Chapter 1

"Of all magic, there are four schools. Invocation, Augmentation, Manipulation, and Spatial."

Zilean turned to face the crowd of purple caster minions that was cowering in front of him. He stood solemnly on the blasted rocks of the Proving Grounds, gathering himself for his demonstration. Though the wizened, bearded old man seemed frail, even tiny against the enormous clock he kept perennially strapped to his back, his power was unmistakable. There was perhaps no one within the League that was more knowledgeable in the arts of magic than he was.

At the very least, no one that would not have attempted to blast Ahri into ash just for asking for some tips.

The aged man stepped forwards on the destroyed, blasted bridge that was the Proving Grounds. The stone causeway hung perilously over a bottomless abyss; the only light radiated from the glowing scepters of the turrets mounted along the center of the bridge, and the deep, softer glow of the Institute of War behind them,

"First, the most destructive and basic of all magic, Inovcation."
Zilean stepped back, and swept his hands outwards, gathering magic at his fingertips. For a moment, he floated, and the light about him twisted and churned like paint on a palette. The ground started to shake with the concentrated energy. A light started to glow in the palms of his hands. The Chronokeeper took a deep breath.

"Un'dah!" Zilean thrust his hands forwards, sending the magic racing at the minions.
A shockwave of blue magic thundered in front of him, rippling against the hapless crowd of minions, sending them scattering about like leaves in a gale of wind.
"Phew…" Zilean fell back to the ground, panting a bit, to the screams of purple caster minions. "Invocation is the art of projecting magic into the world around you and directly affecting it. You know several mages who are mostly Invokers on the Fields of Justice. Annie Hastur is one of them. Ryze is a rather famous Invoker as well. You will find that Invokers are a largely destructive, impatient lot. Brand, for a rather obvious example."

"Woah…" Ahri gazed, amazed, as she watched the poor minions fly hundreds of feet off the bridge, and into the night. "Awesome! Teach me that!"

Zilean gave a smile at the praise.
"I tried my very best there. Every now and then, even shriveled men like me need to show off to girls."
"Do it again! Again!"
"Next time, there are still three more schools to learn."

Zilean rolled up his sleeves.

"The second school of magic is the one of self-empowerment, Augmentation."
With a flick of his wrist, Zilean summoned another minion, this one armed with a spiked club and a shield, a close-combat fighter. Zilean whistled to it. The newly created construct looked about, slightly confused, right up until Zilean walked up to it and punched it with a magically strengthened fist.

"Ti'em!" The frail, scrawny old man smashed the minion into the stone rock of the Proving Grounds, as magic radiated off of his fist in short, chaotic bursts. The bare fist punched a hole a foot deep into the solid rock. Ahri immediately gave Zilean a one-fox round of applause.

"Augmenters, or Enhancers as they are sometimes known, are rather rare in the League, because theirs is the art of enhancing their own bodies with magic. You see, few who have the gift of magic chose to engage in close combat with their skills, but you know a couple. The Grandmaster Jax, for one, chooses to enhances himself and his peculiar weapons to great effect. The Noxian General Swain has a rather famous augmentation that transforms him into that giant crow. And there is another one."

"Huh?" Ahri cocked her head. "Who?"
"Heh. "A small chuckle escaped Zilean. "You. Your Spirit Dash spell is quite the powerful enhancement you put on yourself there, dear. You put many of us dusty old mages to shame."
Ahri smiled and blushed a bit at the praise. Her tails wagged about happily.

Zilean sighed, and gathered himself again.
"The last major school of magic is Manipulation. Watch closely."
Zilean raised his arms, and closed his eyes.
"Ah'khan!"

All about him and Ahri, minions, rocks, and debris floated about them in a giant globe. Ahri looked on in wonder as Zilean manipulated the various objects to perform beautiful and complex motions in the sky. The minions started cheering and laughing as they soared through the air, like so many purple birds in the sky. They started to play tag with their weapons as they zipped back and forth about the proving grounds. It was like a snowglobe of minions.

Then Zilean, exhausted, let up the spell. The minion's cheers turned to pitiful cries as more of them fell into the abyss. The Chronokeeper had to rest on his knees, panting.

"Grandpa!" Ahri rushed to the magus. "You ok?"
"I'm fine, Dear. It's just that this magic, combined with my illness, tires me a bit."
Ahri fell silent at this reminder. It was hard to tell sometimes, but all who knew him knows that Zilean was living two lives, with one foot in the present, and one foot in a lost, glorious past, thanks to his chronic, time-magic related illness.
It must be so hard, Ahri thought. But she said nothing as the old man bravely tried to laugh away his fatigue.

Ahri hurriedly changed the subject.

"Hey, don't try and cheat me, old man. There's still one more school."
"Ah, yes." The Chronokeeper patted his hands on his robes, and stood up straight. "You mean Spatial magic. The rarest and most difficult of all magic."
Zilean raised his hand, and summoned a minion. The caster popped out of a portal, and started walking about.

