Year of Idite, 1167
Under the light of the day, Lilith studied her four elemental magic.
The Training Hall of Silford Manor was bathed in golden morning light streaming through stained glass windows. The high, vaulted ceiling echoed with the rush of wind and the crackle of magic, as if the very air held its breath around the two young heirs of the Silford bloodline.
At the center of the polished stone floor stood Lilith Silford, now eleven years old. Her crimson-red hair, straight and gleaming like liquid fire, framed her sharp, delicate features. Her emerald green eyes, which returned back to their original color last year, shone with fierce focus as she moved her hands through a practiced sequence, her breath steady and controlled.
Before her, the four primal elements obeyed her call without resistance.
A ring of water spiraled in graceful arcs around her. Threads of fire coiled and danced above her open palm, while sharp slivers of earth hovered weightless at her fingertips. A soft current of air lifted the ends of her hair, swirling gently as if the wind itself bent to her will.
With a sharp breath, she brought her hands together—and the elements fused into a single glowing sphere, pure and shimmering, before she released it into harmless mist.
On the far side of the hall stood her younger brother, Elias Silford, now nine. His straight crimson hair barely passing his shoulders, slightly tousled, and his amber eyes burned with quiet determination. His small frame, once delicate, had gained the beginnings of lean muscle from long hours with the sword—his footwork sharp, his blade swift. He was a natural genius.
But it was the magic that made him different now.
Before him stood a cloaked figure—a tall demi-human named Arin, with dusky skin, feline golden eyes, and curved horns sweeping back from his temples. His voice, low and musical, guided Elias through the delicate weave of spells few humans dared to touch.
"Again," the Arin murmured, folding clawed hands into his sleeves. "Light is breath. Darkness is bone. Balance, young master. Always balance."
Elias closed his eyes. A thin ribbon of silver-white light danced along his fingertips, shifting seamlessly into a coil of silken shadow. His control faltered, and the shadows snapped—but he gritted his teeth, gathering the threads again.
Arin nodded approvingly. "Better. Our goddess favors perseverance."
From across the room, Lilith lowered her hands, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she watched him. "You're improving, Elias," she called softly, her voice warm with sisterly pride. "Your sword's sharper too."
Elias flushed slightly but straightened. "I have to catch up somehow," he replied, half-teasing. "Someone's already a storm, a wildfire, a river and a mountain all at once."
She laughed—a sound like chimes in the wind. "We're a team, silly. You don't have to 'catch up.'"
He offered a faint grin, but the truth sat heavier in his heart: he wanted to stand beside her—not behind her.
Arin's golden eyes gleamed knowingly. "In time," he murmured, his voice low enough that only Elias heard, "even the brightest flame may need the calm of night to survive."
The session ended hours later, sweat beading on both siblings' brows, magic and swordplay braided into muscle memory. As they left the hall side by side, their hands brushed—and for a moment, the two shared a quiet understanding.
Two threads, one fate.
Under the light of the moon, however, she was learning a different kind of magic.
The stone walls of the secret training hall pulsed faintly with ancient sigils, etched deep into the floor and ceiling in shimmering lines of silver and black. The air smelled of old magic—heavy, metallic, electric—beneath the flickering glow of cold witchlight.
In the center stood Lilith Silford, her straight crimson hair braided back tightly, her bare feet steady on the runes. Her emerald green eyes burned with rare intensity as she focused on the swirling darkness coalescing between her hands.
Opposite her, serene as ever, Count Caelum Thorne moved with deliberate slowness, his long midnight-blue hair brushing his biceps as he raised one gloved hand. The silver pendant of twin moons gleamed at his throat.
"Again," he said softly, his voice barely a breath. "But this time, do not fear it."
Lilith exhaled through her nose, her hands trembling as the darkness, tainted with slight crimson, thickened—smoke, shadow, and unformed chaos curling at her fingertips. The power felt alive: a deep, gnawing hunger, a whisper in the blood.
"It's loud," she murmured, her voice tight. "It… it pulls. It doesn't stop."
"It never will," Caelum replied, stepping closer. "That is Chaos. The raw breath of creation and destruction, bound in your veins. You were not born to shape water or flame, my lady. You were chosed to be something older."
She hesitated, biting her lip.
Caelum's teal eyes softened faintly. "The four elements—they are your mask. They will keep you hidden when the time comes to leave this manor. But they are not your truth. You must understand, my lady. You were chosen by Mother Chaos. When the four gods find out about you, you will be in danger. For that, you need to learn how to control your true power."
She gave a nod, closed her eyes, and grounded herself as he had taught her.
With a whispered invocation—the words unspoken by human tongues—the power surged through her.
Her emerald eyes flashed—then bled into burning crimson. Her crimson hair paled, strand by strand, until it shone snow white, as if the moon itself had poured silver fire across her skin.
The dark energy between her hands twisted, writhing into the shape of an open maw—something monstrous, unfinished—and with a breath, she let it dissolve harmlessly into dust.
Her knees buckled. Caelum caught her before she hit the ground.
"Well done, my lady," he murmured softly, steadying her. "Much better."
Lilith's breath came shallow, but her green eyes slowly returned as she blinked up at him.
"It… it didn't swallow me," she whispered.
"No," he agreed. "Because you are its master. Not the other way around."
She leaned into him briefly, exhaustion written across her face. "When I leave the manor… will they know?"
"They would, if they were to pay attention. However, they are way too arrogant for that." Caelum scoffed lightly and shook his head. "No. They won't notice it until it is too late. And you, my lady, by using the four elements can mask and further delay that date to some degree. After all, do not forget that the four elements came to be from Chaos, for they are also Her children," he said quietly. "The elements will shield you until you are ready."
