A/N This chapter is for me to establish MY version of Magic. I know it may not be perfect, but I have so many ideas and I wanna put them in the fanfic. I've put a lot of thought in this chapter so it took me a lot of brainstorming.
Anyways, Enjoy the chapter.
Afternoon, Backyard
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting long shadows over the backyard. A soft breeze stirred the grass, carrying the scent of fresh earth and sweat.
Oscar wiped his brow with the back of his hand, exhaling heavily as he tried to steady his breathing. Training with Rinko had become part of his daily routine—hand-to-hand combat drills, strength-building exercises, and just enough sparring to leave him sore but not broken.
Rinko, stretching his arms above his head, let out a tired yawn as he made his way toward the house. "You comin' in?" he asked, pausing by the door.
Oscar hesitated, glancing down at his dust-covered gloves. "Oh—later. I'm kinda working on something," he said, brushing off the dirt from his pants.
Rinko raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Huh. Really?"
"Y-yeah," Oscar nodded. "I'll be at the shack."
Rinko's gaze lingered for a moment, as if weighing Oscar's words. Then, with a shrug, he turned toward the house. "Alright, I'll be inside if you need anything."
As Rinko stepped in, the door creaked softly behind him. Selene was already there, standing just inside the entrance, holding a glass of water. She wordlessly handed it to Rinko, who took a sip before walking further in.
Oscar, however, stayed behind.
Shack
The wooden door of the shack groaned as Oscar pushed it open. The air inside was stale, carrying the scent of sawdust, old tools, and metal shavings. His cane rested on the workbench where he had left it the night before, waiting.
He sat down, rolling his shoulders before reaching for a set of tools. The moment his fingers brushed against the cane's surface, a familiar voice stirred within his mind.
'Oscar,' Ozpin spoke softly.
Oscar's hands froze for a second before he resumed tightening a screw on the cane. "Y-yeah?" he responded, keeping his tone neutral.
There was a pause.
'I... I'm truly sorry.'
Oscar's grip on the cane tightened. He lowered the tool, brow furrowing. "...For what?"
'For everything.' Ozpin's voice was calm, yet heavy with something unreadable. 'For the burden placed upon you. For the weight of my past. I never intended to replace you. I never wanted you to feel that Oscar Pine is merely a shadow of me.'
The words hit deeper than Oscar expected. He blinked, his hands stilling as a faint ache settled in his chest.
For a long moment, he simply sat there, staring at the half-assembled mechanism in his hands. Then, exhaling quietly, he placed the gear back onto the table and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling.
Oscar let out a slow breath.
"...I know," he muttered, his voice quieter this time. "It's not easy to accept, but... what other choice do we even have? What other choice do I have?"
The words lingered in the silence of the shack, heavy yet resigned. The weight of his reality, of the merging that loomed over him, was something he had no power to change.
He let out a hollow chuckle. "It's just dumb luck, really. But hey, it's out of our control. No point in being sad about it now, right?"
The smile that formed on his lips was small, fragile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes. But it was there.
"Besides..." he continued, his gaze shifting toward the cane, fingers tightening slightly around its frame. "Right now, I'm looking ahead. Looking at the future."
He lifted the cane slightly, turning it in his grasp as if weighing its significance.
"And while I'm still Oscar Pine—while I still have me—I'll do my best to make sure I leave something behind. A mark, a legacy... even if it's just this cane."
His voice softened.
"Our cane."
His thumb brushed over the intricate grooves along its shaft, the very same weapon that had carried him through countless battles, the very same one he was reforging with his own hands.
"It'll represent us. You and I, Oz," he murmured, his voice steadier now. "Because at the end of the day, no matter how much I try to fight it... we are one and the same."
A deep breath. A moment of quiet acceptance.
"But as long as I can, I'll make sure people remember me too."
Inside the mindscape, Ozpin observed his young successor with a gaze filled with something rare—pride.
A small smile formed on the older man's lips.
'You and I truly are the same mind, Oscar.'
Oscar closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing those words to settle.
Then, with a quiet chuckle, he shook his head.
"Maybe. But I still have a long way to go before I can be anything like you."
Ozpin's voice was warm, carrying a gentleness Oscar hadn't noticed before.
'And yet, you've already become someone greater than you realize.'
Oscar blinked. He hadn't expected that. A quiet sigh that carried both exhaustion and a strange sense of relief.
"I... I appreciate that, Oz." His voice was softer now, more genuine. "That really means a lot."
