Stelle stood before the sticky, stained wooden table, staring at the dozens of oddly shaped bottles containing strange, colorful liquids.
The air was thick with the pungent, stinging stench of chemical reagents mixed with some sort of rotting herb.
At the other end of the table stood two walls of churning fire.
The one on the left was purple, flickering with an ominous glow; the one on the right was black, like a bottomless vortex blocking the path to the next chamber.
A piece of parchment lay in the center of the table, covered in Professor Snape’s familiar, elegant script.
It was a logic puzzle: only one bottle would allow a person to move forward through the purple flames, only one would let them return through the black flames, and the rest were either poisons or traps designed to plunge the drinker into eternal sleep.
Stelle picked up the parchment, her golden eyes scanning the complex clues regarding position, poison, advancement, and retreat.
She furrowed her brow slightly.
“Can’t really make heads or tails of this,” she muttered, tossing the parchment back onto the table.
This kind of purely text-based deduction game was clearly not her forte.
Her gaze fell back on the bottles.
Since logic wasn’t working, she would just have to do things the Trailblazer way.
She began picking up the bottles one by one, shaking them, examining the sediment, and even uncorking them to cautiously waft the scent toward her nose.
She looked as though she were performing a dangerous chemical experiment, or perhaps rummaging through a trash heap for valuable parts, her movements carrying a strange focus and familiarity.
“This smells like Nanook’s leftover engine oil…
Pass.” “This color…
Did March 7th’s hair dye run?
Suspicious.” “Viscosity’s too high.
It’ll clog the pipes.” She quickly eliminated the obviously incorrect options.
Time ticked away as the flames burned silently behind her.
Finally, her fingers stopped on a small bottle containing a crystal-clear blue liquid.
This bottle looked the most normal, and its scent was the faintest—carrying only a whisper of mint and frost.
At the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tiny scrap of torn, singed parchment pressed beneath a bottle containing seven or eight ruby-like pills.
On it was a hastily inked smiley face.
“A hint?” She picked up the small blue bottle, then looked back at the smiley face.
“Or a red herring?” She didn’t drink it immediately.
Instead, she scanned the room once more.
Suddenly, she noticed an unnatural seam near the stone wall at the edge of the black wall of fire, as if something frequently rubbed against it.
A bold hypothesis formed in her mind.
Uncorking the small blue bottle, she didn’t drink it herself.
Instead, she carefully dripped a few drops right onto that seam at the edge of the black flames!
*Sizzzz—* The moment the icy blue liquid touched the black fire, the flames seemed to freeze.
With a faint hiss, their churning momentum suddenly stalled, leaving a brief, narrow gap just wide enough for someone to squeeze through sideways!
Just as she thought!
The potion for returning acted upon the fire itself, not the drinker!
Without a moment’s hesitation, Stelle turned sideways and, like a nimble fish, slipped through the briefly opened gap and into the space beyond the black flames!
Through observation, bold assumptions, and a little hint from Elation—if that smiley face counted as a hint—she had succeeded.
However, what welcomed her was not the next puzzle, but a massive, foul-smelling troll pacing irritably around the room!
Its skin was an unhealthy, greyish-green, and it dragged a massive wooden club stained with unidentified filth.
The troll spotted her, its small, dull eyes flaring with stupid rage.
It let out a low grunt, raised its club, and swung it down!
Stelle’s pupils contracted.
Her physical reflexes outran her thoughts; she executed a messy roll, narrowly dodging the blow.
The club slammed into the spot where she had just been standing, sending stone chips flying.
She scrambled to her feet, wand already in hand.
The troll turned and pressed its advance once more.
Its colossal frame and suffocating pressure would have been enough to paralyze most first-years with fear.
But there was no fear on Stelle’s face, only calm.
Her golden eyes locked onto the troll’s movements as her brain worked at high speed, analyzing her target’s weaknesses and formulating a counterstrategy.
