Inside the room:
The chandelier overhead emitted a dim yellow glow, casting shadows on the walls that twisted with the flickering candlelight. A breeze drifted in through the window, causing the flames atop the chandelier to sway slightly. Though not particularly bright, the light bathed the whole room in a soft halo.
There was enough light for most things, even Young Morgan, to be seen clearly.
"I'm honestly speechless!" Ian stared at the item in Young Morgan's hands. He couldn't comprehend how he had exhausted so much energy painstakingly probing the Mirror of Erised for its hidden secrets yet found nothing.
Yet Young Morgan had suddenly pulled from the Mirror the very treasure Ian had racked his brains trying to uncover, without any deliberate effort.
'Was this how the Mirror of Erised punished impatient fools?'
Ian felt helpless and realized he had been acting like Voldemort, obsessed with something that always seemed within reach but could never be grasped.
"How exactly does the Mirror of Erised hide things?" Ian's urgency hadn't faded; it had merely shifted from seeking the hidden object to obsessing over the mirror's function itself.
Unwilling to give up, he leaned in close again, scrutinizing the magical inscriptions. The runes etched upon the glass were mysterious symbols, each line carrying secrets of magic.
"No, no... Where the hell is that missing text?" Ian's gaze darted across the runes, refusing to let even the smallest detail escape. Yet, after staring for so long, he still couldn't detect any differences, no trace of the elusive inscription hidden within the mirror.
"Could this section of the runes be concealed within an unseen inner part of the Mirror of Erised?" Ian muttered to himself. At this point, it was the only reasonable explanation he could imagine.
He felt an overwhelming urge to dismantle the Mirror entirely.
However, that extreme pride and stubbornness was often the very trait that drove someone to succeed in their field.
The more exceptional the field, the prouder its masters tended to be, and Ian was no exception. Ian was no exception. Like most geniuses, he could not accept being left with not even the faintest clue.
Just then, as Ian fumed in frustration, Young Morgan lifted her head. She stared at the box in her hands curiously and asked, "Teacher, what is this?"
From Ian's expression, she had picked up some clues and assumed that he knew what she had found. Truth be told, Young Morgan had no idea how the box had ended up in her hands.
She, too, was eager for an answer.
But her curiosity was not idle; it was the pursuit of magic and knowledge. If she were to attend Hogwarts, she would almost certainly go to Ravenclaw rather than Slytherin, unless she were sorted into Azkaban.
"I want to know what's inside as well." Ian finally set aside his study of the Mirror of Erised and looked toward the box Young Morgan was holding. In the young witch's hands rested a quaint, exquisitely crafted container.
Its surface was carved with intricate patterns, and its edges were inlaid with several gemstones that shimmered faintly.
The material seemed to be some kind of ancient wood, but its surface carried a faint bronze-green hue and gleamed with a metallic luster. The box exuded an air of antiquity, as though it had endured countless centuries of time's baptism.
"Why don't we open it and take a look?" Ian suggested to Young Morgan.
But Young Morgan hesitated. She gently traced the box's edge with her fingers, as if weighing something in her mind. Finally, she handed the box to Ian.
"You should do it, Teacher." I'm afraid there might be a trap inside. After all, there's no such thing as a free lunch in this world." Young Morgan was being cautious, as a wizard should be.
She did not fully trust this so-called "gift" from the Mirror of Erised.
"It should be fine." Ian took the box, feeling its weight and the cold touch against his skin. Lowering his head, he carefully studied the magical inscriptions etched upon it. The runes pulsed faintly with magic. Drawing a deep breath, he focused his mind and began to interpret the spellwork.
This time, there were no difficulties.
Relying on his solid foundation in magic, he easily discerned the nature of the enchantments placed on the box. Once he confirmed that there were no traps, Ian slowly began to open the box.
Compared to deciphering a complicated code, the old-fashioned method worked best.
"These enchantments aren't complex. A simple Unlocking Charm is enough." He spoke softly, his fingers brushing across the box's surface as he chanted a short incantation.
Enhanced by his extraordinary talent, the Unlocking Charm worked instantly.
As his voice faded, the runes on the box glowed briefly and then dimmed. The lid clicked softly, as though some hidden mechanism had been triggered.
The moment the catch released, a sharp, mechanical hum pierced the air. As the box opened, the sound of precise clockwork filled the room: clear and rhythmic, like a finely tuned instrument coming to life. Both Ian and Young Morgan fixed their eyes on the interior, where a heart lay nestled.
A heart forged entirely of metal.
It rested quietly within, its surface shimmering with a cold, silver gleam. The intricate metallic patterns on its surface were delicate yet precise, as if crafted by a master artisan. Its design radiated cybernetic elegance.
To their astonishment, the heart was beating slowly and rhythmically, emitting a mechanical melody with every throb.
With each pulse, a faint whirring sound carried through the air, subtly shaking it. The noise wasn't loud, but it was unforgettably distinct and strange.
"Wow! Is this a moving work of art?" Young Morgan's eyes widened in wonder and fascination as she stared at the mechanical heart, unable to stop herself from gasping aloud.
"I don't think it's a work of art." Ian's face was full of astonishment. As if struck by a sudden thought, he quickly reached into his money pouch and pulled out the eyeball he had once stolen from Merlin.
Sure enough,
Just as Ian had suspected, the eyeball began to whirl wildly in his palm as though responding to some special summons. Its once-still surface now flickered with countless glimmers of light.
At the same time, the mechanical heart within the box began to beat more rapidly, its rhythm growing urgent. An invisible bond seemed to form between the two strange objects. They pulled toward each other, trying to fuse, but something was missing. The framework. The other parts.
"The God of Alchemy... the organs of a man-made god..."
Ian murmured under his breath. Merlin's words about the eyeball's origin surfaced in his mind. His brow furrowed as curiosity and confusion surged within him.
He remembered that the so-called God of Alchemy was the true Creator and the hidden identity of the Raven. But what purpose could there be in creating such things?
Perhaps he could speculate about these two organs. If Ian's instincts were correct, then both organs possessed special abilities.
However, exactly what kind of abilities still required thorough research and experimentation.
Surely they could not be anything simple. After all, daring to name the completed creation "God" means it must be capable of rivaling a true god.
(To Be Continued…)
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