They descended deeper, bypassing several ancient and intricate magical traps and puzzles, until they finally reached the core of the ruins—an underground space carved from massive sea rock, hidden deep beneath the reef.
This place had clearly once been a carefully arranged family manor hall.
Although much of it had been eroded by seawater, with part of the domed ceiling collapsed to reveal the dark sea beyond, the remaining stone pillars and tarnished metal inlays embedded in the walls still hinted at its former scale and grandeur.
At the far end of the hall, before a relatively intact wall, stood a massive bookshelf made of some kind of dark, corrosion-resistant wood.
Most of the shelves had long since decayed and collapsed. Books lay scattered across the floor, soaked in shallow seawater, most of them reduced to pulpy sludge.
Yet in a relatively dry corner on the highest shelf, a handful of volumes had miraculously survived. They were wrapped in thick dragonhide or some kind of sea-beast skin, faint protective enchantments still glimmering across their surfaces.
Sagres used a Levitation Charm to draw the books toward him, gently brushing away salt crystals and debris.
"The Macleavy Family Nautical Log...."
"...On the Construction of Family Sanctuaries…"
Hmm. This one's rather interesting—"Illustrated Compendium of Deep-Sea Monsters and Their Characteristics (Sole Copy)…"
He flipped through them casually until the final book caught his attention. Its cover was pitch black, devoid of any title, bearing only an engraved, twisted vortex.
With a flick of his wand, he opened it, and his brow slowly knit together.
"Most of what this book records are… mutated Dark Arts and some extremely ancient forms of water magic. Largely impractical," he said, pausing. "But…"
He indicated one of the pages. The parchment was unusually tough, and the ink upon it was a sinister dark red, depicting extraordinarily complex and counterintuitive human Transfiguration runes and ritual arrays.
"…This records a ritual magic I've never seen before. Its name is…"
Sagres's voice carried a note of caution and uncertainty. "…Forbidden Transfiguration magic, or, according to the annotations here, more accurately called 'Living Ensnarement Transfiguration.'"
He studied the marginal notes. The descriptions were vague, yet they referenced concepts such as "transcending the constraints of life forms," "permanent biological Transfiguration," and "distortion of will."
Everyone stepped closer, their gazes settling on the dark red record of forbidden Transfiguration, brows knitting.
"Living Ensnarement Transfiguration…"
Sagres repeated the name softly, his fingertip tracing the twisted vortex etched on the page as his eyes grew darker. "The Macleavy family must have used this spell to transform members of the MacBain family into Five-Legged Monsters. This is not Animagus magic. It points to a far more complete and irreversible form of alienation."
"But many of the ritual materials mentioned here are already extinct," Nightingale said after a glance, shaking her head. "It can only serve as research material now."
Sagres closed the book and handed the tome of forbidden knowledge to the others. "You may make a copy. I'll keep the original."
After searching a while longer and finding nothing else of value, the group decided to withdraw.
They carefully passed beneath the collapsed dome, avoiding the trickling seawater and unstable stone beams, and made their way back up along the route they had taken.
The cold, clammy chill of the deep ruins seemed to cling stubbornly to their robes.
Sagres placed the black vortex-bound book containing the forbidden Transfiguration into his space pouch, securing it beneath multiple Shield Charms, while Nightingale and Rayhawk each kept the other valuable volumes.
Just as they were about to step out of the ruins and once more face the wind-scoured reefs and the gloomy sky beyond, a small figure suddenly emerged from the shadow of a massive rock formation.
It was a goblin.
But it was nothing like the well-dressed goblins of Gringotts.
Its clothing resembled a rune-inscribed wizard's robe, tattered and plastered with seaweed and fragments of reef.
Its skin was a sickly grey-green, and the most striking detail was what it clutched tightly in its hand—a brass wand.
The wand's shaft was etched with coarse spiral carvings, and its tip was set with a murky obsidian stone.
When the two sides met unexpectedly in the narrow reef passage, both froze for an instant, surprise flashing in their eyes.
Then a surge of murderous intent flared in the goblin's gaze.
"Watch out!" Nightingale's warning came almost simultaneously with the goblin's attack.
The goblin did not chant a spell. It simply snapped the brass wand toward Robin, who was walking at the front.
Ssswoosh—!
A dark yellow beam of light, carrying the stench of sulphur and scorched air, shot through the space like the tongue of a venomous snake, streaking straight toward Robin's chest.
The beam was extremely condensed, like a real arrow.
Robin reacted instantly, almost on instinct, sweeping her wand in an arc before her. "Protego!"
Boom! Crack!
The dark yellow beam slammed into the invisible shield, exploding with a harsh, shattering sound.
Robin's hastily cast Shield Charm was pierced at once. The violent shockwave sent her flying backward, her back slamming into the jagged reef with a painful grunt.
The backlash from the shattered shield clearly left her badly injured.
And the goblin's magic was frighteningly fast.
Several spells—Stupefy, a Binding Charm, Expelliarmus—shot toward it from different angles, spreading out like a hunter's net.
A red beam struck the goblin squarely.
But it merely staggered, as if it had taken a heavy blow to the shoulder, its cold eyes showing not the slightest change in expression. Once it steadied itself, the brass wand rose again, aimed at Robin as she struggled to get to her feet.
The sight made everyone's eyes widen.
Another precisely cast Petrificus Totalus hit its body, yet it only stumbled again, refusing to fall.
The goblin moved nimbly through the narrow crevices of the reef. With each flick of its brass wand, dark yellow beams precisely intercepted, deflected, or even swallowed most of the incoming spells.
Only a few flashes of magic managed to graze its cheek and throat, drawing thin lines of blood, but none were enough to cause fatal harm.
Immediately afterward, the goblin raised the brass wand once more. The murky obsidian set into its tip suddenly flared with a blood-red light that made the heart seize, and an even more violent power than before began to rapidly condense.
Sagres's grey eyes narrowed at once, and he swept his wand forward.
No incantation, no elaborate movement. A blazing crimson light, cast later yet striking first, slammed into the goblin's body in the blink of an eye.
Crimson Rip!
Pfft!
With a dull, muffled sound, the goblin's small body seemed to rupture from within. In the next instant, it collapsed into a pool of thick crimson blood that splattered across the black reef.
The bizarre brass wand clattered onto the blood-soaked stone. The destructive blood-red glow at its tip guttered like a snuffed flame and vanished instantly.
Even the murky obsidian shattered into fine powder.
Sagres's expression did not change. He walked slowly toward the pool of blood as it seeped into the cracks of the reef, his sharp gaze fixed on the fallen brass wand.
The wand itself looked unremarkable, aside from its unusual material and crude craftsmanship.
With a flick of his wand, an invisible force lifted the brass wand into the air, suspending it before him.
A faint glow of probing magic gathered at his fingertips as he carefully touched the wand's shaft, attempting to sense its internal structure, any lingering magical traces, or other useful clues.
Instead, he found nothing.
A complete blank.
The interior of the wand was no different from an ordinary block of brass, devoid of magical materials and without even the faintest residue of energy.
It was as though a lump of raw brass, freshly dug from a mine and never enchanted, had simply been polished into the shape of a wand.
Sagres's brow drew tight. He tried several more advanced detection spells, including ones specifically designed to identify Dark Arts artefacts, but the results were unchanged.
This wand looked utterly mundane, like a crude imitation or a child's toy.
"What a pity," Sagres murmured softly. "I had intended to subdue it and ask a few questions. I didn't expect it to be immune to control magic."
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