Once upon a time, in a kingdom not so far far away, a dangerous and frightening curse had ravaged the land. The unseen hex had seeped destruction into every facet of the people’s lives and, while many sought shelter in solitude, others donned their personal protective armour and battled the dark magic to provide care, food, transport and essential wares for others.

The kingdom had been a bustling hive, a cacophony of existence harbouring a beautiful and powerful magic. The nation boasted large palaces scattered densely across its regions, sharing land and housing the many wizards and enchantresses who would welcome the people through their doors to share their magic: learning.

When the darkness appeared, shrouded and swift, the palaces had closed their doors. But those who resided within found new ways to share their knowledge, building impenetrable communities where the virus could not reach them. The pure magic of knowledge was channelled directly into the people’s homes, and, gradually, the darkness began to subside. 

After many difficult months, the palaces threw open their doors and welcomed the people back. Cautiously, and maintaining their armour, the kingdom once again revelled in the enchantments within their walls. But this is not a happy ending. Instead, this is where our story begins, as a distant rumble grows ever closer. 

The spellcasters felt the rolling tremors first, deep in their stomachs. The dark curse remained in their peripheral - a veil over their celebrations, warning of impending aftershocks. Soon, deep cracks began to snake their way towards the palaces from the horizon, carving crevices into plains and plans, and emanating an infectious anxiety.

Those who passed too close felt the effects cling to them, like grasping brambles that took root in skin and cloth, manifesting as an increased heart rate, a fuzzy mind and a fatigued body.

Many worked tirelessly to heal the cracks. The palace crafters poured enchantments directly into the ragged chasms. Yet still they widened; still they advanced. 

Soon the creeping brambles had become sharply serrated vines oozing from the splintered ground. They encased the palace and all inside quickly succumbed to their pulsating unease.

The writhing tendrils seemed to breathe deeply as they coiled ever tighter around the buildings; twisting and lengthening with such intensity that their razor-sharp thorns blocked out the sun and made deep scratches across the windows that echoed through the palace halls.

Still the thunder rolled closer, diminishing the ominous silence between each thunderous clap to fleeting beats. With each shockwave of sound, the ground shuddered with an increasing intensity. The approaching force never tired; quickening instead, hurtling now towards the palace until her gigantic form became a visible silhouette on the hazy skyline. 

The wizards and enchantresses of the palace had heard rumours of this variable beast. A formidable master of disguise and gifted conjurer of panic, long rumoured to be lurking but rarely sighted. Many great enchanters had sought her in recent months, believing the curse had bolstered her strength. But information remained woefully sparse. Only one thing was known with absolutely certainty: her name was TAG (also known as teacher assessed grades).

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TAG descended upon the entwined palace with ferocity, splintering the earth underfoot and looming gigantic above the surrounding rooftops. And yet, in the face of this vast challenger, all inside the palace knew just what to do.
 

The darkness had not bolstered this beast. This monstrous creature had mistaken the kingdom’s empty streets for weakness, but this was far from the truth. The students of the palace had continued to hone their craft in solitude; guided by the enchanters to master its independent use. These well-equipped learners rushed to the palace windows, tearing them open from their razored binds and marvelling as thick tendrils fell to the ground. The glinting shards softened on impact, bursting into cushiony blossoms that rolled across luscious grass as it sprouted from healing cracks. TAG stumbled as the blooms gained momentum in her direction.

The enchanters called on a new magic, crafted in the darkness. Using the pathways forged to channel their teachings, they summoned the support of palaces across the entire nation.

With each spark of collaborative connection, the beast seemed to grow smaller. The students’ tumbling flowers continued their cavalry, soon reaching those thunderous feet. With every petal that softly brushed the giant’s skin, the strident steps seemed to grow lighter.

Across the country’s palaces, the spell-workers crafted powerful weapons and, with each Sword of Self-Marking and Shield of Peer-Assessment that manifested in the hands of an enchanter, TAG diminished. 

By the time she reached the palace doors, she stood only a head taller than the students and teachers who waited to greet her. 

“Welcome, friend,” one called to her. “Please, come in. We must rest, then we have much to discuss on how we can best serve each other.

“Perhaps, if you would be so kind, the next time you visit, you could call ahead?”