Anetho sat in his dimly lit bedroom. A single chestboard with peices scattered about in the image of grotesque and morbid figures. Women with arrows piercing them stand as the queens. Doom Guards heralding their master as the towers they must have appeared in life. Pawns in the image of mere men, faces twisted in fear. He sighed, moving a knight forward past the line of pawns, forming a long, jagged line with others opposite of them. “This is what you would do…” He muses, then taking the rooks from each side opposite of him where they’d been positioned and moving both to his sides. “…And this is what would result…” He pulls the knight from the board all-together and sets it aside. “…The queen would follow behind in a bid of vengeance, if she does not pull herself from the battlefield… No, this needs to happen.”

He shakes his head, reclining in his chair, arm draped over the back. “…And then the deviously devout bishop that is her daughter would follow… No… I swore an oath…” He runs his right hand down his face, quite distraught. “So close to the fire I cannot let any of them burn.” He stands and moves to his bed and falls face first upon it. “…Not before the last piece is set…”


~ by anethodawnpride on May 6, 2013.

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