Since the age of steel and shield, the Black King has reigned. Constantly, he has played an elaborate game with the army of those he hunts. Always, the White King and the White Queen proved to lack the resolve and tools. Solstice past, the White King struck a blow against the Black King.
The Damsel and the White Knight strode into the darkness to confront the Black King. The annals of history only know if he shall be placed in check, or if he will set two more pieces to his side of the board. White has no player, only pieces in disarray.
The Black Rook's color lightens to grey, aiding yet not aiding. Hunting down the Black King's elite.
The White Rook has gone rogue, tracking the White Pawns.
The Bishop is on both sides, yet not. He removes Pawns of both armies, allowing them to escape the unending game without being claimed. His is the truest shade of grey.
And I sit in the stands, offering the White Army encouragement but not aid, for I have little to give and less to offer.