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The streets of Memphis shimmered with a golden-red glow in the sunlight.
The air carried the distinct scent of soil from the Nile mixed with spices. Crowds bustled back and forth, the cries of vendors rising and falling one after another. Children chased each other through the streets. In the distance, the Temple of the Sun God Ra cast long shadows in the setting sun's glow, as if watching over the entire city.
Ian stood beneath a palm tree at a street corner, his gaze fixed on the staggering old man ahead.
The old man wore faded linen robes and clutched his amulet tightly. His steps were unsteady, yet his expression was unusually wary. From time to time, he glanced back as if guarding against unseen pursuers.
"May I take a look at the treasure you're holding?"
Under the man's uncertain and suspicious stare, Ian uttered what could only be described as awkward words once again. He had rarely asked anyone for anything in his life, so his method of making requests was undeniably clumsy.
"Don't come any closer! I know you all want to steal it!"
The old man curled into the shadowed corner of the alley like a startled wildcat. The whites of his cloudy eyes gleamed sickly in the darkness. His bony fingers gripped the amulet around his neck so tightly that his knuckles turned white, as if it were his last lifeline.
"I mean no harm," Ian tried again. "I only want to look at it."
"Look at it?" The old man snorted coldly, suspicion filling his eyes.
"Do you think I'm too old to tell good people from bad? I'm telling you, the Sun God personally bestowed this upon me! Touch it, and you offend God Himself!"
As the tavern patrons had said, he was indeed somewhat unhinged.
As he spoke, he raised the amulet as if praying to the sky. Watching his mixture of devotion and obsession, Ian felt a flicker of doubt.
Did he truly believe it had been granted by Ra?
Or had he been deceived by a wizard?
"Please, I'm not a bad person."
Ian stopped three steps away and slowly raised his hands to show he meant no harm. The alley reeked of rotting food and animal waste. The dim yellow light spilling from the tavern's back door stretched the two figures' shadows long and twisted against the mottled mud-brick walls.
"Sir, I'm only curious about your amulet," Ian said softly, as if soothing a frightened animal. "It looks very special. May I examine it?"
He adjusted his wording to sound a little more normal.
"Liar!"
The old man suddenly lunged forward, swinging his strange staff at Ian. The copper ornament at the staff's tip cut a dangerous arc through the air, nearly brushing Ian's nose.
"You sweet-talk me and steal it! First the priests, then the merchants, and now you, a stranger!"
"You thief! You think I don't know what you're after? I won't let you succeed!"
The old man roared in fury, clearly treasuring the amulet beyond reason.
Faced with the old man's wild, untrained blows, Ian stepped back lightly. The hem of his robes brushed against the piles of refuse on the ground. He could smell the sour stench coming from the old man, an odor born of long-term wandering, malnutrition, and creeping madness.
"Something's wrong."
Ian frowned. He had assumed the man was elderly, but not to the point of such extreme agitation. This reaction far exceeded the normal protectiveness one might show toward a valuable possession.
He observed more carefully and discovered the anomaly.
The so-called "Fragment of Ra's Eye" around the old man's neck emitted faint magical fluctuations, but they were distorted in an unnatural way.
This was not just a counterfeit.
It was influencing the old man's mind. Whether it was eroding his sanity entirely would require Ian to examine it directly.
"I swear by Anubis," Ian said solemnly, invoking the ancient Egyptian god of the underworld. "I only wish to look at it. I will not take it."
In a world where gods truly existed, such an oath carried weight.
The old man froze for a moment. A flicker of hesitation crossed his wrinkled face. But in the next instant, that fragile spark of reason was drowned by a surge of paranoia.
"Even oaths are lies!" He shrieked hysterically, spittle flying from his mouth.
"Anubis abandoned me long ago! All the gods have abandoned me!"
The contradiction was obvious, earlier, he had claimed that Ra protected him; now, he declared that all the gods had forsaken him. But there was no need to dwell on the inconsistency.
This was the classic logic of a madman.
At the far end of the alley, a few curious passersby had stopped to watch. Ian knew time was short and that he needed to resolve the situation quickly.
He sighed softly and discreetly slipped his right hand into his sleeve to grasp his wand. The young wizard had no intention of robbing the man. He merely wanted to know where such imitations originated.
In this unfamiliar, ancient land, he had no desire to become the villain.
"I'm sorry, sir," Ian said softly. His green eyes appeared especially deep in the dim light. "But this matter is too important."
"It may very well concern the resurrection of a friend."
