Chapter Text
Sanctum Sanctorum, 2024
Doctor Steven Strange, Sanctum Guardian of New York, Master of the Mystic Arts, High Magister, MD, stared high into the Orrery of Agamotto and frowned. Overhead a map of the local three galaxies spun tranquilly, marked with unassuming glyphs. Such a serene vision for the chaos and horror depicted. There, a simple three sigils indicated a being called Galactus was currently eating a planet. Like a doughnut. There, the ruins of Asgard festered with necrotic energy that the readings indicated was steadily building, with the potential for a fourfold crossrip in as few as two years. Oh, and mustn’t forget there. Vormire and Morag. Until seven years ago the tombs of the Soul and Power stones, now simply empty monuments to futile conflict. He shuddered and turned away.
America Chavez, Neophyte Initiate of the Mystic Arts, The Utopian Nexus, The Opener of Ways, High School Freshman, looked up from painstakingly tracing bloodwax sigils on the chamber floor from the books scattered around her.
“Whatcha looking at?” She asked. He glanced quickly at her work, checking it against his memory of the designs. Perfect. No chance of a dimensional inversion that would swallow them all. Probably.
“Nothing kid,” he replied, forcing a smile. No need to burden her with the cosmic horror and fragility of life just yet. More and more he sympathized with the Ancient One. He’d condemned her for keeping just this kind of secret from him in his earliest days training, and here he was doing the same thing for the same reason. Heh, this must be how parents feel.
The smile wasn’t really forced in any case. Her progress was amazing, he was so proud of her. He’d even made a point to say so, since according to certain nameless sources he was incredibly bad at showing it. Who knew? She’d had a few insightful suggestions on improving the formulae she was currently transcribing, which he’d approved after review. Careful review. He liked to think he could learn a lesson the third time he was given it. Speaking of which…
“We’d better pick up the pace,” he said, wordlessly casting the spells to bypass the nerves in his hands. Then, trembling ceased, he picked up another bloodwax marker and pacing string to join in himself.
America snorted. “Glad to see you picking up the Cosmic Crayons too then.” He gave her an incredulous look. She rolled her eyes. “I made them myself. I harvested the beeswax in the ‘traditionally prescribed manner’, I didn’t eat any of the honey because of the rhododendron toxin and bottled it for potions, I ‘spilt of my blood’ and distilled it into the wax, you yelled at me about proper sterile procedure…”
“Blood-born pathogens are no joke,” Strange cut in sharply.
“And I poured out the red gooey mess into the ‘thrice bless’d silver molds on the waxing of the worm moon.’ They are made with my literal blood sweat and tears. And I’m calling them the Cosmic Crayons, because that’s what they are.”
“Fine.” Strange knew when he was beaten. Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. “Yes, I am taking up your Cosmic Crayon to help you work faster. We want this done before…”
“STRANGE!”
“...That happens,” Steven finished, as Wong, Master of the Mystic Arts, Sorcerer Supreme, Librarian, stormed across the hall toward them. “Right kid, training time. Plan Sigma. I’ll head off the Big Bad, you finish the ritual. Wong!” Steven said, giving a hearty smile and walking as quickly as he could to stall him with the traditional bow.
Wong, unfortunately, was fully capable of giving a gracious return bow without breaking stride. Must be one of those Sorcerer Supreme Secrets.
“Strange, what are you and your apprentice doing? Breaking into the inner workings of the Orrery of Agamotto?”
“Well, I think you just answered your own question,” Strange replied, with a smirk calculated to call attention to him rather than America’s continuing inscriptions on the floor. What was it she had called it the other day, drawing aggro? God he felt old.
“Put that smirk away before you hurt yourself,” Wong replied, worryingly un-aggroed. He was being far too serene about this, barely above a grump. Darn Sorcerer Supreme Secrets. “This is a demiplane protected by the Arcane Seal of Mordenkainen, constructed expressly for the purposes of cosmic observation. The magics required to disjoin that enchantment should have collapsed the portal entirely. How did you do it?”
“Jammed a pencil in the door on your last bathroom break,” America piped up from the floor. Strange suppressed a groan. It was his job to be the distraction and that wasn’t helping.
Besides, that wasn’t how he’d done it. Forging Wong’s thaumic signature, picking two essence locks simultaneously, and maintaining the construct while America forced the portal with her Gateway abilities was a hell of a party trick. It beat his best surgeries in the old days. It deserved applause, and maybe a scroll for the archive documenting his technique.
Then again, Wong was turning bright red.
“Hey kid, red shortstop time, the part you’re coming up on is tricky,” he said, giving their pre-arranged signal to switch roles in an ongoing plan. He picked up the crayon and began tracing from memory while America stretched and cracked her knuckles.