For a moment, there was only silence, but it wasn't empty. It was understanding.
Then, Ozpin spoke again, his tone shifting—less sentimental, more thoughtful.
'Oscar, while your training in hand-to-hand combat and physical conditioning is undoubtedly valuable, I believe it is time we focus on something else as well.'
Oscar frowned slightly. "Something else?"
Ozpin hummed in affirmation.
'Your magic, Oscar.'
That made the boy pause. His grip tightened around his cane.
"Magic?" Oscar repeated hesitantly, gripping his cane a little tighter.
'Yes,' Ozpin affirmed, his voice calm yet deliberate. 'Both Semblance and Magic draw from Aura, but they function differently. Semblance is a fragment of what magic once was—a fixed ability, bound by the user's soul and incapable of shifting beyond its fundamental nature.'
Oscar frowned, absorbing the words. "But magic isn't like that, is it?"
'Correct. Unlike Semblance, magic is unrestricted. It is drawn from within, and those who wield it can shape it in countless ways. It does not conform to a single form—it is fluid, adaptable, and limited only by one's skill and knowledge.'
Oscar nodded slowly, his mind already racing with possibilities. "So... if magic isn't locked into one ability, then how do you control it?"
Ozpin's voice took on a knowing tone. 'Through discipline. Through understanding. And most importantly... through spells.'
"Spells?" Oscar echoed, the word unfamiliar yet strangely familiar at the same time.
Then, a memory surfaced—the day he saved Adrian and Selene from the oncoming truck. He had whispered something under his breath, an instinctive reaction, a command that willed his Aura to act.
"Aegis..." Oscar muttered, eyes widening. "I said that when I saved them. It just... came to me."
'Indeed,' Ozpin said, a hint of approval in his tone. 'That was no mere instinct. That was magic responding to intent—and with my guidance, I made you utter those words. Words hold power, Oscar, but more than that—understanding and will shape the outcome. That was a spell, even if you did not realize it at the time.'
Oscar swallowed, staring down at his hands. "...So I can do it again?"
'You can,' Ozpin confirmed. 'And with training, you can do so much more.'
Oscar exhaled, still trying to process it all—magic, spells, intent, and the possibilities stretching before him. Yet, before he could fully wrap his head around it, something flickered in his mind. A sensation—not his own, but a memory. Distant, fragmented, yet achingly familiar.
A word slipped past his lips before he could even think.
"...Maiden."
Ozpin hummed, caught off guard by the sudden mention. 'What about them?'
Oscar furrowed his brow, the memory pressing against his thoughts like a whisper in the wind—elusive, yet insistent.
"I... I think I saw something. A glimpse of your memory. Our memory," he corrected himself. His voice wavered slightly.
Ozpin remained silent for a moment before speaking. 'A memory about the Maidens, I presume?'
"Y-yeah..." Oscar's voice dropped, his breathing growing slightly uneven. "They have magic... We—you—gave it to them." His hands curled into fists, a dull ache forming in his chest as something deep within him stirred. "And I remember it was... painful."
A sharp, phantom sensation lanced through him, like something being torn away from his very core. He staggered slightly, instinctively clutching his chest as if trying to steady himself.
"I remember the feeling of taking a piece of my soul... and dividing it into four." His breath came a little heavier now, his mind caught between the present and a past that was not entirely his own.
"And those Maidens..." His voice softened, filled with a quiet reverence, an ache that wasn't just his but Ozpin's. "They reminded me of my daughters."
Oscar froze.
"...Daughters?" he whispered, barely comprehending his own words.
A long silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
Ozpin did not answer immediately. His voice, when he finally spoke, was calm yet distant.
'I will not spoil anything; you've barely scratched the surface of my memories. In time, pieces of a much larger puzzle will begin to solve themselves within your mind.'
Oscar exhaled, his fingers tightening around his sleeves.
"I... I get it," he muttered, shaking his head. "It just feels weird saying that. I don't even have a daughter." A dry chuckle escaped his lips.
Ozpin let out a soft chuckle of his own, the rare sound echoing in Oscar's thoughts.
'Yes, I imagine it does.'
Then, his tone shifted, becoming more focused. 'Anyways, let's get back to business. Oscar, could you close your eyes for a moment?'
Oscar blinked. "Uh, okay?"
Though unsure, he did as instructed. As soon as his eyelids shut, the darkness behind them began to shift, morphing from an abyss into something lighter. His senses tingled with an unfamiliar sensation—like he was being lifted, separated from his physical body.
