Technically, black in every color, green with a blush of red.
That was more or less how Voldemort saw the color of the strange, indistinct light.
Or, more accurately, Voldemort couldn't describe its exact color at all.
Its hues shifted constantly, and there wasn't a single moment when they could be described.
When all the glowing jellyfish in the pit beside him sank to the bottom and the light vanished from the space entirely,
the dim light above was no longer as indistinct as before.
Voldemort could even make out something wrapped in the light—not very clearly, but... a coffin?
He suddenly froze, repeatedly confirming what he saw in the glow.
"It really is... a coffin." Voldemort couldn't help murmuring in surprise.
He'd never expected to have reached the end of the pyramid already.
The journey hadn't exactly been smooth, but it had been far easier than he'd imagined.
So easy, in fact, that he suspected everything before him was another carefully arranged illusion.
"Whoosh, whoosh~~~"
Voldemort tried waving his wand, but no magic appeared.
Still, he took the opportunity to carefully feel the sensation of his magic being devoured—it was much the same as before, only more immediate.
The reason it felt more immediate was that the core that consumed magic was right above him.
Voldemort tried to peer through the strange, indistinct light and make out the details of the coffin within.
At first, when he'd looked at it vaguely, the coffin had been right there.
Now that he examined it closely, he found that it seemed both real and unreal, impossible to see clearly.
And the less clearly he could see it, the stronger his desire grew to get a proper look.
His dark, shadowy eyes remained fixed on the coffin.
He didn't notice this contrary shift