[ WP ] Magic is viewed as a curse . It 's unpredictable , hard to control , and dangerous . Those few who find a way to wield it risk losing themselves in the process .

In the ancient lands of Euphoma, magic surges like a wildfire. Many wizards and scholars have tried to understand this magnificent power only to fall dead in their tracks or fleeing from it because of the known fact that this magic is dangerously uncontrollable. Those who do harness it only find that it is a curse more than a breakthrough. Reasons being both self and environmental harm. But still fools, though they truly are not fools for they are academics with years on end of schooling, still attempt to master this beautifly dangerous curse regardless of all of the casualties and rumors. 
 
 But there is talk in the lands. A whisper so faint that even a rat's ear can barely find it audible. A secret society known for many names has a group of wizards nearly on the verge of wielding this magic. Their name may not be known to the common ear, but for our sakes, they are The Manamen. 
 
 The wise elder of The Manamen, Kiosky, entered the damp altar where five of his acolytes stood in the center. They took the formation of a star, each acolyte taking his place at each point of the star. The star signified the blazing sun, for which under deep study and countless hours of deciphering, it is understood that the sun is the origin of this magic. 
 
 `` Now my brothers.'' Kiosky said in his ancient raspy voice. `` Noon is upon us. The great inferno is at its peak. Now we must act or forever be in the dark of this power.'' 
 
 The five acolytes began to talk under their breaths in an ancient, forgotten language only few architecs would understand. The star began to failty illuminate the room. Kiosky wandered to the middle of the star and held his hands up into the air. He concentrated, feeling the hurricane of magic surge around him. The cieling of the alter gave way, floating up into the sky toward the blazing sun. The bright light stung down into the altar, blinding the acolytes, yet they continued their chants. Kiosky felt the power of the magic surge around hims, as if it were tearing away his body spiritually. He screamed, but not because of pain, but because he was so close to harnessing this immense power. He felt it surge through his veins. Dance with his soul. Roar in his ear. The sun got hotter and hotter. Brighter and brighter. 
 
 `` I see it brothers!'' Kiosky bellowed. `` I see the truth of this magic! Now I must make it mine!'' 
 
 Kiosky's eyes grew golden and his body glowed a godly aura. He opened his mouth to scream, no sound. Instead a beam of golden light shot out of his mouth. Then his eyes. Then ears. Then scattered throught his body, beam after beam shooting out. Until... 
 
 Kiosky exploded into millions of pieces in a golden fire. His acolytes stunned, all found shelter away from the sun. The room grew darker as the noon sun motioned away, growing closer to the evening. The acolytles stared in terror at the burnt ashes of which used to be their wise elder. 
 
 Will anyone ever understand this intense magic?
