A Pawn to Fate

	“Am I safe yet? God, I hope it doesn’t come here.”
	Whispering under his thin cloak, tattered and riddled with holes all over, he peaked over his frail shoulders. The sight behind him painted the vermillion red sky blazing up in flames over the dark blank canvas. How the dreaded sight of the blazing fire danced through the night, as it softly crackled from the distance. Unito, with a tender tug on his heartstrings, cannot help himself but kept his feet pounding on the dirt path as the fire raged on.
	The dense, silent forest around him pulsated back and forth as his vision waned in and out. Alone, hungry and desperate, with his ripped shirt sticking to his pale skin, his bare feet being sore and his hands clamped to his cloak, fear started to kick in. ‘What was there to fear’, Unito thought, ‘I’m far away from the city. There’s no one following me. Right? Right?’ He could not assure himself that he was safe. That uncertainty kept him sprinting, for the chance that someone or something might be trailing him then. Even if his lungs screamed for air, his feet were sore or his limbs felt heavy as if it was chained down by a metal ball, he kept running. However, it was not long before his fatigue took its toll. Crashing into a jaggy side of a tree trunk, the breathless Unito gulped for air.
Panting feverishly, he glued his eyes shut and focused on regaining his composure. His imagination ran amok of the blazing terror that was rampaging through his dear town. What would they do if they were to hunt him down in the forest? Unito cannot bare the horrid vision unfold and yearned for somewhere to hide in: a cave, a deep trench, even a towering tree, anything that could conceal him. As if on cue, a sharp creak cracked the silence.
	Unito flicked his head up to chance upon a rundown shed. In the heart of the forest laid this peculiar shed, with no windows for any estranged passer-by to peek into, with a battered and corroding zinc-metal roof and with the brick walls of this house seemingly prepared to collapse on itself anytime. The rustic door with its metallic, ancient hinges, was coated with its own rust.  Ironically with its shabby and pathetic display, a faint yet solacing light shone within the shed. With his neck wringed, Unito eyed out for the light source.
	“Come in. I’ve been wanting to play with someone.” A raspy voice groaned out.
	Unito’s disoriented mind tried hard not to yield to the uncertainty before him. The terror-stricken city he had grown up in spat him out to this eerie hut with its pale resident inviting him in. His mind barked at him, debating on whether he should enter.
	“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” A hollow laugh arose from the frail old man. “Close the door on your way in.”
	The candlelight flickered with high-spirited in the bitter darkness, accompanying the Old Man’s woeful loneliness. Its flame was brilliant, but that gleaming candle was running out of wax.
	“Come on, now. You must be cold outside.”
	Unito, with his hands clamped to his woven cloak, trembled under the weight of the questions in his head. Was he trembling because of the chilly breeze that pierced through the forest or was it the gnawing fear out of this whole situation? Where was his family in all this? Who is this Old Man? What did Unito want?
	… What did Unito want?
	Didn’t he seek for shelter?
	What then?
	Gingerly, he shambled into the narrow hallway with the wooden boards below him creaking.
	Unito shuffled behind the Old Man timidly and peered over his shoulders only to find a tiny object glimmering back at him. A white, miniature, curvy and polished piece stood with pride in a line filled with his identical brethren, where what hid behind them were distinctive pieces that had weirdly refined symbols. The candlelight revived with a bit more audacity and illuminated brighter to reveal a Chess set. The Old Man, however, sat for the Black Side, as if he had waited for someone to play White for him. Unito, with curiousity starting to bubble in him, flicked his attention to the Old Man. The Old Man’s pure white, unkempt hair dripped down on his face, with beads of sweat trickling down from his hair, from the top of his rugged, wrinkled face. His placid face, his lifeless eyes looking straight at Unito, dug into his skull. Now that Unito noticed, his entire body seemed to be plastered by his rubbery and aging skin. The only article of clothing he had on him was merely a loincloth.
