The glint of a fake gold square catches their eyes, shining like a lying whisper.
It lies beside a dumpster—just another piece of plastic, waiting to be recycled.
Brandon's eyes snap to the strangely placed object.
"What's that?"
Brandon skips over to a frame—something akin to a Renaissance portrait.
The seemingly ever-present scowl deepens on Gideon's face. "Leave it alone, Brandon. Don't trust anything."
Brandon, ever curious, skips up to the frame and investigates it.
Gideon's eyes spin in frustration.
"It's two guys playing chess. The old version, with an angel in the back? Weird—I can't really tell who's on the winning side."
Gideon leans beside Brandon, those same tired eyes calculating the painting. "Hmm… seems like rubbish. The angel doesn't even face the board. Who paints something like this, anyway?"
Brandon spins the frame to its backside. The frame is void of a signature or date.
One thing does stand out to the flame elemental, though.
Carved into the wood, he is greeted with one simple word. Brandon reads it aloud—
"Checkmate."