"Magic. A gift from Divine. Bestowed upon those chosen to fight for the powerless against malevolence. But above all, it is their sacred duty to safeguard the realm from the annihilation threatened by a truly malevolent entity... The First Darkness. The Early Dissident. Khaos, the Primordial Opposition!"
When the storyteller spoke that name, a puff of purple smoke billowed from the front desk, and the lights suddenly went out. A click was heard, but it was not as significant as the constant hum afterwards. The creeping chill haunted the napes of the children. They leaned closer, eyes agape and mouths covered. Some even squirmed in their seats. Whispers began to flutter across the back rows as the kids exchanged theories and guesses. The air thickened with anticipation and fright, the kind that arose from a tale passed down through generations, spoken in hushed tones to young and impressionable minds. The name that parents invoked to keep their children in line. A warning that if they misbehaved, Khaos would be upon them in a heartbeat, devouring them whole.
The whiteboard was the only beacon of light, and from the shadows emerged a horde of shapes. The twisted caricatures of human beings. Pointy hats and bare skulls, jerking and lurching in a rigid motion.
"But not all magicians exercised their magic as they should. Instead, they abused it to enslave people, oppress the weak, fill their chests with gold, and their bellies with plenty...!"
Deep chords jolted the children, and a man's face made an abrupt presence, veiling the entire whiteboard.
The children sought solace in each other's embrace or within the recesses of their desks. Even upon daring to reopen their eyes, the shiver lingered. This silhouette puppet was not just another eerie theatrical visage. The only aspect of beauty lay in its cascade of curly hair. Its gaping mouth was the twisted shape of an ovum. Sorrow tugged its jaw under. Or anger. Or an inexplicable perverse sentiment. But the eyeholes swooping down and away from each other were definitely a sign of dread.
"Then a man, Protos Eidon, decided he'd had enough of the actions of those selfish, arbitrary practitioners. He renounced his devotion to the Silent Divine, and instead appealed to Khaos, the Primordial Opposition, to bestow upon him the gift of its very own might.
"Khaos granted his request. Protos became a unique mage, the first bearer of Khaos might in the world of thaumaturgy. With it, he defeated the misguided practitioners and freed his people from their grasp!"
As the hidden storyteller's words painted a vivid picture inside the children's heads, their innocent eyes grew intense, intensified by a silhouette of the curly man choking a bunch of mages on the whiteboard. They could almost feel the suffocating, dense fog around Protos' puppet—his magic, the herculean strength of his own grasp, and the danger that lurked within. But it was not long before the blackboard became a more disturbing spectacle as tongues of shadowy flame crawled across the white surface, engulfing innocent puppets into writhing masses.
"However, the magic of Khaos came at a cost. Its strength was unparalleled, yet its destructive nature proved to be a double-edged sword. It affected even its wielder, Protos. Slowly, he no longer fought to free his people, but rather to cast the mages into the depths of Hades! The corrupting influence of Khaos consumed him, and it transformed his noble quest into a dangerous addiction, one driven solely by a thirst for slaughter!"
Then the scene transformed into taper spires and monuments of splendour, the storyteller's imagination of the lost civilisations of ages past, no less majestic and no less glorious. Yet, even the grandest structures were dwarfed and consumed by the voracious maw of the ebony tongues.
"And thus his killing spree went on. All practitioners in his hometown were decimated until he stood alone as its sole defender. But still, Protos was not content. Other cities need him, he thought. Other nations craved for his boon, he mused. So he marched upon another, vanquishing its leader. Ever unsatisfied, a march of conquest ensued. City after city falling to his might. The mirror even turned contemptuous of his image, it refused to portray the unhinged figure before it. In Protos' delusion, he saw himself as the sole harbinger of salvation for the world of thaumaturgy.
"But the suffered are the most true in the world of lies. The people of the cities grew to resent him. Man not of their kind, who had slain their just leaders and imposed his rule, now found himself facing a nationwide uprising. A call for resistance echoed throughout the land.
