There was no shortage of Ancient Magic Armor here. In the shadowy niches along certain corridors, Wyzett discovered several more metal chests—each one brimming with curious magical materials.
After dispatching another eight suits of armor, he finally stumbled upon a room unlike any he'd seen before.
At its center stood an oddly shaped stone pillar. Floating above it was an open notebook, its cover and pages uncannily similar to The Wizard's Practical Combat Guide.
As Wyzett drew closer, he realized the pillar was actually a stone basin, filled with a heavy, silvery substance. It looked dense, yet moved with an almost liquid grace—restless and clever.
He resisted the urge to touch the silver liquid, instead turning his attention to the hovering book.
Scrawled across the open pages, in Serena's familiar hand, was a message:
"If you've made it this far, you've cleared the trial of the armor. How did it feel? Those armored brutes weren't too much trouble, I hope?
When I became a Guardian, I suffered through their torment as well. But… looking back, it was a rather interesting experience.
You probably noticed quite a few chests after defeating those suits of armor. Feel free to help yourself—they're your reward for making it through.
The stone basin beneath this notebook is called a Pensieve. As a Ravenclaw, I'm sure you know exactly what it's for.
The Isaian Society has been slinking around the world like worms for ages—they're filthy rich by now. So don't be shy. There's no need to save anything for them!
Inside this notebook is a memory, one that records an intriguing type of mental magic. You're free to choose when to explore it.
And if you want to return here in the future, just use this notebook—it's a reusable Portkey. Should save you plenty of time."
As Wyzett finished reading, the ink faded from the page, coalescing into a single silver thread that hovered above the notebook, shimmering like smoke.
He mulled over Serena's words, resting his hand on the edge of the stone basin, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
"A Pensieve, huh?"
He knew the device well—a magical artifact for viewing memories, letting the user relive them from a third-person perspective, as if stepping into someone else's life.
But memories are deeply personal, colored by the emotions of those who lived them. Without a strong enough mind, immersing yourself in another's memories could leave you vulnerable to their emotional sway.
There were three main ways to guard against this:
First, by practicing Occlumency or similar mental arts, you could shield your mind and blunt the impact of another's subjectivity.
Second, the caster could deliberately refine the memory during extraction, purifying it and stripping away emotional bias before it ever reached the Pensieve.
Third, the Pensieve itself could be enchanted to protect the user, filtering out the strongest emotions at the source.
Wyzett had already constructed his own soul labyrinth and was well-versed in Occlumency—both methods that offered strong protection against the influence of foreign memories.
He drew his wand and gently touched the silver thread. It quivered, but clung tightly to the tip.
Within this memory, he sensed the presence of a unique mental spell—a mystery he was eager to unravel.
He lowered his wand into the Pensieve. The silver thread dissolved like ink, swirling and vanishing into the silvery depths.
Leaning forward, Wyzett brought his face close to the surface of the liquid.
The instant his skin touched the silver fluid, a wave of weightlessness swept over him.
It felt as if his feet had left the ground, his consciousness plunging into the Pensieve, falling and drifting ever deeper…
He found himself in a stone chamber, its walls lined with flickering torches. The dim flames cast long shadows, barely illuminating the gloom.
Ten paces ahead stood a man dressed in ancient robes. His expression was sorrowful as he wrote in a notebook, pausing now and then to attempt a spell—clearly in the midst of magical experimentation.
At the top of the notebook, the spell's name was written: Memory Extraction Spell.
Wyzett watched as the man adjusted his tone and rhythm, repeating the incantation over and over.
He studied the man's face, the cadence of the words, the subtle wand movements—piecing together the logic behind the spell's creation.
It was a remarkable perspective: as if Wyzett himself were the spell's inventor, experiencing the journey from inspiration to realization.
The incantation for the Memory Extraction Spell bore a resemblance to that of the Memory Charm. But unlike the latter, this spell required the caster to press the wand tip to their temple at the end, then slowly draw it away.
The spell's name, Memoria Exhaurire—pronounced with a drawn-out ending, much like Obliviate—was paired with the right gestures. At last, the man succeeded: a wisp of silver thread, ethereal and smoky, emerged from his temple, dancing at the wand's tip.
As the thread separated from his mind, the sorrow melted from the man's face, replaced by a look of profound relief.
Clearly, the spell had been crafted to sever grief—to strip away painful memories and free the heart from their weight.
…
Once again, Wyzett felt himself falling. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the chamber, the surface of the Pensieve rippling gently before him.
He exhaled, awestruck by the wonders of magic.
To absorb a new spell so directly—so viscerally—was a rare and exhilarating experience.
Quickly, he pulled out his own notebook, jotting down every detail, every insight from the memory.
He found that recording his thoughts was as much a process of digestion as it was of recollection.
As he pondered the Memory Extraction Spell, new ideas began to bloom.
This magic was more than just a tool for extracting memories. If combined with Ancient Magic: Mind Transfer, it could open up a world of possibilities.
What if you could edit memories, then share them through a Pensieve—creating an experience like a fully immersive, living film?
Imagine letting someone step inside a story, to feel every moment as if it were their own…
Wyzett scribbled these ideas down, determined to experiment when the opportunity arose.
To bring this vision to life, he'd need to improve the Pensieve itself—and master the art of crafting such powerful magical objects.
The Pensieve was a profound and subtle artifact. Creating one worthy of the name would demand true mastery of magical craftsmanship.
There was still so much to learn.
Only by knowing more could he bring his wildest dreams to fruition.
Magic, after all, was a journey with no end in sight.
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