The rest of the month passed in a blur of sweat, quiet victories, and moments of frustration. I threw myself into self-study like a man possessed.
Wandless magic became my obsession. Holding objects, manipulating weight, building up endurance. Every day I meditated, visualized, pushed a little further than the day before. At first, I could only manage a few objects at once—quills, candles, maybe a book or two.
But by the third week, I was levitating multiple stone weights—each nearly a hundred pounds—hovering them around me in slow orbits while I walked, breathed, and kept my mind clear. It was exhausting. But I did it.
The white flame had returned too—flickering to life in my palm without me willing it into shape, like a living thing waiting to be acknowledged. I still had no idea what it was, what it meant. It didn't burn or consume, but it held an intensity that felt alive… watching me.
I showed my parents, hoping for answers they only exchanged a glance. "She'll explain it," my mother said, tone quiet. "Let your aunt tell you," my father added, tapping his wand against the wall before walking off.
My aunt.
I had almost forgotten the deadline then, the last day of the month came. Late afternoon. The sun glowing gold outside the windows. I was reorganizing my notes on magical pressure compression when the knock echoed through the manor.
A slow, steady boom. Like someone barely trying to contain their strength. Then the door creaked open. And she walked in. Tall. Dark-skinned. Golden-eyed and powerful.
She looked almost exactly like Mel from Arcane—but Mel would've looked like a wax model next to her. My aunt radiated strength in that effortless, terrifying way that war generals and queens did in paintings. She was built like a gymnast: tight, defined muscle under a high-collared black jacket, her golden hair braided back into a crown that shimmered with thin thread-runes. Her boots didn't make a sound.
She saw me—froze—and then grinned. "Ohhhh, my little nephew!" I didn't even have time to react. She swooped across the room and lifted me into the air like I was a feather. I swear I heard something in my spine pop.
"I haven't seen you since you were born!" she laughed, spinning me in place. "Auntie missed you so much! Look at your face—you're all grown up already!" She smelled like jasmine and vanilla. Her hug was like being grabbed by a soft earthquake.
I managed a strained, "Hi."
She finally set me down, chuckling. Despite the lioness energy she carried, there was a doting softness in her gaze. One minute I thought she might break me in half—the next, she was fussing with my collar and dusting off my sleeves.
Then came the gifts.
Over the next hour, she bombarded me with magical items, relics, scrolls, puzzle-boxes, glowing coins, and artifacts that looked way too ancient to be casually handed to a kid. Most of them were from Japan.
"A mood-sensitive ink brush," she said. "It writes your thoughts even if you can't express them aloud. Good for mental focus." "This here? A bakeneko charm. Don't feed it after midnight." "Oh—this one's my favorite. An origami guardian from Kyoto. Can cut through illusion spells."
I was in heaven. And then she handed me a manga. My brain short-circuited. "You read manga?!" Her golden eyes twinkled. "Of course I do. I even enchant some for field use." I couldn't help it. I geeked out. I listed off my favorites—Berserk, Dragon Ball, Inuyasha, Sailor Moon, Yu Yu Hakusho…
But when I looked back at her, her smile had flattened "...I've never heard of any of those," she said, puzzled. "Where do you get your titles from?" I froze. My brain screamed. Of course. They don't exist here. This is a different world.
I gave her a tight smile and muttered, "I… just made the names up. Thought they sounded cool." She patted my head. "You're a creative one. That's good." I cried inside. Great. My favorite series don't exist. But hey… I can fix that later.
Then came more gifts. More items. I was starting to lose track when suddenly— "Ahem." My mother cleared her throat from across the hall. My father coughed pointedly.
Aunt Aster froze mid-sentence, holding a bundle of enchanted charms, and gave an exaggerated wince. "Right. Sorry, sis." With a flick of her fingers, every item floated into the air, condensed into a glowing shimmer, and disappeared into a small brown bracelet bag on my wrist.
A magical inventory pouch. That was going to be useful. She then turned back to me. Her expression shifted. All playfulness drained away. Her posture straightened. Her gaze sharpened. I could feel the room grow heavier—charged. "Let me formally introduce myself, Callum." I nodded slowly, unsure what to expect.
"I am Aster Tesfaye, daughter of the Tesfaye royal line, sister to your mother. I am the current matriarch of our family's bloodline." Her voice was regal now. Practiced. Like a noble from a fantasy court. She didn't need volume. Her presence commanded attention.
"I hold titles in Magical Theory from the Kyoto Academy, the Berlin Academy of Esoterica, and Ilvermorny's College of Arcanum. I am a Grand Duelist, recognized in five continents." She paused, letting that sink in.
"And more importantly, I am one of the few remaining Arcane Sorceresses in the world." My brow furrowed. "What's an Arcane Sorceress?" A faint, almost mischievous smile returned to her lips.
"Good question."
She stepped closer, kneeling to meet my eye level. "In simple terms? An Arcane Sorceress—or Sorcerer—is a practitioner who draws directly from primordial, ambient magic. We don't rely on wands, spells, or rituals. We command the flow of raw, foundational magic. It's rare. Incredibly so. Few families have kept the art alive."
She lifted her hand. A golden sigil burned silently into the air above her palm. I felt it hum against my skin. "Most wand users can only shape magic. Arcane users? We become part of it."
I blinked, processing. "And… our family practices that?" She nodded. "We're one of the last three families known to still pass it down. Ours, the Dumbledores... and the original line of Godric Gryffindor."
My heart thudded. "You said their line is…?" "Almost lost," she finished. "Suppressed. Hidden. Maybe a few half-branches scattered in America or the Isles. But none practice the Arcane path anymore. Not like we do."
I looked down at my hand. The one that had summoned white flame the one that had once turned gold. "...And the flame?" She stood. "That's what I came to test." The training room was quiet.
