Edgar. 62 years BA.

Hope hung in the room, fragile and defiant, clinging to the stillness. Runes etched into the ceiling beams pulsed faintly: safety, control, confinement. Contraptions lined the walls, ready to contain any outburst of power, and anti-Chaos coalition mages in adjoining rooms stood by, waiting for what might come. Alaric was both precious and perilous – a Savior, a hero, now reduced to fragments of himself but capable of immense destruction.

Edgar leaned against the far wall, eyes fixed on Alaric. Months had passed since his return—physically recovered but mentally shattered, his mind scattered across the endless expanse of Chaos. His hair, once dark, had turned grey. His features remained as they were the day he left, though an unsettling timelessness haunted his eyes.

A screen played cartoons—bright colors, laughter, smiles. It was a part of the slow rehabilitation process, an effort to provide something pure and joyful, to spark anything within him. Alaric’s gaze flickered now and then toward the screen, but his expression stayed blank, his attention always slipping away to a place far beyond the room.

David sat beside his father, leaning forward, hands clasped, knuckles white. The man before him was a ghost of the father from the stories—the Savior who had ventured into Chaos, who had given everything. David had waited his whole life for this moment, sitting beside the husk that was left, murmuring quiet words, praying for a flicker of recognition. But Alaric’s gaze moved past him, unfocused, adrift in the broken pieces of his mind.

“Martha?” Alaric suddenly whispered, the name barely a breath.

A sharp sting jolted through Edgar's chest. Alaric had said her name before, but never with this clarity, this urgency. Edgar had deflected the question each time, almost relieved when Alaric’s mind slipped back into the fog. This time, something was different. Alaric was more present, more aware, and Edgar knew there would be no avoiding the truth this time.

Alaric’s head turned slowly, his eyes locking on Edgar’s. For the first time in months, there was something—recognition, perhaps?—that sparked behind those eyes.

"Martha," he repeated, louder now, his gaze sharpening, cutting through the fog that had held him. "Where is she?"

Edgar knelt beside him, his hand hovering before resting on Alaric’s arm. This moment had been coming for a long time, yet the words still stuck in Edgar’s throat. He muted the cartoons, silence swallowing the room.

“She’s not here, Alaric,” Edgar said, the weight of the words heavy on his tongue. “Martha… is gone.”

For a heartbeat, nothing changed. Then, a shift—Alaric’s brow furrowed, lips pressing into a thin line, eyes clouding over as though something vital had slipped out of reach. Edgar could feel it—the fragile tether that had held Alaric here—the memories they had painstakingly preserved and returned to him —was fraying, slipping through his grasp.

"No," Edgar whispered, tightening his grip on Alaric’s arm. He looked to David, desperation plain in his eyes. “David... he’s her son too. Alaric, look—he’s Martha’s son.”

But Alaric’s gaze drifted, unfocused, slipping from the room, from Edgar, from David. A low, ominous hum began to rise, and Edgar felt it deep in his bones—a spell forming, simple but final. He scrambled for the failsafes they had set but knew it was futile. They were designed to block instinctual magic, not a deliberate act of self-annihilation. Nothing could stop that. Alaric had made his choice.

Light began to gather around him, shimmering like fireflies in the dark. David lunged forward, hands reaching for his father, his voice cracking into a raw, guttural cry. “No! Father, please…”

But Alaric was already fading, his form dissolving into shimmering particles that drifted upward, vanishing like mist. For a fleeting second, Alaric’s face softened, a final release—then, nothing. It happened just as it always happened before: no explosion, no grand display of power. Just quiet, unraveling light, and then—nothing.

David collapsed to his knees, grasping at where his father had been. He turned to Edgar, pain and anger tearing through him.“Why? Why did you survive,” his voice broke, “but he didn’t? Why didn’t you save him?”

David’s words cut deep, a familiar pain in Edgar’s chest. He had no real answer. He knew why Alaric chose it. He knew why they all did.

And now, watching Alaric fade, Edgar felt that same lure of non-existence that haunted him, always there, just beneath the surface, for what felt like an eternity. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was kinder to let them go.