And then—
He was there.
Not in the shack. Not in Saphron's backyard.
But somewhere else entirely.
The Mindscape
Oscar's eyes snapped open, and he gasped.
He stood in a vast expanse of glowing white, an endless plane that stretched as far as the eye could see. The air was neither warm nor cold, yet he could feel it humming around him. There was weight to his existence here. Looking down, he saw his hands—not translucent, not dreamlike, but solid.
His very presence was real.
"Woah...!"
He turned his palms over, flexing his fingers.
This was—him.
Not just a mind floating in the darkness. But an astral form, with weight, with shape, with will.
A voice called behind him.
"Oscar."
He spun around and saw Ozpin, dressed in his signature headmaster attire, standing with his hands neatly clasped behind him. He looked... different. More tangible than before, like a presence that was not just memory, but alive within this space.
Oscar swallowed. "Where are we?"
Ozpin smiled. "In our mindscape," he said. "A realm of thought, willpower, and potential. And here, I will teach you how to refine your magic."
Oscar's eyes widened. "Really?! So, like... I have some kind of training place inside my head?! That's so cool!"
Ozpin chuckled at his enthusiasm. "Heh, yes. I understand how you're feeling. It is quite fascinating."
Oscar grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, still marveling at the sheer realness of his astral form.
"Now, listen carefully." Ozpin's expression grew serious. "Performing magic without structure, without focus, is known as wild magic—and while it is potent, it is also dangerous."
Oscar tilted his head. "Dangerous? How?"
"Because you are wasting energy."
Ozpin took a few steps, the space around them shifting as he spoke. Glimpses of battles flickered in the air like echoes of memories—Maidens, Huntsmen, and unknown figures wielding wild, uncontrolled power.
"Wild magic is raw. It does not require an incantation, but it lacks refinement. It drains far more Aura than necessary, making it inefficient. Most Maidens I have observed rely on wild magic by default, unleashing their power in bursts without proper technique. This makes them far weaker than they should be. If they embraced spellcasting, they would be... significantly stronger."
The images solidified into one particular figure—
Amber.
The former Fall Maiden.
The memory played before them.
Ozpin—the Ozpin from the past—stood before Amber, his expression solemn.
"I can teach you how to wield your magic to its full potential, Amber."
She hesitated, clutching her chest as if trying to steady herself.
Her previous mentor—her mother—had been the Fall Maiden before her. And she had died... not from battle, but from sickness.
Amber's voice was small, uncertain.
"I... I don't know, Ozpin. I don't think I'm ready."
Oscar swallowed.
The weight of that moment pressed down on him.
"That was her response," Ozpin murmured beside him, his voice quiet.
The image of Amber flickered, the hesitation in her expression frozen in time. She looked lost, unsure of herself.
"In truth, she never saw herself as ready to embrace the fact that she was a Maiden," Ozpin continued. "She was hesitant. Afraid. She chose to wield her power only when absolutely necessary, only when danger forced her hand. But the truth is, Amber had potential—she's different from the other Maidens before her—more than she ever realized. Even through wild magic alone and without the help of spells, she could manipulate the elements with ease."
As Ozpin spoke, the vision shifted. Around Amber, elements responded to her subconscious will—flames flickered at her fingertips, water rippled in invisible currents, stones trembled beneath her feet, and sparks of lightning crackled around her.
She had all of this power... and yet, she had been afraid to use it.
"A Maiden's magic is vast and unrestrained," Ozpin explained. "Fire, water, lightning, wind, ice, dirt—all at their fingertips. With guidance, they could shape the world itself. But fear, hesitation... those things limit what is possible."
The scene faded, and Ozpin turned to Oscar, meeting his gaze.
"Each Maiden wields a default affinity, a reflection of who they are at their core. They can manipulate these abilities without the use of spells."
He gestured, and the space around them shifted again—new images appeared, flickering specters of fire and frost, of warmth and cold.
"The Fall and Summer Maidens have an innate connection to fire—a manifestation of their burning hearts, their hope, maturity, and preparation. Flames are not just destruction to them, but a symbol of renewal—of endless cycles of change, of pushing forward."
The figures of Fall and Summer Maidens ignited like blazing stars, fire swirling around them, illuminating their faces with fierce determination.
"Winter and Spring, however, are different. Their natural element is ice—unyielding, resolute, sharp, and controlled growth, as steady as their will."
The images shifted.
