As soon as the blue door closed behind her, Sable was surrounded by darkness.
There was a cold shade of blue, like moonlight through a dense fog.
The ground beneath her feet felt like stone as she looked down, noticing a circular platform of white marble spread out from her feet.
"What's this?"
In front of her was an endless mist. Sable had no idea what her nightmares were exactly, since they were buried in her subconscious, but she was ready to face them head-on, regardless of complexity.
All of a sudden, a loud clang echoed in front of her.
It was a sharp sound that reverberated through the mist, before another followed.
Clang. Clang. Clang!
It was metal striking metal.
Sable looked up, and suddenly, the fog parted.
She was in a vast arena.
There were dozens of towering stone seats circling the platform like a coliseum.
They were filled with shadowy, ghostlike figures, who were spectators, murmuring, judging, and whispering things she couldn't make out.
And across from her was none other than a mirrored version of herself.
Except… not quite.
This version of Sable wore an ornate robe, midnight black, and a dark crown while carrying a sword.
There was an intense energy radiating off of her as the air warped from the pressure of her mana.
Sable stepped back, flinching.
"What the…!? Is that me?"
The other Sable stepped forward, smiling like a noble queen.
"Look at you," she said with a venomous voice. "Barely able to cast a single spell. You fail every time you try to summon mana."
Sable narrowed her eyes, realizing what was going on.
"So… this is it. This is my next nightmare, huh?"
The powerful version of herself tilted her head.
"I'm not your nightmare. I'm your potential." She held up her hand and let an arc of mana split across the sky above the arena, parting the clouds. "I'm the sorcerer you should be."
Sable clenched her fists, stomping forward to stand her ground.
"No!" She denied her with a frown. "I know what you are! You're the version of me that never struggled, never cried, and never failed! You are the one I used to envy, but your existence goes against everything I worked for!"
"That's right," the other Sable said, stepping forward again. "I'm the version of you that Atreus would be proud of. The kind of daughter who was born for the Book of Spells, not one who stumbled into it like a clueless child."
The shadows in the arena began to whisper louder now.
"She's not strong enough…"
"Just another dropout waiting to happen…"
"No control, no skill, no spark…"
The voices crawled into her ears like worms.
"You don't even have a real spell."
"You're a fake."
The stronger Sable lifted a hand, and a magic circle snapped into reality above her palm, layered with arcane inscriptions.
"Go ahead," she said with glowing eyes. "Show me a spell. Show them all!"
Sable's throat tightened.
She reached out, trying to summon something, anything, but no magic came.
"Tsk… damnit!"
There was only a faint puff of wind.
Everyone watched Sable's circle fizzle out, and they laughed.
A deep wave of shame crashed over Sable, threatening to crush her.
She was born Manaless, never meant to be a sorcerer.
Ever since birth, Sable was destined to become a Metahuman and join the Ordo Genesis, but she refrained.
She couldn't let this stop her. She had to stand her ground at all costs.
[FLASHBACK]
Sable sat curled up on a couch, no older than seven. Her tiny legs swung off the edge, too short to reach the floor as the flickering of a fireplace glowed beside her.
She held a blanket to her chest, furrowing her brows.
"Father," she said quietly with an uncertain tone. "Why was I born Manaless?"
Atreus Hasteheart, her father, didn't answer immediately. He was seated on another couch, reading a book, but her words made his fingers pause mid-turn.
Slowly, he set the book down and looked at her with a gentle gaze behind his spectacles.
"…Who told you that?"
"The kids at the academy." She responded. "They said I'm defective. That I'll never be able to use magic like the others. You always told me that I'm just a late bloomer, but that can't be it… everyone else can use magic."
Atreus smiled faintly before standing and walking over.
He sat beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
"Listen carefully, Sable." His tone was gentle. "Being born without mana doesn't make you less. It just means you'll have to fight harder. Work smarter. And learn differently. Half of the world is born manaless, and guess what? They're just as strong as sorcerers without magic! That's what we call Metahumans."
