Hogwarts Raven

Chapter 359, Section 358: The City at Night
The sun's golden rays bathed the streets of Memphis, turning the cobblestones a golden-red hue, and the air was filled with the aroma of incense and roasted meat. Ian strolled slowly through the market, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, his ears catching every whisper. He overheard people discussing some of the city's secrets.

While listening intently.

Ian also received some information.

Several men were gathered around a pottery stall, selecting pottery jars while whispering among themselves.

"Have you heard? Someone else went missing last night."

"Yes, the old carpenter who lives on West Street. This morning, his neighbors found his door open but he was nowhere to be seen."

"How many is this now? Three last month, and two more this month..."

"Some say it was the shadowy figure from the temple who did it."

“A shadow? Don’t scare me… Last night I passed by the temple’s outer wall and I really saw a shadow flash across the top of the wall. It looked like… like a person, but not quite a person.”

Ian slowly approached, pretending to select pottery, but his ears were perked up.

"Could it be a thief?"

“What thief would dare to commit a crime near a temple? Besides, nothing was stolen from the homes of the missing people.”

"Then what do you say it is? A ghost? Or... divine punishment?"

Before he could finish speaking, one of them suddenly noticed Ian's presence, his expression changed drastically, and he nudged his companion with his elbow. The group immediately fell silent, warily eyeing the unfamiliar stranger.

"Shh-"

The sound stopped suddenly.

Everyone immediately fell silent, their eyes turning to Ian.

It was a look that mixed wariness, suspicion, and unease. Ian straightened up and gave a friendly smile: "Excuse me, I'm lost. Could you tell me how to get to the Temple of the Sun?"

He stepped forward and asked. The group exchanged a glance, one of them gave a vague direction, and then hurriedly dispersed, as if Ian were carrying a plague.

"It's like they feel like I might be watching them. It seems things aren't really peaceful in the city." Ian stood there, watching their hurried departure, his brows furrowed slightly.

Disappearance? Shadow? Divine punishment? These words intertwined in his mind, forming a blurry yet dangerous picture that pointed to more than just ordinary crime. Recalling the fate of the mad old man Nakert and the warning from the woman in the black robe, Ian felt a growing unease.

Therefore.

He didn't give up and continued walking through the city, asking passersby for directions. Some shook their heads and remained silent, some hurriedly avoided him, and some even turned and ran away as soon as he spoke.

Clearly, the city's silence on this topic, seemingly prosperous and vibrant, was a warning in itself, making Ian even more curious about the city's strangeness. He decided to probe further. He walked up to a liquor stall, bought a glass of palm wine, and casually struck up a conversation with the owner.

"Is things not very peaceful in the city lately? I see everyone is a bit nervous."

The boss, a burly middle-aged man, paused upon hearing this, his eyes darting around.

"Out-of-towners, there are some things... it's better not to ask. Knowing too much about some things is not a good thing."

"Oh?" Ian took a sip of his drink, feigning curiosity. "I'm just a traveler, trying to make sure I'm safe and get to know this city."

This is a seemingly reasonable reason.

“It’s not that you can’t ask,” a customer nearby interjected coldly, “but even if you ask, you won’t get an answer. And… you might get into trouble.”

Before the words were even finished, not only the customer, but also the vendors next to him quickly packed up their stalls and hurriedly dispersed, as if afraid of being watched by something unseen.

The boss lowered his voice: "Recently, some people have indeed gone missing, and..." He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention before continuing, "Some people say it's divine punishment."

"God?"

"The Sun God... or something else." The boss shook his head, clearly unwilling to elaborate, only briefly reminding Ian, "Anyway, don't wander around at night."

Ian nodded, not pressing further, but he had already made up his mind. As the sun gradually moved away, the afterglow of the setting sun gilded the white walls of Memphis with a golden edge.

Ian stood by a stone pillar at the edge of the market, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the patterns on his wand. The wary eyes of the group of people and their hurried departure lingered in his mind. The shadowy figures near the temple, the series of disappearances, and the mad old man Nactor—these fragmented clues seemed even more elusive in the sunlight.

The hustle and bustle of the market gradually subsided, and vendors began packing up their stalls. Ian walked towards an old woman who was tidying up spice jars, deliberately making his steps seem casual.

"Old man," he began in Egyptian with a Theban accent, repeating the same inquiry, "I've heard things haven't been peaceful in the city lately?"

This phrase seems to be taboo.

The reactions of all residents were roughly the same.

