"Madam Ravenclaw."
The black cat stared into the dancing flas of the hearth, instinctively wanting to edge closer to the warmth.
"My dear Sean."
Rowena Ravenclaw offered a thin, enigmatic smile.
"So pumpkin juice?"
At Helena's silent command, a steaming mug of pumpkin juice sprouted a pair of tiny wooden legs and scampered across the rug, coming to a halt right before the cat's paws.
"Thank you for the hospitality," the cat murmured, bowing its head slightly. It used its tail to deftly steady the handle of the mug.
As Sean looked around the interior of the cottage, a swarm of questions began to buzz in his mind.
What exactly is the nature of the Lands Between?
He wondered why he could no longer sense the presence of Isolt Sayre, yet Rowena seed to be drawing closer to him. How did the souls within this realm move? What laws governed the world behind the Veil?
The mystery was tantalizing, and his curiosity was near its breaking point.
"You are burdened by many questions," Rowena noted, gliding over. An ancient, weathered book manifested in her hand as she moved.
"I am, Madam Ravenclaw. I wish to know the truth of this place. And... what determines the distance between us here?"
"A fine inquiry. Tell then, what do you think?" Rowena countered. "What determines the distance between one wizard and another? Is it a length that can be asured with a ruler?"
"It is the distance between hearts," the cat replied after a few monts of reflection.
"That is the first answer," Rowena smiled.
"But what are the actual laws of the realm? Why do I feel Madam Sayre drifting further into the distance?"
"A wizard's soul is a restless thing," Rowena explained. "Sotis it draws near, sotis it wanders far. Even if two hearts are close, the soul forever seeks its freedom. And on the path to that freedom, a wizard is always, essentially, alone. The roads of two wizards do not always converge."
She took a sip of her own juice, a playful glint in her eyes.
"You an..." The cat fell into deep thought.
"Precisely," Rowena said. "Compared to most, you and Sayre were remarkably close. But she is moving forward. She has carved out a space for you in her mory, but that does not an you can catch her. Only at specific, fateful monts do the paths of wizards truly align."
"I understand," the cat whispered. He looked at Rowena, then at Helena. His fur gave a brief, silver-flecked shiver, but he chose to keep his final thought to himself.
"You are wondering why Helena and I remain together?" Rowena asked. She was, as the legends said, incredibly sharp. "It is because we have made a ho within each other's souls. What is your definition of 'ho,' child?"
Rowena looked down at the cat and gently scooped him up into her arms. Sean was so imrsed in his philosophical debate that he didn't even realize he was being held until he noticed the floor was several feet away.
"Where there is love, there is ho..."
The cat looked up and realized his perspective had shifted; he was high in the air, watching Helena vibrate with silent laughter.
"This is not as amusing as you think," the cat muttered, leaping back down to the rug.
The fire roared in the grate, and outside the window, the magical vines of the garden perford a rhythmic, rustling dance. Amidst the pleasant, heavy silence of the cottage, Rowena's voice rang out:
"Mmm. A most impressive intellect."
Sean's tail gave a sharp, involuntary swish. He realized that in the mont of physical contact, she had sohow read the very essence of his mind.
"What do you an?" he asked.
"You ask for the rules of the Lands Between, yet you are already wielding them. Look."
Rowena flicked a finger. Several small clusters of mist—the "Yarn Balls" of his knowledge—erged from the tip of the cat's tail.
The first cluster displayed a series of complex wand movents accompanied by a low, droning incantation.
"A barely acceptable level of mastery in Charms," Rowena evaluated.
The second cluster shifted and buckled, transforming from a cat to a Wampus and back again.
"An excellent understanding of Transfiguration theory," she added with a smile.
Then ca the third, fourth, and fifth clusters. They radiated a bone-chilling cold and were as black as the bottom of a sunless sea. Rowena's expression shifted instantly.
"...Dark Arts. Dark Arts. And yet more Dark Arts... Sean, what exactly have you been studying? Has Hogwarts changed so drastically in ten centuries?"
The cat's head ducked low. He remained silent. He understood now that these were his "Wisdom Clusters"—manifestations of his rational mind, common fixtures in this realm.
"Hogwarts does not include the Dark Arts in its curriculum," the cat finally whispered.
"It is alright, Sean," Rowena said, stepping closer. He could see the intricate, shimring patterns on the hem of her robes. He didn't know what she ant until she spoke again.
"The Dark Arts are a sharp blade. I am rely curious as to what force compelled you to draw that blade in the first place. I recall a ti when wizards had defeated the dragons and the giants, standing as equals to the Goblins. We built our castles on a foundation of security. Has there been... a rebellion?"
"That was a long ti ago," the cat replied carefully.
"Oh? Then this is a war of wizards?" Rowena asked. It wasn't really a question.
The cat nodded.
Rowena didn't press him further. She looked as though she had expected such an outco. When wizards solved the problem of survival, their conflicting beliefs would inevitably tear them apart. Wizards relied so heavily on conviction that it was the very source of their magic—and the very catalyst for their wars.
They sat in silence for a while as the mist began to rise from the floorboards.
"I must leave now, Madam Ravenclaw. Madam Helena," the cat said. He had seen what he needed to see.
"Then... let us wish each other luck?" Rowena noted with a mischievous smirk.
The cat's whiskers trembled, but he said nothing.
"There are ten thousand souls here who try to cling to , hoping to siphon off the power that a wizard carries into this world," Rowena said suddenly, her voice dropping to a serious tone. "Do you know what that power is?"
"Wisdom," the cat answered.
"That is what I want you to understand. Wizards have many 'faiths'—even cruelty has its followers. But the true power of magic does not reside in such things. The ancient wizards defeated the dragons, the giants, and kept the Goblins at bay. But from Helena's account, the wizards of your age no longer possess that level of magic..."
Rowena spoke slowly, and Sean listened with every fiber of his being.
The cottage was decorated with a pine tree draped in fairy lights. Beneath it sat a plush orange rug, a small stool, and a stuffed black cat toy. The kettle began to boil over, the steam carrying the sharp, clean scent of pine.
The cat sat perfectly still on the rug, committing every word Rowena spoke to mory. He had always possessed a unique intuition regarding magic, and right now, that instinct was screaming that he was on the verge of uncovering the most profound and esoteric branch of the craft.
[End of Chapter 414]
☆☆☆
-> SUPPORT WITH POWER STONE
-> FOR EVERY 200 PS = BOUNS CHAPTER
☆☆☆
-> 20 Advanced chapters Now Available on Patreon!!
-> spat-reon.co-m/c/Inkshaper
(Just remove the hyphen (-) to access patreon normally)
If you like this novel please consider leaving a review that's help the story a lot Thank you
User Comments
0 comments from readers