In the shadowed grandeur of the ancient castle, within a study steeped in the scent of time, Duwei stood under the flickering light of candles, gazing intently at the oil painting on the wall. Silence enveloped the man and the painting, as though caught in a tacit standoff. Yet, no response came from the figure within the frame.
Duwei frowned slightly. "Refusing to answer?"
The painted face continued to meet his gaze unflinchingly.
A sly smile curled on Duwei's lips, tinged with mischief. He calmly moved a tall ladder into place, ascended it, and extended his hands toward the painting, intent on removing it from the wall.
This time, a flicker of alarm flashed across the painted figure's expression. The eyes within the frame, fixed on Duwei's face, now betrayed a panic-stricken unease.
"Gotcha!" Duwei exerted his strength, lifting the painting down from its mount. It was far heavier than he had anticipated—an awkward burden for a slender boy of his age. His arms trembled with effort, but to his surprise, there was nothing behind the painting. No secret mechanism, no hidden observer. Just the painting itself.
This discovery sobered Duwei. Descending the ladder with careful deliberation, he cradled the enigmatic artwork in his arms.
The face in the painting now bore an unmistakable bitterness, its eyes restless and filled with unease.
"What are you?" Duwei demanded, his tone low and probing. "A living soul trapped within a painting?"
The eyes flickered evasively, avoiding his scrutiny.
"This portrait... it's said to depict my family's ancestor, a former imperial marshal. Could it be...?" Duwei chuckled softly and shook his head. "Impossible. That ancestor lived over two centuries ago. This painting, however, was clearly created posthumously as a memorial. So, let's try again—what *are* you?"
He posed the question repeatedly, yet silence persisted. Duwei's expression darkened. "Ah, still unwilling to talk? Very well, don't blame me for what comes next."
He gestured to the candlelight surrounding them. "See these flames? If you won't speak, I'll burn you. Want to wager whether I'll go through with it?"
Without hesitation, he seized a lit candle, bringing its flame dangerously close to the canvas.
The painted figure's face instantly changed, now unmasking its terror. Those eyes, once inscrutable, now brimmed with desperation and supplication, silently pleading with Duwei as the flame inched nearer.
At the last moment, just as the flame was about to kiss the canvas, Duwei pulled back the candle. He nodded thoughtfully. "So, you can't speak, hmm? Can you *at all*?"
The figure in the painting shook its head vehemently.
"Then, what are you?" Duwei's curiosity now burned brighter than the candlelight. "Some magical creation, perhaps?"
But his questions were met with the same mute response. Relieved of the immediate threat of flames, the painted figure's composure returned somewhat, its expression settling into one of curious observation.
Duwei attempted several more questions, but the painting could only manage nods or shakes of the head. Frustrated by this rudimentary form of communication, Duwei sighed. One human, one portrait—they stared each other down in uneasy silence.
Then, the ancient clock on the study wall began to chime, its deep tolls reverberating through the room. Midnight had come.
Duwei thought he saw a faint glow emanating from the painted figure's eyes, followed by a soft, ethereal sigh. The sound was fleeting and unsteady, yet unmistakably human.
"Listen carefully," a voice murmured, faint yet clear. "A spell binds me, allowing me to speak only briefly at the stroke of midnight. Once the clock falls silent, my voice will fade. Now, hear me well: within this study lies a hidden chamber. Treasures await within—one of which can break the spell upon me. Follow my guidance, and you shall find it. In return, I ask for your help."
Duwei's eyes widened. "You... you're speaking?"
"Yes, but time is short," the voice pressed urgently. "Start with the third painting on the wall. It holds the first clue. Do as it instructs, and if you have even a shred of wit, you'll uncover the chamber."
The final toll of the clock echoed through the room, and as the last chime faded, the glowing eyes dimmed. The voice fell silent once more.
Duwei scrutinized the painting anew. Its gaze met his, imbued now with a plaintive earnestness.
"You're under some kind of spell, then?" Duwei mused aloud. "And you say there's a secret chamber here, with a treasure that can lift it?"
The painted figure nodded, its expression one of hope and longing.
"And what's in it for me?" Duwei asked, a sly smile curling his lips. "Why should I help you?"
The figure's face clouded, its pleading eyes intensifying as though straining to speak again—but no sound came.
Duwei waved a hand dismissively. "Ah, well, I suppose my curiosity alone is worth indulging." With that, he ascended the ladder again, this time focusing on the third painting.
The artwork depicted another ancestor of the Rowling family, a stern-faced naval officer clad in an admiral's uniform. His gaze was fixed, staring into the distance with an expression of unwavering resolve.
Duwei examined the painting meticulously but found nothing amiss. Even after removing it from the wall, no hidden mechanisms revealed themselves.
Standing on the ladder, Duwei paused, deep in thought. He wasn't frustrated but rather methodical, retracing his observations. His patience bore fruit when a thought struck him. Turning his attention back to the painted figure's gaze, he followed its line of sight.
It led to the opposite wall, where a knight's broadsword hung on display.
With renewed determination, Duwei shifted the ladder and climbed to inspect the weapon. The sword's blade, he noted, pointed subtly toward an adjacent bookshelf.
This trail of breadcrumbs carried him to the bookshelf, where his searching fingers found an unusual engraving on one of the horizontal beams—a line of reversed text, nearly invisible to the casual observer.
Deciphering the inscription, Duwei read aloud: "The answer lies in the night sky, and the great ladle shall guide your way."
He couldn't help but chuckle. "A riddle, is it?"
