章 583: 0581 The Plea
Ron raced down the spiraling staircase from the Gryffindor dormitory. Never before in his life had he run at such a fast speed. The common room was still messy from the night's festivities, with empty butterbeer bottles, candy wrappers and party favors scattered randomly across the floor. But Ron leaped nimbly over the obstacles, paying no attention to the shrill, indignant shouts of the Fat Lady, who had been abruptly awakened from her sleep by his hasty exit.
He flew through the portrait hole and down the corridor, taking the stairs three at a time as a deep sense of urgency propelled him forward. Outside the castle, the chill November night pressed close and the icy tendrils of the chilly air permeated through the corridors and stairwells. The torches lining the walls had been reduced to small flames, barely able to pierce the encroaching darkness or provide any warmth.
But Ron felt none of the cold. A raging fire burned within him, spreading from his pounding heart to the tips of his fingers and toes. His skin was flushed red as he ran, whether from exertion or anticipation he couldn't say. All rational thought had left his mind, leaving only raw emotion and adrenaline to fuel his mad dash through the sleeping castle.
He couldn't exactly explain, even to himself, what was driving him to take such drastic action in the dead of night. The chances of success were slim at best - he knew that all too well. Yet an irresistible compulsion had grabbed him, he felt a desperate need to try, try one final effort, no matter how futile it might prove to be. Ron knew that if he didn't at least make the attempt, he would likely regret it for the rest of his life.
Professor Watson was probably already resting in his office, but that was okay. He would gladly sit outside the office all night if necessary, waiting for him to wake up. The thought of being caught out of bed by Filch or his cat Mrs. Norris and getting a detention barely even got registered in his mind.
As he ran, Ron clenched his fist tighter around the coin in his palm. The coin seemed be heating on its own, urging him to run faster, not to stop until he reached his destination.
Ron had walked the path from Gryffindor Tower to Professor Watson's office before, but never had it felt as long as this time. He ran with all his might, his panting even drowned out the howling wind in the corridors.
The light in Professor Watson's office was still on, which was undoubtedly good news.
Standing outside the door, Ron raised a trembling fist, ready to knock. Yet he hesitated, sudden doubt stopping his hand. He had summoned every last drop of determination to make it this far, to finally take this leap of faith and attempt to redeem himself in his own eyes if no one else's.
"I'm enough of a bloody screw-up as it is," Ron muttered under his breath, and finally knocked on the door.
"Come in, Ron," Professor Watson's gentle voice called from inside, before the door had even opened. Ron was momentarily taken aback, though he knew he shouldn't have been. For one of the most powerful Wizard in the Wizarding World, this might be nothing special. Still, Bryan's calm, soothing tone helped settle the frantic beat of Ron's heart slightly.
Bryan closed the spell-book he had been reading and stared across the room at the boy in the doorway. He saw Ron walk in with a determined look on his face. Ron looked as though he had sprinted the entire way from the dorms, his face was flushed scarlet with hair plastered to his brow with sweat.
"Have a seat," Bryan said with an inviting smile, gesturing to one of the squashy armchairs arranged before his desk. He rose and circled around the desk with his wand already in hand. "Can I get you something to drink? Pumpkin juice? A spot of warm milk, perhaps?"
"Oh, n-no, that's alright, I'm fine," Ron stammered, dropping awkwardly onto the very edge of the offered seat. In fact, his mouth was as dry as parchment, but he didn't want to put Professor Watson to any trouble.
"Milk it is, then." Bryan gave his wand a subtle flick, and a gleaming silver goblet appeared on the low table at Ron's elbow. "I find it's best not to over-stimulate the body so late in the night. A nice glass of warm milk does wonders for inducing restful sleep."
There was no mistaking the gentle yet unwavering authority in the professor's voice. Ron pursed his lips and picked up the conjured cup and took a sip of the warm milk. In his still agitated state, however, the milk was caught in his throat, sending him into a coughing fit that left him red-faced and sputtering.
"S-sorry, Professor," Ron coughed, once he had managed to get his breathing back under control. "I… *cough* I got a bit over-excited there."
"Yes, I can see that," Bryan replied with a chuckle. "I also guessed that you must have something very important you want to discuss, to come calling at such an hour."
Ron wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Hearing Professor Watson's words, he squirmed in his seat, suddenly intensely conscious of his disheveled appearance and the mad impulse that had brought him here. He found he could no longer meet Professor Watson's friendly, sharp gaze. After a few seconds of silence, he gave a jerky nod of affirmation.
