Your name is Stephen Strange, and this fight is actually going better than you initially thought it would.

Part of it is because of Lycaon, who tears through spell constructs like so much paper. Granted, he is a wolf, and there are only so many enemies he can attack in so much time, but the ones that he does hit are done for. Despite being made of magic, there is a certain savage vindication in his movements whenever he disembowels his latest target.

Your partner has summoned her familiar as well, the house cat-sized feline that you remember from your brief glimpse of it during the first test. Unlike your previous assumption, based off the short look you got and the information you absorbed during those few seconds, it is not actually a house cat. Instead, it looks to be some sort of jungle cat, as far as you can tell. Your partner's magic entwines in an intricate pattern of spots and streaks, and the flash of fangs and claws as the feline pounces on its victims are far too large to belong to anything so mundane as a common pet.

You make a mental note to ask her about it, once you have the time.

For your part, you are stationed firmly at the choke point, wielding a shield on one hand, a cord-of-threads in the other, and the Eye's command matrix encircling your right arm while you alternately bash and throw your opponents based on the range. Every now and then, the Cloak lifts you into the air to allow you to throw down a mass amount of portals, placed strategically in front of the spell constructs that are moving too fast to dodge, and redirecting them into each other where the force of the collision takes both foes out in one move. On the occasion when one enemy makes it past your onslaught and launches its own attack, the Eye flares to life and freezes it in its own timestream, at which point you grab the thing with your cord-of-threads and use it as your newest projectile. This is why you have the Eye's command matrix up and running; too much is happening at once for you to follow it all, and there is constantly an enemy or two slipping past your notice.

It's not your most elegant battle form, but it works. And you are not going to complain about it.

Your partner, on the other hand, is using a spell you've never seen before. This isn't anything particularly new, as you have really only been a part of the sorcerer culture for just approaching two years now, but this one catches your attention in a way that makes it impossible for you not to notice.

From both hands, extending off each one of her fingers, is a string of magic that, somehow, doesn't spark and crackle like nearly all other magic that you know of. Every movement she makes is amplified into these tendrils, and when she flicks her fingers the threads crack into each other like whips. Just watching her move in the spare moments you can tells you that not only does she know exactly what she's doing, but she's very, very good at it. Somehow the movements of her fingers translate into one of the most elaborate and impossible-to-escape traps you have ever seen. It's as though a spider dropped down and wrapped up her opponents, only the 'web' is utterly impenetrable. She disconnects the tendrils from her fingers with a flick of her wrists, then spins a small dagger into one hand and stabs the entrapped spell constructs straight through their chests.

They disintegrate instantly.

The dagger looks like a relic, but the spell? The spell is incredibly useful and you want it.

Unfortunately, now is not the time. If you ever get the chance to ask your partner about her familiar, that would be the time.

...And to ask for her name. That too. Really, how have you gone this long without learning your partner's designation?

Oh yes, there was an almost-apocalypse, that was how.

You shake your head rapidly between enemies, doing your best to clear your thoughts. Now is really not the best time. You return your full attention to the battle – and are immediately glad you did, because the spell constructs have metamorphosed when you weren't paying attention. No longer do they look like a lamprey mated with a scorpion in glitter glue; now, they more resemble what might happen if fireflies fused with whales. Not only are they much larger, but they appear to be capable of communication with one another now, using the glow of their underbelly to flash messages back and forth across the battlefield.

You also discover, as you whip your cord-of-threads at one of them, that they are much more durable now and are lacking the weak spot that you were previously taking advantage of. This will be a problem, you decide, or at the very least, time-consuming in a manner you are not currently able to manage.

You settle for blunt impacts to what looks like the head instead. And it works. It just is not quite as efficient.

It irritates you, but you channel that irritation into your blows and it all balances out.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the fight, in a way that you are normally never able to do because normally you are not fighting spell constructs with no real life of their own and you would ordinarily need to pull your punches, so to speak. But here, there is no need for that, and so you sink into the pattern of battle until your only other focus is a vague and general awareness of where your partner is, because it would not do to accidentally use her as your next projectile.

It turns out to be a good thing, this awareness, because when she suddenly pops up right next to your arm, you most certainly do not jump like a startled rabbit and nearly throw her at the next spell construct. You simply narrowly avoid it.

Something's wrong! She shouts in your ear. There's too many of them for this to be a normal test!

She abruptly ducks as a glow-whale come barreling in at her head, and you quickly spin a portal in the creature's path to redirect it into another glow-whale aimed for your solar plexus. Both creatures go flying.

But it's meant to be challenging? You reply.

Not like this it isn't, she says grimly. They've been aiming to kill. That's not supposed to happen.

She's right, you realize. An alarming number of the spell constructs – all of them, really – have been aiming for your head, or your neck, or your stomach. Nothing has made contact, because the Cloak is around your neck and is fiercely protective, and the Eye hangs above your stomach and dislikes sharing you with anything that is not the Cloak, and Lycaon is still tearing around you on the battlefield like a thing possessed. But the intent... your partner is entirely correct about the intent.

