"Phantom Rebirth: The Last White Raven’s Path to the Ultimate Assassin"

A Day for Experimentation

The storm had long since passed, but the scent of battle still lingered in the air. Raven’s Perch was quiet now, save for the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocky cliffs. The battle had been won, Captain Cutlass was dead, and his decapitated head now rested as a grim trophy on Seraphis’s wall. But she was not one to sit idle. Victory was never the end—it was merely the next step toward something greater.

Today, she had decided to push her limits. To do something no mage had ever done before. To create a flame unlike any other.

Seraphis sat on the deck of the Raven’s Perch, legs crossed, eyes closed. Around her, a circle of arcane runes flickered, drawn in chalk and reinforced with blood—her own, a necessary sacrifice for something as volatile as fire magic.

"Blue flames burn hotter, white flames purify and heal… but what of black fire?" she murmured. "A flame that devours not with heat, but with dread. Something beyond mere destruction."

Her fingers traced the air, weaving invisible patterns of energy. Fire was alive. Fire was will made manifest. But what she sought was no ordinary flame. It would not obey the laws of nature—it would be something entirely new.

 The Theory of the Voidfire

Magic, in its simplest form, was energy. It followed rules, even when bent by willpower. If she wanted to birth a new flame, she had to understand what made fire, fire.

• Fire thrived on heat.

• Fire required fuel.

• Fire consumed.

But what if the fire did not burn in the traditional sense? What if its nature was cold, its fuel not wood or oil, but something far more esoteric?

She recalled the old texts, the forbidden knowledge she had once glimpsed in the tomes of shadow magic.

"There exists a plane beyond light, beyond flame—a place where darkness breathes, where fire is not born of warmth, but of fear itself."

That was her answer.

Gathering the Essence of Shadow

Seraphis stood, lifting both hands before her. Dark energy swirled at her fingertips, a dense, ink-like mist forming around her palms. Unlike normal magic, this was cold to the touch, yet it pulsed with a life of its own.

Her first task was to merge fire with shadow—two opposing forces. Fire was energy, motion, consumption. Shadow was absence, silence, negation. To combine them was unnatural, like forcing oil and water to mix.

She needed a catalyst.

A nearby raven, perched on the mast, watched her intently. Ravens were creatures of omen, drawn to power. She narrowed her eyes, considering.

Blood. A sacrifice of life to birth a flame of death.

With a swift motion, she bit her thumb, letting a few drops of her own blood mix into the swirling darkness. The reaction was immediate—the shadows pulsed, coiling tighter, drawn to the life force she had offered.

"Good. Now comes the real challenge."

Willing the Fire into Existence

Seraphis took a deep breath, feeling the shadow-infused energy settle in her hands. She called upon the element of fire, the raw, burning force she had wielded countless times before.

But instead of letting it manifest in its natural state, she forced it to bend to the will of shadow.

The magic fought back.

Her hands trembled as the fire resisted, its very essence recoiling from the darkness. Sparks of red and blue flame flickered violently, trying to ignite in their usual hues, but she forced them back, her mind an unyielding force.

"No," she commanded. "Not red. Not blue. Not white. Black."

She fed the flame with something other than heat—her intent, her will, her understanding of fear itself.

And then, slowly… it changed.

Birth of the Voidfire

The fire dimmed.

Its color bled away, the light vanishing as the flames darkened, shifting from crimson to deep violet, then finally… to black.

But it was not a dull, dead black—it was a living darkness, liquid and writhing, its edges shimmering with a strange, unnatural gleam, as if it were a rippling void in the shape of fire.

Smoke curled from the flames—not white, not gray, but a shifting, iridescent black that sparkled like stardust.

Seraphis stared at it, entranced.

It did not burn like normal fire.

The air around it was not hot, but cold.

Yet when she lowered her hand toward the flame, an unbearable sense of dread coiled in her gut, a primal fear that whispered of death and nothingness.

She grinned. “Voidfire,” she whispered.

 Testing the Flame

Seraphis extended a hand toward a wooden plank beside her. Normally, fire would consume it instantly. But when the Voidfire touched it, the wood did not burn—it blackened, eroded, dissolved.

It was as if the fire was not burning, but unmaking the matter itself.

She flicked her wrist, sending a small wisp of Voidfire toward a patch of dry leaves. Instead of bursting into flames, they curled inward, shriveling into blackened husks before crumbling into dust.

She exhaled slowly.

A New Weapon

This was more than fire. It was corruption incarnate. A flame that did not simply destroy—it devoured the very essence of what it touched.

Even more intriguing, she could control its shape more easily than regular fire. It was fluid, almost alive, responding to her thoughts in a way no other element had before.

"This changes everything," she thought.

She clenched her fist, extinguishing the flames in an instant. The void-like embers whispered away into nothingness, leaving behind only a faint echo of cold air.

Seraphis smirked.

Today, she had created something new.

Something that even death itself would fear.