"It's...it's important to me," Ron mumbled looking at his shoes.
"Then by all means, I'm listening." Bryan settled back in his chair, giving Ron his full attention.
Ron clenched his fists on his knees with eyes darting nervously around the office.
He hadn't been to Professor Watson's office for a long time. It was as simple as ever. If it were someone like Filch who seemed to live to make the students miserable, using this kind of shabby office would be appropriate. But for Professor Watson, this great wizard whose reputation had spread throughout the world, even rivaling Dumbledore's, to still maintain this simple and plain style was unimaginable to Ron.
But Ron was well aware that no one would think bad of Professor Watson because of this. His prestige was not built on such things.
*Clang–*
Ron stretched out his clenched fist and opened it. That Merlin commemorative coin fell onto the table, spinning a few times before finally quieting down.
"This...this is the coin you gave me, Professor Watson. After the..um.. Chamber of Secrets incident last year..." Ron trailed off, the words he had practiced over and over in his head fleeing now that the moment had come.
"Yes, of course. I'm quite pleased to see you've kept it close. It's a gift to your liking, isn't it?" Bryan's gaze flashed over the coin and then moved away. He looked at Ron, maintaining his patience.
"I...I do really like it very much," Ron mumbled, unable to infuse his tone with much enthusiasm despite the truth of the words. "It's just..."
"Well, that's good then!" Bryan said warmly when Ron faltered again. "For a moment I thought perhaps you meant to return it to me."
Ron's rapidly beating heart pumped surging blood into his brain, making him feel a moment of dizziness. He clenched his fist again, his fingernails even digging into his palm. Never had he felt so ashamed, but even so, he still had to state his purpose for coming here.
"I... I do want to return this coin to you, oh... no, I mean, can I use it to make a request to you?"
"What is it?" Bryan said calmly.
"I think... if I can... I want to take your class again, Professor Watson!"
The first half of the sentence was stammered, but the final request was stated with unparalleled determination. And after expressing his appeal, Ron felt as if he had shed a thousand pounds, as the heavy pressure on his shoulders seemed to disappear by more than half.
Ron saw Professor Watson pick up the coin from the coffee table, fiddling with it between his fingertips. A sudden sense of melancholy loss arose in Ron's heart. It could be said that this coin was his favorite thing, not only because it was worth a lot of money, but also because this coin represented something...
A long silence suddenly descended. This silence was extremely torturous for Ron, like a trial where the final verdict was slow to be revealed.
"You know, Miss Granger came to me with a similar request, not so long ago," Professor Watson said at last, his eyes once again meeting Ron's.
"She...Hermione did what?!" Ron, who was nervously waiting for Professor Watson to agree or refuse, didn't expect to hear such a sentence. He sputtered subconsciously thinking he must have heard wrong.
Bryan went on, his lips quirking as he observed Ron's flabbergasted expression. "I mean, Hermione once came to me, hoping that I could readmit those students who had given up physical education classes back into the course. Of course, I'm well aware of who she was doing this for–"
Ron's face was filled with surprise. "When... when did this happen, Professor Watson?"
"Hmm–, it was on the day Fréodom was born, when Hermione came to ask me about this."
Bryan said, looking at Ron who had his mouth open in disbelief, and smiled slightly.
"Does it seem incredible, Ron? Your friend cares about you even more than you imagine–"
Hermione had specifically come to see Professor Watson to allow him to re-enter the physical education class... But why did she never say anything?
Ron fell silent. He thought he probably knew the reason.
The kettle on the fireplace rack bubbled with steam. Bryan got up and walked to the fireplace to make himself some tea. Ron turned his face, his gaze following Professor Watson. The red glow of the fire shone on his face, but it couldn't redden his pale cheeks.
Hermione had already been to see Professor Watson for him, so what was the result?
This was a question that didn't need much explanation.
Bryan walked back to the sofa at a leisurely pace, holding a teacup. He looked at the big boy sitting across from him, with unspeakable loss in his eyes, and sighed slightly.
"I think you'd best keep that, Ron," Bryan said softly after a moment, looking at the coin still resting on the desk between them. "This is a commemorative coin I gave you, Ron, but it is not a wishing coin."
Ron swallowed hoarsely and reached out to scoop up the coin with a hand that shook. He had known this would likely be the result when he decided to come here tonight. He had sworn to himself that he would accept Professor Watson's judgment with good grace, that he wouldn't let the inevitable rejection break him, knowing full well he had no one to blame but himself.
