Magic and History

Time flowed like a quiet river in this strange new world, and before I knew 

it, an entire year had passed by since my rebirth.  

Here in Eryndorath, a year is made up of ten months, each with twenty-five days—shorter than the years I once knew.

 Life moved faster here, as if the world itself refused to wait. During that time, Mira—taught me everything she could.

First came the language, then reading, followed by writing, and eventually, a small fraction of Eryndorath’s history. 

As the days passed, one word echoed louder than the rest. “Kyle.” That was me—my new name. At first, I struggled to accept it. It felt foreign, like a mask I hadn’t grown into. But slowly, I got used to hearing it.

Mira would point to me and whisper gently, “Kyle.” Then point to herself with a smile and say, “Mama.”
Lyrien was more direct. 

He’d pat his chest proudly and declare. “Dada strong!”

Over time, my vocabulary expanded—and with it, my understanding of this world. Each new word was a spark, lighting up pieces of a life I was still learning to live. 

Every detail filled me with wonder… and questions. Then one day, I surprised them both in the kitchen.
“Mama ka noma gakimi asa kora,” I said, which means. (“Mother, may I please have bread and water?”)

Mira dropped the knife she was holding—its clatter sharp against the quiet kitchen. Her eyes widened in disbelief, tears welling up as she fell to her knees and pulled me into a trembling hug.

                                                        Moments later, Lyrien burst into the room. “Lokigi kra'thik zatarc tha'res!” He said. (“What’s wrong? Is everything okay!?”) Mira told him what I had said. For a heartbeat, Lyrien just stood there, stunned. Then a slow, radiant smile spread across his face.

He crouched down beside us and ruffled my hair. “That's my boy,” he said, pride shining in his voice. “Our little scholar.”

Just a year and two months old… and already Kyle was speaking in full sentences, something that was truly abnormal.

Wrapped in their warmth, I didn’t fully understand what I’d done. But in that moment—I knew I had made them proud.

–––––

Two months passed, and in those months—I became fluent in vocabulary, reading, and writing. 

It all came naturally now.

Mira expanded my education, no longer treating me like a toddler, but a young heir with a bright future.

That’s when I learned of our bloodline. We belonged to a noble house—

the Crimson Family, descendants of Ignis, the Flame God himself.

 But like many noble lines, ours was fractured—splintered into distant branches, each guarding its pride and power.

Mira sat beside me, a worn leather-bound book open on the table between us. 

Golden runes shimmered faintly on the cover, but what caught my eye was the family crest embossed on the first page: a phoenix wreathed in flames, wings outstretched.

“This,” she said gently, “is our legacy.”
She tapped the page. “The Crimson Family.

Descendants of Ignis Crimson—the Flame God himself.”

“We’re of the Talon branch,” she continued. “The least wealthy, yes… but considered the most powerful.

Others may look down on us for our coin, but they fear us for our strength.”

I repeated the name in my mind: ‘So my full name is Kyle Talon Crimson—I see.’

It sounded… heavy. Like a title I wasn’t ready to carry.

“The Embercrests,” she went on, her tone tightening, “are our bitter rivals. They’re the wealthiest of the Crimson lines, and the most dangerous.”

Her eyes narrowed. “They believe high-ranking nobles should be worshiped. That commoners are nothing more than toys to enslave or kill. Heartless monsters—the lot of them.”

I pictured them—draped in gold, smiling as the world burned beneath them. “Then there’s the Garnets,” she added, her voice softening. “They stand against the Embercrests, just as we do. They’re not as wealthy, but they are honorable. Even the other families respect them.”

 I looked at her hands—calloused, strong, but gentle as they turned the page. “Why are the noble branches so divided?” I asked.

She paused. “Power,” she said simply. “Even among the descendants of gods… pride burns hotter than fire.”

The door creaked open as Lyrien stepped in, his arms crossed, his brow raised. 

“Talking about our bloodline, are we?” he said with a small grin.

 Mira gave him a look. “Just giving him the basics.” 

He walked over, his presence like a heatwave—quiet, but intense.
“The basics won’t give him the true understanding he needs,” Lyrien muttered, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Let me tell you something, Kyle.”

His voice dropped lower. “The Embercrests… They're filth dressed in gold. All their riches, all their servants, all their castles—none of it hides what they really are.” His hand tightened slightly. 

“Cowards—Predators, They think power is measured in how many kneel.”

Mira frowned but said nothing as Lyrien continued. “But the Talon family?” Lyrien continued, his eyes meeting mine. 

“We stand no matter how poor and no matter how alone. We fight because we must—and we *burn* because we were born to. That is the Talon family way.”

A quiet crackle came from the fireplace, as if the flames themselves agreed. 

                                                              “And what about the Garnet family?” I asked.

Mira’s voice returned, soft again. “Honorable people. They stand against Embercrest, like we do. They’ve earned respect—even among other major families.”

Lyrien scoffed, but not cruelly. “They are good people, we'll have to visit them so you can see for yourself.”

                                                                     I looked down at the crest again—the phoenix blazing across the page. So this was the blood that ran through me. 

Not just noble. Not just powerful, but divine—and divided. I stared at the phoenix etched in gold. Its wings curled like flames mid-flight, its eyes burning across time.

“Ignis…” I murmured. “What was he really like?”

The room fell quiet. Mira gently closed the book, her expression thoughtful—almost reverent. “He wasn’t just the Flame God,” she said.

 “He was flame, flame given will, passion, fury, warmth, destruction… all in one being.”

