As night settled over the forest, a thick white fog began creeping through the trees. Noticing this, Benjamin called out to Samuel, who was perched on a tree branch.
"Samuel, climb down. The mist is rolling in."
Instead of moving, the boy remained seated, stroking a bird resting beside him. "Uncle, what are half-blood vampires?" he asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
Benjamin sighed. "I'll tell you—once you're down here. Now come on, before the fog gets worse."
Samuel frowned. "Ayna once told me that the Centarious family used to be vampires. Does that mean we're different from Ayna or Alexandra?"
Benjamin gave a small, knowing smile. "You leave me no choice, Sammy." Instead of answering, he placed his foot against the air as if stepping onto an invisible staircase. With a graceful push, he ascended effortlessly, as though climbing a ladder, using the ancient magic of his bloodline—Sky Walking.
Samuel's eyes widened in awe. "Uncle… can you really fly?"
He had heard rumors that some in his family could use spatial magic, but this was the first time he had seen it with his own eyes.
Benjamin reached the branch where Samuel sat and floated beside him, smirking. "Soon, you'll be able to do this just as easily." Then, without warning, he lifted Samuel and gently descended to the forest floor, just as the mist thickened around them.
Still filled with wonder, Samuel clutched Benjamin's arm. "Uncle… can we fly back to the castle?"
Benjamin chuckled. "It's not flying." He ruffled the boy's hair. "Now, tell me—what do you want more? To fly, or to learn about vampires?"
Samuel's smile faltered as he fell into deep thought, walking beside his uncle in silence.
After a few moments, he grinned. "Uncle, vampires."
Benjamin gave him a knowing smile. "Sammy, you know 'The Song of Silence and Chaos,' right?"
"Yeah."
"Then you know about the Goddess of Night."
Samuel nodded.
Benjamin continued, "Vampires, like all mythical creatures, were born from her womb—beings created without the Maker's will."
Samuel's brows furrowed. "Then… the Twelve Gods didn't like them?"
Benjamin smirked. "They feared them. The gods sealed away the powers of all mythical creatures, including vampires, and turned them into humans. But they weren't ordinary humans—they were something in between, caught between two worlds. They became known as Half-Bloods."
Samuel's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "So… this all happened in the Genesis of Creation?"
Benjamin nodded.
Samuel kicked a small stone along the dirt path, his mind spinning with questions. "But if the Maker was so powerful, why didn't he just stop the Mother of Chaos?"
Benjamin smiled, pleased with the boy's curiosity. "Because even the strongest forces have limits, Samuel." He gazed up at the night sky. "The Maker could shape reality, but he could not create life as she did. That was something even he didn't understand."
Samuel nodded, swinging his legs idly. "But then… the war between them—was it really a war? Or was it just… balance?"
Benjamin's smile deepened. "Now you're thinking like a scholar. Some say it was a battle, others say it was necessary. Without Chaos, there would be no life. Without Order, there would be no world to hold it."
Samuel frowned in thought. "So then… which one was right?"
Benjamin let out a soft chuckle and ruffled the boy's hair. "That's a question even the greatest minds can't answer. But remember this—" He pointed toward the stars. "Every light in the sky was born from their struggle. Without both, we wouldn't be here."
Samuel stared at the heavens, the weight of the story settling over him. Then, after a moment, he grinned. "That's kinda cool."
Benjamin laughed. "It is, isn't it?"
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"The Song of Silence and Chaos" is one of the oldest known myths in the world, believed to predate even the Twelve Gods. It speaks of the two primordial beings—The Maker, the Father of Order, and the Mother of Chaos, the Goddess of Night—whose conflict gave birth to existence itself. Many scholars debate whether it is a literal truth or merely a metaphor for the balance of all things
Excerpt from the Sacred Hymns of Creation:
Before Creation: The Eternal Silence
Before time, before existence—before even thought—there was Silence. An infinite void, devoid of motion, sound, or purpose. And within this Silence, one being lay dormant, neither awake nor dreaming: The Maker, the Origin of Order, the Father. He was the slumbering Architect, the source of Light, whose very breath could shape reality. Yet, he slept, and Silence reigned supreme.
But Silence could not last forever.
From the depths of the void, something stirred—a presence without shape, without name. A force restless, boundless, yearning for change. She had no purpose, only an instinct to create. And from the stillness of nothingness, she awakened.
She was the Origin of Life and Creation, the Goddess of Night and Darkness—the Mother. Unlike the Maker, she did not sleep, and she did not dream. She moved, unraveled, and gave birth to things that should not exist—fragments of raw entropy, creatures of formless hunger, horrors without name. She did not know why she created—only that she must.
The moment Chaos awoke, Silence shattered. And in that moment, the first sound rang through the void.
She summoned an ancient force to oppose the darkness—a sound, an echo, something older than even the night itself.
####
The War of Chaos and Order
The Echo roused the Maker from his slumber. His first thought was Light, and when he spoke, it became reality. In an instant, Light surged through the void, and the first boundaries were set.
But Chaos did not understand boundaries. She had already created, and her creations did not wish to be bound. Her children—beings of madness and untamed energy—rebelled against the Light, twisting and distorting the new laws of reality.
And so began the first war.
Their battle was not fought with swords or armies, but with existence itself—the stillness of Order against the endless tide of Chaos. Galaxies were born and unmade in the clash of their wills. She, wild and untamed, sought to break free from the laws he imposed. She birthed horrors that defied logic, creatures that shattered the fabric of being.
But he was absolute. He was balance, the will that defined existence. Yet, even as he struck her down, he hesitated.
Because she, for all her madness, had done something even he could not.
She had given birth.
He, with all his power, could shape, command, and define existence. But he could not create life from nothing. The only other being he had ever known to do so was the one who came before him.
And so, he watched her. He studied her.
And for the first time in eternity, he wondered.