Magus Reborn

Death had always lingered at the edges of Amara’s life like a cold, insidious presence that she could never quite shake.

It was a shadow that whispered promises of an end to her suffering, a dark lullaby she had both feared and, in her worst moments, almost longed for. The length of her illness had carved those thoughts into her bones. Yet, with a fierce will that went against the chill pressing around her heart, she had fought. She had wriggled her way through the days, refusing to yield.

But this was different.

The astral realm was a canvas of stark whites and deep shadows, ethereal yet unwelcoming. Beneath her feet, the ground splintered, veins of cold cracking through the mirrored surface. In the eyes of the soul wraiths that surged toward her, she saw the familiar gleam of death— hungry, expectant. They moved like liquid shadows, their forms ever-shifting, the sound of their approach a symphony of whispers—dark, and ugly.

They wanted her to die, and that was all she could see and feel—death.

Panic gnawed at her insides. She had been so close, so achingly close to feeling alive again, to reclaiming the life that had always seemed out of reach. And now, with the air pressing like ice against her skin, it seemed that all those dreams would shatter alongside the fractured plane beneath her.

"Amara!" A voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding but also soothing.

Arzan. He stood at the periphery of her vision, his presence a beacon of unwavering certainty. The man who had brought her to this place—this bizarre space between reality and magic—was watching her, eyes ablaze with intensity. "Don’t just stand there! Fight against them. I won’t be able to heal your astral realm otherwise."

"H-How? How am I going to do that?" she gasped, the word tasting of desperation. "You told me not to use magic!"

A fleeting smirk crossed his face. Amara was confused for a brief second.

"It’s your realm. You can do anything here. It’s just about your conviction. Just hold those wraiths for me."

Amara’s breath hitched, and she forced herself to nod at Arzan, drawing whatever dregs of courage she had left. His silhouette blurred as he leapt, weaving between the encroaching wraiths fluidly. Threads of mana coiled around his outstretched fingers, bright and searing, each strand crackling like a whip of fire. The beam surged forward, illuminating the darkness, aimed at the gaping tear splitting her realm apart.

But Amara couldn’t keep watching. The wraiths’ shrieks stole her attention, the sound of a twisted chorus that burrowed into her mind, dredging up memories she had buried deep.

"You are just a weak puppet."

The first wraith lunged, a shape of shifting black mist, hollow eye sockets boring into her. Its voice echoed inside her head, a familiar, venomous chant.

"You deserve all of your suffering. Don’t deserve royalty. Don’t deserve anything. Just a burden; a worthless burden."

She staggered backward, her body trembling as their whispers intensified, multiplying with every step they took. Each word sank into her, cold and sharp as a dagger.

"Your family has given you a boon by not killing you outright! They should’ve!"

Another wraith slithered closer, its mouth stretching wide in a grotesque grin.

"You are useless, sister."

The words were… suffocating. Amara’s knees buckled, and she fell to the cracked ground, palms scraping against the icy surface. Fear spread across her skin, a chilling touch that left her paralyzed. The words, so familiar, wrapped around her like chains, constricting tighter with each heartbeat. She shuddered, eyes squeezing shut, surrender crawling through her veins.

The darkness crept closer, its breath cold against her neck, its hands reaching out. The temptation to let go, to finally silence the voices and accept the fate they promised, was almost overwhelming.

It would be so easy, a voice whispered from somewhere deep inside. Just close your eyes. Let them take you. Rest.

Amara’s shoulders sagged, and for a moment, the fight bled out of her, leaving nothing but hollow exhaustion. She braced for the sting of claws, for the cold finality that would come when they claimed her.

But then, amid the cacophony, a different sound cut through; the fierce roar of Arzan’s mana, splitting the silence and scattering the wraiths’ whispers like leaves in a storm. The warmth of it kissed her face, sparking something dormant inside her, something raw and bright.

Arzan’s voice thundered through the dark, cutting across the chorus of wraiths.

"Amara, don’t listen to whatever they say! You are a better person than what they say, and this is your moment to prove them wrong. If you don’t fight, the consequences will be dire. I believe in you, so believe in yourself! I need it now, Amara, please!"

