The instant the Time-Turner restarted, Sagreles felt a strange sense of dislocation—
His thoughts seemed trapped in sticky honey, each one requiring him to force his way through layer after layer of resistance. Yet his body felt unbelievably light, as if every movement had been cast with an Acceleration Charm.
The scene before his eyes began racing forward madly:
The four founders' wands swept into a dazzling web of light, while the castle's foundations rose from the earth like bamboo shoots beneath the force of magic.
The crater was filled with clear blue lake water in an instant, reflecting the shadows cast by the towers' spires.
Figures flashed past like a revolving lantern: young wizards carrying heavy tomes hurried back and forth through the corridors, newly hired professors swept across the courtyard in fluttering robes, and several of them curiously looked toward Sagreles—yet it was as though they were seeing him through frosted glass.
When the torrent of time finally subsided, Sagreles staggered and collapsed into the armchair in his office.
He pinched the bridge of his nose hard, and his mind and body finally synchronized again.
Trembling, he undid his collar and inspected the skin on his chest—there were no wounds, no curse marks, and even the silver-thread embroidery on his cuffs was completely intact.
The Ptolemaic Orrery lay quietly in his palm, its bronze surface still holding a warmth that did not belong to this era, as if telling him that none of this had been a dream.
"Wait!" Sagreles furrowed his brow in confusion. "Why am I in my office?"
He suddenly spun around and swung his wand. The oak door flew open with a bang. In the corridor, another "him" was gradually turning transparent like a fading oil painting.
"Tch, it really was one minute!"
He