The moment Alexei's bishop landed on c4, the room darkened unnaturally. The torchlight blinked twice… then held steady—but it wasn't the same. It now burned with a pale blue flame, flickering like it belonged to another world.
Alexei looked up.
The drawing room was gone.
He was seated at a long, shadowy table in the center of a dim, ancient hall. Stone pillars stretched into a ceiling lost in darkness. All around him, walls were lined with dusty tomes and ghostly portraits—faces half-forgotten, yet watching with eerie stillness.
Across the board sat a man.
Or something like a man.
His face was mostly in shadow, but Alexei caught flashes of intense eyes, and a grin that was both amused and dangerous. He wore an old suit, a chess clock ticking softly beside him. He didn't speak—but the presence was unmistakable.
"Is this... him?""Is this Mikhail Tal?"
The stranger nodded slightly, as if reading Alexei's thoughts.
Suddenly, the chess clock ticked.
His opponent moved a piece—a queen slid across the board like it knew where it belonged. Alexei didn't recognize the move, but he didn't need to. Something inside him understood.
"Your move,"the wind seemed to whisper.
Alexei stared at the position. He felt it—felt the pressure of the board, the weight of a thousand games played before this one. His fingers hovered over his rook, then shifted toward a knight.
The clock ticked louder.
He reached forward, trembling... and made a move.
Click.
The board trembled, just slightly. The crowd of ghostly portraits seemed to lean in closer.
The man across from him raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A flicker of a smile crossed his face.
"You're learning," he said softly—his first words.
"But let's see if you can survive."
Suddenly, the pieces began to move faster. Each turn brought impossible sacrifices. Queens fell. Knights dove into traps. Bishops carved open the board like scalpels.
And Alexei… kept up.
Not with calculation.
But with instinct.
His heart pounded with every move. His mind felt like fire—alive in a way it had never been. He wasn't just playing chess.
He was dreaming inside the game.
And on the other side of the board, the magician of Riga was watching… testing... and teaching.
Move by move.
The Final Sacrifice
The game had spiraled into chaos.
Pieces lay scattered across the spectral board—some twisted into strange, unfamiliar shapes. Black and white were no longer just colors, but forces colliding with intent. The silence in the grand hall was deafening, broken only by the steady ticking of the chess clock.
Alexei's shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat. His fingers trembled over the last few remaining pieces. He was down in material. His king was exposed. Every move he considered felt like walking a tightrope over a storm.
Across from him, the shadowy figure sat still. Watching. Waiting.
Alexei had just one chance left.
He stared at his queen—a proud piece still standing, but cornered. She had power, yes. But she was no longer safe. The logical move was to retreat. To protect. To hold on.
But something inside him whispered…
"To play like Tal, you must not fear losing."
Alexei looked deeper into the position. His pulse slowed.
There was a move.
It was mad. It was bold. It looked like surrender… but it wasn't.
He reached out.
Paused.
And moved his queen.
Qxh6+
Sacrifice.
The board seemed to ignite.
The moment the piece clicked into place, the torches flared—casting massive, shifting shadows across the stone walls. The ghostly faces leaned in. Some smiled. Some gasped. One wept.
Across the board, the shadowy figure grinned wide.
"Beautiful," he whispered.
Black had no choice but to accept.
The queen was captured.
Alexei's heart thundered.
But it wasn't over.
Knight to g5. Check.
The cascade began.
Like watching dominos fall in perfect rhythm, Alexei found move after move erupting from inside him—not taught, not studied… felt.
He didn't just see the board anymore—he saw beyond it. The lines, the pressure, the possibilities blooming like constellations in a night sky.
Then, silence.
His final move hung in the air like the last note of a symphony.
Checkmate.
The shadowy man leaned back, folding his hands. His eyes met Alexei's—not as a rival, but as a teacher.
"You gave up everything to win. That's the spirit. That's the magic."
The room began to fade. The clock slowed. The torchlight dimmed.
Alexei blinked—and he was back in the drawing room. Alone. The chessboard was exactly as it had been before.
Only now, his queen was gone.
And in her place… a note. Faintly etched into the wood, almost glowing.
"To sacrifice is not to lose. It is to understand the soul of the game."
Alexei leaned back, breathless.
He didn't just play a game that night.
He became a player.