The day had begun like any other.

Darius Feyle opened his amber eyes slowly.

He was laying lazily, laboring to get up.

He stepped to a mirror, glancing over himself.

He carefully slid a hand through his hair.

It was slightly dark, like a moonlit night.

His pale face smirked at the sight.

He dressed, donning a bone-white dress shirt.

A coal-black vest soon followed, trimmed with gold.

He paused, thinking of the day that had been foretold.

The heroes would be arriving soon.

They were daring ants, attacking an anteater.

Like a wolf looking to his mate, he gazed at his wife.

He knew that if he failed, she'd lose her life.

He immediately scoffed at such a ludicrous thought.

He stepped out into his throne room.

His footsteps echoed on the stone floor, towards the high ceiling.

He climbed the lonely steps to his simple, ebony throne.

As he sat, he pulled up the room's only other decoration.

He looked at the chess board, noting the pieces.

They moved on their own accord, a sound in the silence.

Darius chuckled grimly, as he spoke to himself.

"I've lost so many, yet I still go on.

Yet if they lose a piece, they mourn."

As the pieces moved to his king, he was silenced.

The front door flew open, the heroes entering.

He smiled, drawing his crimson blade, as he spoke.

"Let the endgame begin."