"Protos seethed with rage. He crushed the rebellion and its supporters with brutal force, turning the once-great saviour into an iron-fist tyrant. He even unleashed his magic to level an entire civilisation in an instant!"
The sound of an explosion rattled the desks.
The blackboard became the depiction of the heap of rigid men. Their corpses.
"...All were lost, all were ashes. Protos became the one he swore to destroy."
"No!" The children's emotions ran high, some with teary eyes of profound empathy, others with scowls of rage.
The whiteboard's surface suddenly transformed to a vivid shade of blue, and three semicircular chunks appeared, along with a stiff human figure with thorns on its head.
"But be still and rejoice! For the Silent Divine does not ignore their cries. A magnanimous mighty king rose from the plains of Colchis. Aeëtes, the Son of the Sun, the Great Sorcerer, and the True King of the People, come to face Protos to stop his malevolent act of slaughter!"
Happy cheers rang out when the name was on the lips of the storyteller. That was not from her, but the children's erratic chorus.
"The evil power of Khaos was indeed powerful. However, the might of Aeëtes came from the Silent Divine, the source of all power. In fact, he was the first direct recipient of that might. A might greater than the powers granted by the wizards before him!"
"Pure Arcane!" shouted a child in the right corner.
"Aye! Pure Arcane!" An arm accidentally came out of the desk while giving a thumbs-up. "Oops!" muttered the storyteller, swiftly tucking her hand back into place. The kids erupted in uncontrollable laughter; the immersion was now ruined. But they still loved it, nevertheless.
The storyteller redeemed it with another blackout, followed by the flickering of tendrils, and the thundering thunder. Two silhouettes confronted one another. Their rigid form collided with formidable force, then parted momentarily before crashing once more, punctuated by war cries and splatterings of water.
"A mighty magical battle was fought! Protos summoned darkness to obscure the sun and blind King Aeëtes, but the king lit himself a brilliant sun, burning Protos' own eyes! Protos summoned the malicious souls from the Hades underworld gaping on the earth, but the king drowned the spirits with overflowing freshet, and shattered the entrance with lightning bolts bestowed by the great Thunderkeeper!"
The thorn-headed man finally had the curly-haired monster beneath his feet.
"And so, after a series of fierce battles and earth-rending incantations, Aeëtes prevailed! The weakened Protos emitted a powerful magic wave, thus creating a dimensional tear towards Khaos' own embrace. The Primordial Opposition claimed him, but not before Protos uttered his last words.
"'I will never lose! The power of my master has spread everywhere! The world will know order and peace only in Khaos!'
"Aeëtes responded to him out loud. His words became the most legendary quote to this day—"
The children immediately shouted to cut the storyteller's words in unison. "Khaos may shroud the Earth in the dark of night, but a speck of the Silent Divine's goodness will forever be the day of the world!" They did not even forget to put the word, "Hooray" at the end.
Smiling under the desk, the storyteller replied, "'There is no order without chaos, but chaos can never become order! Khaos may shroud the Earth in the dark of night, but a speck of the Silent Divine's goodness will forever be the day of the world!'
"So Protos disappeared somewhere in the arms of the Primordial Opposition. Of course, the battle between the Silent Divine and Khaos did not end. Before disappearing, Protos spread the magic seeds of Khaos to all corners of the world through his magical waves.
"The aftermath of the battle left the world of thaumaturgy forever altered. The release of magic seeds spawned from Protos gave birth to a new, foreign, yet destructive magic, which we know as Black Magic. Any practitioner will find their powers multiplied when consuming the seed, and even those without magic may find themselves imbued with abilities like Protos. But both shall fall victim to its corrupting influence.
"But fear not! Whoever is on the path of the Divine shall prevail against the champions of Khaos. They shall ensure the survival of humanity and the universe, wherever, whenever. Forever. May the Silent Divine grant Eternal Peace to His servants!"
The glow on the whiteboard disappeared, and the classroom lights were restored. From the desk, a girl with crimson hair and big glasses emerged, holding up in her hands, folds of paper in the shape of people skewered with wooden sticks. "The end."
