"Magic. A gift from Divine. Bestowed upon those chosen for battle against malevolence on behalf of the powerless. Their sacred duty: to safeguard the realm from a truly malevolent entity that seeks to swallow it... The First Darkness. The Early Dissident. Khaos, the Primordial Opposition!"

When the storyteller spoke these names, a violet mist swirled, and the lights suddenly went out. A click followed by the incessant hum sent a chill down the children's spine. They leaned closer, eyes agape and mouths covered. Hushed theories and guesses fluttered across the back rows. These were the names 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 unreachable shadows emerged a horde of shapes—twisted caricatures of human beings. Pointed hats and bare skulls, with limbs moving in disjointed fashion.

"But not all practitioners exercised their magic as they should. Some used it to enslave people, oppress the weak, fill their chests with gold, and bellies with plenty...!"

Then, without a warning, a deep chord jolted the children, and a man's visage materialised, obscuring the entire whiteboard.

The children tightened their cling, while some buried their faces in their desks. Even when they dared to open their eyes, the shiver lingered.

This shadow puppet was unlike the rest of its kind. The only trace of beauty lay in its cascade of curly locks. Its gaping mouth resembled the twisted ovoid. Sorrow tugged its jaw under. Or anger. Or an inexplicably perverse sentiment. But a sense of dread emanated from its wide-set eyeholes.

"...Until one of their victims, Protos Eidon, with kins buried and fortunes plundered, decided he had endured the practitioners long enough. 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. The might did not paint splendid colours other than bleak black and mauve. Yet, it burnt the caster's veins so brightly that anyone could see them in darkness. It was told that even the merest spark of this power could sunder the earth, while on a grand scale, down the very heaven itself. The abilities of common mages were nothing but mere trifles before it!

"With this newfound strength, Protos set on a journey back to his homeland, where he brought justice and retribution through a torrent of energy upon the mages' grand citadel! Those who lounged within were fused with the void. Their palace vanished as if spirited away by the Divine, leaving behind an expansive field and a great chasm that stretched all the way to the sea!

"But those who stayed not fell prey to Protos' pursuit. He would grasp them with his unyielding hands and hoist them skyward so the commoners would not suffer the toll. With the sun as his witness, Protos would channel his power into the victims' bodies until their veins, too, radiated with an eerie glow, and the wind blew their ashen remains. Protos had no kindness to let them bleed.

"No mages could fell him. No attacks would mar his skin, for Khaos would transmute his body into a wisp of smoke when blasted by fire, or into a veil of mist when beset by the curses of plague. No matter what kind of devastation a mage launched against him, Protos would exact vengeance a thousandfold!

"That, wee bairns, was Protos Eidon. A man imbued with the might of Khaos. His deeds earned him many names. The Retribution In Flesh. Son of Khaos. Plague Bringer. Violet-crusted. All those queer names and people flocked to see him."

As the hidden storyteller wove vivid imagery in the minds of the children, their innocent eyes grew intense, intensified by a silhouette of the curly man strangling 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 board 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. With time, Khaos' dissident sway clouded Protos' mind, and it turned his noble quest into a dangerous addiction to causing harm. He no longer fought for the people, but merely to cast the mages into the depths of Hades!"

The scene transformed into taper spires and monuments of splendour, the storyteller's imagination of the lost civilisations 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 continued. All practitioners in his country were felled, one after another, until Protos stood alone as its sole defender. But still, he 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. Even the mirror turned contemptuous of his image, it refused to portray the delusional figure that 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. 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. At the height of his carnage, he unleashed his magic to level an entire civilisation in an instant!"

The sound of an explosion rattled the desks.

The whiteboard 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 shifted 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 confront Protos and halt his malevolent act of slaughter!"

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

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 from 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 relished the tale, 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 then summoned the malicious souls from the Hades underworld gaping on the Earth, but the king drowned the spirits with an overflowing freshet and shattered the entrance with lightning bolts bestowed by the great Thunderkeeper! King Aeëtes was unlike any wizard before him, and Protos was overcome with frustration. As a last resort, Protos strangled the king's neck to channel the 'glory' of Khaos, but he instead unleashed a howl of anguish and was consumed by flames! Arcane obliterated every speck of his form, even while he was a wisp of smoke!"

The whiteboard finally depicted the most sanguine scene of all—the thorn-headed man with 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 continued, "'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, which altered the world of thaumaturgy forever. Those spawned seeds 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; even the magicless may find themselves imbued with Protos-like abilities. 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? Have you seen Khaos?"

"Aye, black magic, of course, still exists," Alicia replied. "But so are the pure Arcane, so worry not, eh, sweetheart? As for having seen black magic… I've only seen it in books and telemedia, though. But ye heard the tale, and I think ye have a good idea of what Khaos and black magic look like. So should ye encounter an individual with their veins laid bare..., beware, for Khaos might reside within them, just as it does in Protos Eidon!" Alicia made a playful roar as she grabbed the child's cheeks, causing him to giggle from the tickle. "But... if ye're a good kid, yer eyes will be spared from that!"

"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 yers 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? Ye're a good lad. A good lad."

After the child was consoled, Alicia turned a grave face towards the laughing children.

"Kids. Just because ye have magical abilities doesn't mean ye can demean those who don't. Do ye 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 only the 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?"

"Never mind!" The students laughed simultaneously. []