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The quiet was beginning to get on Ian's nerves. He was not fond of awkward pauses, and her wide-eyed look, somewhere between reverence and sheer disbelief, made him feel more out of place than usual.
Maybe she hadn't understood him?
He gave it another go.
"Sorry about blasting your 'god' to bits," Ian said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If it's a matter of compensation, I can work something out. We could move on from this whole mess?"
There was no mockery in his tone, only the peculiar matter-of-factness unique to Ian.
He had long since realised these priests weren't worshippers in the traditional sense. They didn't revere the so-called god; they feared it. Feared what they didn't understand.
And from what Ian had seen, none of them knew the first thing about biological alchemy.
Still, for the sake of communication, he decided to humour their terminology.
"I could always make you another," Ian offered thoughtfully. "It'd be simple enough, though I'll admit, I haven't figured out how to make it think. If you've got a Dementor lying about, we could trap one inside. It'd do the trick."
"Oh, right," He added, "I suppose you might not have Dementors in this time. That could complicate things."
As he spoke, his body began to blur, dissolving into white mist. With a soft whoosh, Ian drifted down from the altar like fog rolling over a hillside.
He reformed before the girl in a graceful swirl of robes and magic.
"This is magic," He said gently, in case she'd been startled.
To his surprise, she didn't scream or run. She simply sat there, gazing up at him with unblinking wonder.
"I know," She replied at last.
Her voice was clear and delicate, like the chime of water in a still pool. Her luminous eyes never left his face.
Wherever Ian moved, her head followed, her stare unwavering. There was no hatred in her eyes, no suspicion. Only a kind of innocent admiration, a look Ian had never seen before, not even from those who praised him in the Twilight Realm.
He wasn't sure what to make of it.
And just as the silence began to stretch too long again, she suddenly spoke.
"I've been singing to you."
Her voice was crystalline, serene. Her words hung in the air like a charm woven from truth and wonder.
And in her gaze, something shone, a gleam of memory, or perhaps prophecy.
And Ian, who had met the phantoms of Merlin and Morgana, felt a strange sense that he had finally arrived at the edge of something truly ancient.
"Since I can remember, it's been like this every single day." The little girl stood up, light as air, and began to curiously circle around Ian like a hummingbird studying a flower.
"Every morning, I must stand beneath the altar and sing. They say it's a hymn for the god. When I sing, I see visions… glimpses of a world not our own. A world completely different from this one." She suddenly stopped circling, lifted her hand, and ever so gently reached out to touch the young wizard standing before her.
"It's you. I know it's you… not that grotesque monster from earlier." Her eyes sparkled with sudden joy as her fingers brushed Ian's robes, her face lighting up like a Lumos spell.
"I think everyone's wrong. You weren't sent to destroy us, you're here to save us." Without warning, she flung her arms around Ian, catching him off guard. His hands hovered awkwardly in the air.
"I'm only here tracking a dark wizard... you do know what a wizard is, right?" Ian tried to gently push her away, but she clung to him like a Niffler with a shiny object.
It took a great deal of effort for him to finally peel her off.
"Everyone in the temple is a wizard. Only those born with magic may enter the order," she replied with absolute certainty, not the slightest bit confused.
"A whole coven of wizards, terrified of an alchemical construct… that's just absurd," Ian muttered. He'd already suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed was another matter entirely.
"That's because of an ancient legend, a true legend," she whispered, a flicker of fear returning to her expression. "Whenever you awaken, calamity follows, disasters even the greatest wizards cannot withstand." Her voice trembled, just as it had when she first laid eyes on him.
"First off, I'm no god," Ian said, sighing. "Second, never underestimate what a wizard can do. There's power in you, each of you. The trick is learning to see it."
"Fear won't protect you from catastrophe. But your magic? That can. Don't go idolising relics. Honour yourself. Be your own god."
He wasn't certain his words would reach her, let alone be remembered by these ancient people, but her sincerity stirred something in him. She was worth the effort.
The girl didn't respond immediately to Ian's quiet guidance.
Instead, she simply followed him as he turned toward the temple doors.
"Everyone believes the disasters are punishment," she said quickly, catching up. "But I see now… that's wrong. The disaster comes first, and then you awaken. And then you save us."
"You are the god of salvation, not destruction. I've read the old records. I remember the songs. I know this!"
"Er... I've been awake the whole time, actually. Definitely not a god of naps," Ian replied with an awkward smile. "Though if I don't catch the dark wizard I'm after, then yes... a disaster might be in the cards."
He stepped through the threshold of the temple.
Sunlight blasted his vision, forcing him to squint.
"Nice weather," Ian murmured, lifting a hand to shield his eyes. Before him lay a vast, open platform paved with ancient stone slabs. Deep gouges and shallow indentations hinted at centuries of wear.
"To be honest, I'd really like to know where I am." Ian blinked into the sunlight, his gaze sweeping across the scene, only to widen as the city beyond came into focus.
It rose against a mighty mountainside, wrapped in towering stone walls. Sleek spires reached for the heavens. Stone houses dotted the hills, and winding bridges linked quarters together like a spider's web of stone.
This was no mere settlement, it was the work of a truly advanced magical civilisation.
"We are the city guarded by Venus," the girl answered his unspoken question.
Ian narrowed his eyes.
"Is that… smoke?" He pointed toward the looming mountain beside the city. Sure enough, tendrils of dark smoke curled from its jagged peak.
The girl nodded, unconcerned.
"That's the volcano. It's always like that. Just... a bit more active this year," She said, glancing up at it with what almost sounded like affection.
"Each winter, the warmth from the mountain keeps us alive. The heat helps the city survive. We're grateful for it." She turned to look at her "god," only to find that Ian had gone pale, his expression frozen, his neck rigid as he stared at her.
"What did you just say?" He asked hoarsely.
"That's the volcano," She repeated, blinking at him.
"Not that part. The other thing, where are we?" His voice was tight, his grip on his wand trembling.
"This is Pompeii Cornelia, blessed by Venus," She said proudly, as though reciting it from some official inscription.
"…"
Ian felt every muscle in his body lock up.
His wand-hand fell limp.
"Tom… what in Merlin's name are you trying to do…" He whispered under his breath.
He had faced Voldemort before, battled shadows and ghosts in the Twilight Realm, but now, for the first time, Ian felt true dread curl through his chest.
An ancient city.
A restless volcano.
A name that shouldn't exist anymore.
Pompeii.
(End of chapter)