“So yeah, super easy. It was supposed to be a surprise for you, but you nipped that in the bud…” she continued casually, picking up an astrolabe from its ritual display stand and tossing it carelessly to herself.
“Stop that.” Wong firmly took the astrolabe from her and replaced it before turning his full librarian glare on her. “I am surprised. At your recklessness. The Orrery of Agamotto is a sacred tool, guarded by the Sorcerers of Kamar Taj for millennia. It is warded by the highest magics for a reason, and not to be trifled with.”
“Well yeah, it’s old, I know. That’s why we were doing this. I mean, this place is clearly out of date.”
Wait, would wedging the portal open have actually worked? Strange mused on it as he continued to work on the sigils. Couldn’t rule it out. For the best results the wedge would have to be a cedar wand, to harmonize the forces. And if you were making an actual lockpick, while you were at it you’d reinforce it with a conductive core to ground the excess energy. Something non-metallic to avoid the magnetic flux from the portal.
Exactly like a pencil. Huh. He kept tracing.
“Out of date?” Wong was gathering himself up to his full height. Which wasn’t much, but being Sorcerer Supreme was adding about ten feet in sheer authority. Not that Strange was bitter or anything.
“Well yeah, think about it. Agamotto was a thousand years ahead of his time. But that was, like, ten thousand years ago or something. Don’t tell me this place doesn’t need a good once over.”
“She’s right, I’ve seen the dust,” Strange cut in. He couldn’t help it. “Though a lot less than I expected. I’ve been meaning to ask, who sweeps in here with all the security?”
“Lu-Tze the Sweeper is an honored member of the order, and has performed his duties with distinction for over…”
“Whatever,” America cut in. “The point is it’s way out of date and we were going to give it an upgrade. We’re not getting the warnings we need.”
“She’s got a point,” Steven said. Staying quiet and letting someone else be the distraction was really much harder than it sounded. Definitely something to practice. Another time.
“What do you know of these matters?” Wong huffed, and Steven knew they had him. Wong only got huffy when he knew someone was right but wouldn’t admit it yet.
“I know that the Convergence caught us with our pants down,” Strange said. “Despite that being exactly the kind of event the Orrery was designed to warn us about.”
“Don’t talk to me about the Convergence!” Wong burst out, and Strange raised his eyebrows. An actual crack in his composure. Now that had to be a story.
“What’s the Convergence?” America asked.
“Once every five thousand years dimensional alignment between the Nine Realms,” Strange answered absently. “All kinds of portal nonsense and gravitational anomalies before and during. A major time for otherworldly beings to wind up on Earth. Which is why it would have been nice,” Steven continued, directing a glare at Wong, “if the device specifically for warning us about major dimensional anomalies had warned us it was coming.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve been meaning to ask. I’ve been reading about the Nine Realms and the books are really unclear. Are they different dimensions, or physical planets in space, or what?”
“Yes,” Strange and Wong answered together, then shared a moment before returning to glaring at each other.
“And Kamar-Taj was prepared for the Convergence,” Wong continued. “The Ancient One read the portents well in advance. The Sanctums were secured, and the planetary wards were at full strength. The Sorcerers of the world were well prepared for any breach.”
“Greenwich,” Strange coughed. “Where was The Ancient One when a five story tall Dark Elf Portent appeared at the epicenter of the alignment and tried to extinguish every star in the universe?”
Behind Wong he saw America turn pale. Right. Innocence. Watch that. He stood up and stretched. The spells fell away from his hands as he did, bringing a return of the familiar pins and needles.
“The Ancient One was battling the legions of Volguus Zildrohar in the depths of Irkalla. The Sanctum Guardians were holding reserve forces, who were also called away. Your predecessor personally led the relief force to the Enneid as they fended off Shuma-Gorath. He received Bast’s personal thanks and blessing. This was not like Tony Stark sleeping in on Insight Day.”
“Who’s Tony Stark?” America asked. Strange and Wong both stared open mouthed, then broke down laughing. The tension dissolved as fast as it had come.
“Who’s Tony Stark… ha, remind me to make sure you get out more kid,” Strange said, still chuckling. “Alright, I concede defeat, it was a busy day for everyone. I’m sure someone had the whole situation with the Dark Elves well in hand. Who was that anyway?”
“That… was me. In truth it was not my finest moment. Or day.” Wong shook his head ruefully. Strange raised his eyebrows again.
“Well, you can’t just leave us at that.”
“I can so.”
“Well that’s hardly setting a good example as the Sorcerer Supreme. Aren’t you supposed to be humble and wise? Surely there’s a lesson in your experiences here. Please!” Strange floated himself into a cross legged posture. “Instruct me, Master.” He added a student’s bow for good measure.
“You know it doesn’t count when you’re being sarcastic,” Wong grumbled. “But fine, if you’re going to insist. On the Day of the Convergence everything began… more or less under control.”