The words jolted her like a spark to dry tinder. Believe? The idea was foreign, almost absurd.

No one had ever said those words to her, not her family, not anyone of importance—only Anya, her maid and confidante. Anya had been a friend, a source of quiet strength, but belief from others? That had never been part of Amara’s world.

A surge of emotion flooded her chest, equal parts fear and hope. Could she really fight back against the shadows that had haunted her for so long?

I will not back down now—especially not when there was someone who believed in him.

Those words echoed inside of her. The wraiths were almost upon her, their spectral hands outstretched, eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.

She felt the pulse of power deep in her chest and reached for it, a raw, instinctive pull.

Water surged from the cracks around her, coalescing into sharp, shimmering spears. With a flick of her wrist, they shot forward, slicing through the wraiths’ forms. One by one, the twisted figures evaporated into plumes of dark mist, their voices fading into nothingness.

But the ground buckled and split further, releasing more abominations, their bodies writhing and morphing as they surged upward. Tentacles tipped with shadowy spikes lashed out, curling toward her throat. Amara’s pulse quickened, but this time she didn’t flinch.

She summoned the power again, and it answered—this realm was hers, a reflection of her will. Whatever she wanted, she could be.

"[Torrential Bind!]" she called, though she had never learned the spell. Only seen it around in one of the spell books she had stolen from her brother’s room. Yet, she knew it was possible to cast it here.

Chains of water erupted around her, lashing out to trap the wraiths in their grasp. They writhed, shrieking as their dark forms were torn apart by the sheer force of her magic.

More emerged, their faces shifting to mimic those she once knew, whispers seeping through the chaos: "You are nothing. You are a burden." But each taunt only fanned the flame within her.

"[Wave of Severance!]" Amara’s voice was clear.

A wall of water surged forward, edged like a blade, cleaving through the horde with relentless force. She moved, spell after spell manifesting with a thought—[Maelstrom Cage], [Wave Slice], each one an echo of her growing strength. The wraiths that slipped past her sights turned toward Arzan, but before they could strike, her magic found them, shattering their bodies before they could touch him.

He worked quickly, the fiery light of his mana stitching the cracks in her realm, pouring warmth into her. It spread through her body, a living current, mending not only the realm but the fractures within herself. For the first time, she felt whole, not broken by the voices but free of them.

"I believe in you." Arzan’s voice reverberated inside her mind, over and over—cutting through all the negative things that were spat at her.

But as that thought rooted in her mind, a deep, squawking roar rippled through the air, so powerful that it made the realm shudder. The wraiths’ shrieking fell silent in an instant, their forms pausing mid-lunge.

Then, in a grotesque, synchronised movement, they shifted.

A chill ran through Amara, sinking deep into her bones. The tower of wraiths grew, their bodies melding seamlessly into a colossal, writhing figure. Limbs unfolded, stretching out, and a face began to carve itself at the summit—a face both familiar and foreign. Hollow eyes of black flame stared down at her, piercing and unblinking.

Amara’s breath caught, and an involuntary shudder rolled through her as she took a stumbling step backwards. Her heart pounded, each beat echoing like thunder in her ears. The features of the monstrous face sharpened, and recognition struck like a lightning bolt.

"Mother," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

"Amara!" Arzan’s voice came through, but this time it was distant. She could barely hear what he said next.

***

Kai’s focus was absolute as he worked, weaving threads of searing mana across the gash in Amara’s realm. The tear crackled angrily, dark energy trying to resist his mending touch, but he pressed on. Each strand of mana glimmered like molten gold, binding the torn fabric of the realm with meticulous precision.

Sweat slicked his brow as the strain built, his jaw clenched tight.

Then the roar came a deep, primal sound that shivered through the air and made every hair on Kai’s neck stand on end.

He turned, eyes wide, just in time to see Amara’s form stiffen, her gaze locked on the monstrous being towering before her. A giant wraith, composed of countless smaller ones, stood against the stark backdrop, its shadow swallowing the light around it.

For a heartbeat, Kai’s breath caught as he watched the shock and recognition carve itself onto Amara’s face.

His brow furrowed, trying to place that expression, that sudden, haunted look. Then she spoke, barely audible but sharp enough to slice through the noise in his mind.

