The Death Eater were engaged in a heated discussion.
In response to speculation that Dumbledore dead.
Many Death Eater are actually still afraid of Dumbledore's power.
Just like their master.
"Uncertain."
Another Death Eater shook his head, his voice even more cautious, " Dumbledore isn't that easy to kill. Maybe it's a deliberate hoax to lure us in."
This is a Death Eater with brains.
However.
"Fake news? Half of Azkaban is destroyed! All the Dementor have escaped! Grindelwald has betrayed us! These are all fake news?" There aren't many smart Death Eater out there.
It's not a lie that Dark Magic corrupts people's minds and brains.
"That old madman Grindelwald is unreliable. He might have already conspired with Dumbledore."
"Collusion? Didn't you see how Dumbledore fell from the sky? A huge hole in his chest, Fiendfyre was still burning—how could that be collusion?"
The argument grew more heated and the voices louder until a cold, soft voice sounded behind them.
That's enough.
The two Death Eater froze simultaneously, then whirled around.
Voldemort stood behind them. His body was hidden in the shadows, only his three scarlet eyes burned in the darkness.
They looked like three stars from hell.
"Master... Master..." The two Death Eater knelt down at the same time, their foreheads pressed against the cold ground, their bodies trembling.
Voldemort didn't speak, but simply watched them silently for a long time. His gaze was cold and calm, like an abyss staring at its prey. Then, he spoke slowly, his voice soft and hoarse:
"What about Dumbledore?"
A Death Eater trembled as he said, "Reporting to... Master, Nick LeMay took him away. There's been no news since. The Ministry of Magic... they're keeping a tight grip; our people haven't been able to get access to the core information yet."
Voldemort remained silent for a few seconds. That silence nearly stopped the hearts of the two Death Eater.
Where is Grindelwald?
"And... there's still no news. Some say they saw him flying east, others say they saw him crash in the North Sea, but nothing has been confirmed. He's probably... looking for a place to recover."
Voldemort's lips curled up slightly, revealing a cold, inhuman smile.
"Where is the Raven?"
The two Death Eater exchanged a glance, both seeing fear in each other's eyes.
"Reporting to our master..." one of the Death Eater began with difficulty, "We consulted some ancient texts. Records about Raven are scarce, but we found one..."
He pulled a roll of yellowed Parchment from his pocket, held it high with both hands. The Parchment was covered with ancient writing and some blurry, faded illustrations.
"Ancient texts say that the Raven is... the embodiment of Destiny. Where it appears, great changes often follow. But it is not irrepellable." The Death Eater, kneeling on the ground, trembled as he turned to the next page of the Parchment, his voice shaking slightly with fear and excitement.
The ancient writing on the Parchment shimmered faintly in the candlelight, the faded illustrations depicting a giant black bird struggling amidst the aurora borealis. "Oh? You found something like this?" Voldemort took the Parchment, his three scarlet eyes simultaneously focusing on the ancient text. He spoke in silence, and the Death Eater around him dared not breathe, only the thunderous thud of their own heartbeats echoing in their ears. The contents of the Parchment were far more detailed than the Death Eater's retelling.
It is a legend from a thousand years ago—in the permafrost of the Arctic, where the aurora never ceases, there is an ancient ruin known as the " Fortress of Solitude ".
It was one of the last creations left behind by the ancient Titan, specifically designed to imprison beings unbound by Destiny. And the Raven— a mysterious being referred to in ancient texts as the " Incarnation of Destiny "—was one of the targets once imprisoned by that fortress.
"In the Fortress of Solitude lies an alchemical artifact called the ' Mirror of Banishment.'" Voldemort uttered the ancient text, his voice soft and hoarse, like the hiss of a snake, "It does not destroy, but exiles. It strips the object's existence from the tapestry of reality, casting it into eternal nothingness. The exiled no longer exists in any time, any space, any possibility. As if never born."
Voldemort got excited as he read on.
He put down the Parchment, and the three scarlet eyes burned with an increasingly intense light.