	“Wonderful. Take a seat.” His arm stretched out weakly, directing it to the vacant seat on the other side of table. Unito sheepishly sat on the wooden chair, watching as the ancient being came to life.
	“Do you know how to play Chess, my dear boy?”
	“A bit, I used to play it with my brother.”
	“Good…” The Old Man stroked his greasy beard, pleased with Unito. “You must be scared by whatever brought you here. Is that’s why you ran away?”
	“Y-Yes.”
	“What happened? All I heard was a ruckus outside from this poor little shack of mine. Heard some marching, shouting… Must be some sort of military. Where were they heading, my boy?” Unito sat without a word.
	“Speaking of which, where are your parents?”
	“I… I don’t know.” Unito’s heart sank in his chest. The thought of his family slipped away from his hazy mind.
	“Nevermind, nevermind, sorry for bringing it up. Why not we play a Chess match, ignore whatever is going on outside. You play White, I play Black. Hope you don’t mind letting me play Black, it’s my favourite side.” Gesturing his hand, he released a warm smile to the boy that shrunk into his seat. “You start first.”
	Unito nodded as his eyes tried to pick up any small detail in this room shrouded in darkness, but the candle could only do so much.
	“Sorry, I don’t have any other games here if you were wondering. I can only afford such a set.” Unito bowed his head and hovered his restless hands over his pieces, trying to make an opening move.
	“Relax, my dear boy. You can take as much time as you want. Just relax.” Relieving a sigh when his earnest advice did not cut through Unito’s distorted consciousness, he stormed for an idea.
	“How about this? Every time you feel like losing, you can swap sides with me. That way, it’s more fun, isn’t it?” A coarse laugh emerged from his soul. Unito, with the feeling of assurance cleaning his mind bit by bit, felt the weights on his shoulders lifted. A flimsy smile came out of Unito and the Old Man, in returned, beamed with all the strength he could have had from his youth, or what’s left thereof.
	“I know what could make this more interesting for the both of us, let’s make a bet. If you win I will help you find your parents. They shouldn’t be too far off, I’ve seen people wander around these woods. If I win…” He let out a grin, “Well, it doesn’t matter what I want. How about it?”
	The idea of finding his parents resonated and rebounded in him. The act of hyperventilating out of pure anxiety halted and a glimmer of hope protruded from his widened eyes that was accompanied by tiny pearls of tears.
	“I-Is that a promise?”
	The Old Man nodded.
	“Alright, we got a deal.” Shrugging off the uncertainty that shackled him by the ankles and compressed his lungs, his hand sent forth the King’s Pawn.
	Silence filled in the room as the two players squinted their eyes through the darkness as they engaged into combat. With the Old Man’s experienced tactics of reading Unito’s position, and with Unito pulling off cheap yet unexpected tricks on the Old Man, the match fared even for the both of them, with the Old Man having a slight edge over Unito.
	*Clink*
	“I have to admit, you’re not bad. Can your brother do any better than this?” The Old Man coughed out a remark.
	“Yep, he’s quite popular with his friends, being able to play Chess at such a young age. He’s even beaten our old man quite few times.”
	“I see… Now that you did mention it, what happened back there? How’s your family?”
	Unito drooped into his seat, his determined composure shattered with the passing question, with remorseful eyes and pondered on how will he get back to his family.
	How were they?
	…
	*Clink*
	“Where are you heading, boy?”
	Unito drew himself from the alluring sight of the bustling and hustling town that was swarmed with wandering merchants and outgoing vendors at the nearby flea market and faced his father in his workshop, a burly man drenched in sweat, with burn scars riding from his black leather gloves onto his bulging arms, sporting a worn-out apron and a vermillion red bandana. The head of his massive hammer struck down on the illuminating yet blunt blade that sizzled gently on his anvil that emerged from the pit of his furnace. Unhooding himself from his cloak, he answered with an exhilarated voice.
	“Going to do some errands around the town, Pa, especially with this kind of fiesta in town.”