But now, with his last desperate hope dashed, Ron found himself struggling in desolation and self-loathing. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he staggered to his feet. Even though Professor Watson hadn't asked him to leave, he himself stood up unsteadily and walked towards the door in a daze.
"Let me give you some well-intentioned reminders, Ron–" Bryan gazed at Ron until he reached the door before suddenly speaking.
Ron turned around abruptly, looking at Professor Watson with eyes full of longing, like a drowning man grasping at a straw!
"–As long as you want to improve, it's never too late at any time. And then... you must understand that seeking help from friends is not something shameful–"
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章 584: 0582 The Forbidden Forest (LARGE-CHAPTER)
The weather at Hogwarts provided the greatest support for the first Triwizard Tournament in several centuries. On the second day after the competition ended, fierce winds brought howling rain and snow. For several days, the weather did not clear up. The young wizards could only stay in various corners of the castle, venting their highly excited emotions from the tournament in various ways.
The professors also fully understood that the students needed a buffer period to ease their own excitement. Except for the fifth-year students whose requirements were still not relaxed, the intensity of homework for the other grades was drastically reduced.
Bryan, who went down to the Great Hall to have lunch, stood in the entrance hall and looked outside for a while. The sky was so gloomy that it was hard to tell whether it was day or dusk. The chill in the air brought a sense of weariness, as if telling everyone that the year was about to come to an end.
At the staff table, Bryan's colleagues were still fairly organized, with only Professor Trelawney and Professor Moody nowhere to be seen. This was not actually strange, as these two had the highest absentee rate. However--
Bryan pulled out a chair, looked around, and then turned to Dumbledore. "Where are Madame Maxime and Professor Karkaroff?"
"Our guests from Beauxbatons are obviously not very accustomed to the climate here at Hogwarts, so Madame Maxime decided to spend the weekend with her students in the carriage--" Dumbledore said in a regretful tone. "As for Mr. Krum, the injuries he sustained in the competition made him similarly unable to endure the torment of the damp and cold weather, so Professor Karkaroff also returned to the ship to accompany him."
Bryan nodded. He picked up his cutlery to start eating, but before that, he abruptly asked, "What about Alastor, is he in his office?"
This time, it was Professor McGonagall who answered the question. "Oh, he took some funds from me and left Hogwarts early in the morning, saying he needed to go to Diagon Alley to purchase some teaching aids for his classes--"
'Teaching aids?' Bryan raised his eyebrows. He looked at Dumbledore, who was calmly drinking mushroom soup with a silver spoon, apparently already aware of this matter.
"What do you think she went to do, Headmaster Dumbledore?" Bryan tapped the table with his finger, imperceptibly gathering the sound of their conversation around them.
"There are many possibilities, I can only try to guess--" Dumbledore said, taking the opportunity to wipe the corners of his mouth with a napkin. "Perhaps, it's because the wonderful alchemical props you created made Miss Cliodna feel that it was very difficult to take action in the competition, so she needed to find an opportunity to chat with Tom about whether their plan needed to be flexibly adapted. Or perhaps, because Severus has been very nervous about his storeroom recently, Miss Cliodna couldn't find a chance to take the materials she needed--"
Bryan nodded thoughtfully.
"By the way, Bryan, do you have some free time this afternoon?" Dumbledore turned his face and looked at Bryan, who had started to deal with lunch, and asked.
"Another tricky errand, Headmaster?"
"Oh, don't make me look so bad, Bryan--" Every wrinkle at the corner of Dumbledore's eyes revealed helplessness. "I just hope that if you have time, you can go visit Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum. I think this is a courtesy that the host should have--"
"I think it would show more of Hogwarts' care for the guests if the headmaster personally visited--" Bryan remained unmoved. "Besides, I plan to go deep into the Forbidden Forest this afternoon--"
'Deep into the Forbidden Forest?' This answer made Dumbledore stunned for a moment. However, he saw that Bryan had no intention of explaining, so he had to let it go.
Bryan did not want anyone to see his whereabouts on this trip, so he went upstairs in full view of everyone. After adding a Disillusionment Charm to himself in an unnoticed corner, he went down to the entrance hall again.
A few days of rain and snow had turned the Hogwarts campus into almost a swamp. None of the Abraxans brought by Beauxbatons were willing to come out for a walk, all shrinking into the sheds Hagrid had built for them. There was no one to be seen on the deck of the Durmstrang ship either, and the whole ship was swaying violently with the surging waves.