But he couldn’t. The next Savior would come; the cycle would never end. Chaos would never stop.

And neither would Edgar.

He would save them, no matter what it would take. For Alaric. For all who came before them. For himself. Because his survival wasn’t just a fluke, he refused to believe it was.

Edgar pulled David closer, the young man trembling in his arms, quietly sobbing. “He’s at peace now,” Edgar whispered. It was the only truth he had to offer.

They stayed there, unmoving, while the last glimmers of Alaric’s light faded, leaving the room steeped in shadows, illuminated only by the flickering cartoons.

Sasha. 30 years BA.

For a long time, I used 'There was a time when Chaos took my bicycle' as a conversation starter. I knew it was edgy—maybe even a little too bold—but I couldn't resist. And well, it worked.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

This is what happened. Alex and I were 14. It was the summer after our 7th grade. Our usual group—my older brother Ilya and his best friend, Stanis, and Alex and me—were lounging by the river when the sirens blared, slicing through the calm. Our phones buzzed, flashing the emergency alert.

A Chaos eruption right outside Rovalia. The first one nearby since we were little.

I knew what that meant. We all did. Chaos himself, breaking in. Terribly dangerous, lethal even. We were supposed to go home, to follow Anti-Chaos Coalition instructions, but it was so close. Completely forbidden... and so close.

"Come on," I said, jumping onto my bike. "It's not far. We'll get around, take a quick look, and leave right away. No one will notice."

I knew it was a bad idea. Truly, I did. But it was magic. Right there, real magic—something different from the dull, everyday spells for mundane stuff like cooking. And we always heard how well the ACC handled eruptions these days, right?

Ilya hesitated, then nodded and pedalled off. Alex and Stanis followed, and we rode fast, the wind rushing past as we left the town.

At first, everything seemed normal—the fields were calm and golden, the sky blue with rare clouds, and the smell of something sweet in the air—just your typical warm summer day.

But slowly, the air itself seemed to change. It grew thicker and heavier, vibrating subtly like it had a pulse. The wind felt different, carrying an eerie sense of wrongness. The grass began to sway independently of the wind. A deep, unsettling tension seemed to warp the world, creeping in slowly, pressing on us like a weight we couldn’t shake. We’d learned about Chaos eruptions in school, sure, but this felt different.

"This feels weird," Alex called, mirroring my thoughts.

I nodded. My stomach knotted, but it was my idea, right? So I had to be brave. And they seemed more excited than scared anyway. Stanis grinned at me, and I forced myself to smile back, even as my heart pounded. I couldn't let him see me scared. Not him, not ever.

The closer we got, the more wrong everything felt. The sky above the eruption swirled with dark clouds, streaked with purples and blacks like the sky itself was being pulled into a swirling void.

We stopped at the top of a hill, looking at the scene below. Soldiers from the Anti-Chaos Coalition were setting up, their vehicles spread across the site. Magic flashed as they deployed barriers, bright against the encroaching darkness.

"Whoa," Alex said, her eyes wide.

But ACC mages seemed so small and... human, compared to the slowly formed eruption. My mind tried to find words for it, to compare it maybe to a hole forming in the fabric of the world or something, but it wasn't it. It was something other. Reality itself was giving up, letting something else in—something evil. Someone evil. Chaos.

"We should leave," Ilya said, his voice tense. He looked at me, then at the swirling mess below. "Sash, we have to go."

He was right. I tried to move, but my legs felt glued to the ground, and my eyes locked onto the eruption. It wasn't just fear— something held me in place. I wanted to step back, to turn away, but I couldn't. My body refused to move as if the wrongness in the air had seeped into me, filling me, rooting me where I stood.

"Sasha, let's go!" Ilya’s voice snapped, his hand gripping my arm, trying to pull me.

"I can't," I whispered, barely audible. "I can't move."

Stanis and Alex rushed in, their faces pale, their eyes wide. They tugged at me, too, but it didn't work. Panic rose in my chest – what is happening? Did I put us in danger?

"Holy Saviors! Why are you here?!" a voice yelled behind us. One of the ACC's soldiers found us.

