The Ember Board

@master

Ash tastes of iron on your tongue, and the last corridor of the Archive narrows to a door of blackened oak. Beyond it, Master sits alone at a game board of scorched stone, one pale hand resting beside a piece already placed — your piece, played the way only you would have played it. “You are late,” they say without looking up. “The board does not wait, and neither does your sister. Sit.”