When Ian left the Pharaoh's resting place, it was already dusk. Standing at the edge of the desert, he gazed at the ruins that had slumbered for a thousand years and felt a slight reluctance to part with them. But more than that, he felt satisfied. He carefully sorted and sealed the supplies he had collected into a Potion Ingredients bag, then softly recited a Transfiguration spell.
"Animagus, Raven Form."
A faint glimmer flashed.
His body rapidly shrank, his skin turned into feathers, and his limbs became talons and wings. A low caw tore through the silence, and Ian had transformed into a jet-black Raven.
With a beat of his wings, he shot into the sky and vanished into the twilight.
Under the scorching sun, the desert resembled an endless golden sea. Wind swept over the dunes, making them rise and fall like waves. The Raven Ian had become circled above the blazing desert, black wings slicing through the dry air while scarlet eyes scanned the vast golden sands below. He had just left the Pharaoh's pyramid with considerable gains, but the greed of a Potions Master was not so easily satisfied.
"There are always some rare treasures in the desert."
He descended.
His sharp gaze locked onto a group of Desert Spirit Foxes running between the dunes—this creature's descendants had long since gone extinct in later generations, and their blood was a premium ingredient for brewing Phantasmal Draught.
The Raven dived down, returning to human form the instant before landing. Ian stepped lightly onto the scorching sand and took out a crystal vial and a small silver knife from his Money Bag.
"Don't move, little one. I'm only taking a drop of blood."
The Spirit Foxes pricked up their ears warily, but before they could flee, Ian snapped his