It is terrible;
how cruel fate can be.
The great Sorcerer Supreme, magician of the ages, left abandoned in the once sanctuary his home had been. The years had been both terrible and kind to him, leaving him with his memories but stealing his sight. Where once light had blossomed, from candles, from electric light, from his very soul. Now, it is in darkness that he dwells, his mind filling the darkness with memories of time long since passed. Both joyous and terrible memories to haunt about him in the eye of his mind. The loyal Cloak now nearly threadbare and still by his side, perhaps not as lively as it had once been, but still with him.. His hair had become paler than snow some centuries back, back when he had still had something of his family still around him. But they have gone, leaving this relic of the past in the care of the true relics. They cared for him gently, those that could speaking in soft voices and reading aloud the books he could no longer read. They went about the place doing what duties they could, cleaning, cooking, washing, and checking in with the other empty Sanctuaries and the silence of Kamar-Taj.
For they were empty. No longer did magic fill the halls of the temple. No longer was magic a miraculous thing to behold. No longer were there sorcerers of Earth. The Sanctums had all been forgotten, by time and my memory. Kamar-Taj had fallen; and it had taken magic with it. He was all that remained. His bones gnarled with age and shaking with weakness that took his whole body in its embrace. He was the only sorcerer that remained, but was not long to stay any longer. He was still human despite it all and his deal with Death had been changed at last. To allow him the final rest as magic fully died from the world. With his last breath the world would breathe out the last bits of magic and leave the relics to fall still. He wept at times thinking of all the lives, they may be objects but they had life that would be lost with him. But at other times he could hear the voices of his love long gone calling for him and would pray the end to come but it would not.
Not yet.
There was still one last action to be taken before he would be granted relief. He had to be there to greet the next dawn of mankind. The dawn was coming for the world of man, of midgard, of humanity. And he would be there to usher in the one to bring it about. The soft swish of the Cloak guided him to a chair and he sat quietly. Sipping tea gently raised to his lips by the suit of enchanted armor that was his hands now in the wake of age's gift of weakness. His own trembled too much to even rest upon his lap and instead banged around beside his thighs. Restless for the end of it all. The fire before him crackled with energy, seeking to keep him warm as the final hour grew ever closer.
There was a knock upon the door.
A door which had gone unseen for three centuries. The dust that must have filled the air filled his mind's eye and brought a flicker of laughter to his soul and he bade the armor to allow their guest to come in.
The armor stomped away and stomped back, but this time it echoed. A second set of heavy metal boots keeping step. This second set came before him and knelt, the face-plate raising to reveal only the echo of an empty cavern.
"It is time, Stephen."
"Is it truly? I cannot bear the thought that I will not see him."
"He is waiting, Father. Give me your hand."
And so the sorcerer gave up his hand, and his final breath, to the girl FRIDAY; who wore the armor of her creator, and first father, long gone and who had at last brought a lasting peace to the people of Earth. Who had brought them to the brink of exploration. And who now, was leading them to the stars. Mankind had at last become equals of the universe and were ready to stand beside the other realms.
"Goodbye FRIDAY."
...
"Hello Stephen." Are the very first words he hears as he wakes up, face half buried in a familiar pillow, light streaming through the window, and there before him…Tony. "Did she do it?"
"Yes." Bare chested, without a single scar, and looking so very young. And then he moves, and his own body is youthful; his lungs strong once more and a raising hand as still as stone.
"Good. Now come here."He gently embraces his love, his husband. Gone so long and now they are together again and without the worries of the world to rest upon them.
They were free.
Free to love.
Free to laugh.
Free to live without pain.
Forevermore.