"…."

"What?"
"Is that it?"
Zilean laughed.
"All summoners use a weak form of spatial magic to summoner avatars of their champions into the Fields of Justice. And like frosty hell do I have the energy for a real Spatial spell."
"I thought you said it was rare."
"Well.. it really is, because it is so intensive and complex. Flash, for example, requires so much energy and coodination to transport champions but a few feet that it takes an eternity to gather up the power to use it again."

"But…" Ahri's face scrunched up in remembrance of dozens of bad experiences in the middle lane. "There's that annoying Ezreal who flashes all over the place, and that stupid Veigar warps space or something with his giant stun, and… and..."

The Chronokeeper burst into laughter.

"HAHAHA!" Zilean wiped away a tear, "Ah, I'm sorry, Ahri, you must understand, in battle, most champions cheat. Ezreal uses a great amount of power only to enhance himself in pure light, and zip away. A great feat, but nonetheless, not spatial magic. Veigar hardly uses the full potential spatial magic with his stun, he only calls to the earth a great hole of absolutely nothing to stun enemies with a vacuum. And he still needs to conjure five enormous amplifying towers just to accomplish that! Yet even with that bland, unimaginative use of the art, it is still one of the most powerful spells in the Institute. That should give you some idea of the potential of Spatial magic."

"Then… who? Who uses it, truly?"
Zilean fell silent as he contemplated the question.

"I hate to ring my own bell, but my own Chronomancy has much of its ground in the Spatial magic school. It takes some explaining, but time itself is an element of space, so you can imagine that I deal with that. You know the Void Walker, Kassadin. His magic is truly that of the Spatial, moving between dimensions to do battle, into that dark place that he and Malzahar call the Void"

Zilean gave a small laugh.

"And you know one more man who has mastered Spatial magic." The Chronokeeper smiled. "He is very close to you, I believe."
"Oh, you mean…."
"Yes... Him."
Ahri snapped her fingers, and pointed at Zilean.
"...Shen!"

"..."

"...Yes?"
"...No." Zilean sighed. "I mean, yes, Shen does have an element of Spatial magic in his Ninjutsu, but who I meant was the Wuju Swordmaster, Master Yi."
"...Yi?"

"All Wuju masters, throughout the ages, have had an affinity with their 'Wu', which means 'Nothingness', in the Ionian dialect. It was the name they gave their gift for Spatial magic."

Zilean gazed off into the distance.

"Even before his encounter with the Dragonsblade, Yi's Alpha Strike had just about reached the pinnacle of Spatial Magic combat. Mages around the world were in envy of Yi''s Spatial magic that synergized so well with his swordsmanship and courage."

"Wow… I knew Yi was strong, but…"
"Not that strong? It is a shame that Yi's former unofficial role in the League was to guide junior summoners in the use of their skills. He, like many in the League, was limited in their applications. Yet released from his restraints, the world trembled and the ground shook.

"And you, Ahri my Dear, I will make like that. The world will shake and cower in fear at your will, because I see in you so much. In you is the look of the Masters of the old Rune Wars. In you is the heart of a good person. You will be the balance that scales the world."

Ahri frowned, and looked away.

"...If that is what everyone wants me to be," Ahri replied, in a slightly sad voice. Zilean was a little taken aback by her quieted response. "If that is what everyone wants me to be, then I'll do it."

Zilean sighed, and solemnly took the girl under her shoulder. He softly pat her hair as she stared off into the distance.

"No one can make you do anything you don't want to. What makes us do what we do is the will of your heart. Your principles may force you to act, and in those moments, the power to do what is right for ourselves and our loved ones often is sorely needed."
"Learn from me, my dear, and the only limit to your world and your life will be yourself."
"...That's what I'm afraid of."

A dark figure sat in the shadows of some enormous statue in the Institute of War, running a whetstone down the length of his pitch-black sword.. The man had evaded the numerous palace guards with ease, and had situated himself in a remote location of the complex. Standing in front of him, in the little light that shone, was the Black Rose of Deceit, LeBlanc.

"Your plan is set, master. My subordinates have managed to place my teleportation mark in Councilor Kominye's office." LeBlanc turned to her colleague, another Black Rose, who was garbed in full palace guard armor. The double-agent guard gave a stoic nod in confirmation. "All we await is your call to strike."

The dark figure said nothing, only to continue sharpening his sword. The grinding of stone on metal echoed into the blackness.
"Master? Is there anything else? When can we expect the attack?"

The dark figure continued grinding. Only when he was finished, and the edge of his blade managed to glint even in the twilight, did he speak.
"Soon. Do not fail me."

At this, LeBlanc and the palace guard backed away into the shadows. Still the dark figure sat there. Looking again on his blade, the dark figure found the slightest imperfection, grunted in annoyance, and set back to grinding his sword.