Sable lowered her head, saddened.
"But… doesn't that mean I'll always be behind?"
Atreus pulled her into a side hug.
"It means you'll have the heart to keep going when others give up. Magic isn't just power, it's will. And your will, my little star, is stronger than you think. Definitely stronger than your weaknesses."
Sable leaned her head against her father's shoulder.
"Well, I don't wanna be a Metahuman, daddy, that sounds stupid and boring. I like magic! Even if I don't have mana, I can still hope for the best."
Atreus chuckled before nodding his head.
"Ahaha, that's right, my little Angel! But if there ever comes a day where you do obtain mana, remember this: keep pushing forward, no matter how hard things get." He poked at Sable's chest, smiling. "You can be weak in magic arts, but that shouldn't stop you from shattering your limits. Those who are born with less potential in magic usually give up, but if that's the case for you, then don't. Keep your head held high, Sable."
[PRESENT]
Queen Sable launched a burst of mana from her magic circle, blasting Sable back with a wave of mana
She slides across the marble ground, halting her momentum with both palms.
Her shoulder stung as her breath was stolen from her lungs.
"Ghnn…!" She winced in pain, looking up with a groan.
"I'm the you that should've inherited that book," The other version said with a twisted expression. "You're just the joke pretending to be me."
Sable looked down at her scraped hands. Her entire body was trembling right now.
Was it anger? Well, not quite.
Sable slowly stood back up and chuckled. She sounded weak and looked wobbly, but her laughter was more than enough to prove she had the guts to fight even the unbeatable.
"…That's the difference between you and me," she said, brushing off her jeans. "You think strength means perfection. That it means always winning. Always having power at your fingertips."
She stared straight at her stronger self, smirking.
"But I've failed more times than I can count. I've looked stupid, I've messed up spells, I've even fallen flat on my ass in front of people who laughed at me."
Her hands balled into fists again.
"…But I'm still standing," Sable growled with a shaking voice. "That's the only reason I'm stronger than you."
The other Sable's grin twitched before her expression contorted.
"Stronger? You? You can't even conjure mana without it fizzling out!"
Sable stepped forward, approaching her other self.
"Exactly. And yet here I am, still choosing to face you. Still choosing magic, even if it's not my forte!"
The crowd of shadows hissed, booed, and whispered threats into the air, but Sable ignored them.
"I don't care if I don't have the cleanest spell or the flashiest circle. You think all those failures make me unworthy?"
Stopping in her tracks she slowly closed her eyes and uncurled her fists.
"I'll prove you wrong…"
All of a sudden, the arena started rumbling from an unknown magical power.
Sable inhaled slowly—concentrating every fiber of her being into bringing forth her mana.
She could hear the whisper of her father's words echoing in her memory like a gentle breeze: "Everyone has their limits… but limits are meant to be broken."
"Yes… that's right… all limits are meant to be overcome, and shattered. That's how we get stronger…"
"What is this?!" The other Sable said, widening her eyes.
"You're right, Pa, limits are nothing more than a temporary threshold." Sable held out her hand, opening her palm. "I'll become stronger, right here, and right now!"
She pictured the day she found the Book of Spells and how it sang to her, as if it recognized her as its new master.
She remembered the look in her father's eyes when he'd told her that her will was stronger than her weakness.
She thought of every failure, every humiliation, and every tear she shed in silence when magic refused to obey her.
[FLASHBACK]
{Two Months After Her Father's Death}
Sable sat cross-legged on the wooden floor with books stacked in every direction around her.
In the center of it all was the Book of Spells.
Its blackened cover was thick and ancient, stitched with runes. It had impossible knowledge inside; some handwritten by her father, but none of it made sense to her.
Not even the footnotes in his handwriting!
She was trying pretty hard—harder than she ever tried in her life!
But no matter how many times she repeated the invocation… nothing happened.
"Okay, okay… just breathe." She told herself.
Her hand shook as she extended her palm toward the center of a magic circle she had drawn on the floor in chalk with an unlit candle.
