Darian woke in darkness.
The rain had followed him home, drumming against the cracked window of his small room above the tavern. He sat on the edge of his bed, sweat clinging to his skin though the air was cold.
The whispers had not stopped.
Open it.
Read it.
It is yours.
He clenched his fists. "There's nothing to read. I don't have—"
But he froze.
The satchel(bag) he had carried all his life, old and weather-worn, now glowed faintly at the seams. A thin light, pale and pulsing like a heartbeat, seeped from its edges.
With shaking hands, he pulled it open.
Inside lay a fragment of parchment, old as dust, yet unburned by time. The letters etched upon it shifted as he looked, sometimes curling into shapes he almost recognized, sometimes sliding away like smoke.
The torn page.
Darian's breath caught. He had never put this inside the satchel(bag). In truth, he didn't remember ever seeing it before. And yet... it felt as if it had always been his.
He reached for it.
The moment his fingers brushed the surface, the world shifted.
His room melted away. The tavern walls bent into black void. And before him appeared a vast board, stretching into infinity, its squares glowing with light and shadow. Upon it stood armies of pieces pawns, knights, kings yet every piece bore a face. Human faces.
Some wept. Some screamed. Some begged.
And he understood.
With the page in his hand, he could move them. Bend them. Command them.
The voice coiled tighter, triumphant.
At last. Do you see, child? They are all yours. A single word, a single thought, and they will march for you.
Darian staggered back. His heart thundered. "No... I won't."
But even as he said it, his hand twitched and a pawn on the board collapsed to its knees, bound by invisible chains. A real pawn, a real man, somewhere out there in the waking world.
Darian gasped and tore his hand away. The vision shattered. He was back in his room, the page resting quietly in his lap as if nothing had happened.
Except... outside, a scream pierced the night.
He rushed to the window. In the street below, a man had fallen to the ground, convulsing, eyes blank. His limbs jerked as though pulled by strings. And through the chaos, Darian realized with horror scared..."What have i Done?."
It was the same pawn he had just moved.
The page pulsed in his hand, hungry.
And for the first time, Darian understood what it meant to hold the devil's gift.