The Winter and Spring Maidens stood amidst falling snow and frost-covered landscapes, their power quiet but immense.
"Cold and strong, like a blade tempered in winter's bite. Their magic is not of destruction, but of preservation—of standing firm no matter what storms may come."
Oscar listened, eyes wide, absorbing every word.
(A/N: If you're confused, there's a summarized version in the end of the chapter. Go there for a moment then come back here to continue reading the lore.)
"That means... even if a Maiden can control all elements, their core magic is already chosen for them?"
Ozpin nodded. "Precisely. It does not limit them, but it defines them. Shapes how their power manifests."
Oscar frowned, crossing his arms. "Wait, this doesn't really add up."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow.
Oscar continued, "Shouldn't Spring be associated with Water or Wind? I mean, it's the season of growth, renewal, and movement. Ice feels more like Winter's thing. And Fall being tied to Fire? That doesn't make sense either. Fall is about things slowing down, not burning up."
He glanced at Ozpin, his brow furrowed. "I feel like the elements should align more with the natural cycle of the seasons, but they don't. Why is that?"
Ozpin let out a thoughtful hum, pacing slowly within the mindscape. "You're asking the right questions, Oscar. Many assume the Maidens' elements should follow the obvious seasonal associations, but it's not that simple. The elements they wield are not tied to nature's changes but rather to the fundamental forces that define their respective seasons."
He turned, his gaze steady. "Let's break it down. You believe Spring should be associated with Water or Wind, correct?"
Oscar nodded. "Yeah, I mean, Spring is about growth, renewal, and movement. Water nourishes the land, and Wind carries seeds and spreads life."
Ozpin smiled slightly. "A fair assumption. But consider this—Spring is not just about growth; it is also about resilience. The world is still gripped by the cold remnants of winter, and only the strongest of life emerges. That is why Spring's core element is Ice. It represents the struggle of new beginnings, the hardships that come before true renewal. The frost still lingers, testing life's perseverance before the full bloom of Summer."
Oscar's brow furrowed. "So... it's not about the warmth of Spring but the challenge it presents? The idea that life has to push through the last of the ice?"
"Exactly." Ozpin nodded. "Spring is not gentle—it is a season of transformation through struggle. It teaches us that survival is earned, that new beginnings do not come easily. The Maiden of Spring embodies this principle—she holds the power of Ice, a reminder that even in the face of lingering cold, life must endure and push forward."
Oscar crossed his arms. "Alright, that... actually makes sense. But what about Fall and Fire? That one still feels weird to me."
Ozpin's expression darkened slightly. "Fall is often seen as a season of decay, of things coming to an end. But that is only half the truth. Fall is the season of transition, of ambition, of preparation. It is not about death, but the burning passion that carries us forward before the cold sets in."
He gestured with his hand, and the mindscape flickered, showing visions of autumn leaves set ablaze by the golden light of sunset. "Fire represents the unstoppable force of change. In Fall, the trees burn with color before shedding their leaves. It is not destruction—it is renewal through sacrifice. Fire is the element of desire, of the drive to push forward despite the coming cold."
Oscar took a slow breath, letting the explanation sink in. "So, Fall's Fire isn't just about destruction—it's about transition, about passion before the world slows down."
"Precisely," Ozpin confirmed. "The Fall Maiden carries the fire of ambition, of perseverance, of preparation. Just as nature sheds its leaves, it is not dying—it is making way for what comes next."
A long silence stretched between them before Oscar finally muttered, "Huh... that's actually really cool."
Ozpin chuckled. "Yes, Indeed."
Oscar exhaled, looking at his own hands. He wasn't a Maiden, but... he had magic too.
And if the Maidens had elemental affinities—what did his magic say about him?
"With training, a Maiden could grow past their default abilities. They would be able to wield lightning, blow winds towards the horizon, and so much more through spells."
Oscar exhaled, letting everything sink in. "I see what you mean. Spells are great, wild magic is a downgrade..." He trailed off, then frowned. "Then... what about me? Since I have magic, what does that say about myself?"
Ozpin chuckled softly, as if amused by the question. "Well, since you're me... your default would be—" he spread his arms slightly, "—all of them."
Oscar's breath hitched. His eyes widened in disbelief. "All of them?"
"Yes," Ozpin confirmed, nodding. "You are like Amber in that sense. Unlike the Maidens, whose magic leans toward a specific elemental affinity, you—" he gestured at Oscar, "—can use wild magic to manipulate all elements freely. The difference is that you are unbound by the constraints of the Maiden's cycle. Your magic is not something borrowed or inherited—it is something innate within you. A gift from a past life, carried forward."