Her white hair faded slowly back to crimson as the last wisps of magic faded. She let out a shaky breath and nodded.
Year of Idite, 1168
The grand drawing room glittered with midday light, filtered through stained-glass windows. Velvet drapes in deep crimson hung between carved oak panels, and fresh bouquets of white roses and blood-red lilies filled silver vases, their scents mingling sweetly with the warmth of the hearth. At the center of the room stood a low table draped in black satin, bearing a three-tiered cake iced in pale ivory and garnished with edible flowers and filigrees of black sugar.
Seated around it, in quiet celebration, were all those dearest to Lilith Silford on her twelfth birthday. Duke Claude Silford, dressed in cream and gold brocade, sat next to his daughter on the table, his amber eyes alight with pride and warmth. Opposite of him sat Duchess Lilia Silford, her crimson hair tumbling over emerald silk, her eyes—identical to Lilith's—shimmering with affection as she handed the girl pressed flowers between gentle sips of tea.
Elias, now ten, with his straight crimson hair and amber eyes, lingered nearby, fidgeting shyly with a small wooden carving he had made for his sister. Standing by the window, Count Caelum Thorne, in his customary midnight black, his dark blue hair tied neatly back, observed the gathering with serene detachment, a crystal goblet of pomegranate wine poised in one gloved hand.
Sebastian, the silver-haired butler, moved soundlessly through the room, offering polished trays of candied fruits and spiced wafers. Lilith's nanny Marianne, wearing her most pristine maid uniform, beamed protectively at the young mistress, while in the shadowed corner stood Arin, the demi-human instructor, his feline golden eyes gleaming with quiet amusement as his curved horns caught the candlelight.
Lilith, clad in deep green velvet edged with black lace, basked in their attention, her emerald eyes aglow as the final candle was lit. The moment stretched, and the air seemed to still, holding its breath as she leaned forward. With a whispered wish, she exhaled, extinguishing the flames in one perfect breath. A single thread of ember-glow spiraled into the air, unnoticed by all but Caelum's sharp glance.
The two parents clapped their hands while Elias jumped around happily. The laughter that followed was broken by the subtle shift of reality itself. The flicker of the hearth dimmed, and the stained-glass windows blurred into shadow as the air rippled unnaturally. In the heart of the drawing room, a vortex of crimson darkness coalesced, and from it stepped Akasha—the Goddess of Chaos, Mother of Monsters—her form both terrible and divine.
The silence deepened as all eyes turned to her. Tall and regal, with snow-white hair, eyes of endless blood-red, and armor forged from blackened nightmare, she radiated an aura of ancient power. Her bat-like wings unfurled, her crown with sharp, spiked points resembling twisted horns or jagged thorns. At its center sat a glowing red gemstone, framed by intricate metallic designs that evoke the faces of snarling beasts or demonic visages. The crown appeared to be made of obsidian, giving it a sinister, regal, and otherworldly presence. The crimson crystal at the center glowed with malevolent grace.
Arin, the demi-human, and Caelum were the first to react. While Arin immediately fell down on his knees, closing his eyes and bringing his hands in a prayer position, Caelum urged the Duke, the Duchess and Elias to do the same, for they were the closest to him. He then kneeled down in a respective manner right next to frozen Lilith, who was staring at the goddess with big, scared eyes.
None spoke as her voice, soft as silk yet vast as the abyss, echoed through the room.
"Lilith, child of my blood, avatar of my will."
The girl's eyes widened more. Nanny Marianne trembled on her kneeled position while Caelum caught Lilith gently by the wrist and forced her to a kneeling position as well.
"You stand on the threshold of your destiny. For twelve summers you have learned the semblances of power—earth's patience, fire's fury, air's grace, water's flow. But now you step into the true currents of inevitable change."
The Goddess's gaze flicked to Caelum as she silently stared at him for a few seconds. Caelum trembled at the end of that short silence and bowed his head low. Duke Claude's stern composure cracked with dread while the Duchess trembled with worry.
"In one moon's turn, you will journey to the Academy of Magic and Swordsmanship. There you will walk among scholars and knights, weaving your mask of elemental skill. Seek out the High Priestess of the Goddess of Earth—Idite's own handmaiden—and earn her trust."
Lilith's breath caught; her emerald eyes darted to her parents. Duchess Lilia's lips parted as though to speak—but no words came.
"When the time is ripe… you will carve out her black heart and offer it to me to herald a new age. The world must learn that Chaos endures, and She is seeking vengeance. This is your first ever task."
Lilith's breath caught as The Goddess's gaze focused upon her. The goddess stepped closer, her voice softening.
"Remember," she whispered, "only through chaos does rebirth come."
As swiftly as she had appeared, The Goddess's form unraveled into darkness as she opened her wings wide and flapped them once, the glow of her passing casting flickering shadows on the stunned faces in the room. The candles re-lit, the fire roared anew, and the stillness shattered into hushed whispers.
Lilith stood trembling. Her father pulled her close, voice unsteady, trying to calm both her and himself down. Her mother wiped a tear from her cheek, while exchanging haunted glances with her husband. Elias looked stunned. He was still gazing at the place where the goddess once stood. Was he in awe? Shock? Frozen by fear? No one could tell. But he looked determined for some reason.
Caelum, impassive but resolute, stepped forward. "So it begins," he murmured, the weight of destiny settling on the child's small shoulders. "My lady, I will see you safely to the Academy—and beyond."
Sebastian and the others exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared question the charge given by the Mother of Monsters herself.
And so the first true thread of Chaos was woven into the fabric of Silford Manor's legacy.