Perhaps.
Someone took away creation.
Someone took away death.
Did some bird seize certain powers?
All of this was merely Ian's speculation, he didn't know if his guesses were correct—actually, there was a reason for such conjecture.
Because although the surroundings were still a black and white world, Ian clearly felt the difference between the "past" he was in now and the past he was in earlier.
Why is the air cold?
There is a reason for that.
In the previous black and white world, there was nothing alive.
Unlike now.
Things neither alive nor dead were wandering at the foot of the mountain.
Ian stood at the edge of the volcano, overlooking the earth below.
The black and white world remained silent, as if the entire universe had been frozen in time. The distant mountain silhouette was blurry, like a pencil drawing with its colors erased, and the air was filled with a chilling icy aura—not cold, but a deeper, soul-crushing despair.
He squinted, looking at the swirling shadows at the mountain foot.
Those were Dementors.
Their figures resembled worn cloaks, drifting in the wind, yet there was no wind. They had no faces, only hollow hoods hiding the presence that devoured all light.
The Dementors wandered aimlessly among the ruins. However, some traces of movement emerged, proving that Dementors indeed came from the Misty Illusion Realm's wizard theory.
Of course.
Ian still didn't know what these Dementors were doing here. He speculated it might be related to the volcano's ability to forge things; perhaps the Dementors were forced to be Paru's laborers?
"Is the God of Death forging scythes here to deal with ravens?" Ian recalled the scenes he had seen before, realizing he was still in the same scenario.
Lava within the volcano suddenly surged violently.
The black bubbles burst and reformed.
As if brewing something.
Being at a distance, Ian could only see that the magma was boiling deep inside the volcano, with small bubbles continuously appearing on its surface. And amid those bubbles.
Something was floating.
It was silent.
The God of Death had vanished, and the raven had no trace, the surroundings appeared peaceful as if the impending battle never happened. Yet his memory was vivid—the newly forged scythe, the space-rending shockwave, and the silent yet breathtaking confrontation between God of Death and the raven.
"Really strange, what am I going through?"
Ian slowly walked towards the volcano's edge.
His footsteps left shallow marks on the black and white ashes; the ground remained cold and hard, each step stirred slight dust, as if treading on history's ruins.
Where God of Death had stood was empty, no forging platform, no chains, not even footprints left behind.
As if the previous confrontation never occurred.
However, when he looked down into the volcano, the dark magma was strangely swirling, and amid the viscous fluid, something faintly floated.
Initially.
He thought it was just shadows of the magma.
Until.
A slender stick slowly surfaced and then sank again.
Ian's breath hitched.
Elder Wand?
Before he could think further, another object emerged from the magma—a black stone, its surface smooth as a mirror, yet unscathed by magma's erosion.
Resurrection Stone.
Next came the third—a tattered cloak stretching within the magma, then slowly sinking.
Invisibility Cloak.
"Deathly Hallows?!"
Ian's voice almost squeezed out of his throat, trembling with incredulity.
Three artifacts, treasures rumored to be forged by God of Death himself, now floated in this eerie black and white volcano, as if undergoing some force's forging and tempering.
Why?
How could the Three Sacred Artifacts be here? They floated within the black lava, yet remained unharmed, emitting a faint glow as if receiving some mysterious baptism.
As he attempted to use his magic wand to see if he could interact with the world and fish out something from within.
Suddenly, the sky darkened.
A massive shadow flew in from the horizon, overshadowing everything, the chill of death instantly enveloping the entire volcano, veiling half the sky in profound shadow.
God of Death.
He descended again, his enormous form hovering above the volcano's mouth, scythe crossed, blood-red eyes scanning the surroundings, yet strangely still unable to spot the nearby Ian.
Perhaps.
God of Death did not possess the authority to pierce through time.
That power to gaze through history into the future.
Belonged only to the raven.
Ian held his breath, motionless.
God of Death's gaze finally fell upon the boiling magma, slowly extending a distinctly jointed hand, stirring the dark liquid. The Three Sacred Artifacts appeared and disappeared with each movement.
As if "simmering."
Yes.
God of Death extended a hand, gently stirring the magma.
As if simmering some forbidden brew. Each stir created peculiar ripples, within those ripples surfaced fragmented images.
Clearly.
He was infusing the Three Sacred Artifacts with some power Ian didn't know. Just like the wizard world fairy tales said, God of Death indeed once hand-forged the Three Sacred Artifacts.
Ian remembered that story.
The wizard brothers used their magical skills to evade death.
God of Death appeared and gave an "Elder Wand," a "Resurrection Stone," and an "Invisibility Cloak" to the three brothers as gifts. Obtaining the "Elder Wand," the oldest became arrogant and was killed by another wizard in an inn; his soul was taken by God of Death, and the Elder Wand's whereabouts became unknown.