Oscar stared down at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fingers. 'I have all elements?' The thought was overwhelming. 'What does that even mean for me?'
Ozpin let out a small chuckle before sighing, his voice dipping into something more reflective. "But, I suppose none of that matters if you don't hone it properly."
Oscar tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that I died because—well, to be perfectly honest—I had grown out of touch."
Oscar blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... what?"
"Yes, I know how it sounds," Ozpin said dryly. "But it's the truth. When you live as long as I have, training becomes... tiresome. Redundant. I spent centuries mastering the craft, teaching others, preparing warriors—but in doing so, I forgot to keep myself sharp. I underestimated how much time dulls even the keenest blade."
Oscar's brow furrowed. "But how did you actually die? What happened?"
Ozpin was silent for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he began.
"I fought the Wyvern during the Fall of Beacon—outside of the crashed Amity Arena. Salem's monster. The very thing that ensured my kingdom's collapse."
The mindscape darkened, and suddenly, Oscar could see it.
Beacon's shattered tower. The burning city below. The massive winged creature looming over everything, its very presence radiating Grimm corruption.
"I battled it with everything I had," Ozpin continued, his voice distant as the memory played before them. "Fire, lightning, laser beams, shields—every spell I could conjure. I had thought, for a moment, that I could actually destroy it. And in the end... I did. But..."
The vision shifted. The Wyvern, battered and weakened, reared back, its body beginning to wither, its form breaking apart into ashes.
"I turned my gaze away for just a second," Ozpin said, his tone growing solemn. "I looked toward the sky, watching the ships flee—watching the people I had saved once again. For once, after a long time, I thought to myself... I did it. I saved them. I won."
Oscar's breath caught in his throat.
"And in that moment of relief, I failed to see its final act. Its massive claw, still intact, still alive, shot forward—"
The vision played before them as if in slow motion. The dying Wyvern, its body crumbling, lashed out one final time. It was grinning. A black, taloned claw tore through the air—
—And pierced straight through Ozpin's chest.
Oscar flinched, a phantom pain striking him deep in his core.
"My aura shattered instantly. My shields were gone. I had nothing left to protect myself."
The scene continued. Blood spilled into the air like ink in water. The Wyvern, with its last breath, pulled its claw back—and as it disintegrated into nothing, Ozpin's body was left hovering for a fleeting moment in the broken sky.
"And then..." Ozpin whispered.
Silence.
Oscar swallowed, his throat dry. "You... you fell."
"Yes," Ozpin confirmed. "I fell. I took my final breath as the world faded away, and I plummeted to my demise."
Another pause.
Then Ozpin let out a soft chuckle—tired, self-deprecating.
"If I had just prepared a single extra shield spell... If I had just kept my guard up for a second longer... maybe I wouldn't be here speaking to you like this."
Oscar clenched his fists, his jaw tightening.
He wasn't sure what emotion swelled within him—anger? Sadness? Frustration at how unfair it all was?
But one thing was certain.
Oscar exhaled, the weight of Ozpin's final words lingering in his mind. "I won't make the same mistake."
The silence stretched, heavy and contemplative, before Ozpin finally broke it.
"Then let us begin."
The white void of the mindscape shimmered, shifting around them. The nothingness molded into something more tangible—a stone courtyard, circular and vast, surrounded by towering marble pillars. The sky above was a muted gray, like an early morning before the sun could fully rise. It reminded Oscar of a place from a dream—distant yet familiar.
Oscar turned in place, taking in the strange yet serene battlefield. "Is this...?"
"A replica of one of my old training grounds," Ozpin answered, his hands behind his back as he stepped forward. "If you are to wield magic, Oscar, you must first understand it—control it. And to do that, we shall start with something fundamental."
Ozpin lifted his hand, and golden light shimmered at his fingertips, forming a small glowing sigil in the air.
"Healing magic."
Oscar blinked, tilting his head. "Healing? Shouldn't I start with something more—uh, offensive?"
Ozpin chuckled. "Eager, are we? That's good. But no, Oscar. Mastering healing is vital—not just for yourself, but for others. There will be times when battle is lost, and retreat is necessary. There will be times when a fallen ally's survival depends not on strength, but on speed. A well-placed healing spell could turn the tide of a fight."
