Noah set aside the jar of ointment and bandages for the moment and returned to the bathroom. He lit a candle and placed it on the floor, secured in a makeshift holder. Then he set one of the cloths Grinny had given him on fire, watching carefully as the flames consumed the fabric.
That afternoon, Noah devoted himself to observing the fire. That week, that month, and even the months that followed. Four months passed, and many things had been burned: shirts, papers, and, unfortunately, his fingers as well.
During this time, he exchanged a few letters with Nick. The old alchemist seemed very interested in Noah's progress and, though he didn't help directly, he always answered his questions with wisdom.
When Noah wasn't burning something in the bathroom, he did it in the garden or walked around with a lit candle, touching the fire with his fingers to feel its essence.
Of course, his parents were not happy about this. Whenever they saw him getting burned, they complained. But he didn't give up, and his grandfather supported him—perhaps after receiving some letter from the old alchemist.
Noah had to promise to be careful and avoid burning himself. Additionally, if he wanted to burn something large, he needed to ask for help.
During this time, Noah observed the wind blow and sway the flames, intensifying and spreading them. But if the flame was too small and the wind too strong, the fire would go out.
At night, he observed the yellow glow of the flame. But he realized fire didn't have to be just yellow. There were fires of other colors.
A few days earlier, he had received a gift from Nick: a dozen small vials, each containing a flame of a different color—yellow, blue, orange, reddish, black, and even a colorless flame.
He asked his mother to burn something large, and she agreed.
In the yard, Laura waved her wand, and a large doll made of cloth and straw appeared out of nowhere. Then she cast Incendio, and a yellow-reddish flame engulfed the doll.
The flame started small, but as the wind blew, it spread rapidly. Soon, the doll was a massive blaze, burning at extreme temperatures. The crackling of the straw, the black smoke rising, the ashes flying in the wind—everything was etched into Noah's mind.
He stood beside his mother, meters away, but could feel the fire scorching his skin. The heat was so intense that the hairs on his arm burned.
When the doll was completely consumed, nothing remained but ashes. The fire was merciless. On the ground, embers struggled to stay alive, glowing as the wind blew—until everything went out and only cold ashes remained.
Every detail was seared into Noah's mind. He was slowly building a solid idea of what fire was—at least the fire he wanted to create. At that moment, he didn't care whether it was scientific or if he saw fire differently than others. It was his magic, and his fire.
He would do it the way he felt was right, the way he experienced and understood fire.
Months later, Noah returned to his room with a match in hand. It was the same scene as his first attempt, but this time his approach was different.
He didn't just want to increase the temperature. No, this time he wanted fire.
In his mind, the memories of flames consuming clothes, the pain when he burned his hand, the heat, the color, the overwhelming sense of something that could consume everything—all merged into a clear image.
His mind constructed a representation of what he saw as "fire." It was what fire meant to him, what it had taught him over these months. Now, Noah understood fire. He understood his fire.
Fixing his eyes on the match, he opened his mouth and gave a simple command, in a strong, commanding voice, the way he felt fire should be:
"BURN."
Instantly, his magic responded to the command. A flame ignited the match, not merely lighting it but devouring it in a second. The match turned to ashes, scorching the tips of Noah's fingers in the process.
"I did it," Noah said, jumping for joy, not caring about the pain in his fingers.
It was more intense than he expected, but the result was satisfying.
Noah hurriedly tried again. This time, he set the match aside and took a sheet of paper. He focused on the same sensation he had just felt.
The second attempt was slightly slower and less intense. Noah suspected it was because he hadn't calmed himself enough, and the lack of mental alignment affected the result.
Nevertheless, he succeeded in creating fire on both attempts.
It was the birth of his own fire—the flames that devoured everything.
Of course, there was still a long way to go between creating his fire and using it practically, like in a spell. But he felt the hardest part was over. Even if it took time to create a functional spell, he didn't mind. He realized he loved fire.
"This is a great start, but if I want to truly improve, I need to control the power and target more precisely," he murmured, calming himself and thinking about how to continue training.
It wasn't enough to make fire appear; without control and precision, he couldn't use it effectively.
"Focus, precision, and control. Once I achieve that, I can shape fire however I want," he said, his eyes shining with determination.
Thus, he began the second phase of the project: after creating fire, he needed to control it.
To improve his focus and control, he practiced lighting a match with a tiny spark. On sheets of paper, he concentrated on burning only the edges or the center, so that if the fire spread unintentionally, he would consider it a failure.
During training, he developed a habit that helped him control fire and realized it also improved his control over objects.
Snapping his fingers, though a simple gesture, became a trigger for his mind and magic. When he wanted fire or an object in the air, he just snapped his fingers, and his magic responded.
Magic study was slow, and before he knew it, a year had passed. During that time, he continued his studies in fire magic, attended French and piano lessons, and visited the library to read books he found interesting.