He grabbed us and shoved us toward a Coalition vehicle at the base of the hill. "Get in. Now."

When he realized I couldn't move, he seemed to know exactly what was happening. He sighed, placed a hand on my shoulder, and a surge of magic rippled through me. And just like that, the pressure was relieved. I stumbled forward, and the guys caught me before I hit the ground.

We scrambled into the vehicle, the soldier slamming the door behind us. He radioed in, "Found some stupid kids. Evacuating them," starting the engine.

With each meter between us and the eruption site, it felt like the grip Chaos had on me was loosening. I didn't even notice how suffocating it felt there. Thank the Saviors that the soldier found us. But also, now we were in trouble, weren't we? Of course, the ACC would have the whole perimeter locked down. How could I have been so stupid?

At the edge of the town, the soldier stopped the car and glared at us in the rearview mirror. He took off the helmet, and unexpectedly, I recognized him. Daniel, a guy from town a few years older. He’d joined ACC training last year, and his parents wouldn’t shut up about it. But he was alright. We’d hung out a few times.

But now, he was furious:

"Are you insane? What were you thinking? You could’ve died!"

"We just wanted to see," Stanis muttered, glancing at me. I looked away, my face burning with shame. It was my idea. I got us caught. Worse, I could’ve gotten us killed.

Daniel sighed, shaking his head. "Idiots. Do you even know what Chaos does to people?" He paused, his eyes meeting mine. "You froze, didn't you?".

I swallowed and nodded. "Yeah."

He let out a long breath, some of the anger fading. "You're gifted in magic. That's why. Chaos messes with people like us more. You shouldn’t be near here without training."

The others snickered—Alex nudged me. "Hear that, Sasha? You're special."

"Yeah, real special," I mumbled.

Daniel glanced back, his expression softening. "Seriously though, you need training. You’re too vulnerable like this."

I shrugged, looking out the window. As if I didn't know I needed training. "That costs money."

Daniel glanced back, his expression softening. "You know, the Coalition has grants. You could get combat training, the same I got".

Combat training, me? Sure, it made so much sense.

"Sasha here can't even punch to save her life," Ilya laughed. "She can't even play fighting games; she's hopeless."

I rolled my eyes, forcing a smile. Right, this again. "I'll stick to farming simulators, thanks."

Daniel chuckled but didn't force the issue, and I was grateful for it.

The conversation shifted. The boys asked Daniel about ACC training, and he tried to sound tough, but there was pride in his eyes. When they asked if he’d met Edgar, he grinned.

"Not yet. But maybe. They send the best recruits to Serenia. Edgar himself meets them."

"Think you'll get an autograph?" Alex teased.

"Or a blessing?" Ilya added.

Daniel laughed. "Maybe both."

Slowly, the tension had eased. I couldn’t join the banter, though. I stared out the window, replaying what happened over and over. I knew better. We learned about this in school, how people can get affected. But I was too excited, too eager to see real magic to consider danger. Instead, I almost got us killed. It was all my fault.

Daniel stopped the car, glancing back at us, trying to be stern again. "Okay, first and last warning. I won't report you, but don't ever do anything so stupid again."

Yeah, he was alright after all.

"Sure," Stanis said, giving him a mock salute. "Thanks, man."

I took a moment, too. "Thanks, Daniel… for saving us. I’m sorry, I-"

He cut me off. "Just be careful, alright?"

I nodded, eyes prickling. How could I be so stupid?

We climbed out, watching as Daniel drove away. Then I turned to the others, and my heart sank.

"The bikes."

Ilya groaned. "We left them on the hill. They’re probably swallowed by Chaos now."

Stanis swore. Alex sighed. "Great. How do we explain that?"

Before we could think of anything, a voice cut through the fading light. "Sasha! Ilya!"

I turned, my stomach dropping. Mom.

She stormed toward us, her face a mix of worry and fury. She must’ve seen the ACC vehicle.

We were so fucked.

I glanced at Ilya, and he gave me a resigned look. Maybe facing the eruption would’ve been easier than facing Mom.