Children of The Spheres

Intermission: Reminiscence

The lakeside clearing feels distant from the chaos we're used to. A quiet serenity hangs in the air, with the ancient tree's branches shading most of the open space. The faint mist hovering above the lake mirrors the focused silence between Kassian and me as we play. His sharp eyes never leave the datapad—he's a picture of calm intensity.

He's deliberate, his brow slightly furrowed as he moves his knight—not just across the board, but back in time, creating another timeline. Fifth-dimensional chess is no ordinary game, and that's exactly why Evander insisted we play it. Unlike traditional chess, this game forces us to juggle multiple boards, navigate through different timelines, and anticipate every possible future variation, all at once. It's a test of how far our minds can stretch.

I glance up briefly. Nora and Keira are in the center of the clearing, locked in hand-to-hand combat. Nora's calculated movements can't match Keira's wild, unpredictable attacks.

Aurelia stands nearby, her cold green eyes following every misstep. "Focus!" The command wasn't directed at me, so I refocus on my own affair with Kassian—what can I say, she has a way of slicing through my concentration.

I've been watching the board for minutes now, replaying every move we've made since the start. The datapad displays multiple timelines, each branching from a single move like webs extending out from the present. Kassian's quiet, his expression unchanged as he taps the screen, submitting his move.

I study the board as the screen refreshes. His rook has slipped between two dimensions, landing on an alternate past. It's a masterful move—his rook isolates my king on one board, pins my knight in another, and on a third, a bishop he moved earlier is cutting off my escape routes. Check in three dimensions.

My mind races, running through possibilities. In traditional chess, this would be easier—one board, one path—but not here. Kassian thrives on complexity; the more layers, the better. But I refuse to let him overwhelm me. I scan the datapad, looking for cracks in his play.

There—his rook is vulnerable. It's sitting two turns ahead on one timeline, isolated from support. If I can shift my queen two squares forward on another board, moving her across the past, I can create a branching path where she cuts off his rook's trajectory, forcing him to divert his attention. But it's not just about the rook. I need to think ahead. My queen, positioned properly, can also give me leverage in the present timeline, protecting my king while opening up a diagonal attack on one of his bishops.

Still, the risk is real. Moving my queen into that space opens her up to a counterattack. Kassian's subtle, always layering his moves. His pawn could move two spaces forward in the alternate timeline, slipping into a spot that would block my queen and give him the upper hand. My thoughts run through the possibilities. If I miscalculate, it's over. But if I don't move, I'll be pinned in three separate dimensions.

I've played enough games with Kassian to know he thrives on hesitation. Not this time. I'll force his hand before he forces mine. With a steady breath, I tap the screen. My queen moves forward two squares, bridging the past and future. A new branch emerges on the datapad—a future where my queen threatens his rook, another where she protects my king. It's not perfect, but it opens doors.

I look up at my opponent. He's calm, collected as he studies the board. For a moment, I wonder if he saw this coming. He hasn't blinked. His fingers hover, then he makes his move. The screen lights up—his rook crosses both time and timeline axes, bypassing my trap entirely. It slides into position, taking my queen with it. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach.

I stare at the board, letting the loss sink in. He had already calculated my every possible move five turns ago. The game is done. Checkmate. I clench my jaw, but there's no frustration—just quiet respect. He pushed me to the edge, and I missed the one variable that could've changed the outcome.