"It's like he was never born..." He murmured and repeated this sentence, grinning with a ferocious, inhuman smile, "Okay. Okay." Voldemort turned around suddenly and looked at the Death Eaters kneeling on the ground. His gaze was like a real flame, making everyone lower their heads involuntarily.
Their foreheads were pressed firmly against the cold ground.
It was as if they were meeting with a king.
"This fortress," Voldemort said excitedly, his voice soft yet dangerous, "Where is it?"
The Death Eater holding the Parchment trembled as he said, "Reporting to... Master, the ancient texts don't specify the exact location, only saying... it's in the far north, where the aurora never ceases. It's the boundary between eternal night and eternal day, the chasm between reality and illusion. Ordinary detection magic can't find it; only..."
He paused, seemingly hesitant about whether to continue.
"Only what?" Voldemort's voice was even softer, yet it carried an irresistible pressure.
"Only... those who are also marked by Destiny can sense its existence." After saying this, the Death Eater collapsed to the ground, his back soaked with cold sweat.
People marked by Destiny.
Voldemort was silent for a few seconds, then slowly raised his hand, looking at the hand that was no longer human. Dark skin, twisted joints, sharp barbs at the fingertips, and tiny, writhing tentacles extending from the wrist. He closed his eyes, feeling the surging, Deep Space power within him—a power that coursed through every vein, roared through every strand of his soul, and whispered in every thought. He was not one marked by Destiny.
He was chosen by Deep Space.
Even more amazing!
Realizing this, he opened his eyes, his three scarlet eyes burning with unprecedented confidence.
"Get ready." Voldemort was indeed arrogant enough. He spoke, his voice calm but undeniable, "I'm going to the Arctic myself." The Death Eater exchanged glances. Some wanted to say something, but they fell silent under Voldemort's gaze.
"Master, um..." Finally, the most senior Death Eater mustered his courage and spoke, " The Arctic's permafrost is an extremely harsh environment, and... and there might be ancient Protective Magic there. Shouldn't we send someone to scout ahead first?"
"I said!" Voldemort interrupted him, his voice as soft as a whisper, yet sending a chill down everyone's spine. "I'm going myself." He said no more, but simply raised his hand and waved it lightly. A jet-black, almost tangible cloud of smoke erupted from his body, instantly engulfing him. The smoke swirled and expanded, forming a massive vortex in the center of the room, before abruptly contracting.
Voldemort disappeared.
Only the Death Eater remained kneeling on the ground, too afraid to rise for a long time.
at the same time.
Arctic.
The land of permafrost.
Voldemort's figure appeared on an endless white wasteland.
There is neither day nor night here. In the sky, green, purple, and blue auroras drift slowly like a giant curtain in the eternal darkness.
The aurora borealis enveloped the entire land in a dreamlike, unreal glow. The ice beneath our feet was thousands of meters thick, incredibly ancient, with ice crystals frozen for millions of years shimmering with a deep blue light under the aurora. The wind was strong, howling across the ice field.
It whipped up fine ice shards that felt like knives cutting into your face.
The temperature here was low enough to freeze any ordinary person to death within minutes, but Voldemort simply stood there, letting the biting cold wind whip his contorted body without the slightest discomfort.
He closed his eyes, feeling this ancient land. His senses extended in all directions, penetrating the ice, penetrating the rock, penetrating the permafrost thousands of meters thick, downward, downward, and downward still downward.
Then, he felt it.
It was an extremely faint, almost imperceptible resonance. It came from deep underground, from somewhere thousands of meters below the ice. The frequency of that resonance created a subtle, ineffable echo with the Deep Space power within his soul.
He opened his eyes, a ferocious smile spreading across his face.
"Found it."
His body transformed into a black streak of light, flying deep into the ice field. The aurora borealis swirled above his head, and the ice field receded rapidly beneath his feet. He flew over frozen mountains, over bottomless ice crevasses, and over the remains of ancient, fossilized creatures frozen for millions of years.
Finally, he stopped in front of a huge ice cliff.