Bryan paused in the middle of the campus for a while and his eyes turned in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. There, three dark figures were jogging in circles against the wind and rain, while Sirius sat in the spectator stand under the canopy, watching the scene with great enthusiasm.
Bryan did not linger for long. He quickly restarted his steps and walked towards the edge of the grounds and the Forbidden Forest.
Depression was always the main theme of this vast primeval forest. The dense woods isolated the howling of the cold wind and the patter of falling rain. The surroundings became quiet, and everything in sight was close to a dark, inky green.
Bryan walked into the forest along the path Hagrid had opened up. When the road disappeared and everything in sight became chaotic, Bryan leaped up, his body shimmered and transformed into an ethereal shadow, that slipped effortlessly through the dense trees.
Boom! A cold light flashed through the dark dense forest, followed by intense, painful clicking sounds.
A tall centaur came to the Acromantula it had nailed to a large tree. It stared coldly at the spider, whose eight eyes were shaking frantically in the fear of imminent death, with its expression full of disgust. It lightly leaped up, grasped its spear, and with a slight exertion of its strong arms, the spear left the tree and the Acromantula's body.
This Acromantula nailed in mid-air fell to the ground with a plop with green bodily fluids gushing out of the wound.
Splat! The spear pierced through the Acromantula's head, and the annoying clicking sounds immediately disappeared.
The centaur poked the Acromantula with its hoof, confirming that the spider had lost its life. It then turned its head to look at its companions behind it. "These vile abominations should have been purged from our forest long ago."
"If it weren't for Hagrid insisting on sheltering that old spider, we could have driven them out of this forest long ago--" said another centaur.
"This time, even if we can't drive them all out of the forest, we'll make them never dare to leave the stone pits they inhabit!"
This centaur patrol team criticized the Acromantulas for a while, then formed a line and walked in another direction. But that was not the direction of their tribe's location, but the place where Aragog's colony lived. It seemed that they were going to continue hunting the Acromantulas that appeared nearby.
Bryan, hovering in the treetops, saw all this and couldn't help but feel puzzled.
Centaurs and Acromantulas were both intelligent magical creatures with a very strong sense of territory. The friction between the two races had never stopped. If it weren't for Hagrid always mediating between them, a war-scale conflict might have broken out between the two long ago.
What on earth was the reason that caused Hagrid's persuasion to have no effect on the centaurs, and made the centaurs determined to deal with this territorial dispute between the two races?
With this question in mind, Bryan quickly approached the centaur tribe.
As Bryan ventured deeper into the eerie depths of the Forbidden Forest, his expression grew increasingly solemn and grim. With each cautious step, he left the familiar paths behind, delving into unexplored territory. Along the way, he discovered numerous lifeless corpses of Acromantulas scattered across the forest floor but that was the least of his concerns.
The most critical and alarming problem was that apart from the fallen Acromantulas, he had not encountered any other large magical creatures during his journey through the woods.
It was well known and widely accepted that the Forbidden Forest had never been a peaceful or calm place. Otherwise, the school would not have continuously prohibited students from exploring it over the years.
The ancient forest was home to a wide variety of magical creatures, ranging from the fascinating and wondrous to the deeply terrifying and extremely dangerous. However, as Bryan traversed the dense, woods, an eerie, heavy silence prevailed, hanging thick in the air like a suffocating blanket. It was as if all the diverse creatures that once inhabited the area had been forcibly driven away, leaving behind an unsettling emptiness.
This dramatic change in the forest's ecosystem could not have been accomplished overnight, or even in a mere matter of days. If the centaurs were indeed responsible for this transformation, they must have been operating with meticulous planning and relentless effort for at least several months, biding their time and strategically targeting the most intelligent and formidable creatures like the Acromantulas in the final stages of their operation.
But the perplexing question remained: how did the centaurs, known for their isolationist ways, managed to drive away the horde of wild and unruly magical beasts without attracting Hagrid's attention?
Bryan wasted no more precious time pondering these mysteries. Like a powerful gust of wind, he swept through the dense canopy of the treetops propelled by a sense of urgency. Within a mere ten minutes, his eyes spotted the unmistakable signs of the centaur tribe he remembered from his previous encounters, as their settlement came into view amidst the sea of ancient trees.
It was an enclosed and fortified settlement, surrounded by towering fence posts carved from sturdy logs. There were watchtowers at strategic points around the perimeter, guarding the spacious central courtyard.