	“Alright, alright, but you better be careful out there, word’s coming around that our country’s going through tough times. Sure, all these fancy merchants come about here and there, bringing in spices and salts, but the locals here don’t like the idea of open trade as much as the King does, think they’re stealing their business. You never know who’s out for you. We live in such tense times.” His father maintained his stern, bellowing and monotonous voice as he struck the blade again with his might. Sparks evolved from the blade and danced in the air without one care in the world before the tiny frazzling embers fade away. “With that said, come back before the Sun sets. Don’t make your mother worry on you now. Besides, she’s making your favourite Chicken Stew tonight, I doubt you’d want to miss that. Off you go now.”
	*Clink*
	After the hearty farewell, Unito sprung right out of his father’s workshop and sunk himself into the shuffling sea of people.
Indeed, the foreign merchants transiting through town intimidated Unito due to their towering and looming built, but they were all delightful to greet the young lad and out of charity, some gifted him a complimenting pouch of exotic spices. The wafting smells of spices stung deep into his nose in such an exquisite manner, where it smelt aromatically tantalizing. Of course, he was ambitious who had a bit of sleight of hand in his favour, so he treated himself in the nearby flea market, fancying some silver and gold coins jingling in some merchants’ swollen pockets.
	…
	*Clink*
	“So, you were a thief for a living? I couldn’t condone such a profession, even for you, my dear boy.” The Old Man stroked his pearly white, branching beard whilst listening with all ears up.
	“It was for my family. We weren’t that well off, and they always bought the excuse of me working errands and odd-jobs around the town. Besides, I do work errands at times, but not taking chances on rich merchants? Why shouldn’t I? Even if I were to be caught, I can just run away from my problems.” Unito beamed with his teeth flashed, recalling all the momentary feats and achievements he acclaimed from his pickpocketing habit.
	“Is that why you ran away from your parents when the war broke out?”
	“I…” Unito, with shock ridden on his face, felt bamboozled.
	“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say that, there must be other reasons why you ran away. You lost your White Knight by the way, now it is White to move. Your turn.”
	Unito peered down to the Chess board and was puzzled. It was not because of his captured Knight, but something else was off. Weren’t there less Black pieces on the board, he consolidated to himself, or maybe did I place that pawn there? Even with confusion settling in, with courage mustered, he requested to swap sides with the Old Man. The Old Man agreed to his terms and obeyed.
	“Don’t worry about losing to me that much, my child. Anyways, why then did you run away from your parents? If it wasn’t out of guilt, then what happened then?”
	“My apologies, I’ll continue on the story…” Unlike before, Unito’s tone did not exhibit the confidence and exuberance he had before.
	…
	With the blooming bazaar at the town’s square underway, Unito paid due visits to the stalls and stores manned by locals and vendors alike. Unlike favours and odd-jobs at the butcher’s, the flora store, the cafes and so on, so forth, these merchants had no shame not being stingy and wasteful and thus bestowed such blessings on Unito. Coins bedazzled in the glistening sunlight and twinkled to Unito’s joy, the smell of spices intoxicated him as if he could faint at the sniff of it, such materialistic pleasures all were laid before him. With the Sun crawling to the horizon for its nightly slumber, so did Unito feel drained. Forcing his way to a secluded corner of the bazaar through the masses, he took a breather and leaned on an alleyway’s wall and contently counted his coins and pouches of spices. It was no lie that he loved sniffing into those pouches but as he inhaled deeply, a hazy and suffocating smell smacked into his nostrils bluntly.
	*Clink*
	A thunderous clap bellowed into his ears with an ear-piercing ring afterwards as a blanket of smog polluted the air. Writhing in pain and sprawling on the floor, he gritted his teeth to get his bearings as the world around him pulsated back and forth after the shock. His hands pressed on his ears, trying to shut himself out of the scene around him. Betwixt the chaos developing before his eyes and the pain pulsing through his head, he could not figure what was this red liquid dripping out of his ear. All he processed in his sorry state were thick, black smoke erupted throughout the town, the stampeding crowd that dashed in and out hectically, where some fought with each other and some ran out of fear, and right before him in the centre of the bazaar was a roaring flame that rocked through the evening. The pain numbed and gradually lulled him into unconsciousness, but he loved how flashy the flame went on, how the shadows danced around the brilliant flame.
