Qh7

Wind whipping around them. Reaching, but not touching. Whipping, raging. Angrily. Furiously. They sat playing. The shadow rajah was not present. He was off to survey the land that would become his domain for the second and the last time. No more would it be ruled be light. He would rule. The shadows were his. These people were his. Once they had been given a chance. They had now fully fallen into the pits of animal desire. They had fallen prey to their temptations, his temptations and no more would the Creator tolerate or amuse their little antics. It was done and dusted. He would rule. This would be his new dominion. Some shadows sat watching, slithering like kids with adhd. Unable to sit still, they slithered, smothering the ground beneath them. The board glowed with a manic light. It throbbed with an ancient power. It seemed more alive than the husks of the two men sitting on each side, long bony arms, barely kept alive, barely kept still, it felt they would blow away at the lightest touch, if the raging, tormenting wind from the outside came in, they would crumble into dust. Bony arms, bones showing at the wrists, veins long and eerie-looking by the glowing ominous light of the board. The shadows hissing in the otherwise dark clearing of land that once used to be a park. Thunder grumbled overhead. It sounded strange, almost as if it had a sore throat. The smell of something burning was in the air. The ground trembled, bowing, it seemed. As if to a new master. And yet trying very hard not to. The shadow rajah cometh. The shadows shushed. Silence precluded him. And from the shadows he came, shadows like guards and pillars on each side of him. Leading the way. A tunnel to the board. The men did not look. They would not have seen. They had not seen. Yet he was fast becoming powerful enough that they would soon. Everyone would. When he had started, when the games had begun, he was small. Weak. Now he was big and powerful. He was a wisp of a shadow. Now he had a broad chest, wide shoulders, boulders for legs. He had a red manic gleam in his eyes. This was not his true form. They could not handle it. If they needed to serve, they needed to be sane. So he kept that form hidden from them. And soon they would serve. And soon the only things that could stop him would fall. He was on a quest. The board would give him the clues. He was glad no one else knew about it. This board was the map. This active chess game had the answers. At least some of them. He was looking for something. He could not find it on the globe. So he turned to the board. He would come back here many times before it was all over. This board would point him towards where he needed to be like an arrow. If only he could decipher the moves. Queen to h7