Hearing this, Sylas felt a faint ache in his chest.
Those companions who had once walked beside him through fire and darkness were now all gone. Time, relentless and impartial, had finally taken them. The number of familiar faces around him had grown fewer and fewer.
He turned his gaze toward Arwen, toward his son Elroth, and then to his old friends Gandalf and Elrond.
Fortunately, he still had family and companions by his side. As long as they were here, even the endless passage of ages would not leave him truly alone.
"Where is their resting place?" Sylas asked quietly.
"I would like to visit them later."
Legolas replied in a low voice,
"They are buried on a beautiful hill on the eastern coast of the island. From there, one can look back toward the east."
Sylas nodded in silence.
At that moment, a familiar yet long-unheard voice echoed within his mind.
[Hogwarts System Check-in detected: Location- Swan Harbor, Aman.
Do you wish to check in?]
Sylas was momentarily startled.
For a long time now, the system had remained almost silent. During his travels across the Central Continent, he had already marked nearly every place he visited. Most of what he obtained were magical texts, techniques, or auxiliary creations from the wizarding world, useful, but no longer capable of significantly enhancing him at his current level.
Ancient wand-forging methods, automated potion-production arrays, luck potions, blood curses of beastmen, werewolves, vampires, soul-binding techniques, specter containment…
Interesting, yes. But no longer essential.
Since reaching his current realm, the system had gradually faded into the background.
Now, standing in Valinor, it had awakened again.
Sylas felt a spark of curiosity.
"Yes," he replied silently.
[Sign in successful.]
[Congratulations. You have obtained: Time-Turner Crafting Technology.]
A slight tremor passed through Sylas's heart.
Time-Turner.
Among all magical artifacts of the wizarding world, this was without question one of the most profound. A device capable of interacting directly with time itself. something that even gods treated with caution.
In the past, Sylas had been curious about it, but he had never deliberately sought it out. He never expected that upon setting foot in Valinor, it would come to him instead.
This knowledge was far more than a simple crafting recipe.
Contained within it were fundamental principles of time magic, explanations of temporal flow, causal stability, anchor points, and paradox suppression. Even with Sylas's current realm, fully understanding it would take considerable time.
But once mastered…
He would not only be able to create Time-Turners.
He would be able to touch time itself.
In Arda, even the power of the Three Rings could only slow the erosion of time. True dominion over time belonged solely to the Creator, to the One who shaped the world at its beginning.
This knowledge represented a path, not to control time completely, but to approach its threshold.
Sylas suppressed the surge of excitement and returned his attention to the present.
Some things could wait.
After the conversation ended, Galadriel led the group away from the docks, guiding them toward the highest point of Swan Harbor to pay their respects to its ruler.
The lord of Swan Harbor was Eärulë, leader of the Teleri Elves of Aman, one of the eldest high-ranking elves still active in Valinor. He had led the Teleri across the sea and established Swan Harbor as their dwelling.
More importantly, he was Galadriel's maternal grandfather, and the two shared a close bond.
Swan Harbor was breathtakingly beautiful.
Its architecture was dominated by white and pale blue, inlaid with countless gemstones. The streets themselves seemed paved with fragments of crystal and diamond, shimmering like scattered starlight beneath the sun.
At the highest point of the city, nestled against the mountainside, stood a palace both solemn and sacred.
Its walls were carved from pristine white stone, adorned with enormous pearls of every hue, radiating a soft, and tranquil brilliance.
Furthermore, the palace was lavishly adorned with pearls, mother-of-pearl, and intricate coral decorations. Every surface reflected the sea's elegance and depth.
Inside, the vaulted ceilings were painted with vast murals of space and ocean intertwined, golden arcs traced the courses of stars, while flowing lines mirrored the rise and fall of waves. Enormous gemstones were embedded at key intersections, glowing softly like captured constellations.
The furnishings throughout the palace were crafted from pristine white seawood, meticulously carved with motifs of swans, rolling tides, and spiraling shells. Pearls and coral were inlaid with such finesse that every piece seemed less like furniture and more like living art.
At the highest point of the grand hall, upon a coral throne, sat a tall and majestic elf king. He wore a crown of luminous pearls, and a calm, ancient radiance emanated naturally from his presence.
This was Olwë, High King of the Teleri, Lord of Alqualondë.
Galadriel led Gandalf, Elrond, and Sylas forward to pay their respects.
Olwë's gaze swept across the hall, his voice deep and gentle, like waves brushing against ancient reefs.
"Welcome, guests from Tirion, Tol Eressëa, and the Central Continent, to Alqualondë."
He was already familiar with Gandalf and Elrond, and so his attention soon settled on Sylas, his eyes filled with open curiosity.
"A magnificent ship," Olwë continued calmly.
"I believed that no one from the Central Continent would sail west again. Yet today, the final ship from that land carries a guest unlike any I have seen before."
Sylas stepped forward, inclining his head respectfully.
"Your Majesty Olwë, it is an honor to meet you. I am Sylas, a wizard of the Central Continent."
From Olwë's presence, Sylas clearly sensed a power on the same tier as Gandalf's, vast and tranquil, ancient beyond measure. This was no ordinary elf, but one who had long surpassed the common Elven limit, standing firmly at a Step-level existence, refined by the light of Aman itself.
Olwë regarded him with unmistakable admiration.
"Sylas," he said warmly, "Lady Galadriel has spoken to me of your deeds. The shadows over the Central Continent have dispersed, and lasting peace has followed. That achievement bears your mark."
What impressed Olwë most was this: Sylas was still human.
Unlike Gandalf and the Istari, whose nature transcended mortality, Sylas had risen through his own effort, in a land impoverished in divine favor. To reach Step-level without bathing in the Light of the Two Trees, without prolonged residence in Aman, this was almost unheard of.
Historically, only figures such as Eärendil or Glorfindel had approached such heights, and even they had received profound divine assistance.
After a brief pause, Olwë spoke again, his tone gracious.
"You and your companions have only just arrived and have yet to settle. Would you be willing to stay here for a time?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Alqualondë welcomes all true friends."
...
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