The thunderous applause from tiny hands resounded throughout the entire class. As innocent cheers boomed along, the children already flooded the storyteller with tons of questions.
"Miss Alicia, Miss Alicia! I want to see King Aeëtes! Is he still alive? I've heard people with powerful magic can live long!"
"You want to see King Aeëtes?" The storyteller called Alicia rested both hands on her knees. "But King Aeëtes has long experienced Eternal Peace, Drythelm, thanks to his bravery in protecting the plains of Eretopeion from the threat of black magic!"
Another child asked, "Miss Alicia? Does black magic still exist? Have you seen it?"
"Aye, black magic, of course, still exists," Alicia replied. "But also the good mages are still there to protect us, so worry not, eh, sweetheart? As for having seen black magic… I've only seen it in books and telemedia, though. Black magic must be scary, so perhaps it's best if we avoid witnessing it in person, innit?"
"Miss Alicia! I want to be like King Aeëtes! How can I become like King Aeëtes?"
"Oh, good question right there, Theophilus! Let's see! To be an excellent king, ye have to be strong! So, ye better watch for that big belly of yours and eat yer vegetables, aye? You also have to be smart, so don't forget to study and read books. What else?" Alicia pretended to think. "Kindness! A righteous king should help his fellow men and be obedient to his parents. Do all that and maybe ye'll become like the very king himself!"
One child in the back row objected. "One more thing, Miss Alicia! King Aeëtes is a practitioner, so one must be able to cast magic! But Theophilus can't cast magic, so he can't become like King Aeëtes!"
Several children laughed at Theophilus. The kid stood on his ground, despite his teary eyes. "No! I will become a mage! The New Admission's still long and I'll control my mana by then!"
"Mother said if you cannot control your mana now, you will control it never! Just accept that you'll never be a mage-king!"
The others seemed too delighted to resist the teasing, which led to the heated dispute becoming more and more like a childish flyting. Alicia, however, seemed to be frozen in place, her eyes only fixated on the children's shoes tapping against the tiled floor. Those sounds resonated in her ears before fading into a white noise.
Whose child are you?
Whose seed do you belong to?
Our house only begets the pure-blooded scions of mages.
You're not supposed to be here.
You.
Are.
A.
B̨̝̣̻̪̋Ą̫̰͖̹̞̗̀̉̏Ș̝̯͖̖̞̫̻͑͝T̫̗͓̩̪̫͉̽̈́ͧ͡A͆̓͏͎̭̫R̺͕̠̯̯̠̦̊ͭ̿́D̛̟̫̏̅́̆—
The wailing of the same tiny Theophilus snapped her out of her reverie.
She immediately hugged him and gently wiped his tears. "Oh, dear Theophilus. please dinnae cry, awright? Yer a good lad. A good lad."
After the child was consoled, Alicia turned a grave face towards the laughing children.
"Kids. Just because you have magical abilities doesn't mean you can demean those who don't. Do you want to be like the evil practitioners who were banished to Hades?"
They looked down in embarrassment, except for one kid in the back. "But, King Aeëtes had magic, didn't he?"
"Ye dinnae have to have magic to follow the example of King Aeëtes. He was known for his generosity and sacrifice to protect his people. Magic is the only gift that helps him to achieve his goals, and you with your unique traits and talents can become like him in yer own way! Now, please, would you apologise to Theophilus?"
The child bravely expressed his regret to Theophilus and hugged him. Incredible. Such a noble. No men could ever be like that; their prestige veins were too thick to be penetrated. And that earned him a stroke on his hair and the girl's big smile.
"Awright, kids. Our class ends here. So please, pack yer things, make sure ye leave nothing behind!"
"Awww," complained the children. They still wanted to hear more magical epics from her. "Come on, tell us more stories!"
"But it's already peak afternoon, ye ken," Alicia pointed at the clock on the wall. "Do ye still want to be here, spending yer summer holiday on fairytales?"