Which can mean a few things, none of them good.

One, the instructors – the sorcerer community in general – is no longer in charge of the examination, and somebody else is. Two, the sorcerer community is still in charge of the examination, but have decided to kill you and your partner for unexplained reasons. You highly doubt this one to be the case, but it is an option all the same. Three, these are the actions of a rogue individual, affiliated with the sorcerer community (they would have to be, to control the spell constructs like this), but not strictly included anymore. Or Four, the world is about to be threatened by a multidimensional supernatural being, again, and this is how said being has decided to herald its coming.

Admittedly, you really hope that last one is not the case. But then – everything stops.

Literally. Everything stops. The spell constructs freeze in place. The entire attack halts. You boggle as the constructs dissolve into thin air, and it occurs to you that something is very, very wrong.

Right then,you say. You and your partner ought to vacate the area immediately. Clearly, something is happening outside of the exam, and – equally clearly – that something is not good.

Your partner nods at the logic, but scowls all the same. She has left her sling ring elsewhere, having deemed it unnecessary to carry during what was supposed to be a supervised exam. You wordlessly pull your own from a pocket and spin a portal for the both of you.

If there has been anything that living through Kaecilius, Dormammu, and Loki has taught you, it is that one should never, ever be unprepared for anything even remotely conceivable and most of the inconceivable as well. Being a sorcerer tends to bring the inconceivable right to your doorstep, after all.

You step out into Kamar-Taj, because regardless of anything else, it is still more-or-less the functional center of sorcerer culture and if an invasion is going to start anywhere, it will probably be here. And you are somewhat upset to find out that you are right. Windows have been smashed, floors splintered, and doors torn clean off in what looks like the aftermath of a very intense battle. Scattered around are your fellow sorcerers, all leaning heavily on various objects or simply lying on the ruptured floor. Your inner doctor (seldom used nowadays but never gone) kicks in and notes that most of them appear to be in shock. A few are crying, in the silent way that comes from pure emotional upheaval. Some are just... blank.

Wong is there, consoling a young teen who looks like a new initiate. He glances up as you approach, and you have to brace yourself against his stare. You suddenly realize that, in all the times Wong has pinned you with a Glare, or a Stare, or a Look, he has always done so with an undercurrent of affection to it.

There is no affection right now. There is only anger and fear and shattered trust. They are not directed at you, but... these are not things you have ever seen on Wong's face before, and you hate it. Wong should not look like this.

Stephen, Wong says, and his voice is ice. Mordo is back.

That is all he says, but it is all he needs to say. Because Wong does not waste his words on pointless statements, and if he is telling you that Mordo is back in the middle of defeated sorcerers, then there is only one reason why.

Mordo is the one responsible for this.

You flounder. You knew that Mordo's conviction had been broken by the events between Kaecilius and the Ancient One, and you knew that his kind of faith was not something easily repaired... but to do this? To take out what you can only assume is his anger and betrayal by the Ancient One on his fellow sorcerers, who had no connection to the Ancient One's actions? To take out his pain on initiates?

If these are Mordo's actions, then they are the actions of a man whom you no longer know. You cannot make the kindness and tough-love instructions of Mordo's past connect with what he has done now.

Your hands are shaking. You curl them into fists. At your side, your partner bares her teeth in a manner remarkably similar to her already-snarling familiar.

He can't get away with this, she states, fury making her tone emotionless. You agree. But before you can go after Mordo, Wong speaks up again.

Be careful, Stephen, he tells you. Mordo is dabbling in things which he should not.

He pauses, uncharacteristically, and seems to gather strength before saying, He is stealing magic.

Your name is Stephen Strange, and you are absolutely furious.


I am so sorry.

I had... some issues deciding where to go from the last chapter, if you couldn't tell. I knew where I was trying to end up (Infinity War), I knew which threads I wanted to bring into the plot (eventual title of Sorcerer Supreme, Mordo, an 'In' with the Avengers), and I even sorta knew which order I wanted it in... I just had no idea how to go about executing it. And so I sat and struggled with Writers Block and basically just sorta stared at this story for several months trying to figure out how I could pull everything together.

I'm sure you can all guess that I figured it out, since I'm posting again. I'm not going to say where I'm going from here, becauseSpoilers~

I don't give up on stories. Not now, not ever. It may sometimes take me several months to post something, and I may drop off the face of the Earth at times, but I will neverabandon this.

But. I'm keeping progress reports on my Profile now. So. If I'm not making progress, uh... I dunno, yell at me or something. PM a (preferably politely worded) rant (or encouragement), help me kick my muse back into gear.

Changeling


Thanks to JKS16, Rinnala, Chaokola, Dutoc, justntyme12, StarblazeForce, Shabondy, jessiebostwick840, victoria cullen35, elendur, WhenInDoubtLeave, Strangetails, RandomFanatic0510, and FadingGrin for Favoriting/Following!