	A splitting headache shot him up into consciousness and he wished he did not awake into the nightmare before him. All his senses were assaulted from all fronts: he saw the demonic flame piercing with its burning luminosity, he smelt something rotting at a distance, he heard a horrid symphony of people shouting, windows shattering, fires burning, he felt the cold ground that sucked away his strength and he tasted nothing but his sour breathe. His mind was jumbled up but despite it all, he knew he has one thing to do: he must look for his family. His legs wobbled but forced himself to stand and witnessed all that was before him.
“God, what happened… What happened when I was gone…”
	*Clink*
	The bazaar was in shambles. Bodies and debris were littered over the pavement that was splashed by a palette of liquids. Splinters of wood, shattered glass fragments and blood-rusted utensils were laid to rest along the stone path to the soaring fire that blazed to its heart’s content in the middle of the bazaar. Almost all the torches there were doused out, so only the raging fire illuminated the square. The coins of the unfortunate merchants glittered under the dark shade of red. The concoction of liquids dripped down from the alleyway to the main streets of the town. Unito, with his vision impaired by the darkness, followed its trail and hoped whoever had done such an act would not be close by.
	As he ventured into the streets he once waltzed right into merrily, the idea of puking never faltered in his head. Was it the putrid sight from the mutilated dead corpses piling up in hills? Was it the sight of broken bloodstained window, littered furniture and splattered food on the streets? Was it the brawling madmen running amok on the street, ignoring the young child that was hugging the walls as they continued maiming and spreading havoc and carnage? Unito tried to pry his eyes away from it all, but who could resist such vivid images.
	…
	*Clink*
	“That could explain why the military had to come by, too much rustling in the town.” The Old Man spoke whilst noticing Unito being slightly droopy, as if he was contemplating something stirring in his pensive state. “It isn’t wise to bottle up whatever is in your head from the way I see it. What’s gotten into you?”
	No words were uttered out of the child’s tongue. Only silence in this dark yet gentle hut.
	“… It’s your parents, isn’t it?”
	Again, no words came out, but only pearls of tears came out of the boy.
	“Boy, we can talk about something else if you like. Let’s swap sides since you lost a lot, like your Bishop and Rook.”
	An awkward silence filled in the room after the sides were swapped. Unito was then playing back to White, the Old Man back to Black.
	“… If you want, I can talk about my beloved wife. I’ve also lost someone dear to me.”
	“Your wife?” Unito muttered.
	“Yes. Neither me nor my wife were around these parts of the country, but I’m no normal merchant who delve into fortune or fame. You see, my dear boy, I can do magic. Do you like magic, my dear child?”
	Unito, with curiousity, nodded.
	“I may not look like it,” the Old Man began to spoke, “but I’m a magician. However, I am not like those other scams or hoaxes. Sleight-of-hand? Child’s play. Make a rope become a snake? Nonsense. Hypnosis? Lies. What I expertise in is more than that. Case and point…”
	His bony fingers reached out to the candle’s flame and pinched it at the wick. Instead of the flame lashing out and burning his wrinkled and dried fingers to a crisp, it glided down onto his palm. With a flick of his fingers, the fire blazed to a splendid flare for a few seconds. The darkness was dispelled by its brilliant solace but Unito did not try soaking into the atmosphere as he was merely astonished. The fire died down into its pitiful state it once was and was returned to its dutiful wick.
	“That was a taste of Pyromancy for you. As I was saying, I was a wondering magician who went town to town to do a performance before a crowd. Of course, I couldn’t stay in town for long because let’s say my type of magic is outlawed, it scares people. My wife loved me for my performance and settled down with me. She loved me throughout the years but I lost her over the years. For what? For this. This Chess Board. Aren’t you fascinated by this board?”