He let the words settle before adding, "And more importantly... if you cannot heal, you will not last long in a real fight."
Oscar frowned but nodded. "Alright... so how does it work?"
Ozpin raised a hand. "Unlike Aura, which passively repairs minor injuries over time, magic-based healing is an active effort. It requires precise control over your energy—your Aura acts as a conduit, but the magic itself fuels the restoration process."
As he spoke, Ozpin grabbed a knife from his back as he moved.
A shallow cut appeared on the back of his palm. The wound was small, but deep enough to drip blood. Oscar flinched instinctively, but Ozpin remained unfazed.
"Watch closely."
The sigil above Ozpin's palm shimmered, then he whispered, "Mend," and in an instant, the wound sealed itself shut, leaving nothing but smooth, unblemished skin.
Oscar's eyes widened. "That's—"
"Efficient?" Ozpin finished for him, smiling. "Yes. But it has its limits."
Oscar narrowed his gaze. "Like what?"
Ozpin's expression darkened slightly. "The severity of an injury determines whether or not it can be healed. Shallow wounds, broken bones, even some internal damage—these can be repaired with proper focus. However... fatal wounds—" He placed a hand over his chest, the exact spot where the Wyvern had impaled him. "—are beyond our reach."
Oscar felt a chill crawl up his spine. "So... if someone's too far gone, magic can't save them?"
Ozpin nodded. "Correct. It is not resurrection—it is restoration. Once the body is past the point of no return, no amount of magic will bring it back."
Oscar clenched his fists. Then what's the point if you can't save everyone? The thought flashed bitterly in his mind, but he swallowed it down. Now wasn't the time to dwell on impossibilities.
He exhaled and straightened his posture. "Alright. I wanna try."
Ozpin smiled. "Very well."
With a flick of his wrist, a small dagger materialized in his hand once again. Oscar tensed as Ozpin lightly dragged the blade across the back of his own hand, reopening the shallow wound from earlier.
"Let's begin, shall we?"
Oscar swallowed, nodding. He extended his own hand, focusing on the cut.
"Magic is shaped by intent, Oscar. To heal, you must will the injury to mend itself. Visualize the wound knitting back together. Picture the cells regenerating, the tissue closing."
"O-okay!"
"Now, channel your Aura—not as a barrier, but as a thread. Weave it into the injury, guide it."
Oscar furrowed his brows, trying to concentrate. He reached inward, searching for that energy within himself. His Aura pulsed faintly, but nothing happened.
He frowned. "I don't feel anything—"
"Patience," Ozpin interrupted. "Magic does not respond to doubt. It responds to belief. You must trust in your own ability, Oscar. Speak the spell. Give it form."
Oscar hesitated, then took a deep breath.
"Mend."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A faint, golden glow flickered at his fingertips.
Oscar gasped softly as warmth spread through his palm, gentle but powerful. The light reached out toward Ozpin's wound, hovering over the cut like liquid sunlight. Slowly, the torn skin began to close, the injury fading before his eyes.
Oscar's lips parted in awe. "I... I did it!"
Ozpin smiled approvingly. "Yes. And now, you must learn to do it faster. Again."
The dagger flickered back into existence. Another cut.
Oscar swallowed.
Training had only just begun.
[End]
In my version of RWBY's magic system, Maidens have the ability to control multiple elements, but they cannot access them freely without the use of spells. This means that while they have the potential for elemental versatility, they must deliberately invoke specific incantations to wield anything beyond their natural affinity.
However, Amber was a special case. Unlike other Maidens, she could instinctively manipulate multiple elements without the need for spells, utilizing what is known as wild magic—a raw, unrefined form of magic.
Wild Magic drains more Aura but with the use of Spell incantations, it could minimize the drain.
This is the reason why she lost against Cinder, Mercury and Emerald, if she could cast spells, then her magic would be more refined (Less draining) and would be able to overpower them.
Additionally, each Maiden has a default elemental affinity, which is tied to their soul:
Fall & Summer Maidens naturally gravitate toward fire.
Winter & Spring Maidens instinctively wield ice.
This system allows for an explanation for why Cinder, even after obtaining the Fall Maiden's power, primarily uses fire, while Raven, as the Spring Maiden, predominantly wields ice. Their elemental affinities align with their nature, and unless they actively cast spells, they remain bound to these default elements.
Amber, however, defied this norm. She possessed an innate connection to magic that allowed her to use multiple elements without the constraints of spellcasting, making her one of the most unique Maidens in history.