The serpent reformed with a sound like bones grinding, its shattered starlight knitting into flesh and scale once more. Its empty eyes glowed, locked on Kaelen and Lyra as though they were prey trapped in a cage.
Kaelen steadied his breathing, forcing calm into his voice. "It's not just respawning. It's… resetting. Every piece returns when destroyed."
Lyra's blaster hummed in her hands. "So we can't win by fighting. Then how do we win?"
The ground beneath them shifted, tiles sliding like gears in an impossible machine. A new shape emerged across the board—a smaller figure, cloaked in shadows, carrying what looked like a single candle. It flickered, fragile, against the darkness.
The eye loomed overhead.
"Protect your flame. If it dies, you fall. Their King hunts your candle. Protect it… or be erased."
The cloaked figure turned, revealing a pale, childlike face. Its expression was hollow, but its eyes carried a spark—just enough to make Kaelen's chest tighten. It was their "piece," their responsibility.
Lyra swore under her breath. "It's using children?"
Kaelen clenched his jaw. "No. Not children. Symbols. But alive enough to make us hesitate."
The serpent lunged again, not for Kaelen this time, but for the fragile candle-bearer.
Kaelen reacted on instinct. The relic blazed, and he hurled a wave of light across the tiles. It struck the serpent, blasting it backward into fragments again. But this time, Kaelen didn't aim to kill. He aimed to stall.
The pieces shifted again—this time the enemy's titans marched forward, each step rattling the candle-bearer's fragile ground.
Lyra fired at one of the titans, her blasts ricocheting off its armored chest. "We can't hold this forever!"
Kaelen's mind raced. It was a game, yes. Games had rules. Rules could be bent, broken, hacked.
Then he noticed something—the relic's glow seemed to ripple not just across his square, but along the lines of the tiles themselves, as though it connected to the entire grid.
A thought struck him. Dangerous. Desperate. But maybe the only way.
He stabbed the relic into a tile. The entire square lit up, brighter than the rest, and the titan stepping onto it suddenly froze. Its body fragmented before it could move, collapsing into stardust.
Kaelen's heart pounded. "The tiles themselves. They're not fixed. The board can be rewritten."
Lyra's eyes widened as she ducked a swipe from another titan. "You mean… we can hack the game?"
Kaelen pulled the relic free, the tile dimming again. "Not hack—fight it with its own rules."
The eye above narrowed, voice like grinding stone.
"Clever flame. But every trick costs. Alter the board… and the board alters you."
Pain stabbed through Kaelen's arm, the relic searing his flesh as if punishing him for his discovery. His vision blurred for a heartbeat—just long enough for another serpent to lash out.
Lyra shoved him aside, taking the strike across her shoulder. She hit the ground hard, gasping in pain but refusing to scream.
Kaelen's fury ignited. He raised the relic high, chains of light lashing across the tiles to bind the serpent again.
The First Thread's voice echoed, almost amused.
"Yes. Struggle. Cheat. Break my board if you dare. Each move brings you closer… not to victory, but to me."
Lyra forced herself up, blood trickling from her arm, eyes blazing. "Then we'll break every rule you have."
Kaelen's grip tightened on the relic, his resolve hardening. "And we'll burn your game to the ground."
The candle flickered dangerously, the titans looming closer.
The Spiral Game had only just begun.