They weren't magic books, but rather magical history and fantasy tales. He also read biographies of famous wizards from the past.
Noah was growing quickly and always had excess energy, which led him to do light physical exercises. When he was too lazy to do push-ups—managing only three before his arms trembled—he would play hide-and-seek with his mother, but always lost. How could he find someone who could turn invisible and teleport at will?
Besides these activities, Noah made time for a new practice: doing nothing.
Exactly that. He would sit in the garden or at his bedroom window and relax, meditating. It was good for his mind and helped organize his thoughts. He visited the Flamels a few times, and they also came to his home.
Once, his father played the piano while Noah was being pulled from side to side by his mother and Penny. Nick and his grandfather Charlie laughed at the scene while Noah begged for rescue.
It was a pleasant morning in the Gray family garden. Noah stood in the center while his family and the Flamels watched from the side.
"What is the little one up to today?" Nick asked, excited.
"I bet it has something to do with fire," Adam said, receiving incredulous looks from everyone.
Noah cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention, and announced: "After so much study and practice, I've made a breakthrough on my path to becoming the greatest wizard of all time. The great Noah, controller of socks or master of cutlery, no longer exists."
Everyone laughed at the titles he mentioned.
"Today, you will witness a historic moment," he said seriously.
He held out his hand, and instantly, a flame appeared, devouring his hand completely.
"Son!" Laura stepped forward, but Charlie held her back.
"Wait."
Noah smiled at everyone and rotated his hand. The flame vanished, and his hand was completely unharmed.
"How is this possible?" Adam murmured, impressed.
Noah snapped his fingers, and a small flame appeared at his fingertip. He rotated his hand, making the flame jump from finger to finger.
"Mom, straw doll, please," he requested.
Laura took a moment to understand, then with a wave of her wand, a large straw doll appeared in the garden.
Noah was more than ten meters away, with only a small flame hopping from finger to finger. Then he pointed at the doll, and the flame shot toward it.
"What is he doing?" Nick tried to guess. The flame was tiny. When discussing Noah's progress, the boy mentioned improvements but refused to be specific, creating mystery.
When the flame reached the doll, Noah snapped his fingers.
"BURN."
The flame surged and, in the blink of an eye, consumed the doll completely. The temperature was so high that even from meters away, everyone stepped back.
But it lasted only a few seconds, dwindling until it went out. And the doll? Not a trace remained—not even ashes. The same doll that had taken time to burn with Incendio had been completely obliterated.
Everyone stared at where the doll had been, shocked, then turned to Noah, who played with a flame between his fingers.
He blew the flame out and declared: "Now, I am Noah, Lord of Flames."
A dramatic pause followed before murmurs arose.
Noah was bombarded with questions. What he had done was astonishing, and the image of a genius that his family and friends had in their minds shifted to something beyond just genius.
He explained a bit about how he had achieved the feat with fire, but they got lost in the middle of the explanation. It was too vague to fully comprehend. Only Nick understood the logic behind it. It was ambitious even for him.
A light shone in the old alchemist's eyes.
One thing was clear: there had never been anyone like Noah. And from the way he spoke about magic and created the spell, it was certain that a new form of magic had emerged.
That same afternoon, Nick and Penny said their goodbyes. Nick left saying that after centuries, he had finally found some inspiration.
In the Gray family, the atmosphere was different. There was happiness, but also a little worry. If Noah was so different, would he have trouble making friends? And what if he became arrogant?
But in the following days, all worries dissipated. Noah continued the same, playing with his family and studying magic. The only difference was that sometimes he would stop in the middle of the room, place his hands on his hips, and proclaim himself "The Lord of Flames."
Time passed, and a month went by like smoke carried by the wind.
Noah was in the library, nibbling on some cookies Grinny had brought and tossing a ball of light from one finger to another, smiling contentedly, when his mother arrived.
At first, she just stared at the familiar ball of light and sighed.
"Perhaps I will never stop being surprised," she murmured.
Then she walked over to where Noah was and said, "Son, a letter has arrived for you."
Noah stopped the spell he was playing with, swallowed his cookie, and turned to his mother. "A letter?"
He knew it would still take a while to receive a destined letter… so what could it be?
His mother laughed and explained, "It's from Nick, but it's addressed to you. That's why I haven't opened it."
Noah made an "oh" sound and took the letter she handed him.
"What does that old man want? I bet he's still admiring my skills—" he stopped mid-sentence, a shocked expression on his face.
His mother looked confused and curious.
"Did something happen?" she asked, worried.
The next moment, she saw Noah throw his head back and laugh. Like a madman.
Then he stood up and placed his hands on his hips. "It seems a new title awaits me," he declared, in an excited and arrogant tone.
His mother rolled her eyes and took the letter back, reading the contents.
"Hey, what was it again? 'Lord of Sparks'? Never mind. I'll get straight to the point:
Do you want to be my apprentice?"