The old woman's hand suddenly trembled, spilling saffron powder onto the coarse cloth. She raised her wrinkled face, a flicker of panic in her cloudy eyes. "Outsider," she whispered, her withered fingers gripping her apron tightly, "go back to your lodgings before sunset." With that, she hurriedly picked up the earthenware pot and disappeared into the crowd without looking back.

Ian narrowed his eyes. This level of panic went beyond the fear of ordinary crime. He turned to the boy selling dates beside him, but before he could speak, the boy frantically shook his head, shoved the unsold fruit haphazardly into his straw basket, and ran off. The atmosphere on the entire street suddenly became eerie. The once bustling market seemed shrouded in an invisible fear. The vendors packed up their goods noticeably faster, and people frequently stole glances at Ian, who stood in the middle of the road.

“It seems I’ve touched a nerve in this city, just as I suspected before, people are pretending that life is still peaceful as a form of psychological escape,” Ian mused to himself. He deliberately slowed his pace, strolling along the main street towards the Temple of the Sun, observing the reactions of those around him out of the corner of his eye.

Sure enough, several burly men in linen robes emerged from the bakery, whispered among themselves, and quickly left. Ian's lips curled into a slight smile—they were clearly spies on a mission. A short while later, a group of priests in white robes blocked Ian's path. The leader had a high nose and deep-set eyes, with a golden Eye of Horus tattooed on his forehead, and the sun disc atop his scepter gleamed coldly in the twilight.

"Outsider, halt! Who are you? Why are you loitering near the temple?" The priest's voice was as thick and slow as the silt of the Nile. "The Temple of the Sun does not welcome furtive eavesdroppers."

Ian calmly performed an Egyptian-style greeting, placing his right hand on his chest and bowing slightly. "Honorable servant of the gods, I am merely a scholar interested in the history of your city." He pulled a forged papyrus scroll from his robes and handed it over.

"This is a travel certificate issued by the Thebes Academy." As a master alchemist, forging such things was second nature to him; his methods could even fool any wizard below the gods. The priest took the document, squinting as he examined the exquisite hieroglyphs and bright red seal on it.

Ian secretly rejoiced that he had made ample preparations before time travel—the document, disguised by magic, was convincing enough to fool anyone, and Ian felt quite confident about that.

The priests exchanged a few glances, and the priest with the scepter spoke again, his tone softening slightly: "Scholars should also know that inquiring about forbidden royal matters is a serious crime."

In any era, the identity of a scholar is generally a versatile one, and most forces will try their best not to offend them.

"Forbidden matters?" Ian feigned a perfectly timed expression of confusion. "I've only heard about the missing persons cases in the city, and as a traveler, I'm naturally concerned about my own safety."

The priest's face suddenly stiffened. A younger attendant behind him couldn't help but speak up: "High Priest, since this scholar is so curious about that matter, should we take him with us—"

The attendant hadn't finished speaking.

"Shut up!" the scepter priest snapped, then turned to Ian with his usual formulaic calm. "All visiting wizards are required to register their magical characteristics at the temple. Since you call yourself a scholar, you surely wouldn't mind cooperating with the investigation?"

Done.

He looked at Ian with a suspicious gaze again.

Ian's grey-green eyes flickered slightly. This was a trap, and an opportunity. "Of course," he smiled, "it's my honor to assist the servant of the Sun God."

On the way to the temple, Ian silently memorized the location of every turn and every guard post. The priests deliberately led him on a roundabout route, through a complex network of corridors and courtyards, which suited Ian perfectly. He noticed that the western annex of the temple was particularly heavily guarded, and the staircase leading to the basement emanated unusual magical energy.

It wasn't a traditional Egyptian protective spell, nor was it an orthodox divine aura. The registration room was a circular stone chamber, its walls engraved with patterns of celestial motion. Ian was asked to place his hand on an obsidian slab, which was said to record a wizard's magical characteristics. He secretly activated his mind-occlusion technique, releasing only the most superficial magical fluctuations—real enough without revealing his true strength.

“Wait here.” After the priest with the scepter left with the recording tablet, Ian began to carefully examine the room. There was a strange error in the star map on the ceiling—Sirius was off-center from its actual orbit, and the corresponding edge of the drain on the floor showed fresh signs of wear. Just as he was about to crouch down to examine it, the stone door suddenly opened.

The priest who had left has returned.

The priest's expression turned extremely strange, and the gold-painted pattern on his forehead gleamed faintly in the torchlight.

“You may go,” he said curtly. “The Lord’s messenger has vouched for you.”

Ian raised an eyebrow: "Aren't we supposed to register magical characteristics?"