"Nevermind!" The students laughed simultaneously. []
"Magic. A gift from Divine. Bestowed upon those chosen to fight for the powerless against malevolence. But above all, it is their sacred duty to safeguard the realm from the annihilation threatened by a truly malevolent entity... The First Darkness. The Early Dissident. Khaos, the Primordial Opposition!"
When the storyteller spoke that name, a puff of purple smoke billowed from the front desk, and the lights suddenly went out. A click was heard, but it was not as significant as the constant hum afterwards. The creeping chill haunted the napes of the children. They leaned closer, eyes agape and mouths covered. Some even squirmed in their seats. Whispers began to flutter across the back rows as the kids exchanged theories and guesses. The air thickened with anticipation and fright, the kind that arose from a tale passed down through generations, spoken in hushed tones to young and impressionable minds. The name that parents invoked to keep their children in line. A warning that if they misbehaved, Khaos would be upon them in a heartbeat, devouring them whole.
The whiteboard was the only beacon of light, and from the shadows emerged a horde of shapes. The twisted caricatures of human beings. Pointy hats and bare skulls, jerking and lurching in a rigid motion.
"But not all magicians exercised their magic as they should. Instead, they abused it to enslave people, oppress the weak, fill their chests with gold, and their bellies with plenty...!"
Deep chords jolted the children, and a man's face made an abrupt presence, veiling the entire whiteboard.
The children sought solace in each other's embrace or within the recesses of their desks. Even upon daring to reopen their eyes, the shiver lingered. This silhouette puppet was not just another eerie theatrical visage. The only aspect of beauty lay in its cascade of curly hair. Its gaping mouth was the twisted shape of an ovum. Sorrow tugged its jaw under. Or anger. Or an inexplicable perverse sentiment. But the eyeholes swooping down and away from each other were definitely a sign of dread.
"Then a man, Protos Eidon, decided he'd had enough of the actions of those selfish, arbitrary practitioners. He renounced his devotion to the Silent Divine, and instead appealed to Khaos, the Primordial Opposition, to bestow upon him the gift of its very own might.
"Khaos granted his request. Protos became a unique mage, the first bearer of Khaos might in the world of thaumaturgy. With it, he defeated the misguided practitioners and freed his people from their grasp!"
As the hidden storyteller's words painted a vivid picture inside the children's heads, their innocent eyes grew intense, intensified by a silhouette of the curly man choking a bunch of mages on the whiteboard. They could almost feel the suffocating, dense fog around Protos' puppet—his magic, the herculean strength of his own grasp, and the danger that lurked within. But it was not long before the blackboard became a more disturbing spectacle as tongues of shadowy flame crawled across the white surface, engulfing innocent puppets into writhing masses.
"However, the magic of Khaos came at a cost. Its strength was unparalleled, yet its destructive nature proved to be a double-edged sword. It affected even its wielder, Protos. Slowly, he no longer fought to free his people, but rather to cast the mages into the depths of Hades! The corrupting influence of Khaos consumed him, and it transformed his noble quest into a dangerous addiction, one driven solely by a thirst for slaughter!"
Then the scene transformed into taper spires and monuments of splendour, the storyteller's imagination of the lost civilisations of ages past, no less majestic and no less glorious. Yet, even the grandest structures were dwarfed and consumed by the voracious maw of the ebony tongues.
"And thus his killing spree went on. All practitioners in his hometown were decimated until he stood alone as its sole defender. But still, Protos was not content. Other cities need him, he thought. Other nations craved for his boon, he mused. So he marched upon another, vanquishing its leader. Ever unsatisfied, a march of conquest ensued. City after city falling to his might. The mirror even turned contemptuous of his image, it refused to portray the unhinged figure before it. In Protos' delusion, he saw himself as the sole harbinger of salvation for the world of thaumaturgy.
"But the suffered are the most true in the world of lies. The people of the cities grew to resent him. Man not of their kind, who had slain their just leaders and imposed his rule, now found himself facing a nationwide uprising. A call for resistance echoed throughout the land.
