braced himself, fury tightening his jaw. He realized the truth: this wasn't just about strength. It was about strategy, about surviving a game where even victory meant bleeding.
And the board had just made its opening move.
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