He only tested the magic; the process isn't finished yet.

"Exempt from the procedure." The priest's lips twitched, as if he was suppressing some emotion.

“You are permitted to move freely within the city.” His gaze drifted to the high place behind Ian. Ian turned and saw a woman in a black robe standing quietly before the arched window of the second-floor corridor. Runes beneath her hood were faintly visible in the dim light. She nodded slightly, then retreated into the shadows.

The person was none other than the young woman who had appeared in the alley, the "Servant of Ra" with runes etched on her face. She didn't speak, but stood quietly by the window, as if confirming whether Ian had left. Under Ian's gaze, the next second, her figure slowly faded away, dissipating into the air like mist.

Leave the temple.

Ian stood on the steps, squinting to adjust to the light. The woman in the black robe had long since disappeared through the arched window, but the feeling of being watched lingered like a spiderweb on the back of his neck. He slowly descended the steps, the soles of his boots scraping against the stone slabs, the sound particularly clear in the suddenly silent street.

“The Lord’s messenger,” Ian repeated the title softly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the wand hidden in his sleeve. The woman’s ability to so easily overturn the priest’s decision indicated her extraordinary status in the temple. But those runes etched on her face—he had never seen similar markings on any orthodox sun god priest.

What's even stranger is her contradictory attitude: she both warns him of danger and seems to expect him to investigate further. The way the temple priests treat this woman is also odd.

Is it an internal power struggle within the temple or something else?
"Come back to the temple tonight."

Ian repeated the woman's words softly, his fingers unconsciously tracing the shape of his wand. Turning the last corner of the temple wall, Ian abruptly stopped. The sight before him made his pupils shrink—the street, bustling with activity just half an hour ago, was now completely deserted.

The wooden doors of the shops were tightly shut, the colorful flags of the taverns had been hastily taken down, and even the stray cats and dogs were nowhere to be seen. Several baskets of overturned dates lay scattered on the cobblestone street, a testament to the haste of the departure. The entire city seemed to be under a spell of mass disappearance, with only the creaking of signs in the wind echoing between the buildings.

“A curfew?” Ian frowned. Ancient Egypt did have a tradition of closing city gates at night, but it was unusual for the entire city to be under curfew before the sun had completely set. He walked along the main street, deliberately keeping his footsteps light, and keenly noticed the tense atmosphere emanating from the cracks in the windows of every house—behind those coarse cloth curtains, countless eyes were clearly peering into the street.

A metallic clanging sound suddenly came from the side alley.

Ian quickly slipped to the side and pressed himself against the wall, where he saw two guards dragging a merchant who was returning home late.

“This is the third warning you!” the fatter guard snapped, his bronze arm guards gleaming blood-red in the twilight. “If you get caught again, you’ll be sent straight to the temple!”

The captured man trembled, the earthenware jar in his arms shattered, and the milky white liquid snaked across the stone slab.

Ian's gaze followed the guards' departing figures, noticing unfamiliar symbols etched on their armor—not the usual Eye of Horus, but a sun entwined with thorns. Even more intriguing was their mention of being "sent to the temple." Normally, curfew violations would be handled by the city guards; why specifically send them to the temple?

Everything seemed shrouded in mystery. As darkness fell, Ian decided to find a place to observe first. He retreated to a secluded alley and lightly tapped his temple with his wand.

“Visual sharpening.” The world suddenly became clear, the torches of distant patrolling guards trailing like luminous threads. He chose the tallest house nearby—its protruding brickwork provided the perfect foothold for climbing. The view from the rooftop was chilling. The entire city of Memphis presented two eerie states in the deepening twilight.

However, the direction of the Temple of the Sun was as bright as day.

Even stranger, the light sources were not ordinary torches or oil lamps, but golden spheres of light suspended in mid-air, arranged in a complex geometric pattern, enveloping the main temple in a blinding light.

“A variant of the Advanced Illumination Charm,” Ian murmured. This spell required a continuous drain of mana and was usually reserved for the most important rituals. Just as he was about to observe further, a subtle vibration suddenly came from beneath his feet. The terracotta tiles on the roof made a slight clicking sound, and a low-frequency hum traveled along the building's structure.

It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Almost simultaneously, the cry of a baby rang out from somewhere in the slums, followed by a muffled thud as it was forcibly suffocated. The fear of the entire city became tangible at that moment, like a thick layer of grease floating in the air. Ian suddenly understood the deeper meaning behind the woman in the black robe—she wasn't inviting him to investigate the temple.

It's actually showcasing a horrific ritual in progress!
(End of this chapter)