The world awoke in awe.
Headlines screamed across every chess blog and sports site:
"The Magician's Heir Returns—Alexei's Redemption in Flames and Glory."
"The Cursed Line Revived?"
"Was It Brilliance or Possession?"
Commentators scrambled to understand the final position. Grandmasters debated feverishly, some praising the line's rebirth, others warning of the dangers Alexei had once succumbed to. Videos of the match were played and replayed, dissected frame by frame. Forums lit up with theories—some technical, others... stranger.
But in the quiet of his room, Alexei sat in near-darkness. The world could say what it wanted.
He knew the truth.
He hadn't won that match alone.
It was long past midnight, and the house was still. His championship trophy rested silently on the desk nearby, gleaming under the soft golden hue of the hanging torchlight. But Alexei wasn't admiring it.
He was setting up the board.
The final position. The exact configuration from the closing of the game—the line no one had dared play since Tal had abandoned it decades ago. The Forbidden Variation.
As he placed the last piece, the room seemed to grow colder.
He didn't even flinch when the shadow appeared.
Out from the darkest corner of the room stepped the now-familiar silhouette: tall, lean, wearing a long coat, his features always half-obscured. Tal. Or whatever was left of him.
But this time… something was different.
The figure looked older. Dimmer. As though Alexei's use of the line had drawn energy from a place that should not be touched.
"You summoned me," Tal said, voice soft, slow. Almost reluctant.
Alexei didn't reply at first. His fingers hovered over the board. Then, quietly, "They're calling me the heir now. The heir to your legacy."
Tal stepped closer, his eyes drawn to the board. "Are you proud?"
"I don't know," Alexei admitted. "I'm scared."
There was a long pause.
"I used it," Alexei continued. "The variation you warned me about. The one that brought madness. And… I won. But it didn't feel right. It felt like I cheated death."
Tal gave a tired smile. "You did."
"I broke it," Alexei said suddenly, voice cracking. "I broke what you created. I turned it into a weapon for glory instead of beauty. I—" He paused, fists clenched. "I'm sorry, Tal."
Then it happened.
The boy who had become a prodigy, the Grandmaster at fifteen, the rising star of a generation—broke down.
Tears streamed silently down his face. He leaned over the board, hands covering his eyes.
"I just wanted to make you proud."
Tal knelt across from him. For a moment, he wasn't the Magician anymore. He was just a man. A ghost of a man who understood the crushing weight of brilliance and expectation.
"You didn't break it," Tal said softly. "You misunderstood it."
Alexei looked up.
Tal gestured to the board. "The line wasn't cursed because of the move itself. It was cursed because of what it demanded. It asked too much of the player. Absolute vision. Ruthless precision. And the willingness to sacrifice not just material—but belief."
He tapped a knight. "I created it not for victory, but for art. That's why others failed. They chased results. Not ideas."
Alexei listened, breathing slower now.
Tal stood, and with a graceful movement, swept some pieces off the board and reset the position slightly—modifying the final line from the tournament. Then he pointed to a move that Alexei hadn't considered before.
A defensive resource. Subtle. Quiet. Humble.
"I never had the time to publish this," Tal murmured. "But it's the answer. The antidote to the madness. A new path."
Alexei studied it, heart racing. It was beautiful. Balanced. Still sharp—but no longer suicidal. A forgotten truth hidden in the chaos.
"This is how you defend it?" Alexei whispered.
"This is how you master it," Tal replied.
There was silence between them again.
Then Tal turned, the shadows beginning to pull at his edges. He seemed fainter now, as though his time in this realm was nearly spent.
"Why me?" Alexei asked suddenly, voice trembling. "Why did you choose me?"
Tal paused. Looked back. "Because you didn't chase glory," he said. "You chased understanding. You suffered. You broke. And yet… you still chose to return to the board."
As Tal's image began to blur and dissolve into the shadows, his final words echoed through the room like the closing of a symphony:
"Guard the board, Alexei. For others will come—not to play, but to claim. And not all who want magic… deserve it."
The torchlight flickered.
And he was gone.
Alexei sat frozen, the board before him transformed. The line reborn. The path ahead unknown.
But one thing had changed.
He no longer feared the curse.
He understood it.