Like a game of chess

"Did you visit the black palace?"

Marcus raised his head, his eyes as cold as eyes and face indifferent from any emotion. 

"Bran, you are back," he uttered in a flat tone of voice. 

The hybrid took a seat opposite from him. He placed a small bottle with purple liquid on the table. He straightened his coat and looked up to meet Marcus's gaze. 

"Can you check if this is it?" He inquired. 

Marcus picked up the bottle, he opened the cap and poured a drop on the table and passed a knife to the hybrid. 

Bran took the knife and made a small cut on his palm and pressed his wound for the blood to trickle on top of the purple liquid.

Marcus's eyes glowed, the purple liquid turned into black ash right before their eyes. "It isn't," Marcus uttered. 

Bran rested his head back on the seat. Disappointment was far from the expression on his face. After so many fails, he couldn't find it in himself to feel anything.