Chapter Five: The Archmage of Chaos
Five years had passed since the Prismatic Sphere shattered into absolute nothingness.
Inside the central courtyard of the black spire, a nine-year-old boy floated upside down in the bitterly cold morning air. He was not using wind magic to levitate. He had simply commanded gravity to ignore him. Khaos held a blank, leather-bound book in his hands, staring intently at the empty white pages.
"You are holding the book upside down," Vespera noted. She stood at the edge of the courtyard, her white hair untouched by the passing years.
"The book is completely blank," Khaos replied calmly. He flipped a page that had no words on it. "It does not matter which way I hold it. I am reading the silence."
Vespera sighed deeply. "You are nine years old today, Khaos. The Grand Council held a vote this morning. They have officially recognized your unique status. They are forging an eighth throne for the high chamber. A throne of black glass."
