The Avatar of Chaos

The next day started and passed in a blur of information.

By the time the morning bell rang and the students were seated for the day's first class, the crisp academic tone had fully returned to Serrian Academy. In the grand lecture hall of Theory & Spellcasting, Professor Elowen stood before an arcane chalkboard that shimmered faintly with rune-laced diagrams and swirling elemental symbols.

The day's lesson was not one of casting, but of knowledge—a crucial overview of magical theory and its classification.

Elemental Magic, she explained, was the oldest and most fundamental form of spellcraft. It encompassed Earth, Fire, Air, and Water—gifts of the Eternal Four. Each human, at birth, received an elemental blessing—one of the four—granting them innate affinity. Those who trained and studied could strengthen this connection, mastering increasingly complex forms: from conjuring fireballs and manipulating rivers, to reshaping stone or riding wind currents.

There was, of course, a fifth: Chaos—spoken only in cautionary terms, its symbol left absent from the diagrams. The Professor avoided naming its goddess, referring only to "the source of the great corruption." The class was told plainly that any trace of Chaos affinity was to be reported at once, as its power was tied to ruin and blasphemy. While never openly stated, the threat hanging over such individuals was clear. Lilith sat silently at her desk, arms folded neatly, offering no hint of emotion—though the faintest flicker in her emerald eyes hinted at something smoldering beneath.

The latter half of the lesson covered Miscellaneous Magic—a growing, experimental branch of spellwork that eluded neat classification. Aether, with its abstract properties like levitation and energy manipulation. Gravity magic, rare and dangerous in its capacity to alter mass and pull. Sound magic, used for silence, eavesdropping, or disruption. And more speculative schools like illusion, time dilation, and teleportation. These forms required specialized research and often drew from ancient or forgotten texts.

Though the academy did not formally teach these yet to first-years, students were encouraged to explore magical theory broadly—and apply for independent studies if their talents aligned.

In History of Serria, the tone shifted dramatically. Professor Thaddeus Greyvale stood before the class in a sweeping robe of constellation-stitched navy, his voice rising and falling like a stage bard as he spun the myth of their world's salvation.

He recounted the fateful war—when the Mother of Monsters, twisted by a desire of destruction, unleashed her dreadful power upon Serria. A thick, rotting miasma bled from the very sky, corrupting life, soil, and air. Forests withered into bone fields. Cities crumbled under red skies. And monstrous things, born of Chaos and hatred, crawled forth from the broken earth.

But salvation came with divine light. The Eternal Four rose against this corrupted God. In an epic battle high above the heavens, they banished her from the mortal plane. Though she vanished, the miasma did not, and so the Four gifted humanity their blessings, teaching them the art of barrier crafting.

Thus, the Great Cities of Serria were born—walled bastions shrouded under magical domes that blocked the cursed fog. Greyvale spoke of how every child, upon reaching sixteen, would be granted a blessed stone by the Church of their family's patron god—a temporary shield against the miasma, allowing travel between cities or excursions into the wilds.

He praised the Eternal Four without pause. "Guardians of humanity. Healers of our world. Keepers of the righteous flame." Each sentence sounded rehearsed, too perfect—his tone theatrical, and perhaps, Lilith thought, too polished.

The bells tolled softly above, signaling the end of the second class. Tactical Magic & Field Application class awaited Lilith's arrival.

When they reached the class, Professor Sera immediately paired the students for controlled magical sparring based on their elemental compatibility. They're instructed to use basic offensive and defensive techniques, with emphasis on control, adaptation, and field awareness.

Most students knew almost nothing about attacking or defensive magic. For that, she called forth her assistants and demonstrated one attack and one defensive spell for each element. After that, knowing Lilith's ability to control all four, Professor Halcorth tells her to pick one and not to use the other three while dueling. 

The midday sun hung low above the academy's sprawling eastern fields, casting long golden shadows across the training ground. The faint hum of elemental magic still lingered in the air—residual sparks of fire, gusts of wind, and scorched earth left behind from the morning's Tactical Magic & Field Application drills.

Lilith stepped back into line after her duel, her breathing steady, her expression unreadable. The duel had gone as expected. She had chosen Air, at Professor Sera Halcorth's command, and within seconds, the match was over. A precise strike of compressed wind had shattered her opponent's defense—not too brutal, not too soft. Efficient. Controlled. It earned her no applause, only stares. Whispers. Fear. Again.