"Protos seethed with rage. He crushed the rebellion and its supporters with brutal force, turning the once-great saviour into an iron-fist tyrant. He even unleashed his magic to level an entire civilisation in an instant!"
The sound of an explosion rattled the desks.
The blackboard became the depiction of the heap of rigid men. Their corpses.
"...All were lost, all were ashes. Protos became the one he swore to destroy."
"No!" The children's emotions ran high, some with teary eyes of profound empathy, others with scowls of rage.
The whiteboard's surface suddenly transformed to a vivid shade of blue, and three semicircular chunks appeared, along with a stiff human figure with thorns on its head.
"But be still and rejoice! For the Silent Divine does not ignore their cries. A magnanimous mighty king rose from the plains of Colchis. Aeëtes, the Son of the Sun, the Great Sorcerer, and the True King of the People, come to face Protos to stop his malevolent act of slaughter!"
Happy cheers rang out when the name was on the lips of the storyteller. That was not from her, but the children's erratic chorus.
"The evil power of Khaos was indeed powerful. However, the might of Aeëtes came from the Silent Divine, the source of all power. In fact, he was the first direct recipient of that might. A might greater than the powers granted by the wizards before him!"
"Pure Arcane!" shouted a child in the right corner.
"Aye! Pure Arcane!" An arm accidentally came out of the desk while giving a thumbs-up. "Oops!" muttered the storyteller, swiftly tucking her hand back into place. The kids erupted in uncontrollable laughter; the immersion was now ruined. But they still loved it, nevertheless.
The storyteller redeemed it with another blackout, followed by the flickering of tendrils, and the thundering thunder. Two silhouettes confronted one another. Their rigid form collided with formidable force, then parted momentarily before crashing once more, punctuated by war cries and splatterings of water.
"A mighty magical battle was fought! Protos summoned darkness to obscure the sun and blind King Aeëtes, but the king lit himself a brilliant sun, burning Protos' own eyes! Protos summoned the malicious souls from the Hades underworld gaping on the earth, but the king drowned the spirits with overflowing freshet, and shattered the entrance with lightning bolts bestowed by the great Thunderkeeper!"
The thorn-headed man finally had the curly-haired monster beneath his feet.
"And so, after a series of fierce battles and earth-rending incantations, Aeëtes prevailed! The weakened Protos emitted a powerful magic wave, thus creating a dimensional tear towards Khaos' own embrace. The Primordial Opposition claimed him, but not before Protos uttered his last words.
"'I will never lose! The power of my master has spread everywhere! The world will know order and peace only in Khaos!'
"Aeëtes responded to him out loud. His words became the most legendary quote to this day—"
The children immediately shouted to cut the storyteller's words in unison. "Khaos may shroud the Earth in the dark of night, but a speck of the Silent Divine's goodness will forever be the day of the world!" They did not even forget to put the word, "Hooray" at the end.
Smiling under the desk, the storyteller replied, "'There is no order without chaos, but chaos can never become order! Khaos may shroud the Earth in the dark of night, but a speck of the Silent Divine's goodness will forever be the day of the world!'
"So Protos disappeared somewhere in the arms of the Primordial Opposition. Of course, the battle between the Silent Divine and Khaos did not end. Before disappearing, Protos spread the magic seeds of Khaos to all corners of the world through his magical waves.
"The aftermath of the battle left the world of thaumaturgy forever altered. The release of magic seeds spawned from Protos gave birth to a new, foreign, yet destructive magic, which we know as Black Magic. Any practitioner will find their powers multiplied when consuming the seed, and even those without magic may find themselves imbued with abilities like Protos. But both shall fall victim to its corrupting influence.
"But fear not! Whoever is on the path of the Divine shall prevail against the champions of Khaos. They shall ensure the survival of humanity and the universe, wherever, whenever. Forever. May the Silent Divine grant Eternal Peace to His servants!"
The glow on the whiteboard disappeared, and the classroom lights were restored. From the desk, a girl with crimson hair and big glasses emerged, holding up in her hands, folds of paper in the shape of people skewered with wooden sticks. "The end."
