Shredder XXI
Something in Merinde’s timbre dug into Seravis’ resolve. His tongue darted out to caress his lips with fervent need.
The hush of the hundreds of patrons was adding to the unnerving element, but the young man held his ground, sitting back once more with arms folded across his chest. He twirled fingers at Merinde, indicating that the move was still hers.
“I should say, the Last Dance has been the most interesting, without a doubt,” she said, eyes dropping to the board once more, “I’m sure you will find such truth to be evident in very short order.”
Merinde picked up her final catwalker and set it down within striking distance of Seravis’ archelemental. Her hand then returned to rest with practiced ease over the ring of keys.
“You’ll not share such secrets as you’ve seen?” Seravis said with a wry twist as he sat forward to complete the game, knowing full well she would be incapable of sharing anything in short order.
“Not even if I could, jackal,” she replied as Seravis moved his spiritthrall and conquered the land.
A resounding crack rocked the room and rumbled away into the distance. The blinding light faded, yet most of the crowd knew enough to have shielded their eyes from the well known effects of the Last Dance’s transfer of ownership.
Merinde’s chair was empty. The displaced owner always vanished, never to be seen again. Such was the nature of the Last Dance.
Paying witness to his eventual fate, Seravis sat for a few moments in quiet contemplation before leaning forward and reaching for the keyring of five keys. Only once, long ago, did someone other than the owner make a play for the keyring. The results of such folly only needed to be witnessed once for the word to be well spread among the spectators.
“I always thought there were six keys,” one veteran watcher muttered to the lads nearby, but his words were lost amidst the raucous uproar of the celebration to come.