Chapter Fifteen: The Book of Cagliostro

Stephen released a long breath. His brain refused to settle. He'd actually fallen asleep seconds after finishing his call with Christine, but now he was wide awake. He shook his head, finally giving up.

He sat up, pulling his boots back on. He briefly smiled as he fingered the blue fabric of his tunic. A piece of home that he hadn't realized he'd been missing. Since it was near identical to the blue uniform here, he'd taken to wearing it as often as he could.

Standing, he glanced at his vambraces. A moment of debate and he slipped them on. He wouldn't put it past Mordo to try jumping him despite it being the middle of the night. He'd gotten fairly good at combat, so much so that Mordo had decided that random attacks when least expected was just the natural advancement.

Stephen then gathered up the books he'd been planning to return to the library tomorrow. He grabbed an apple and stuffed it in his pocket. A healthy snack while diving into some heavy reading never hurt. A roll of thunder caused him to roll his eyes. That no doubt meant rain. But it was January. Shouldn't he be expecting more wet weather? He shook his head. No time now. If he was remotely hoping for sleep, he'd have to bury himself inside a thick textbook until he dropped off.

He quickly but quietly wandered through the halls, noting that it must not have been quite as late as he'd thought. A few masters and the odd acolyte or two were also wandering the quiet passages of Kamar-Taj. Reaching the courtyard that stood between him and the library, he could now see the heavy downpour. Not quite heavy enough to blind someone or drown them where they stood, but heavy enough to drench someone if they didn't run. Hunching protectively over the books, Stephen sprinted across the pavement, his feet splashing in the gathering water.

Within the library's porch he shook himself, ending in a shiver as the cold water started to penetrate to his skin. He slipped inside, grateful for whatever system Wong had approved that kept the library at a comfortable dry warmth. He dropped his returning books on the main desk before going to the Master's Collection.

He claimed the desk farthest into the room with his apple before taking down The Book of Cagliostro. Yes, he was aware that the material was still beyond what he was studying, but it was always the more advanced texts that helped his mind to calm and bring him closer to sleep.

He settled down at the desk and started reading from the beginning. The different rituals described in Sanskrit flowed before his eyes. Half-consciously he visualized the hand formations and movements needed for each ritual. As he chewed the occasional bite of apple, he would chew in the same cadence as the spoken spells.

While Sherlock could relax in his Mind Palace when the world got too much, Stephen relaxed as he absorbed new knowledge. He was near in a trance, his eyes heavy when he turned the page . . . and saw the Eye of Agamotto inked in red within the text. He perked up, his curiosity getting the better of his tiredness. Really, any sane person would skip over and promise to return later. But most sane people also didn't read ancient texts for relaxation.

"The power to manipulate time," he murmured, looking over the text. He could probably do this. It didn't sound too complicated. But what if he was caught? Should he ask permission? He turned, calling into the library proper. "Wong?" Nothing.

He turned back to the round chamber where the Eye rested. It couldn't hurt, could it? his sleep-deprived yet alert mind asked. He shot to his feet, setting his half-eaten apple down in the same motion. It was nothing to unwrap the cord from around the holder's stem to free the amulet. He slipped the cord over his head as he rounded the table once again.

He forced himself to pause. "First, enter the Mirror Dimension," he murmured. "You have no idea what this could really do." He caught himself, the table and everything on it into the Mirror Dimension. He wasn't sure entirely if time was considered a part of reality according to this Dimension, but at least he made the attempt.

He rolled his head, loosening himself up. "Okay," he said. He looked at the text. "'First, open the Eye of Agamotto,'" he read. He took a deep breath before he folded his fingers as instructed in the ritual, touch the tips, move across each other and then apart.

Faint grind of metal on metal followed by a soft, high-pitched shtink. An electric green light shone forth from the brightly glowing iris that was nestled among what now resembled brass eyelids.

"Alright," Stephen whispered. He summoned the runes, a brilliant green disc appearing. He pulled it up so that additional runes appeared, like one slipping on a lace glove. He focused on his apple. Rotating his hand to the right, the apple was chomped away with faint bite sounds. Rotating to the left, the apple returned to an uneaten state with biting sounds in reverse. "Oh, my," Stephen murmured. He rotated to the right again, causing the remaining core to shrivel and grow mold. He rotated to the left once more until the apple was as whole as when he'd first grabbed it from his desk.

An idea formed in his head. "What if . . ." He hurriedly moved the apple aside and slid the book into his target range. He flipped forward a page, finding the remnants of the stolen pages. He forced himself to breathe calmly as he rotated his hand to the left, the two pages materializing and falling open before him. His eyes quickly took in the sigils, red as dried blood. "'Dormammu,'" he read. "'The Dark Dimension.'" He blinked as the implication of the text hit him. "Eternal life?"

A sharp pain ripped through him. "Ach!" He doubled over, clutching his chest as his concentration on the spell broke.

"Stop!" Mordo's voice faintly called into the Mirror Dimension.

Stephen barely managed to form a portal with his sling ring and sweep it back and past him so he was in the natural world again before he collapsed in his chair.