Given Ian's extraordinary intellect, it was impossible that he hadn't formed suspicions about what the Female Titan, Claire, was attempting to do.
Now that things had reached this point...
If he wanted the truth, he would have to resort to special methods.
Wizards always had particular ways of dealing with Muggles. Legilimency, for example, is widely used by wizards and not considered illegal by the Ministry of Magic.
"Legilimency!"
A silver-white light flowed from his fingertips and slowly coiled around the old man's forehead. This was no ordinary Legilimency; it was the Legilimency of a master. An almost invisible thread of silver light burst from the tip of his wand, like spider silk beneath moonlight, instantly linking Ian's temple to the old man's brow.
The old man's pupils suddenly dilated. His body jolted, his gaze became unfocused, and his trembling hands froze mid-motion as if seized by an invisible force.
The air in the alley seemed to solidify. Dust motes hung motionless in the light.
Ian felt his consciousness being pulled into a spiraling tunnel. His surroundings twisted and transformed like muddied watercolor paintings. Brick walls melted and reformed, and the ground rose and fell like waves. When the dizziness finally faded, Ian found himself floating above the river of the old man's memories inside a transparent bubble.
"Merlin's beard," Ian muttered. "These memories are badly distorted."
Countless fragments drifted past him like schools of fish in a river, some bright as pearls, others murky and dull. Focusing his mind, Ian guided the bubble toward memories connected to the amulet.
The bubble passed through a viscous membrane of recollection, and suddenly, the scene before him became clear.
He was standing in the courtyard of a wealthy merchant's residence in Memphis. This was not the present-day city but Memphis at least five years earlier; the buildings were newer, the streets were cleaner, and the air was free of that lingering despair.
Beneath a pomegranate tree in the middle of the courtyard, a well-dressed, middle-aged man was enjoying breakfast.
This was the old man... Or rather, who he had been before madness consumed him.
The man's black hair had streaks of silver in it, and his face was full and ruddy. A signet ring, a symbol of his status as a merchant, gleamed on his finger. A young woman and two children sat beside him, laughing like a clear spring in the morning light.
It was unmistakably a prosperous, happy family.
"Father, did you have that dream again last night?" The girl asked, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.
The man, Ian learned his name was Nakht, set down his dates, his expression turning solemn and mysterious.
"Yes, my little star. The Sun God revealed himself to me again."
Ian raised an eyebrow.
So this was where it began.
Ian stood within the blurred glow of memory, watching Nakht in his younger days. He was dressed in neat linen robes, and his features were refined. His gaze was intelligent and confident.
He was nothing like the disheveled madman of the present.
He was a temple scribe responsible for recording daily offerings and divine oracles. He had once had a gentle wife and clever children.
He had led a respected and prosperous life.
Until that day...
One night, Nakht sat alone in the temple courtyard, holding a papyrus scroll covered in hieroglyphs and preparing for the next day's ritual.
Suddenly, a dazzling light appeared in the sky.
A figure slowly emerged from within it.
It was... The Sun God Ra.
He was clad in golden robes and wore a falcon-headed crown. His eyes blazed like the sun itself, and his voice was deep and majestic.
"You are the one I have chosen."
The young Nakht fell to his knees, trembling and bowing his head.
"Great Ra, I am but a humble scribe."
"But your heart is pure, and your will is steadfast." Ra's voice seemed to pierce the soul itself. "I shall bless you. Bear my blessing until the era arrives when you are needed."
This was the first time the man had encountered the so-called Sun God, Ra.
At that time, he had not yet received the amulet. Overcome with emotion, he kowtowed repeatedly, tears streaming down his face.
"I will serve you unto death!"
The young man was clearly moved, transformed by the encounter.
However...
Standing in the corner of the memory, Ian frowned deeply.
A faint sneer rose within him.
This so-called "Ra" was performing terribly. His tone was stiff, as if he were reciting a rehearsed script. His movements were rigid, as if he were deliberately imitating divine authority.
This was not the descent of a god.
It was a carefully orchestrated deception.
Just as Ian reached that conclusion, the memory accelerated abruptly. The courtyard disappeared as though erased by an invisible hand and was replaced by a lavishly decorated bedroom. Oil lamps flickered in the night, casting wavering shadows upon the walls.
Nakht knelt alone before a small statue of Ra, praying.
He looked exhausted and anxious, with dark circles heavy beneath his eyes.
"Great Sun God," he prayed in a low voice, "please grant me another divine oracle and guide my path."