Thatched round roofs and sturdy wooden-walled huts were scattered throughout the territory in an orderly fashion, their arrangement resembling the layout of human settlements from ancient tribal times. However, each individual dwelling was significantly larger in scale than typical human houses.
The centaurs, known for their keen intellect and strategic thinking, had thoroughly and methodically cleared the trees in the immediate vicinity of their territory, creating an open buffer zone that prevented anyone from perching on the branches and spying on their daily activities.
The centaurs on guard in the watchtowers were also highly vigilant, armed with bows, arrows, and long spears, alert to any movement or sound in the surroundings. If any uninvited guest intrudes, they would surely be met with a fierce and swift attack.
It would be a fatal mistake for anyone to assume that mastering a few magical spells would allow them to approach the centaur territory with ease. These centaurs had their own unique and mysterious form of magic. While their spellcasting methods might not be as versatile or flashy as those used by wizards, the centaurs' innate magical perception far surpassed that of ordinary magic users as they were essentially magical creatures.
If any reckless fool thought that they could hunt or antagonize the centaurs without facing severe consequences, the grim sight of wind-dried corpses hanging from the masts beside the main entrance of the settlement served as a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited them.
At present, there were not many centaurs visible within the settlement, as most were likely doing various tasks and duties elsewhere in the forest. In the training grounds located near the center of the territory, a group of around a dozen young centaurs, were diligently practicing throwing spears and archery, drenched in sweat.
Bryan, levitating in midair and covered in magical concealment, quietly observed their drills for a moment, before shifting his piercing gaze elsewhere.
Some centaurs were working in the fields they had cultivated within the territory, while others were crafting weapons or washing the collected fruits and vegetables. Despite the various activities taking place, the overall atmosphere of the centaur settlement exuded an air of tranquility and harmony. There were no obvious signs of anything amiss or out of the ordinary, no indications that the recent conflict with the Acromantulas had left any lasting impact on the daily lives of the centaurs.
As Bryan processed the peaceful scene before him, and a flicker of doubt crept into his mind.
'Could it be that my initial speculation had been wrong, and the centaurs' intensive effort to cleanse their territory of dangerous creatures was nothing more than a spontaneous action, a proactive measure to ensure their own safety and well-being?
Could it be that their activities had no direct connection to Cliodna?'
Bryan narrowed his eyes, recalling the fleeting emotional fluctuation he had sensed from Cliodna that night when he inadvertently mentioned the matter. 'If it truly had nothing to do with her, why would she be nervous?'
Unraveling the truth behind the centaurs' motives and any potential involvement with Cliodna was not an impossible task. In fact, the most straightforward approach would be to simply find a lone centaur in the depths of the forest and interrogate it.
However, despite the simplicity of this solution, Bryan was reluctant to resort to such heavy-handed tactics for the time-being.
With a soft rustle of leaves, Bryan descended from his vantage point. He melted into the shadows of the surrounding woods and settled in to observe the centaur settlement from a distance.
For two to three hours, nothing happened in the centaur settlement. A few centaur hunting squads returned from the forest after pursuing Acromantulas, but upon their return, they dispersed to their respective homes to rest without much discussion about the hunting process.
With a few hours remaining until dusk, the rainy weather rendered the forest as dark as midnight. To illuminate their surroundings, many centaurs lit bonfires in the fire pits in front of their homes. As time passed, a thin mist gradually enveloped the woods, and the air grew increasingly bleak.
With the approach of evening, the young centaurs practicing in the training grounds had also dispersed, and apart from a few patrolling centaurs, not many could be seen within the settlement.
Bryan, who had been patiently observing the centaur settlement from his concealed position, finally moved from his observation. With a soft rustle of fabric, he closed the book he had been reading to pass the time.
Rising from a moss-covered rock, Bryan stretched his limbs. It seemed that passively waiting and watching would yield no further clues. He decided to go into the forest to investigate and find a group of centaurs to gather information.
However, at that moment, several adult centaurs simultaneously emerged from their homes and headed towards the small lake within the settlement, where a small mountain of washed fruits and vegetables had been piled up on the shore.
The adult centaurs assisted one another in loading the fruits and vegetables, stored in woven baskets made of dry vines, onto their backs. They then formed a straight line and marched towards the exit.
Upon leaving the settlement, the centaurs' movements became swifter. Carrying the baskets of fruits and vegetables on their backs, they galloped at full speed, and disappeared into the dense forest with a clear purpose.
