The jungle around the dragon's corpse was eerily silent after the battle, the only sound the distant rustling of leaves and our own measured breathing. Salazar and I spent the next few days methodically harvesting the creature, cutting it into sections and storing its scales, claws, teeth, and bones in an expanded bag. Every inch of that dragon was a treasure: ancient, powerful, and nearly indestructible. It wasn't just the magic embedded in its body that fascinated me—this was a resource that could fuel years of experiments.
"Careful with the claws," Salazar muttered, his snake-like eyes flicking over the appendages. "They're enchanted with some form of ancient ward. One wrong cut and it could trigger a backlash."
I nodded, carefully slicing through a segment of wing bone. "I know. That's why I'm taking it slow. A mistake here would ruin the haul and could kill us both." My fingers moved deftly, guided by years of magical precision and my battle experience.
Salazar grunted in approval. "I'll admit… I underestimated your skill in handling these things. That fight… if you hadn't spotted its eyes and pierced the brain when you did, we'd be nothing but a pile of ash right now."
I smirked, wiping sweat from my brow. "High battle IQ, Salazar. I saw the eyes were the weak point, used the water sphere to distract it and then… bam. Pierced straight through. Strategy, not brute force."
He shook his head, a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And here I thought I was the tactical genius of the pair of us. That Elder Wand of yours… it gives you an obscene edge. You're… honestly terrifying at this point."
"Thanks," I said dryly. "You're not so bad yourself, breaking wards and dismantling protections while I handle the offense. That's why we survive these things."
With the dragon's body stored safely, we turned our attention to the tomb itself. Herpo the Foul's resting place loomed ahead, partially hidden by thick vines and moss. From the outside, it looked unassuming, but both of us knew better. A dark wizard of Herpo's caliber wouldn't leave a tomb unguarded, even after centuries.
Salazar surveyed the entrance, his wand tracing faint traces of wards. "He would have layered this place with protections… lethal ones. Likely curses, trap runes, maybe even magically animated guardians. We need every advantage."
I nodded, already preparing a series of counter-spells. "Agreed. I'm layering high-level protection wards on us—runic enhancements, anti-curse spells, and layered magical shielding. Nothing should bypass this."
We both drew our magical focuses: wands, tomes, and an assortment of other arcane tools, each humming with latent power. My Elder Wand pulsed faintly in my grip, amplifying every protective and offensive spell I cast. Salazar's crossbow, loaded with enchanted bolts and empowered with dark spells, rested against his shoulder like a predator ready to strike.
I took a deep breath, my eyes scanning the faint symbols etched into the stone. Ancient wards glimmered faintly under my magical sight—Herpo's handiwork. "We'll proceed carefully," I said, stepping forward. "We undo one rune at a time. Any sudden removal could trigger something catastrophic."
Salazar nodded, his green eyes cold and calculating. "Let me handle the structural wards. You handle the runes and protections. If anything tries to ambush us, we'll know instantly."
I began undoing the first rune, my hands moving in precise motions as the symbols dissolved silently into nothingness. Each step felt tense, the air heavy with latent magic. Every shadow could hide a trap, every glyph could be a lethal curse waiting to spring.
Salazar paused beside me, voice low but tense. "Don't rush it, Seraphina. If we make a mistake in the wrong place… we die. Or worse."
I glanced at him, matching his seriousness. "I know. And I'm not making a mistake. Stay sharp."
Together, we descended into the stairway, a narrow tunnel leading deep into the tomb. Darkness pressed around us, though our protective wards kept it at bay, muting curses and dangerous magic. Every step echoed ominously, a reminder that we were venturing into the resting place of one of the darkest wizards in history.
"This… this is going to be worse than the dragon," Salazar muttered, barely above a whisper. "At least that thing was predictable. This tomb… Herpo's mind is everywhere in this place. Every stone, every rune… traps woven into traps."
I tightened my grip on the Elder Wand, my heart steady despite the tension. "Good thing we're not just any wizards, Salazar. Between my wards, our combined magic, and the Elder Wand? Herpo is about to meet the most meticulously calculated intrusion of his long life."
He smirked faintly, though his eyes remained wary. "Let's just hope he left something worth the effort… or all this risk will have been for nothing."
The stairway descended further, each step taking us closer to Herpo the Foul's secrets, and the air seemed to thrum with anticipation. Every inch forward was a gamble—but failure wasn't an option. Not for us.