As he finished praying, the air in the room suddenly grew heavy. The flames of the oil lamps turned an eerie blue and flared upward violently, casting a massive, humanoid silhouette of a divine figure with the head of a falcon across the ceiling.
Ian narrowed his eyes.
The special effects were painfully fake.
A true God would not manifest so...theatrically.
"Nakht, my faithful believer,"
The so-called "Ra" spoke, its voice rumbling like thunder through the chamber. Yet Ian detected an unnatural tremor within it.
It sounded as if someone were deliberately lowering their voice to sound imposing.
"You have been chosen to carry out a sacred mission. I shall grant you a holy relic to guard."
The counterfeit sun god continued speaking. Nakht trembled all over, pressing his forehead tightly to the floor.
"Your humble servant listens to your will."
He extended his hands.
A golden light descended into his palms.
It was a box.
In its center was a faintly glowing crystal fragment.
"This is a fragment of the 'Eye of Ra,'" The false god declared with unquestionable authority. "It shall grant you wisdom and power."
The younger Nakht wept with emotion, bowing again and again.
"I will guard it with my life!"
It was clear that this ancient man named Nakht had been completely fooled.
Ian couldn't help but roll his eyes.
The script was far too straightforward, like the homework of a third-rate drama student. Even more suspiciously, when "Ra" delivered his lines, the projected light subtly flickered, as if someone behind the scenes were adjusting the angle of a magical projection.
The memory shifted again.
Now, Nakht stood inside his own home. With trembling hands, he opened the box given to him by the "god."
Inside was a shard of blue, glass-like material with jagged, uneven edges.
Strange patterns covered its surface.
"So this is the fake Eye of Ra?"
Ian leaned closer, frowning deeply.
Even in his memory, he could tell that this so-called "divine artifact" was nothing more than ordinary blue glass enhanced with a simple protective enchantment. A true fragment of the Eye of Ra would emit a distinct solar magical fluctuation, just as described in Hogwarts: A History of Magic.
This was not a divine fragment.
It was a low-grade magical crystal.
However, it carried traces of alchemical residue, giving it limited protective properties and a minor ability to glimpse possible futures.
Of course...
As Ian had already determined, the reliability of a crude imitation could never be guaranteed.
He continued observing, searching for further clues.
He watched Nakht treat the pendant as a sacred treasure upon awakening from that "revelation." He wore it day and night. Nakht even resigned from his position at the temple; moved away from his home; and began living alone, solely to "guard" the so-called Holy Relic.
His wife could not understand his descent into obsession. She eventually left him, taking their children with her.
His friends gradually distanced themselves as well.
Nakht became increasingly paranoid and poured all his wealth into "protecting" the relic.
And all of it, because of a wizard who impersonated Ra.
"In an age when gods truly exist, anyone who dares to impersonate the chief god must be some sort of dark wizard."
The subsequent memory fragments crashed toward Ian like a storm.
Eventually, the temple priests publicly declared the so-called "Divine Oracle" to be blasphemous lies. Nakht was expelled from the merchants' guild and reduced to a beggar on the streets.
The most heartbreaking memory came last.
One rainy night, Nakht curled up in the corner of an abandoned temple, clutching the worthless blue glass. In the distance, his former home was being claimed by new owners.
Strange light shone through its windows.
"That's enough."
Ian spoke softly, feeling a wave of discomfort.
He raised his wand; in the memory world, it still responded to his will and severed the connection.
Reality surged back like a tide.
The alley.
The stench.
The dim yellow light.
The old man slumped on the ground before him, his eyes vacant.
"That is not the true Eye of Ra."
Ian crouched down so that they were at eye level.
"You were deceived, Mr. Nakht."
Hearing his own name, Nakht shuddered violently. A flicker of clarity flashed in his eyes.
"How do you know my name?"
"I saw your memories," Ian replied honestly. "The 'Ra' who appeared to you was an impostor, most likely a Dark Wizard in disguise. A true god would never demand that a believer ruin himself."
Nakht's lips trembled. Murky tears welled up and spilled from his eyes.
"But it protected me. It let me see the truth."
Of course he did not want to accept this reality.
"I think I know what you saw," Ian replied quietly. "Dreams. Carefully constructed dreams woven by someone else, meant to keep you addicted to them."
His temple throbbed.
Legilimency itself did not normally cause such discomfort.
Yet something within those memories unsettled him deeply.
There was something there… Something extremely important.
(End of Chapter)