Lyrien leaned back, his arms crossed. “They say his heart beat like a forge and his voice split mountains.

 Even the dragons feared him, and to think he was a human being like you and me.”

My lips parted slightly. “And… we’re descended from that?”
Mira nodded slowly. 

“A fraction of his power flows through our blood, we have inherited his flames, only the crimson family has total control over the flame element.”

We all took a break as Mira made lunch for me and Lyrien. We ate and talked as a family, I truly felt alive in that moment, a moment that I'd never forget.

After a few hours the sky turned dark as the sun sat slowly. It was finally night time. Mira then decided to continue the history lesson.

The Crimson family was legendary, they once ruled a land the size of a continent—a territory forged through generations of warriors, mages, and tacticians. But after the Second Demon War… everything changed.

That night, Mira sat with me at the table, an old map spread out between us. Lyrien leaned against the wall, arms crossed, listening in silence.          She traced her finger across the map. “The Crimson land used to be unified.

But twenty years ago, after the Second Demon War, everything shattered. The Embercrests broke from us. The Garnets followed, though for different reasons."

I listened quietly, eyes following her finger as it slid across torn borders.
“The Demon War changed Eryndorath,” she went on. “Humans and demi-humans fought side by side against the demon legion. The death toll was beyond imagination.”                 Lyrien's voice turned low. “And after the war... Ignis vanished.”                        I looked up. “Was he really that powerful?"                                                   

“Yes,” Mira said. “He was the patron of fire magic, no one could match him in controlling fire.”

“Just—what exactly happened to him?”
“He disappeared,” Lyrien added, voice firm. “And with him, so did our unity.”    The room fell into a short silence as Mira closed the map gently.

Later that evening, they left me alone in the study. I wandered to Mira’s bookshelf, scanning the spines. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for—until my hand stopped on a thick tome bound in fine leather.

It's title:『Magic Book』
It looked untouched—expensive—important. I opened it carefully. Inside were dense pages filled with knowledge—mana theory, casting techniques, elemental affinities, and proficiency levels.                                      
But what pulled me in the most were two entries near the front:
 [Channeling] – mana flows through one's body into a weapon or object to activate spells or techniques.  

How to use: Focus your mana into your hands or weapon, then speak the Incantation.      

『Mana Infusion』– Circulates mana within one's self to enhance speed, strength, durability, etc... 

How to use: Visualize mana as a flowing river. Direct it into your limbs and recite the divine words or words of power.

–––––                                                            I flipped to the next page. And found a heading:
 [Novice Fire Spells]                                   『Ember』– Long-range spellBy the ancient spark of holy flames, light the path to a brighter future and burn brighter than the scorching sun, Divine art of flames: Ember. 
Shortened version: Divine art of flames—Ember
• Creates a small flame orb the size of a grapefruit.

• Hovers, then launches with a mild explosion.

• Radius: 3–4 meters. Low to moderate damage.

> Note: Size and power scale with caster’s mana.

“This spell, it's the the same spell I saw Mira use a while ago, that's right it was that day when she found me outside.” I whispered to myself.

『Inferno Sphere』– Close-range spellDivine art of flames bless me with the gift of fire and heat, that converge and detonate—Inferno Sphere.
Shortened version: Divine art of flames—Inferno sphere.
• Generates a dense burning sphere in your palm.

• Slam into target for a close-range explosion.

> Note: Risk of backlash if overcharged.

『Flame Spire』– Zoning spellLet the Divine art of flames rise from the deepest depths and become a mighty pillar—Flame Spire
Shortened version: Divine art of flames—flame spire. 
• Summons a vertical pillar of fire at a marked spot.

• Range: 10–15 meters.

> Small delay before activation.
Note: The shortened version of all spells is for more advanced-level magic users, not for lower-levels.            –––––                                                             
“Wait, this says for more advanced magic users, I guess that means I have to use the full incantation, I see.” I thought as I continued looking at the other spells.
At the bottom was a note, handwritten, actually most of the info in that book was handwritten by Mira herself:
> Even higher-ranked mages still use these. Novice spells evolve over time. The stronger your mana, the more dangerous they become.                          

I stared at the page, my heartbeat quickening. I stood in the center of the room, book open in one hand.

I took a deep breath and whispered:
“By the ancient spark of holy flames, light the path to a brighter future and burn brighter than the scorching sun—Divine art of flames: Ember!”               
Mana stirred as I felt it—deep inside me. Not something divine—just… mine. Raw, untamed, real. It flowed from my chest, down to my hand. My palm tingled. And then—                                                 WHOOSH!!!

  

A fireball erupted in my hand. Bigger than it should’ve been, glowing crimson red. My eyes widened. I glanced at the glass window. 

My reflection stared back—eyes glowing red. Wisps of heat trailed from them like steam.

This was Ember, a beginner spell, but mine looked… More—advanced, more—compact, and more—volatile.
That wasn’t talent. That was mana capacity.

 I had more than expected. The fire hovered, growing hotter with each beat of my heart. The house shook, footsteps thundered in the hallway. Lyrien and Mira burst into the room—and froze.

Their toddler stood there, right arm raised, a massive crimson orb spinning above his hand. It pulsed like a heartbeat.                                         

The air was hot and dry. The floor vibrated. Then—I launched it. The spell blasted upward, tearing through the ceiling. It soared into the night sky like a meteor.

BOOM!!!

The explosion echoed like thunder, painting the clouds in red. Mira stumbled back. Lyrien caught her. I stood there—calm. Mana still circling. My eyes still glowing. And for the first time since coming to this world… I could finally use—magic.