Damnable Magics

There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Jonah’s cruel aunt had snarled that threat on the day he moved in with her after his parents died. Now, he eyes the cursed door with contempt.

She was a powerful witch, the head of their coven, and he knew she’d feed him his entrails if he disobeyed her. As she was fond of saying, he was just a magic-less male after all.

Why was that anyway? Why did only women have magic? He’d wondered that for years, and now a powerful urge has him standing in front of this door. Did the answers lay behind it?

His aunt had left without locking him in his room so now was his chance to find out.

Holding his breath, Jonah reaches out and turns the knob.

But it’s not a physical door that opens. He shudders, closing his eyes as energies shift and a portal in his mind opens.

Hundreds of images rush out, each one bloodier than the last. Powerful warlocks decimating entire villages, lightning flashing from their fingers.

The women of magic had banded together hundreds of years ago to strip this all-consuming power from men. Locking it away.

His eyes roll back as power beckons to him. He, Jonah, could become more powerful than even his aunt. All it would take was his soul.

The door was open. Would he walk through or close it?

***

Hours later, his aunt rushes home, her face an angry scowl as she spots him sitting on the sofa. Was that a touch of fear in her eyes as well?

“You forgot to lock my door, aunt.”

She huffs. “No mind. It seems you’ve behaved yourself.”

“I have, haven’t I.” He grins, his first genuine smile since his parent's death.