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Duwei mulled over the cryptic clue. "Night sky… great ladle…"
Realization dawned. His eyes lit up as he leapt to his feet. "The Big Dipper! Of course!"
Driven by this epiphany, he scoured the study for anything related to celestial navigation. Soon, a catalog led him to a section dedicated to astrology.
On the seventh shelf, where the constellation's "handle" might point, Duwei's search yielded a peculiar discovery—a book of solid metal. As he pulled it free, the sound of grinding gears filled the air. Slowly, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a hidden passage cloaked in darkness.
Duwei stood before it, his heart pounding with anticipation. "So, the game begins," he murmured, stepping forward.
Duwei picked up a candlestick, and after a moment of thought, he took a short sword from the wall—mindful of his limited strength. He also tucked a few fresh candles into his coat. With cautious determination, he stepped into the secret chamber hidden within the wall.
The dim candlelight barely illuminated two or three steps ahead. Fortunately, Duwei's natural mental acuity allowed him a sharper sense of his surroundings. The secret passage was encased in colossal stone walls, cold and unyielding. Dust layered the path, and despite his efforts to move gently, clouds of it rose with every step, making him sneeze repeatedly.
Loose pebbles crunched underfoot as the flickering light guided his unsteady progress. The air in the passage was surprisingly breathable; though the flame wavered, it stayed alight, unaffected by oxygen deprivation.
After some time, Duwei came to a winding staircase descending into the depths. The narrow, roughly hewn stone steps spiraled downward, their coarse construction sturdy enough to bear weight. By his estimation, he had descended thirty-odd levels before reaching a small metal door. Its rusted handle resisted his efforts, firmly locked. He sighed, recalling the cryptic words etched into the study's bookshelf: *"The spoon is the key."*
Raising his candle, Duwei examined the door and ceiling above. His gaze caught an engraved star chart on the upper panel—a celestial diagram etched with precision. Though unfamiliar with astronomy, the mention of the "spoon" guided his focus to the unmistakable shape of the Big Dipper.
Murmuring, *"The spoon is the key,"* Duwei stretched his arm upward, but the ceiling remained out of reach. Improvising, he drove his short sword into the floor's crevice, using it as a makeshift step. Balancing precariously, he managed to touch the ceiling's star chart. The texture of the Dipper was distinct, its contours differing from the rest. Experimenting with various actions—pressing, twisting, turning—he eventually triggered something. A faint grinding sound echoed as a section of the floor slid open, revealing a dark passage descending further below.
Elated, Duwei leapt down from the sword hilt. The rusted door was a ruse! Without the cryptic hint, intruders could waste their efforts breaking it down, oblivious to the true secret lying beneath.
The new passage led to a small, enclosed room with walls of solid stone. Rows of iron cabinets lined the sides, most sealed with rusted locks. At its center stood a massive stone platform, its surface adorned with intricate, cryptic carvings—a central arc surrounded by starry constellations.
Unable to decipher the platform's purpose, Duwei turned his attention to the cabinets. Many were locked and impenetrable, but persistence rewarded him: one drawer was unlocked. Inside, he found a stone box etched with the crest of the Rowling family.
Lifting the box carefully, Duwei opened it to find a rolled parchment and a green, hexagonal crystal. Lighting a third candle, he began to read the parchment:
---
*"To the Reader, my dearest descendant of the Rowling family,*
*This letter is from your ancestor, Semel Chira Rowling, wife of the seventh head of the Rowling family and an astrologer by trade. Know this: by reading these words, you are about to embark on a perilous journey.*
*Behind this door lies a forbidden realm—a domain shrouded in secrets that mankind was never meant to touch. However, it also holds the culmination of my life's work.*
*To access the knowledge I've left, take the crystal enclosed with this letter. Search the stone platform for a matching slot. Insert the crystal and, to activate the mechanism, let a drop of Rowling blood fall upon it. Only the blood of our lineage can unlock the truths I've safeguarded.*
*May the Rowling family prosper. For the love of my husband, I have dedicated myself to this family.*
*Your ancestor,
Semel Chira Rowling"*
---
Duwei, overwhelmed, recalled the tragic story of Semel. Known as one of the most talented astrologers of her time, she was also remembered for her deep love for her husband, the seventh head of the family. When he passed away at fifty, Semel took her own life three days later in the white tower he built for her stargazing. Her final words, carved into the tower, were unforgettable: *"Because of love, we will live forever."*
Duwei located the crystal's slot on the platform, pricked his finger, and let a drop of blood fall onto the gem before inserting it. Instantly, the engravings flared with radiant light, illuminating the chamber as a pillar of energy coalesced above the platform. Within it, the silhouette of a woman emerged—a projection formed entirely of light.
Clad in red robes, with silver hair cascading like moonlight and a face both serene and otherworldly, the figure spoke:
*"To the one who has activated this message, I am your ancestor, Semel Chira Rowling. What you see is a magical recording—a piece of my consciousness imbued in this crystal. You have succeeded in unlocking the inheritance I've left. Listen carefully, as this message cannot be replayed."*
Even as a projection, her presence exuded authority. Duwei listened intently as Semel revealed her profound discoveries about astrology—not merely a tool for prophecy but a potent form of magic capable of harnessing the celestial powers of the stars themselves.
*"Astrology is not mere superstition or divination,"* Semel declared, her voice resonating with conviction. *"It is magic. The stars are bound by laws, and these laws hold a power that surpasses even the greatest spells known to mankind. My research has touched upon the very essence of these laws—*the fundamental rules of existence.*"
Duwei's heart raced. Before him stood not only a legacy of magical prowess but also the beginning of an unparalleled journey into the secrets of the cosmos.