Black Magic is the dominion of the infinite void—before the first dawn and after the final dusk, when all that remains is darkness eternal. It is the silence that swallowed the cosmos before the stars were kindled, and it is the silence that will return when their embers fade. Light is but a fleeting interruption in this dominion, a fragile spark briefly defying the infinite gulf before being consumed again.

Unlike the other colors, Black Magic admits no harmony, no balance, no order imposed upon it. All forms yield, all radiance falters, before its cold embrace. To touch it is to brush against the Total Void of Absolute Nothingness, a force not merely destructive but erasing, dissolving both the world and the self into its endless shadow.

For this reason, Black Magic is forbidden, not only for the peril it poses to the world, but for the annihilation it demands of its practitioners. Those who seek to master it seldom remain themselves, their identities unspooled into the void they thought to command. Yet whispers persist of the Shadow Hats, figures said to dwell within the Quantum Shadow, keepers—or captives—of this primordial darkness.

To contemplate Black Magic is to confront the truth that all things end, that even the brightest flame burns only by permission of the dark.