The portrait Arwen had painted of Sylas was carefully framed and hung in his private sitting room.

As for the portrait Sylas had painted of Arwen, she tucked it away with great care, intending to bring it back to Rivendell to keep it safe.

The two living portraits did not stay bound to their own frames. Instead, they drifted between them, sometimes Arwen and Sylas would appear together in Sylas's study, other times in Rivendell's hall. On occasion, the painted couple would vanish entirely, only to "go off" on some unseen adventure of their own.

Sylas was both amused and exasperated.

'I'm out here working myself to the bone… while the fellow in the painting spends his days wandering about with Arwen, doing nothing but courting.'

In the days that followed, Sylas also painted portraits of Thorondor the great eagle, Smaug the dragon, Herpo the basilisk, and even the Kraken of the Black Lake.

Smaug, being Smaug, had demanded his portrait include a mountain of gold beneath him. Sylas obliged, but afterward he regretted it, watching the dragon in the painting wriggle happily through piles of treasure made Sylas blush with secondhand embarrassment. He decided there was no way that painting was going in the hall.

Thus, the matter of portraits came to a close.

His next task was far more serious. Sylas turned his focus to the great alchemical treasures he had obtained the secrets to: the Ravenclaw Diadem and Hufflepuff's Cup.

Each was a masterpiece of magic. Each represented the legacy of a founder of Hogwarts. But crafting them would be long, grueling, and required immense precision. It was not possible to attempt both at once.

Sylas weighed his choice carefully.

The Ravenclaw Diadem promised heightened wisdom, unlocking the deepest potential of the mind, sharpening thought, and quickening memory. With it, he could master spells and lore at a pace beyond anything he could achieve alone.

The Hufflepuff Cup, on the other hand, was equally legendary. It could heal, purify, and sustain. It absorbed magic and nourished the body. And, perhaps most wondrously, it could conjure endless food and drink from the smallest portion, banquets filled with nourishing magic. It was a relic of comfort, endurance, and life itself.

Yet Sylas chose the diadem first. Its gift of sharpened mind would not only grant him power swiftly, it would make crafting the Cup itself far easier afterward.

When Arwen heard of his decision, she was surprised, but also intrigued. She offered her help, and so the two began their work together.

Sylas retrieved from storage an exquisite crown: the Holy White Crown, a gift from Galadriel when the castle at Weathertop had been completed. Arwen herself had designed it, weaving the shapes of the white trees into silver filigree. In its heart was set a gem like a star, infused by Galadriel with the light of starlight itself.

This crown, too beautiful to wear except on the most solemn occasions, would now serve as the vessel for Rowena Ravenclaw's wisdom.

He took a vial of spiritual mercury gathered from the silver waters of the Grey Havens and etched runes into the crystal glass with a mithril solution. He set the vial atop the Tower of Amon Sûl, beneath the nightly moonlight, where the silver glow of the heavens would purify it, burning away the heavy residue of memory and leaving only the essence of thought. The process would take an entire month.

While the mercury ripened, Sylas labored on the crown. With mithril ink and wand as quill, he engraved flowing patterns of runes upon every silver leaf, tracing words of knowledge, enlightenment, and discernment into the gem itself.

He did not stop there. Traveling to Rivendell, Lothlórien, and the Grey Havens, he sought the wisdom of the great: Lady Galadriel, Celeborn, Elrond, and Círdan. Each shared with him a fragment of their deepest understanding, and Sylas carefully wove these memories into the jewel at the crown's center.

When at last the purified spiritual mercury was ready, Sylas lowered the crown into the liquid. The crown absorbed the silvery essence like dew into leaves. The gem blazed brighter than ever, its light no longer that of a mere star but of a guiding beacon.

And as its glow fell upon them, Sylas felt his mind grow sharper, quicker, and more alive, as though every thought had been polished into crystal clarity.

After the crown had absorbed the purified spiritual mercury, Sylas waited for a night when Mercury would shine bright in the heavens.

Among the Elves, Mercury was known as Elem-míre, a star Varda herself had kindled for her Firstborn. In the magical world, Mercury was also the planet of thought and communication, the celestial sign of wisdom.

When Mercury finally climbed into the sky, Sylas and Arwen ascended to the highest tower of Amon Sûl.

Upon the broad stone platform, Sylas etched three nested circles of power with mithril, setting the crown at the very center.

The outermost ring was carved with runes of wisdom, to draw in the essence of knowledge. The middle circle formed a "circuit of thought," its lines branching like veins and neurons, guiding energy toward the crown.

At the heart lay the Resonance Core, a ring of twin serpents woven from countless runes, entwined together as the engine of the entire formation.

When Mercury reached its zenith, starlight poured down, striking the crown like a silver spear.

