Penraven1509
The void stretches endless, starless, silent. Suspended in that nothingness floats the cosmic chessboard - squares black as pitch and white as bone, every piece carved from souls and shadow.
Asmodeus circles the board in top hat and tails, golden eyes gleaming. "Frank Hayes. Twenty-two. Irish. Starving himself to ride a twenty-to-one longshot. He'll chase that dream right into my hands."
Lira watches him, strawberry-blonde hair shifting like autumn copper. "He wants to be seen. Not owned."
"Oh, he'll be seen," Asmodeus purrs, moving the pawn forward. "Forever. Game on."