Prepsworth Academy

Prologue

The tall, glass wall let in hazy beams of sunlight, the sunset washing over the chess board in soft hues of orange and gold. Dusk had brought a certain softness with it, and that harsh, white room seemed to mellow. To the back of the girl, a crackling fire twisted and danced, providing a constant wall of warmth at her back and sending shadows darting across the wall in front of her. The girl sat, perched neatly in a sit that almost seemed to swallow her. The girl was around ten, her carefully blonde curls falling over her shoulders. She observed the chess board, frowning slightly, looking up at the girl sitting across from her. The girl across from her had a cold fire in her eyes and hair as black as a raven's, and almost towered over the blonde girl, her tallness relating to the fact that she had at least four years on the blonde girl. The raven haired girl glared at the blonde one, leaning forward and lowering her voice to a whisper.

"I've won. Again. I really don't know why you keep on agreeing to these games." She said, a tinge of amusement in her voice. The blonde girl didn't know why either. Pride? Stubbornness? Or perhaps, the hope that one day, she might win a game, and then be able to take to raven-haired girl down. The girl released a breath. Patience. That was the key to taking the raven-haired girl down, to beating her. Unfortunately, patience was not something she had acquired in her short, if troubling ten years of life. The girl surveyed the board once more, looking for ways to win. When she had begun the game, she had been confident. She felt in control, like she was winning. The game had been slow, almost trivial as she moved her pieces, gaining the upper hand quickly. But then subtly, sneakily, the raven haired girl began to steal away her pieces. First there was a pawn, and then a knight, and then the bishop. The rest followed quickly after, each of them leaving in a flash, stolen from behind her. She had never seen each attack coming. Her stolen pieces lined the edge on the table, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Now, she was left with only two pieces left, a king and a queen, standing next to each other as if in solidarity. Her gaze darted around, looking for a way out, but there was none. The raven haired girl sat back, a smug smile crossing her face.

"Checkmate." Was all she said, her cold words filling the room. The girl's gaze darted up at her, eyes flashing with anger. She couldn't let the raven-haired girl win, or even think she'd won. That would give her too much power, and she had too much to lose.

"Not quite." The girl said in a voice that was too assured, too calculated for her years. The girl suspected that was she was about to do would irk the raven-haired girl, almost certainly bring some wrath down upon her. But, like she had mused, she was too proud, too stubborn to let this go. If she was going to lose, she was going to lose on her own terms, by her own making. She did not for a second imagine what a simple action would bring, the anger and sorrow it would unleash upon her, upon her friends. She did not imagine what tragedy a simple move would bring, how much it would destroy.

The girl reached out, an elegant finger flicking over the king.

The king fell to the board with a plunk.

Hazes of sunlight fell over the raven-haired girl's face, her expression contorting with rage.

The blonde girl did not flinch, did not move, her chin lifted up, her eyes angry.

And so the future, for better or for worse, began.