Massive, circular, and pulsing faintly with enchantments layered into the stone. Sigils glowed under the polished floor, slowly shifting like constellations. This place felt alive. Waiting.
Aunt Aster led me to the center, her steps firm and fluid.
My parents stood at the edge of the warded circle, watching. My mother's face was calm, but her fingers were woven together. Tense. My father had his arms folded, wand tucked in his belt, gaze unreadable. Aster turned to me, her golden eyes softer than before.
"Callum," she said gently, "our family's magic is… rare. Not just because of its strength. But because of its nature." She raised her hand, palm open. A white flame bloomed to life—bright, but not blinding. It flickered like a heartbeat. "This is our foundation. The White Flame of Purity."
With a smooth wave of her fingers, the flame spiraled down into the shape of a lioness. It landed with a soft thud, padding forward on flaming paws. I didn't feel threatened. I knelt slowly. The lioness leaned against me, rubbing its flaming face against my chest.
It didn't burn.
It felt… like the warmth of a mother's embrace and the comfort of a fire on a winter night, all wrapped into one.
"This flame," Aster said behind me, "does not hurt those the wielder considers allies or loved ones. It can burn, yes. But it can heal. It can cleanse curses. It chooses who to harm." The lioness turned back to her, dissolving into light as it returned to her palm.
"Now," she said, her tone shifting. Another flame rose. This one burned gold.
It was deeper. Stronger. It pulsed with energy that made the air vibrate. The golden flame shaped itself into another lioness—sleeker, fiercer. "This is the Golden Flame—the crest of our family. Stronger. It burns our enemies, heals our allies, and can even strengthen others temporarily. It is the evolved form of our gift. Few awaken it."
The lioness let out a silent roar. I could feel the power rippling from it. Then Aster let it dissipate, and walked toward me, slow and deliberate. She placed her hand on my back. "You had a massive magic spike recently," she said, her voice no longer gentle. "If that kind of power stays locked, it'll consume you from within. I'm going to help you unlock it properly. Safely."
I swallowed.
My body felt tense. My palms were already sweating. "Wait," I said quickly. "Can I use the bathroom first?"
Aster blinked. Then gave a warm chuckle. "Of course, little one. Go on." As I bolted from the room, I heard my mother sigh, "Don't spoil him." "I can't help it," Aster replied. "He's my only nephew!"
Once I was in the bathroom with the door locked, I didn't waste time. I reached into my mind and pulled the Potion of Hidden Potential Unsealing from my system inventory. The bottle shimmered—pure black, with silver veins swirling inside it like moving smoke.
I hesitated. Then popped the top and drank all eight ounces. It was bitter. Cold. For half a second, I felt nothing. Then—rush. A tidal wave of energy surged through me, vibrating in my bones, lighting up nerves I didn't know existed. My vision blurred. My heart felt like it was moving between dimensions.
Then clarity.
And calm.
I looked in the mirror. My eyes flickered—not gold, not white.
Black.
Just for a second.
Then they faded.
I took a breath, nodded to myself, and walked back into the training room. Aster turned toward me, sensing something—but not speaking on it. "You ready now?"
"Yes."
I sat in a meditative pose, cross-legged, hands on my knees. "Good," she whispered. Her hand returned to my back. Then she began pouring magic into me. At first, it was soft. Like a warm breeze. Then it thickened. Denser. My lungs struggled to draw breath. My skin felt too tight for my bones.
But I kept breathing.
And then I saw it.
In my mind's eye.
A flame.
White. Pure. Calm. Beside it—gold. Powerful. Vibrant. Radiant. Then—something else. From deep inside me, from a place neither inherited nor trained, came a third fire.
Black.
It didn't flicker.
It consumed.
It swirled around the white and gold flames… and then merged. The result? Explosion. In the real world, a golden flame erupted from me, blasting outward in a massive shockwave. My mother and father stepped back, shielding their eyes.
Then came the black, thick, and heavy consuming. The room trembled. Runes cracked. My eyes flew open, and I gasped—and in that moment, every warded piece of equipment in the room melted. Books turned to ash. Candles dripped into the floor. Sigils burned away.
And I blinked to find my family—
Naked.
I stared, stunned. "What the—WHAT THE F—"
SMACK.
My mother's palm lightly hit the back of my head. "Language." I stared at them, bewildered. "You're… you're all naked." My dad raised an eyebrow. "You melted our clothes, son." Aster let out a long sigh. "And the enchantments that protected them."
She snapped her fingers, and their clothes reappeared—fresh, perfectly tailored. I turned to my mother. "What… was that?" She looked to Aster. Aster knelt in front of me, this time with a gravity I hadn't felt before. Her expression no longer playful or proud. Just… solemn.
"Callum," she said softly, "you've awakened something we weren't sure still existed. Something that hasn't appeared in our bloodline since the Progenitor." I swallowed hard. "What is it?" Aster reached out, gently brushing her fingers over my chest.
"The Black Flame." She paused. "It is a powerful, ancient magic. Not evil. Not corrupted. But… hungry." I frowned. "Hungry?"
She nodded. "It consumes magic around it. Converts it. Makes you stronger. Faster. Smarter. It enhances your very soul." I perked up, hopeful. But she held up a hand.
"But it's dangerous. Addictive. Our ancestor's firstborn daughter—your many-times-great aunt—was the last wielder. She was consumed by it. She lost herself. The Progenitor had to kill her to stop the destruction."
The room fell silent. "I didn't want to tell you this early," she whispered, "but you need to know. Because you carry the same spark." I looked down at my hands. They were still glowing faintly with the golden-and-black fire. I wasn't afraid but I knew everything was about to change.