Somewhere outside the reach of time and space itself, in a room where silence was neither empty nor still, two hooded figures sat at a table.
The table was small and round, carved from a single slab of ancient petrified wood, etched with rings older than any world still spinning. Between them sat a chessboard made of light and shadow, the pieces carved from fragments of crystal, bone, ink, and memory.
One figure moved first. Slender fingers wrapped in bandages picked up a knight carved from broken clocks and set it forward with a soft click.
"Well, well…" Said the figure in a lilting, amused tone. "Miles again?"
The other figure chuckled, low and gravelly, and leaned back. Smoke wreathed his hood as if the air itself dared not settle too long on his presence.
"You know I've always liked his kind." The second figure said, watching the board. "The ones who break rules because they believe too hard in them."
