The setting sun slowly sank, and the sea at the horizon resembled a vast golden field, like countless ears of grain bowing under the ceaseless push of wind and waves.
On the opposite side, the sky darkened gradually, stained with a hue like blooming wisteria. As time passed, the color deepened until the sky turned completely dim, and a pale yellow moon hung silently above.
After August, the temperature had steadily dropped. It was now nearly October.
By the sea, the air was cool, and the wind carried a sharp chill.
"It's time to begin the ritual," Rookwood said, lifting his gaze toward the moonlight.
Including him, nine black-robed wizards formed a circle. At the center lay the unconscious Tonks.
The goblin stood some distance away.
Only now did he remove his hood, revealing a face as unpleasant as it was familiar.
To Elijah, most goblins looked alike, not only in appearance, but in personality as well.
"Wake her," Rookwood said indifferently, looking down at Tonks.
One of the Dark Wizards flicked his wand, sending a red spark striking her body. Tonks let out a pained groan and slowly came to.
The pain still lingered, and fear flashed briefly in her eyes.
But she forced herself to steady her breathing.
Though she wasn't yet a full Auror, she had trained under Moody. She knew how to control herself in moments like this.
She tried to lift her head and look around, but her view was limited, especially in the dimness of night. The pale moonlight cast everything in a hazy veil.
The sound of waves reached her ears.
She guessed she was near the sea.
But Britain was surrounded by coastline. From Great Britain to Northern Ireland, there were too many possibilities.
"Urg.. Where is this?"
She struggled, but it was useless.
The ropes binding her were conjured by magic, tight and unyielding. As she tried to break free, her movements resembled a wriggling larva.
Despite the situation, Elijah found it faintly amusing.
He had been perched on the broken stone pillar for quite some time now. He gave his wings a slight stretch, preparing himself for any sudden conflict.
Several hours had passed, and no one had noticed him.
He was not particularly well-hidden, but in such a desolate coastal ruin, an eagle's presence was hardly unusual.
None of the nine Dark Wizards answered Tonks's question. Instead, they lowered their heads and began chanting.
The incantations did not sound like ordinary spells. They resembled something darker, more ritualistic.
The magic within the ancient tower began to stir.
A faint blue glow ignited at the source—a crystal stone—spreading outward like rippling water. It traced the engraved patterns across the structure, gradually covering the entire platform and enveloping the nine Dark Wizards along with Tonks.
A semi-transparent barrier began to form.
Beyond it, everything appeared distorted, as if seen through layers of bubbles.
A twisted symbol shimmered within it, like a strand of drifting silver smoke.
Elijah observed everything carefully.
Not everyone could perceive Ancient Magic.
Even if he didn't know whether Voldemort possessed such talent, Elijah himself could clearly see the traces of it now.
The Dark Wizards, however, could not.
"Dokuro, you tricked me!" Rookwood roared, raising his wand and firing a curse at the goblin.
Dokuro stood at a distance, wand already in hand. He deflected the attack and replied sharply, "I told you, only wizards deceive."
"Then explain why nothing is happening!" Rookwood shouted furiously. "Or I'll kill you and this Auror together!"
At his command, the other eight Dark Wizards raised their wands in unison, aiming them at Dokuro.
Tonks, in her manly disguise, lay still on the ground, not daring to make a sound. She could only hope they would turn on each other and give her a chance to escape.
But she quickly realized how unlikely that was.
Nine against one.
The goblin posed no real threat to them. And she herself, without her wand, was equally helpless.
Looks like this is the end, she thought bitterly.
She no longer held out hope that John Dolores would come to save her. It had already been six or seven hours since she was captured, and he had yet to appear.
Who knew where that man had wandered off to?
He probably went to the Three Broomsticks again and got drunk! She cursed inwardly.
Still, she did not give up.
She slowly rolled onto her back, facing the night sky, her hands pressing behind her.
As a Metamorphmagus, she couldn't transform into animals like an Animagus, but she could still alter her physical form to some extent.
Her current form was that of a broad, sturdy man.
If she could make her arms thinner, she might be able to slip free from the ropes, right?
At the moment, Dokuro had drawn all the Dark Wizards' attention, giving her the perfect opportunity.
In the darkness, only Elijah clearly saw her subtle movements.
"You can't see it because you lack the talent," Dokuro sneered.
"Only a rare few are favored by Ancient Magic. The difference between them and you is like the difference between wizards and Muggles."
"You dare compare us to Muggles?"
"A filthy goblin like you, speaking to us like that?"
The Dark Wizards were instantly enraged.
Even if they hadn't followed Voldemort to become Death Eaters, it didn't mean they were sympathetic to Muggles.
Most pure-blood wizards held an ingrained arrogance toward them, and even many half-bloods and Muggle-borns were no exception.
Elijah considered it a common phenomenon.
But arrogance, in his view, should come from ability, not bloodline.
Magic alone already made them extraordinary.
Of course, to be blinded by that arrogance and ignore the strengths of others would be foolish.
Sensing the rising tension, Dokuro wisely chose not to provoke them further. Those who had long held power often had the least tolerance for opposition.
"That's why I told you to prepare a sacrifice," he said coldly.
His cruel gaze shifted toward Tonks.
"Perhaps blood will show you the way?"