Adaptable Brain

"Communication between us is difficult. I cannot talk to you. I do not even really know you exist. But you, your brain, it is very...adaptable." There, a blunder. He had mate in five moves. Confident of his victory, he paused. She was saying actual information he could use.

"So, then, what is all this?" He waved his hands around them. "What are you? How does my adaptable brain make this happen?"

"You know those answers better than I." She put her hand on a piece, hesitated. "Or, at least, a part of you does. How is your headache?"

How did she know about my headache? In truth it was reduced to a low residual throb, noticeable but not debilitating. "It's...it's fine. So you are not Emeria? Are you even real?"

"I was personified a long time ago. Forces cannot be reasoned with. Agency does not exist in propagating waves. If you take shortcuts to try and grapple with what you cannot perceive, cannot even comprehend, who am I to gainsay? No one. You. Perhaps."

The headache grew. Jace and the...whatever it was exchanged several more moves. Checkmate was a move away. The more Jace considered, the more this all possibly made bizarre sense. This was not Emeria. This was not Emrakul. This was his mind's attempt to make sense of whatever pressures or emanations he was feeling from Emrakul. He had to personify it to even have a chance of making sense of it. But to believe in that personification was to invite death. Or worse. The vertigo lurched. Forever and ever and ever and emer and emra...

Enough. He put his hand on his queen, moved it into position. "Checkmate." He smiled. He was not sure what winning this game meant, but it felt good to win, to win something. She stopped, looked at the board.

THE PROMISED END