Sylas pressed his staff against the circle, murmuring an ancient incantation. His magic surged outward, flooding into the lines of mithril. The formation blazed with argent light, and a pillar of brilliance leapt skyward, linking the tower to the planet above.

Mercury flared. Its radiance grew so fierce that even Eärendil's star, brightest of the heavens, seemed dim beside it. Blue fire rained down from the planet, threading into the circle and kindling every rune in turn, until the entire tower was wrapped in a storm of silver flame.

The spectacle did not go unnoticed. From the Shire to Bree, from the Barrow-downs to Rivendell, folk stared at the pillar of light in awe and speculation. Even in distant Lórien, wise eyes lifted toward the sky. Only Galadriel, Elrond, and Círdan understood the truth and did not wonder. The people of Hogsmeade, nestled at the foot of Weathertop, fell to their knees, certain that their mysterious lord was working wonders again.

But Sylas had no thought for the outside world. His every breath was focused on holding the spell together. The crown devoured power greedily, draining his reserves faster than he had expected. His limbs trembled; his face grew pale.

Arwen's heart tightened. Without hesitation she raised her wand and poured her own magic into the circle.

She was Elrond's daughter, Galadriel's granddaughter, and the blood of ancient power flowed in her veins. Her strength far surpassed Sylas's, and when it joined the working, his burden lifted. He straightened, breathing easier, and managed a grateful glance her way.

Together, they sustained the ritual. The starlight condensed, poured down in torrents, and was swallowed by the crown. The white diamond at its center blazed, brighter and brighter, until its brilliance seemed almost too much for mortal eyes.

By the time the night waned and Mercury sank toward the west, the flood of power slowed, dwindled, and finally ceased. One by one the runes guttered out, leaving the crown resting in silence at the heart of the circle.

It no longer shone with overwhelming brilliance. Instead, the diamond now glimmered with a soft, steady azure light. But within that light was something far greater—an endless depth of wisdom. To gaze upon it was to feel one's thoughts sharpen and inspiration spring forth like water from a well.

Sylas stepped forward, lifted the crown, and studied it carefully.

"Did it succeed?" Arwen asked softly, wonder in her voice.

"There's only one way to know," Sylas replied.

He set the crown upon his brow.

In that instant, his mind ignited. His thoughts raced with crystalline clarity, each connection forming faster than he could follow. Knowledge that once seemed tangled now aligned itself into perfect order. Memories he had long buried surged to the surface in flawless detail, sharper than the moment they were lived.

If his mind had once been a cart pulled by tired horses, and after his transmigration it had become a swift electric carriage.

Now that he wore the crown, Sylas felt as though a rocket had been strapped to his mind. His thoughts raced faster than lightning. his brain sharper, clearer, and more alive than ever before.

"How is it, Sylas? How do you feel?" Arwen asked, her voice laced with concern.

Sylas struggled to put the sensation into words. At last he said, with measured calm, "It feels as though a great door has opened within me, the door to wisdom itself. Beyond it lies endless knowledge, waiting for me to grasp it."

Arwen studied him closely. Since placing the crown upon his head, his face had grown still and unreadable, his emotions muted. It was as though reason had consumed him entirely. A flicker of unease stirred in her eyes.

Noticing her worry, Sylas gently removed the crown. The moment it left his brow, warmth and expression returned to his gaze. He smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry," he said softly. "It's only a side effect of the crown. While it heightens wisdom, it also lets logic reign supreme, dimming one's emotions. But once it's removed, everything returns to normal. It cannot change who I truly am."

To ease her heart, he lifted the crown and placed it upon Arwen's head.

At once, her entire presence shifted. Her eyes grew deep and clear as starlight, her expression calm and remote. She looked as though she stood upon a snow-capped peak, cold, radiant, and full of unfathomable insight. For a fleeting moment, she resembled Galadriel herself, a figure both distant and divine.

But Arwen did not wear the crown long. She soon lifted it away, and in that instant the icy aura faded. She was once more the gentle Evenstar, her smile warm as she turned to Sylas.

Holding the crown in both hands, she laughed softly. "Congratulations, Sylas. You have forged a true marvel. A treasure such as this, one that bestows wisdom, will be coveted by every seeker of knowledge in Middle-earth."

Her eyes sparkled as she added playfully, "So… will you give it a name?"

Sylas shook his head with a smile. "No. This crown is the fruit of both our efforts. I want you to name it. That way, its legacy will carry both of us within it, for as long as it endures."

Her lips curved, her eyes glimmering with affection. She gazed at the shining diadem and whispered, "Rieldir. That shall be its name."

"Rieldir? The Crown of Wisdom?" Sylas repeated, surprised for a moment. Then he chuckled, his smile wide and bright. "It's perfect. A beautiful name for a beautiful crown."

...

Stones Plzzz

Read chapters ahead @/Keepsmiling818