A flicker of unusual emotion flashed in Bryan's eyes as he leaped forward to follow them. This 'migration', as Bryan had come to think of it, lasted for over an hour, as the centaurs maintained their relentless pace without hesitating. As the minutes ticked by, the forest around them grew ever more ancient and wilder. Every wisp of air that Bryan drew into his lungs carried with it an ancient, primal aura.
Eventually, the centaurs' pace slowed, and they came to a halt in a part of the woods that was very primitive. Bryan stood on a branch of a large tree, his gaze swept the surroundings and a hint of curiosity appeared in his eyes. He had been to this area before, and if his memory served him correctly, Greyback's werewolf tribe had previously occupied this area.
The centaur squads transporting the fruits and vegetables slowed their pace and eventually halted before a giant old tree, with one end connected to its roots and the other leaning against a small hill over twenty feet tall.
After vigilantly surveying the area and finding no traces of being followed, the leading centaur reached into his lush silver mane, rummaging for a moment before retrieving a small, crystal-clear emerald leaf.
The centaur approached the broken root of the giant tree and pressed the emerald leaf against an inconspicuous indentation on the rough bark.
With a sudden gust of wind, the world began to surge with intense magical energy. The gloomy space started to distort and blur, and within a few seconds, a swirling portal with intertwined gold and green hues appeared in the void beneath the giant tree!
Bryan's brow furrowed, and his eyes flickered with a solemn, contemplative light as he observed the breathtaking sight before him. The realization that such a secret, hidden place existed here, concealed with an almost obsessive level of discretion, sent a ripple of unease through his mind. This was not the work of wizards; he instinctively knew as even his perception had failed to detect it upon his initial encounter with this part of the forest.
The centaurs swiftly and orderly passed through the swirling portal. When the last centaur disappeared into the vortex, the emerald leaf embedded in the tree bark automatically floated up, transforming into a stream of light that also vanished into the portal.
Seeing this, Bryan no longer hesitated. He understood that once the portal closed, infiltrating it would require significantly more effort and risk on his part. A forceful, unsubtle intrusion could easily destabilize the delicate balance of the door which should be similar to portkey's spatial matrix, leading to a catastrophic collapse that would not only ruin his plans but also leave behind detectable traces of his meddling, alerting the centaurs to his presence.
With a soft hum of concentration, Bryan focused his mind, drawing upon his magical power to steer the currents of the rapidly fluctuating energies that surrounded the portal. The intense surges of raw magic, combined with the chaotic vortexes of spatial distortion, made maintaining a veil of concealment an increasingly difficult task. Unconcerned by this, Bryan poured every ounce of his will into stabilizing his own magical aura, carefully controlling it to harmonize with the "turbulence" that tried to reveal him.
Guided by the trajectory of the emerald shooting star, Bryan plunged into the shimmering portal, and his body distorted and elongated much like the centaurs before him as he passed through the boundary. He felt the brief, stomach-churning sensation of plunging through an endless void like when he first learned Apparition.
Few seconds later, the crushing pressure that had enveloped Bryan suddenly dissipated, and he emerged on the other side of the portal. Having spent the better part of the day in the continuous gloom of the Forbidden Forest, Bryan's pupils had long since adapted to the darkness.
As the soft daylight of this new place washed over him, Bryan instinctively squinted. Despite the momentary discomfort, his heightened senses quickly adapted, and within few moments, his perception expanded in all directions and every detail of his surroundings was reflected in his mind.
As the last shimmering ripples of the portal's energy subsided, fading into the background hum of this strange new world, the silver-maned centaur leader retrieved the emerald leaf from its resting place and once again concealed it within his mane. This was still a forest, but it was drastically different from the Forbidden Forest outside this place!
It was neither dark nor damp here. The ground was covered with lush green grass instead of decaying moss and withered leaves. Each towering tree appeared as if it had been meticulously trimmed, and the soft radiance emitted by the artificial sun in the sky passed through the canopy, creating a delightful interplay of light and shadow on the lawn. The refreshing floral fragrance that permeated the air, mingled with the ethereal birdsong, would make anyone present feel as if they had stumbled into a fairy tale world.
Floating above the treetops, Bryan gazed at the colossal oak tree that obscured the sky in the center of the 'enchanted forest,' as well as the dozens of small houses built on its trunk and the playful children beneath the tree. He was rendered speechless.
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