A Game of Wits
an excerpt

Pro*logue (pro'log) n. 1 a speech or poem addressed to the audience by one of the actors at the beginning of a play, opera, ect. 2 an introduction to a novel, poem, or other literary work. 3 any introductory act or event.

Black. White. Shifting... S hades of gray.
Kings. Queens. Bishops.
Pawns...
The board is set, and the two battle-ready armies stare down at each other across the checkered field. The white queen smiles fiercely, safe behind her row of pawns, who she chose before they were even bo rn. Now she has brought them here, to die thousands of miles from home.
The black king raises a hand, and the two armies meet with a resounding crash. People scream, bodies fall. No one is spared- even the headstrong young queen loses her smile, as her e scorts fall around her. And the pawns continue to fight for something they have never believed in... Their forces are felled the fastest.
The battle, though brutal, ends quickly. And when the survivors come out of their bloodlust thrall, all the royals l ay dead. Seven pawns, from both the white and black armies, looked at each other in amazement. They were the only ones. There was no one else left.
One hundred years later, the seven met again. No longer divided by just two colors, they had split into seven separate entities, still filled to the brim with the power their queens had bestowed them, increased thousand fold by the years of practice they had gotten, given to them by the powers themselves, who had granted them immortality. If these seven died, then the powers died with it- so they gifted their carriers with godlike powers.
And gods they became.
But the powers were restless. They wanted to fight, to prove their worth against worthy opponents. Normal humans were below them. All they had was ea ch other.
Then one came up with the game.
When one lives forever, names are easily forgotten. Now, the seven pawns are known only as the colors their powers present themselves as.
Gray, black, white, green, blue, red, purple.
It was Gray who thought of the game. Black, Gray's biggest rival, was first to agree. The other five agreed, surprised by the fact that this was the first time these two had agreed since the Beginning-War.
The game started three hundred years ago, taking place over years and years... The last one ended over ten years ago.
It is time for the next round of the game. For new pieces, new teams. New betrayal, upsets, and scandals.
It is time for A Game of Wits. What this one holds in store is something not even the gods can fo retell.

Be*gin*ning (bi gin'ing) n., adj. -n. 1 a start. 2 the time when anything begins. 3 the first part. 4 a first cause; source; origin.

I wouldn't blame her for what happened. Hell, we all messed up too many times to count. Just because she was the first, doesn't mean she deserves the blame. And all the 'what if's, the questions voiced in the middle of the night when it's hard to remember there are reasons for the sun to rise, they're not her fault, either. No matter what happened that day, it wouldn't have changed anything. There's no doubt about that. So why try to lay the blame on other shoulders?
I mean, when you're carring the weight of the world, there's no reason to search for more to hold.