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 Flora 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 two summers, you will journey to the Valtorin Academy of Magic and Blade. 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 Flora'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.