Before Lilith could return to the observing line, Halcorth's voice cut across the field like a blade.

"Silford. With me."

Lilith blinked once and followed without question. Around them, the other students were still fumbling to form the simplest spells—sputtering flames, wobbly stones, wayward gusts. The disparity was striking. But she didn't slow her steps.

Halcorth led her to the edge of the field, far enough to be out of earshot yet still in plain sight. The sharp scent of burnt grass and chalk dust drifted in the breeze as the instructor came to a halt under a crooked tree, her stance relaxed but commanding.

"You fight like a war mage. Not a student."

Lilith did not reply at first. She understood a trap when she heard one. "I followed your instructions, professor," she said coolly. "I used only one element."

"You did," Halcorth admitted, glancing sidelong at her. "And still cut through your opponent like parchment in five seconds. That's the problem."

"You aimed to remind everyone you're not like them."

Lilith said nothing.

Halcorth turned then, her amber eyes sharp, her scar catching the sunlight. "You know what you are. You've been trained—drilled. This isn't new to you."

"I was taught discipline," Lilith replied evenly. "Not to show off."

The professor's lips twitched slightly. Not quite a smile. More a twitch of approval. Then her tone shifted—graver, quieter.

"There's something you need to understand, Silford," she said, arms crossing over her flame-orange jacket. "This empire isn't peaceful, no matter what the textbooks claim. It's just quiet—for now."

Lilith's eyes narrowed, her attention sharpening.

"There are three factions vying for power beneath the calm," Halcorth continued. "First, the Church of the Eternal Four—fanatical, dogmatic, but powerful. They've got priests with miracles on their tongues and paladins who can split a man in half while preaching virtue."

She paused to let that sink in, then gestured toward the western horizon.

"Then there's the imperial army. Structured. Disciplined. Loyal—at least outwardly—to the emperor and his children. I've served there. Fought in their campaigns. I know their strengths and their flaws. Politics has seeped into the ranks like rot. Some want to purge corruption. Others want to hold power in place. It's a quiet civil war behind iron gates."

"And the third?" Lilith asked, voice low.

"The nobles," Halcorth said. "Divided like shattered glass. Some are loyal to the Church. Others to the Crown. And many simply look for the path with the most power, no matter how bloody."

Lilith looked down at her gloves, briefly flexing her fingers.

"This school… it doesn't belong to just one faction, does it?"

"No," Halcorth said. "It's neutral on paper. But the students? Their families have allegiances. And many of them aren't just here to learn spells or swing swords. They're here to watch, measure, and report."

She stepped closer, her voice now edged with quiet warning.

"You're a threat to every faction," Halcorth said at last. "The Church will watch you because you challenge their dogma. The army might recruit you or fear you. The nobles might try to use you—or eliminate you before you ruin their fragile balance."

Lilith's face didn't change, but her pulse ticked slightly faster. Then came the heart of it.

"They'll come for you eventually," Halcorth said. "Church. Army. Nobility. One of them—or all of them. Sooner or later, you'll be forced to choose."

"I will not be a part of their power games." Lilith said with a pout.

"I wish that was one of the choices." Halcorth sighed, looking into the distance. A long silence stretched between them as they watched the students exchange spells. Then, Lilith turned to look at her with calculating eyes.

"What about you, professor? May I ask which faction you are supporting now?" It was clear that she was once in the army. But now? She had no idea which faction she supported.

"Me? I am a retired army general. I do not—will not—pick a side. However, if my emperor calls me back, I will go back to the palace to defend his line."

The two looked at each other in silence. Professor Halcorth was trying to figure out this closed-off student while Lilith was trying to decide whether to trust her or not. She then looked around to make sure no one was listening to them before using air to create a sound barrier.

The professor straightened up instantly. Her instincts were telling her that whatever this young girl was about to tell her was going to cause dramatic changes in the Empire.

"What if..." Lilith started, gazing at her with dead serious eyes, "I were to tell you that there is a fourth faction?" 

Professor Sera narrowed her eyes slightly in curiosity. 

"What if, everything that has been told to us—humans—by the church were all lies, and we were worshipping the villains in this story?"

The tall, imposing woman's eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. "I would ask for evidence."

Hearing her answer, Lilith gave her a simple smile before wearing her cold and calculated mask once again.

