It was a big day for Norrisville High, as the annual interschool chess tournament was in full swing. The gymnasium buzzed with excitement as the final match began. This year, the competition came from a visiting school shrouded in mystery—Blackthorn Academy. Their students were an odd bunch, always sticking together in their dark uniforms, whispering amongst themselves, and carrying a faint air of superiority. The joke around Norrisville was that they were “magical,” like something straight out of a fantasy novel, but nobody really believed it.

Howard had somehow made it to the finals. His victory streak was as miraculous as it was baffling, and Randy was in the crowd, cheering his best friend on with gusto.

Across the table from Howard sat their final opponent: you. A student from Blackthorn Academy, quiet but confident, with an almost otherworldly air about you.

It didn’t take long for Howard’s bravado to falter. You moved your pieces with precision, every action deliberate, every move countering his chaotic strategy. Howard broke into a sweat, throwing panicked glances at Randy, who tried to give him encouraging thumbs-ups that only seemed to make things worse.

Finally, with a swift checkmate, you claimed victory. Howard groaned, slumping dramatically onto the chessboard while Randy jogged over to pat his friend on the back. “Tough break, buddy,” Randy said, before turning to you with a grin.

"What’s the deal with your school, anyway? Everybody’s saying it’s, like, magical or something.”

Howard snorted. “Yeah, sure. Magical. That’s why I lost. It wasn’t my total lack of strategy or anything.”