"Mother."

Understanding hit Kai like a hammer.

Queen Regina was feared, revered, and in Amara’s eyes, a living embodiment of torment. He knew very little about her and had no idea why she was so feared by Amara.

But there was no time to dwell on the revelation. The wraith queen’s colossal fist, shrouded in shadowy mist, began its descent toward Amara. She stood paralyzed, eyes wide and unfocused, rooted to the spot by terror.

"Amara!" Kai shouted, springing forward. Mana surged through him, propelling him across the cracked, shifting ground. He reached her just in time, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her out of the fist’s trajectory. The ground shuddered as the blow struck where she’d been standing, fissures spider webbing out from the impact.

The monstrous wraith loomed above them, its presence suffocating. But even as it towered over them, Kai noted with relief that its movements were ponderous, almost sluggish. Fearsome, yes, but not as fast as he’d feared.

Amara shivered against him, eyes wide and unfocused as she murmured, "I’m sorry… I’m sorry…"

"Amara!" Kai’s voice cut through the din, firm and grounding. He gripped her shoulders and shook her gently, eyes locked onto hers until they flickered with recognition.

"What’s going on?" she whispered, the tremble in her voice betraying the war inside her.

"That thing," Kai said, glancing back at the wraith, whose dark claws scraped against the edges of the tear, seeking to pull it wider. "It’s your greatest fear manifesting. These wraiths, they have the power to pull it out and freeze you. But you can’t let it. You have to defeat her, or everything here—everything we’ve worked for—will fall."

Amara’s gaze shifted to the wraith, her face pale as she shook her head. "No, I can’t. It’s… it’s my mother. I can’t fight her."

Kai’s grip tightened, urgency flaring in his eyes. "No, she’s not. That’s just your fear, Amara. I don’t know what your relationship with her is like, but whatever she’s saying—it’s a lie. That’s not you. You have to fight her words."

"But what if… what if it doesn’t work? What if she doesn’t listen? She never do." Amara’s voice wavered, fear creeping back in like an unwelcome tide.

"She doesn’t need to listen," Kai said, the conviction in his tone cutting through the air. "You just need to show that you can stand against your fear. You already did it before, Amara. You fought back. There’s no way you can’t do it again."

Her eyes met his, and something shifted. She wiped her tears angrily as his words seemed to find their place deeper in her mind.

The giant wraith snarled, a low, resonant growl, but Kai felt her trembling ease, if only slightly.

Amara’s breath steadied. "I… I’ll try."

"That’s all you need to do," Kai said, stepping back as she turned to face the wraith.

"Now go, or else everything will be for nothing," Kai said, voice edged with desperation. His eyes met hers, and for a moment, he saw the flicker of doubt. But then Amara took a deep, shuddering breath and looked up at the towering wraith.

Her fist clenched, knuckles turning white, and though her legs shook visibly, she took a step forward. Kai’s heart pounded as he watched her. This was it—the moment where everything balanced on the edge of her conviction. The soul wraith turned, its eyes smouldering with dark fire, and released a roar so deep it felt as though the realm itself would shatter under the weight of it.

"You are useless," the wraith spoke, its voice a venomous echo of Queen Regina’s, each syllable dripping with disdain. "A child of no use. A child I was better without. One I kept around so you could be of some use when you came of age, but it seems you are only good in death."

Kai’s breath caught, and for a second, doubt slithered into his mind. How will she stand against that? He knew that words from a parent, even a cruel mockery like this, held an insidious power. He hardly knew his parents, memories that were scattered and dim across two lifetimes. But he knew how deeply a parent could cut, even with silence.

But Amara didn’t falter. She paused, trembling in the face of the monstrous form, eyes glistening with fear and something more—a fragile, rebellious light. Her gaze held steady, and she took another step forward, the ground beneath her feet glowing faintly as she tapped into the essence of her realm. A swirling ball of water began to form in her hands, rippling and shifting like liquid steel.

"No, Mother," she said, her voice quivering, each word a struggle against the suffocating grip of doubt. "I’m not useless. And I will prove it to you."

***

A/N - You can read 30 chapters (15 Magus Reborn and 15 Dao of money) on my patreon.

Merry Christmas!