The circle was a little crooked and smudged, but she had traced it four times now.
"Page thirty-two... let's see. Maybe this spell can work?! Lighting a candle shouldn't be so hard."
She closed her eyes and focused her will, heart, and memory.
She dug deep—deep enough to make her chest hurt.
She thought of her father, and of his laugh, and the darkest day of her life, when she found him cold and gone… without warning.
A spark of mana suddenly emanated from her palm, but it fizzled out—
"Oh come on, just light already! God fucking damnit!" She snapped.
Slamming her hand into the circle, Sable furrowed her brows.
The circle, or candle didn't respond, and the air went still again.
"Aaaaghhh!! Fuck you!" She screamed at the candle with an ugly, breaking sound.
Gritting her teeth, she tried again.
She kept trying. Again and again. Tears stung her eyes from frustration, but she refused to wipe them. She didn't deserve the comfort.
After the twentieth attempt, her voice was raspy and her palm was raw from slamming the floor.
Sable's body trembled and her shoulders felt heavy.
She was getting mentally and physically exhausted.
"Why... why won't you work?" She muttered.
"Why do you answer his voice but not mine?"
She stared down at the spellbook. It felt like it gave up on her.
"You were supposed to be mine… he gave you to me! You! You're the last piece of him I have left!" She screamed and gripped the book by its cover, clutching it to her chest like a lifeline. "Ever since I touched you… you gave me mana and fulfilled my dream of having magic!"
Her sobs finally broke through as she lowered her head, feeling tears trail down her face.
"I don't care if I have low potential! I'll keep trying… even if I break myself doing it!"
She sat there in the middle of the ruined circle, sobbing under her breath.
She was alone and only had the Book of Spells to remember her Father.
But Sable refused to stop now.
[PRESENT]
The memory burned behind her eyes.
Sable's feet stood firm now as the floor of the arena glowed beneath her.
"Back then, I thought failing meant I didn't belong." She said aloud. "But now I understand…"
She slowly opened her eyes, revealing a soft gaze.
"…Failing means I tried. And when we continue to try, we eventually break our limits."
Mana suddenly surged around her like a ripple of light.
She extended her hand, and this time, her mana didn't fizzle out.
From her palm, a magic circle formed. Its lines were a little uneven, but the energy pouring from it made the arena shake with raw power.
"Determination Flames!"
From the magic circle came a burst of flames that spewed out, threatening to launch itself at her dalse image.
It was a spell born from her grief, perseverance, and refusal to let failure define her.
It was Magic Arts, and like all Magic Arts, it is done by manifesting one's inner self such as memories, emotions, and convictions, into tangible, structured Expressions, which is another word for Spells.
All Magic Expressions are deeply personal, shaped by lived experience, belief, and emotional truth. While Mana acts as a fuel to construct expressions/spells, the strength, and shape of one's expressions, come from their mind.
The more one understands who they are, the stronger and more defined their magic becomes.
Determination Flames were empowered by determination and will. The more determined Sable was, the stronger her flames. With its overwhelming properties, the determination flames will continue to burn even the unburnable, as long as Sable is determined.
The crowd of shadows fell silent.
The darker Sable took a step back with her expression twisting with confusion and… fear?!
"That's not possible… you were supposed to give up! How did you manifest such a High-level Expression?!"
A spell is not just a magical effect, but a memory brought to life through the power of Mana. First-Level Expressions/Spells are born from formative memories: childhood awe, love, trauma, hope.
Higher-Level Expressions/Spells come from moments of transcendence: sacrifice, betrayal, epiphany, redemption.
Each spell is thus tied to an emotionally significant memory. The stronger and clearer the memory, the more powerful the magic.
Sable's flame grew brighter. It wasn't only power she was emitting, but pure, unbridled resolve!
"I did give up. A hundred times. And I stood back up a hundred and one."
And with a thrust of her palm, the flames shot forward like a wave of annihilation!
"Damn you… you feeble prodigy!!"