Nightlord: Shadows by Garon Whited

do you think I’ve been taking my time between moves? Or pondering so long on each one? Or allowing you to take your time?”
    “To make sure that if the game went on long enough, the sunset would catch me in the courtyard.”
    “Indeed. It’s hardly an ideal outcome, but I’ll be content to have you burn.”
    “What would be ideal?”
    “I’m not going to explain. Suffice it to say that I, personally, will settle for your complete destruction, even though it costs me dearly. I hate your kind, all of you, and wish you had never existed!”
    I gripped the arms of the chair and flexed. They bent a little, but nothing broke. I rammed them back and forth; the chair creaked and groaned, but nothing gave. I planted my feet and pushed, trying to topple the chair backward; it crackled and popped, but it remained fixed. The spell was too strong for me to simply break out of.
    Hagus was white-knuckled in his own chair, metaphysical sweat beading his brow. His look of concentration was absolute. I could tell he was focused on maintaining his spell, and that I was straining it. If I could break free—and, during the night, with that kind of power at my disposal, I might—then I could escape the spell entirely. Or… could I… since we were both actually here, in a very real, if non-corporeal way…
    After a few minutes, while my transformation was ongoing, I realized I wasn’t on fire. It didn’t hurt. At least, it didn’t hurt any more than it normally does. After a few minutes more, I relaxed.
    I smiled at him, showing fangs. He turned white and his eyes tried to jump out of their sockets.
    “Want to give up now?” I asked.
    “How have you managed to avoid destruction?”
    “I have no idea. You’re out to kill me; I’m guessing someone doesn’t want you to,” I said. His eyes flicked left and right, at the figures seated at either hand, then focused on me again. I continued with, “I guess it’s possible I was in enough shadow during the sunset that I’m just badly hurt, rather than destroyed, but I don’t think that’s it.” I thought about it for a moment. “No, I get the feeling that someone helped. It’s just a feeling, though. I don’t suppose you’d care to quit now and let me go check?”
    Hagus’ mouth turned into a narrow line as his lips pressed together.
    “Then we’ll just have to kill you more than once,” he observed, and focused on the arena again.
    “I thought you might say that.”
    While we spoke, I reached out with the dark lines of my spirit, slithering them along the chair, down to the floor, and around the arena. The shadow-figures were real, I discovered, but not truly connected to the spell. They seemed to connect through Hagus, which made magical sense. He was the one casting the spell and participating in the contest. They were just along for the ride, loaning him the power necessary to push the spell far enough and strongly enough to drag me into it and keep me inside it. Hagus was the key to the spell; they were just extra batteries.
    If I could sever their connection, the spell wouldn’t have the power to continue. Unfortunately, they were grouped together somewhere far distant, and connected only through Hagus. I would have to reach through him to get to them, or even to get to the connections between Hagus and them.
    On the other hand, Hagus was here. My tendrils could reach him.
    The arena filled with a heaving mass of formlessness. It ate at the eyes with colors indescribable; it fluxed and shifted in ways that defied geometry. I was instantly repulsed by it, feeling an instinctive, fundamental revulsion. It was a something that had no business existing.
    Hagus grinned at me.
    “There you go. Defeat that.”
    I wanted nothing to do with it. It reminded me far too much of Things Man Was Not Meant To Know. For all I knew, it was exactly that. I wondered where Hagus had conjured it from and then realized I wanted desperately to never find out.
    I’ve never seen an