Epilogue

Stephen was exhausted.

It was nearly midnight. His injuries twinged, a reminder that he should have been to bed a long time ago.

Instead, he'd gone to the roof of the Sanctum.

For some reason, his encounter with Wisp had made him melancholy.

He gazed out, across the city, as he often did, and realized Wisp had been right.

There was no dark, no gentle brush of starlight, only the cold sterile glow of streetlights. No silence, just a constant barrage of discordant sounds.

In contrast, Cloak wrapped contentedly around his shoulders, its collar resting peacefully against his neck and cheeks.

He lay a hand to its folds, where it draped over his forearm, gave a soft brush of affection, and Cloak responded with a gentle squeeze.

'You understand, right?' he asked, 'Why I let the smeocan go?'

Cloak was very still for several seconds, then offered a tender stroke along the back of his hand, which he needed no interpreter to translate.

Of course.

He gave a satisfied smile.

As he heard a soft rustle of fabric, he glanced behind him.

Master Jade made her way carefully across the rooftop, to stand beside him. She hadn't come in her astral form, which seemed somehow fitting, given the surrounding night.

She turned her eyeless face up toward the sky, the warm breeze shifting hair along her shoulders.

Cloak stretched out an edge, gave her a fond embrace, to which she responded with an affectionate pat.

She shared the silence awhile, then offered,

'Good place to think, on the roof.'

He looked at her, curiously, as she admitted,

'I'm often on the roof, in London.'

After another silence, she wondered,

'Second guessing your decision?'

'No,' he answered, tersely, 'How could I condemn the smeocan, who's only real transgressions were not of its doing?'

Jade nodded, agreement.

Stephen sighed, wearily, looked back out over the city, his brow troubled.

Jade waited, patiently, for him to decide how to put words to whatever was bothering him.

'Kaecillius,' he finally said, 'My first foe.'

She turned toward him, inquisitively,

'A zealot, albeit a misled one, so I heard.'

Stephen raised an eyebrow, surprised that she would know that, then continued,

'He said to me that Kamar-Taj was a place that collects broken things.'

Jades expression became confused, as he continued,

'Of all the lies he told...that one statement, I believe to be absolutely true.'

'How so, Stephen?' she asked, her tone sympathetic.

He shrugged, explained, sadly,

'It seems that, every day, I deal with broken things.

'Broken beings, like the smeocan.

'Broken hopes, and expectations.'

He fell silent, examining the smashed watch on his wrist, thinking of Christine,

'Not the least of which, are my own,' his tone soft, reflective. He straightened, voice now bitter,

'I imagine that's why I fit in, with...all this...' he gestured broadly, 'so well. Because I'm broken.'

Jade sighed, corrected, firmly,

'Stephen, you're here, not because you're flawed, or broken, but because this is where you belong.'

She emphasized her words, as she often did, with a sharp tap of her Staff against the rooftop, which sent a ripple of power that Stephen felt thru his feet.

Cloak gave him an extra squeeze, a collar wriggle of agreement, and Stephen managed a slight smile.

'Thank you, Master Jade.'

She laughed,

'Always pleased to be of service.'

As she swung away, opening a gateway to the London Sanctum, she added,

'Actually, I came to see if you'd care to join me, for tea.

'In London.'

Stephen chuckled, tiredly, pulling Cloak tight around his chest against a sudden chill,

'Can I hold that invitation for another time? As much as I'd love some tea, I'm afraid the day has rather caught up with me.'

'You're welcome, at any time, Master Strange.'

Has anyone else ever wondered what's at 177B Bleecker?

Well, get ready to find out...