Ian and Merlin stood before the mysterious coffin. Its lid had slowly been pushed open, and an ancient yet strangely peculiar scent washed over them.
Their gazes focused on the coffin's interior, where a raven's corpse lay quietly. The raven looked exceedingly strange. Though dead, it remained lifelike, its feathers glossy and sleek, as though it were merely sleeping and could spread its wings and take flight at any moment. It looked no different from when it had been alive.
Even the raven's eyelids seemed only lightly closed, as if it would open those sharp eyes the next second. The passage of time and years had not affected its body in the slightest.
"This bird is really pretty."
Multicolored black truly existed.
It was on the black raven Ian saw inside the coffin. The raven's corpse remained in its final pose from life, its right claw still tightly gripping half of a shattered crystal.
There was no trace of magic left on the crystal. Of course, what concerned Ian most was not that, but why there was a bird lying inside his own tomb.
Why a raven?
And this raven looked strangely familiar to Ian. He searched his memories desperately, trying to find any clue connected to it.
At that moment.
Merlin's furious cursing showed no sign of stopping.
"This cursed thing! I actually have to see it again! Damn bastard!" His face was flushed red, his eyes wide as though they might spurt fire, his expression furious beyond measure.
"What exactly is your relationship with this raven?"
Just as Ian was immersed in his thoughts, unable to make sense of it, Merlin suddenly turned around. He looked furiously at the Young Wizard beside him—Ian. If Merlin remembered correctly, this should have been Medivh's tomb, which meant it should have