The ice cliffs soared into the clouds, shimmering with a deep blue light under the aurora borealis. Their surfaces were as smooth as mirrors, reflecting the eternally shifting aurora in the sky. But beneath that smooth surface, Voldemort could sense something slumbering.
He raised that inhuman hand and gently pressed it onto the ice.
The ice melted and evaporated beneath his palm, revealing ancient rock beneath. This rock was no ordinary stone, but a metallic black substance Voldemort had never seen before. Engraved on this black substance were countless, extremely ancient runes—runes far more complex and profound than any Ancient Text he had ever seen, as if each symbol contained the power to alter reality.
The script of the Titan.
Voldemort's heart—if he still had a heart—beat suddenly.
He continued digging down, following the traces of the runes. Layer by layer, the ice melted, and layer by layer, the rock peeled away, finally revealing a corner of the ancient structure.
It was a door.
A massive stone gate, ten meters high, stood there. It was black, gleaming with a metallic sheen, and covered in ancient Titan Rune. In the very center of the gate was a large, strangely shaped recess.
Voldemort stared at the Raven's silhouette, his three scarlet eyes burning with intense light.
" The Fortress of Solitude," he murmured, a barely suppressed excitement in his voice, "I've found it."
He raised his hand and placed his palm on the Raven- shaped groove. Black Magic Power surged from his palm, flowing into the ancient runes. The runes simultaneously lit up, bursting forth with a blinding blue light, and the entire ice cliff began to tremble!
Then, the stone door slowly opened.
Beyond the door lay a deep, downward-sloping passage. The walls on either side were also covered with ancient Titan Rune, emitting a faint blue glow that illuminated the path ahead. At the end of the passage lay an unfathomable abyss of darkness.
Voldemort did not hesitate. He stepped into the passage.
His footsteps echoed through the silent passage, each step carrying an impatient urgency. The runes flickered slightly as he passed, as if welcoming his arrival, yet also warning him—this was not a place for him.
But he didn't stop.
He walked through the long passageway, past ancient, rusted mechanisms, past murals depicting the battle between Titan and Raven, past faded stone tablets recording ancient history. Finally, he arrived at the end of the passageway.
There, was an even bigger door.
There were no runes or grooves on the door, only a single sentence carved in ancient Titan script, faintly visible in the blue light. "This place can imprison the embodiment of Destiny. Mortals behold. Gods are forbidden."
Voldemort looked at the sentence and remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled.
The laughter was low and hoarse, like countless shards of glass scraping against each other, echoing eerily in the silent passage. "Mortals, halt?"
He muttered, a crazed light burning in his three scarlet eyes, "Gods beware?"
He raised his hand and shoved the door open.
Behind the door.
Behind the door was not the spacious hall he had expected, but a deep, downward-sloping passageway. On the walls on both sides of the passageway, the ancient Titan Rune no longer emitted a gentle blue light, but instead shimmered with an eerie, blood-red hue.
The air here is no longer cold, but damp and sultry, carrying a nauseating smell of decay, as if this ruin was not built under the permafrost of the Arctic.
It was, in fact, an ancient tomb that had been forgotten for a thousand years.
Nothing can stop me from entering!
Voldemort was extremely arrogant.
He stepped into the passageway.
The stone door behind him slammed shut, the tremendous sound echoing through the silent passageway, creating eerie echoes. Voldemort didn't turn around. His three scarlet eyes burned in the darkness, illuminating a few steps ahead. The dark red runes flickered slightly as he passed, as if watching him, or perhaps mocking his intrusion.
The passageway was very long. Voldemort walked for a long time, so long that he began to wonder if it had any end. The murals on the walls on both sides began to appear, but they were not the previous murals depicting the battle between Titan and Raven; they were something older and more primitive.
The pattern was almost unrecognizable to Voldemort.
"What the hell is that?!"
Voldemort frowned, not even attempting to decipher it. He had only one purpose in coming here: to find that magical alchemical artifact that could deal with the Raven. How to put it...
He did take the bait.
He didn't actually know about the so-called ruins here; they were just something Ian had created overnight.