The thunderous applause from tiny hands resounded throughout the entire class. As innocent cheers boomed along, the children already flooded the storyteller with tons of questions.
"Miss Alicia, Miss Alicia! I want to see King Aeëtes! Is he still alive? I've heard people with powerful magic can live long!"
"You want to see King Aeëtes?" The storyteller called Alicia rested both hands on her knees. "But King Aeëtes has long experienced Eternal Peace, Drythelm, thanks to his bravery in protecting the plains of Eretopeion from the threat of black magic!"
Another child asked, "Miss Alicia? Does black magic still exist? Have you seen it?"
"Aye, black magic, of course, still exists," Alicia replied. "But also the good mages are still there to protect us, so worry not, eh, sweetheart? As for having seen black magic… I've only seen it in books and telemedia, though. Black magic must be scary, so perhaps it's best if we avoid witnessing it in person, innit?"
"Miss Alicia! I want to be like King Aeëtes! How can I become like King Aeëtes?"
"Oh, good question right there, Theophilus! Let's see! To be an excellent king, ye have to be strong! So, ye better watch for that big belly of yours and eat yer vegetables, aye? You also have to be smart, so don't forget to study and read books. What else?" Alicia pretended to think. "Kindness! A righteous king should help his fellow men and be obedient to his parents. Do all that and maybe ye'll become like the very king himself!"
One child in the back row objected. "One more thing, Miss Alicia! King Aeëtes is a practitioner, so one must be able to cast magic! But Theophilus can't cast magic, so he can't become like King Aeëtes!"
Several children laughed at Theophilus. The kid stood on his ground, despite his teary eyes. "No! I will become a mage! The New Admission's still long and I'll control my mana by then!"
"Mother said if you cannot control your mana now, you will control it never! Just accept that you'll never be a mage-king!"
The others seemed too delighted to resist the teasing, which led to the heated dispute becoming more and more like a childish flyting. Alicia, however, seemed to be frozen in place, her eyes only fixated on the children's shoes tapping against the tiled floor. Those sounds resonated in her ears before fading into a white noise.
Whose child are you?
Whose seed do you belong to?
Our house only begets the pure-blooded scions of mages.
You're not supposed to be here.
You.
Are.
A.
B̨̝̣̻̪̋Ą̫̰͖̹̞̗̀̉̏Ș̝̯͖̖̞̫̻͑͝T̫̗͓̩̪̫͉̽̈́ͧ͡A͆̓͏͎̭̫R̺͕̠̯̯̠̦̊ͭ̿́D̛̟̫̏̅́̆—
The wailing of the same tiny Theophilus snapped her out of her reverie.
She immediately hugged him and gently wiped his tears. "Oh, dear Theophilus. please dinnae cry, awright? Yer a good lad. A good lad."
After the child was consoled, Alicia turned a grave face towards the laughing children.
"Kids. Just because you have magical abilities doesn't mean you can demean those who don't. Do you want to be like the evil practitioners who were banished to Hades?"
They looked down in embarrassment, except for one kid in the back. "But, King Aeëtes had magic, didn't he?"
"Ye dinnae have to have magic to follow the example of King Aeëtes. He was known for his generosity and sacrifice to protect his people. Magic is the only gift that helps him to achieve his goals, and you with your unique traits and talents can become like him in yer own way! Now, please, would you apologise to Theophilus?"
The child bravely expressed his regret to Theophilus and hugged him. Incredible. Such a noble. No men could ever be like that; their prestige veins were too thick to be penetrated. And that earned him a stroke on his hair and the girl's big smile.
"Awright, kids. Our class ends here. So please, pack yer things, make sure ye leave nothing behind!"
"Awww," complained the children. They still wanted to hear more magical epics from her. "Come on, tell us more stories!"
"But it's already peak afternoon, ye ken," Alicia pointed at the clock on the wall. "Do ye still want to be here, spending yer summer holiday on fairytales?"
"Nevermind!" The students laughed simultaneously. []