"I cannot tell you more, professor. For I, do not trust you completely... yet. But I can tell you this: ask yourself, if the Eternal Four are truly our saviors who stopped the Goddess of Chaos's destructive plans, if they were this all-too-mighty group, how come the miasma that poisons every living being is still lingering around Serria? How come they failed to clear the air from this deadly fog? Why would a God called Mother want to destroy everything?"

Professor stayed silent, taking in all the questions and the little information Lilith gave her. And after a few seconds, her face looked confused. Lilith could see the seeds of doubt planting themselves in her eyes. She then let her eyes glow crimson, causing the older woman to take a step back.

"Not everything is as it seems, professor. Just like humans, gods also lie and deceive in order to get what they want. After all, we are their creations, no?"

The professor couldn't answer. Satisfied, she let her eyes return back to their original color and gave her a kind smile.

"When—or rather, if—you wish to learn the truth about this world, feel free to visit me, professor. Until then, I thank you for the information you have provided. I will use it wisely." She lightly bowed her head, dismissed the sound barrier, and turned around to head back to the field.

She didn't need to pick a side.

She was the storm to come.

The next class was Linguistics: Old Tongue & Rune Reading. Lilith, seated between Lyra and Tamsin, allowed herself a moment to breathe as Professor Corwin Maithe entered the room like a drifting shadow—his robes trailing behind him, his raven perched as usual on one shoulder.

He wasted no time.

"Today," he began, his voice smooth and quiet, "we speak not of spells or wars, but of echoes—forgotten scripts, ruined sanctums, and the silence of things lost."

At the tap of his staff, a shimmering projection appeared midair: a crumbling temple swallowed by vines and stone, half-buried in what looked like jungle or fog-covered ruins. Its broken arches bore weathered symbols, the runes angular and alien.

"These are remnants of a time far older than the Eternal Four's reign," he said, tapping once more to shift the image to a scroll. "From temples now buried beneath the world. Some even predate the arrival of humanity to Serria."

He spoke of glyphs etched into obsidian walls, of underground sanctuaries guarded by stone beasts, and of libraries lost in mountain caves—entire civilizations swallowed by time.

"We cannot decipher them. Not fully. Not yet," he admitted, eyes narrowing. "Every decade, the scholars of the capital gather to study them, to speculate. Were they prayers? Spells? Warnings? We cannot say. The language resists all magical analysis. And yet… some pieces seem to echo across time."

Lilith listened with sharpened interest, fingers resting atop her open notebook. Though her expression remained neutral, her thoughts raced.

Old temples. Undeciphered runes. Forgotten warnings.

This was not just history. This could be the key to her few problems. This could be the truth.

When the bell finally rang, Professor Maithe simply raised a hand—no dramatic goodbye, no assigned homework. Just a nod of dismissal, and the students quietly filed out of the dim-lit room, their minds swirling with riddles carved in stone.

The sun was sinking low when the girls reached the stables, golden light slanting across the eastern fields. Their uniforms were traded once again for work clothes, and the scents of hay, leather, and warm earth embraced them like a second skin.

Lilith found Elaris in her stall—head already lifted, ears flicking forward as if she'd been waiting.

She brushed her in silence, ran her fingers through the silky black mane, then led the mare out gently into the paddock under the watchful eye of Professor Marrec. The others did the same, guiding their chosen horses with varying degrees of success. Laughter and muffled complaints filled the air, but Lilith remained apart from it, her thoughts still tangled in ancient temples and long-dead gods.

She waited until the professor moved down the field before conjuring a sound barrier with a subtle flick of her fingers.

Alone with Elaris now, Lilith laid a hand against the mare's warm neck and sighed. "Today was… quieter than yesterday. No duels. No confrontations. But not peace, either."

Elaris snorted softly, eyes blinking slow and calm.

"There's something strange about the ruins Professor Maithe mentioned. A feeling like they're not as dead as the world wants to believe."

The mare lowered her head, grazing at the sparse grass, tail flicking lazily.

"Sometimes I wonder if that's what I'll become, Elaris," she whispered. "A relic waiting to be misinterpreted."

She didn't expect a response, and none came. But speaking the words lightened something in her chest.

As twilight deepened, Lilith returned Elaris to her stable, gave her one last brush, and lingered for a moment to run her fingers across her sleek flank. "Sleep well."

She changed swiftly after that and joined the others for the walk back to the dorms. Her body ached from the long day, but her mind was more awake than ever—alive with forgotten languages, buried gods, and the slow, deliberate beat of destiny marching forward.