	Unito stared hard at the board. Indeed, it was well-crafted with polished Ivory and masterfully shaped around the curves and edges of each piece, but nothing absurd came out of it. Impulsively, he shook his head.
	“That’s why my dear wife said to, which took me aback. This Chess Board is my masterpiece, the pinnacle of all my talent. Didn’t you feel something was off with it?”
	*Clink*
	Now that he mentioned it, Unito realized that some pieces were shifted from its original position. The Old Man scoffed at his lack of perception. With a crazed look in his bloodshot eyes, he brought up the Black King to the air at eye level.
	“Don’t you see anything from this?”
	Unito sat with trepidation as he tried to block the vision, but it violated him by flashing the sight of his mutilated father. His father, his poor father sprawled on the cold floor of his workshop. Lacerated across the stomach with his pulpy intestines peeking out of the cut, his face all bruised and slashed up badly, his clothing ripped to shreds. Blood bubbled and foamed around the mouth as he laid in a pool of blood, without a movement, without a farewell. Unito dug his head into his heads, hoping to stop those horrid sights from appearing again.
	“Just when I thought you were different from the others. My wife was no different. At least you know how to play; she wouldn’t even bother to understand how to play this lovely game of Chess, nagged about how I spent too much time staring at this ‘junk’. How rude of her, don’t you agree? Besides, that would not matter now. She’s gone, and I have you now. You’ll play with me every day, right? You will, right?”
	“… You had no one to play with all this time?”
	“… You lost your Queen. White to move.” With his voice tainted with annoyance, the Old Man set his Black King down back to the Chess board.
	Any tricks and aces up Unito’s tattered sleeves were erased and wiped out clean as panic began to settle into his creaky mind.
	“White to move.” The old man reiterated, with his voice slower than before.
	Unito with his palms shaking in fear, sweating bullets from his head, felt the fear he faced back in the woods again. However, the fear was stronger and it was almost choking him. He could not sit well as his stomach churned and turned inside him, not with the adrenaline kicking into him. Out of desperation, and fear for his very life, he bailed out of the match and raced for the door down the hallway. However, as much as his feet pitter-pattered sorely on the creaking wooden planks beneath him, that rusted door glided farther and farther away from reach until it altogether disappeared into the abyss before him. Panting hard, his vision wobbled back and forth as visions of his parents and brother, his friends, all his friendly townsmen were painted on the walls and ceiling before being splashed with rich magenta red all over. Their faces were hollow, their body were corroded and they all loomed upon him. Unito, with all the breath left in him, shrieked it all out.
	“I see. You don’t want to play anymore. How pitiful of you.”
	The candlelight flickered violently and was doused out. The shrieking silence rang in Unito’s ears as the abyss swallowed him whole. Shutting his eyes tight had warrant him one last hope that this was but a nightmare. A horribly vivid nightmare.
	Opening his eyes had presented him a fate worse than before. There he stood in a desolated, cold, checkered board. Even if he wished to venture onto this new scenario, his body would not listen as if he was frozen all over. His arms will not flail to the sides, his legs will not wiggle back and forth, nor even his fingers can clench. Not one inch from him could come up.
 A soul-piercing scream erupted behind, followed by a wailing cry. That awoke the other prisoners of this delusion, where some screamed in agony, some unleashed a bellowing shout.
	“Shh, it’s alright, my lovely Queen. We have a new member to our game.” The old man spoke with such sentience, booming even. “He’s quite young compared to all of us. Don’t scare him.”
	Unito rolled his bloodshot eyes to the corners and saw others gagged and petrified like him.  Muffled were they but God knows it was for the better, even Unito could understand. The other side of the board was cladded in White with chains wrapped around them. The sudden realization dawned upon him.
	“We shall wait for more. You can tell we don’t have a full set since we’re missing out a few pawns and a Knight. I never liked Ivory pieces, for my taste. I’d like a more livelier set.”
	The old man laughed for the last time.
	“Don’t worry, you’re safe here with me.”