Chapter 527

Someone had used a raven to find Ian.

There was no way this could be a coincidence.

"Let me see who has their eye on me." Ian's fingers moved deftly and steadily as he gently untied the dark red silk bow. The silk was fine and cool to the touch, carrying a faint, indescribable scent—something like aged parchment mingled with crisp pine needles and the scent of some kind of food.

"Did they write this to me while eating?"

Ian made a guess.

He removed the small parchment scroll, and the raven drew back its leg. It remained where it was, silently watching him, as though awaiting a reply or further instructions.

He unrolled the scroll. The parchment was unusually supple and fine, clearly not an ordinary product. There was no signature, only a single line of ornate English written in special dark green ink that seemed to emit a faint glow. The handwriting was elegant and flowing, its turns carrying an ancient charm, as if magic faintly coursed through every stroke.

[When night falls, where bridge shadows sway. If you seek to solve the mystery, wait quietly for Raven's arrival.]

The message was concise.

Below it was an extremely simple symbol, yet one that radiated an indescribably ancient aura: a slightly concave arc, like the outline of the heavens or an arched bridge, with three tiny dots above it resembling stars; beneath the arc was a simple rectangle, like a doorway or a foundation stone.

The entire symbol exuded mystery—quiet, yet carrying an implicit invitation.

"Tsk, tsk. It's actually this riddle-speaker routine. Makes sense, the main theme of the Hogwarts world is riddle-speakers, after all." Ian's gaze lingered for several seconds on the poetic line and the strange symbol.

The message was very clear.

And yet.

The other party