The troll swung its club again, a clumsy but incredibly heavy strike.
Now!
Instead of retreating, Stelle lunged forward, staying low.
Her wand wasn’t pointed at the troll’s body, but precisely at its bare, massive foot!
“Wingardium Leviosa!” Her target wasn’t the troll itself, but a loose stone floor tile right beneath its foot!
Under the influence of the Levitation Charm, the tile abruptly flipped upward!
The charging troll caught its foot squarely on the raised stone!
“ROAR—?!” Losing its balance, the colossal beast plunged forward with a look of utter bewilderment, collapsing like a landslide!
*CRASH!!!* A deafening boom shook the entire room.
The troll hit the floor face-first with a dull groan of pain, seemingly unable to get back up anytime soon.
Stelle stood in place, panting slightly, the hand holding her wand as steady as a rock.
She looked at the struggling troll on the ground with an expressionless face, offering only a quiet critique: “Weak stance.
Remember to work on your core next time.” Bypassing the temporarily neutralized threat, she walked toward the only door at the end of the room.
This time, there was no lock on the door, nor any fire.
She pushed it open gently.
Beyond the door lay no cold stone chamber, but a space filled with a dreamy violet hue, as if she had stepped into someone’s dream.
Standing in the center of the room was a magnificent mirror with an ornate gold frame.
An inscription was carved across the top of the mirror: The Mirror of Erised.
Curious, Stelle stepped forward and stood before it.
What the mirror reflected was not her current self in Hogwarts school robes with gray hair and golden eyes.
She saw a vast, boundless sea of Stelles, and the familiar parlor car of the Astral Express.
The “Stelle” in the mirror was dressed in her comfortable Trailblazer attire, a relaxed smile on her face.
She was standing on her tiptoes, trying to place an incredibly abstract crown made of glittering ribbons onto Pom-Pom’s head.
Pom-Pom was stamping their little feet and huffing, “You can’t treat Conductor Pom-Pom like this!” though there was no real anger on that furry face.
Dan Heng leaned against the archives room door, holding a data pad as if taking notes, though a barely perceptible curve at the corner of his lips was clearly reflected.
To the side, March 7th was laughing heartily, capturing the moment with her camera, its lens flashing with a pink light.
In the background, Himeko was elegantly holding a coffee cup, watching the little antics alongside Mr.
Yang, who was pushing up his glasses, their eyes filled with warmth and indulgence.
A surge of warmth and belonging so intense it almost suffocated her washed over her like a tidal wave.
It wasn’t just simple homesickness; it was the deepest yearning for that place where she could mess around without care, where she was accepted unconditionally, and where they could Trailblaze side-by-side.
Her fingers rose unconsciously, gently touching the cold glass as if trying to breach the barrier, to touch that starry sky, to touch her companions.
Stelle’s golden eyes widened slightly, reflecting the nonexistent starlight within the mirror, revealing a deep yearning completely unlike her usual carefree self.
She stood there silently, watching for a long time.
The scene in the mirror was so real, so tempting, as if she could merge right into it if she just took one step forward.
But suddenly, she blinked hard, as if waking from an overly beautiful dream.
She gave her head a firm shake, her gray hair swaying.
“No,” she whispered to herself.
Her tone had regained its usual composure, but carried a clear-headedness that saw through the illusion.
“This is a phantom.
A projection of desire.” She thought of Aha.
She thought of that ridiculous treasure hunt quest.
Would the Aeon of Elation be kind enough to reward her with an immersive, beautiful illusion?
Impossible.
This was more like a test.
“Dwelling on past scenery isn’t the way of a Trailblazer,” she said, addressing both her reflection and perhaps Aha, who might be watching from some other dimension.
Though the flutter in her heart remained, her strong, stable core began to take over.
She knew what was real and what was merely a reflection in water.
She took one last deep look at the heartachingly warm scene in the mirror, as if to engrave it into her mind, and then resolutely stepped backward.