Hogwarts: Bloodline Legend

Ian's consciousness sank into the shadows, his form silently dissipating, transforming into an entirely pitch-black raven, quietly perched atop the beam of the temple's grand hall.

His eyes were as deep as onyx, piercing through dust and shadow, tightly locking onto the desperate struggle below.

Because the Ghost Bride had directly grabbed him and lifted him up, the Scepter Priest's feet kicked frantically in mid-air, the tendrils of blood around his neck tightening, leaving web-like purple marks on his aged skin. His gold-trimmed white robe was soaked with cold sweat, the scepter had long fallen to the edge of the altar, its sun disc head split in two.

"Spare... spare me..." The priest squeezed out a plea through gritted teeth, his bloodshot eyes reflecting the expressionless face of the Ghost Bride, "I... I can still serve..."

The Scepter Priest was hoisted high by the blood tendrils, feet off the ground, his neck tightly entwined, his face turning purple, eyes bulging.

He struggled violently, choking sounds of "gurgle" emerging from his throat, the magic wand already slipping from his hand, the Star Staff rolling onto the ground, its light dull, making him look utterly pitiable.

"Hehe~"

The Ghost Bride's red eyes flickered slightly, the entwining blood tendrils loosened a little. Just as a glimmer of hope flashed in the priest's eyes, in the next second, it turned into deeper terror—the tendrils split into a strand, like a venomous snake, burrowing into his ear canal!

"Ahhhh—!" The priest let out an inhuman scream, his limbs convulsing spastically. He could feel the strand of blood tendrils wandering in his brain, searching for a specific memory.

In Raven Form, Ian silently landed on the window sill, his sharp gaze piercing the illusionary body spell's cover. He saw a bulging lump at the priest's temple, marking the path of the blood tendrils traversing his brain. More astonishing was the precise control exhibited by the Ghost Bride at this moment—something far beyond what a mere killing machine could achieve, the embryo directly extracting its prey's memories through her.

Perhaps this was a form of learning.

Indeed.

It was also a means of information gathering.

"Found it." The Ghost Bride suddenly spoke, her voice still that eerie duet, yet her tone had become noticeably more... human. The blood tendrils withdrew from the priest's ear, bringing out a strand of blue-glowing substance—a physical fragment of memory.

The priest's face instantly turned ashen like death. He knew too well what memory had been taken—it was the spell to open the cellar's secret door, the temple's most core secret!

"No... no..." he muttered hoarsely, murky tears sliding down his wrinkle-crossed face, "You cannot... it is blasphemy..."

The Ghost Bride ignored his pleas. She released the blood tendrils, letting the priest collapse to the ground like a heap of mud, then turned to face the wall behind the altar, covered in hieroglyphs. The extracted memory orb floated in her palm, slowly rotating to display its contents.

The raven's feathers bristled slightly. Ian recognized that wall—a seemingly ordinary stone wall hiding seven layers of spatial locks, each requiring a different key. And now, the Ghost Bride was unlocking them one by one.

The priest suddenly stopped sobbing. A gleam of malice flashed in his eyes, his trembling fingers quietly reaching for his waist—where an obsidian dagger was hidden, its blade coated with a poison potent enough to paralyze even a god.

"For the glory of Ra..." he silently mouthed, suddenly springing into action!

The dagger precisely pierced the Ghost Bride's back, black-purple poison instantly spreading along the vein-like patterns. The Ghost Bride's movements froze, the light in her red eyes flickering. The priest took the opportunity to scramble towards the hall's exit, pulling out a bone whistle from his bosom as he ran.

A shrill whistle sounded, activating the temple's defense mechanisms. The ground began to tremble, and the engravings on the walls came to life, stone scarabs and jackal-headed guards swarming from all directions.

"Stop her!" The priest shouted hysterically, "At any cost!"

In Raven Form, Ian had to fly away from the window sill, avoiding the pounce of a giant scarab. He circled in the air, seeing the Ghost Bride still standing in place, the poison having covered most of her body by now. But strangely, she didn't seem to be in pain; instead, it was as if she was... adapting?

The priest had reached the doorway of the grand hall. He bit his finger, drawing a downward triangle symbol on the doorframe with his blood—a top-level spatial seal. Once he crossed this threshold, he could activate the temple's self-destruct mechanism, burying the entire inner hall, along with that monstrosity, forever!

"You think... it's enough?"

The Ghost Bride's voice suddenly rang out from behind. The priest turned back in terror, seeing her, who should have been paralyzed by the poison, raising her hand; the black-purple poison was being assimilated by the golden sand within her body, transforming into a bizarre blue-black mixture!

"Impossible!" The priest screamed, "That should even affect Anubis..."

His words were abruptly cut short. The Ghost Bride's figure suddenly blurred, appearing right in front of him the next second, so fast that even an afterimage was not left behind. More frightening was the change in her bridal gown—the once bright red fabric was gradually fading, turning into the same blue-black as the poison, adorned with countless tiny golden eye patterns.

The Ghost Bride hovered in mid-air, her red eyes coldly observing him, the corners of her blood-cracked mouth slightly upturned, as if smiling, or perhaps merely a twist of muscle. She did not respond, merely raised her hand slowly, another blood tendril extending from her fingertip, lightly touching the center of the priest's forehead.

An intangible force began to pull—it was the tug of the soul.

The priest's pupils contracted suddenly, finally understanding: she did not intend to kill him, but to take him alive, as a "living sacrifice" offered to the embryo beneath the ground.