"Tampering with continuum probabilities is forbidden!" Mordo shouted, storming up from behind him on his right, another set of pounding footsteps coming from the other side as well.

"I was just doing exactly what it said in the book," Stephen said, catching his breath. "I also made sure I was in the Mirror Dimension."

"Do you think that would have mattered?" Wong demanded from his left. "What did the book say about the dangers of performing that ritual?"

Yeah, really should have just left well enough alone until his brain was fully rested and functioning. "I don't know," he confessed. "I hadn't gotten to that part yet." He rubbed his forehead as he looked at the book. The stolen pages had disappeared once again.

"Temporal manipulations can create branches in time," Mordo said, worried anger sharpening his voice. "Unstable dimensional openings. Spatial paradoxes! Time loops! Do you want to get stuck reliving the same moment over and over forever, or never having existed at all?"

Panic shot through Stephen. Was that what that pain had been? According to the Ancient One about the same time Kaecilius was stealing the pages would have been shortly before or during the Heartless invasion on his London. And now looking at the pages before him, he finally saw all the warnings.

He slowly breathed out. "I'm not as suicidal as I may have possibly been before coming here, for the record," he said. "The author really should put the warnings before the spells." He jumped as Wong snapped the book shut.

"Your curiosity could have gotten you killed," Wong scolded, "even closer than the first Stephen Strange to enter these halls. You weren't manipulating the space-time continuum, you were breaking it." He snatched up Cagliostro. "We do not tamper with natural law. We defend it."

Stephen weakly nodded as Wong put the book back. He could appreciate how close he'd come. He deserved this warning scold. He did not expect to hear-

"How did you even do that?" Mordo asked, apparently recovered somewhat from his fear and anger. "Where did you learn the litany of spells required to even understand it?"

"Something both granted to me from the original Dr. Strange and what helped set me apart from Sherlock," Stephen said. "I've got photographic memory. It's how Dr. Strange could get his M.D. and Ph.D. at the same time."

"What you just did," Mordo said, leaning towards him, "takes more than a good memory. You were born for the mystic arts."

"Even if I wasn't born in the traditional sense?" Stephen asked, quirking a smile.

Mordo smiled back. "I'm certainly no DiZ, and I would fight that man tooth and nail if he put a target on you."

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Wong asked.

"I suspect it was a near thing," Stephen answered. "Just before Mordo shouted, a pain ripped through me."

Wong wordlessly cast a sigil over him. He nodded. "You're right, it was a near thing. But, aside from shortness of breath, which you have recovered from, you're in good health."

Stephen looked at him, truly looked at him. "You know something about my past, did the Ancient One or Mordo tell you?"

Wong looked away, straightening the books that had been sitting on the table before Stephen came in. "I may have been sent back in time much like Dr. Strange."

"What?" Mordo breathed.

Wong met Stephen's gaze. "How much do you remember?"

Stephen hesitated.

"I already know that you are not my Stephen," Wong said. "I know that you are far more a British consulting detective than you are an American neurosurgeon. Even if your humbleness and natural compassion far exceeds either of theirs. So, how much do you recall of the other Stephen's memories?"

Stephen drew a deep breath. "Anything beyond this moment is very spotty," he said. "I—when the Ancient One showed me the multiverse, I think I saw some sort of face that gave me nightmares of death for a good week at least. Everything else, if I'm somewhat lucky, I'll remember something seconds before it happens. Otherwise it's a weird sense of déjà vu, even if it is different."

Wong nodded. "Depending on the merge spell that is how it works. So, on a need to know basis: you and I were locked in combat with an enemy. He seemed to recognize you even if neither of us knew him. In the midst of battle he used a spell similar in results to the Eye of Agamotto. He sent us years into the past. I couldn't stop him from injuring you but I was able to toss him into an interdimensional portal so that he couldn't finish the job.

"It wasn't until a couple days later when I checked up on you in the hospital that I realized the spirit of my Stephen was gone, and you had merged to take his place." Wong sighed. "It was difficult as you can imagine, realizing that he had lost the will and energy to fight. But I could also understand. We were not young when we were attacked, and my Stephen had gone through more than any Sorcerer Supreme before him. I understand his desire to answer his call home."

"Do I disappoint you?" Stephen asked.

Wong smiled. "No, you could never disappoint me. Unless you were insisting on being my Stephen instead of becoming your own person. I was pleased however when you revealed an early interest in the Holy Scriptures. Since my Stephen insisted on introducing me and I accepted Yahweh's and Yeshua's gift for myself, I'd hoped it wouldn't take quite as long for you to find Them again."

Stephen smiled wryly. "While I'm certainly closer to a decision compared to the first time around, I'm still rolling it around in my mind."

Wong nodded.

"So I'm officially the only one left out of the loop," Mordo commented. "Might I ask if there was a reason?"

Wong looked away momentarily before looking into Mordo's eyes. "Let's just say that my Stephen and you were never as close as you and Stephen are now."

"Something happened," Stephen guessed. "Something within the next twenty-four hours or so of memories."

Wong nodded. "But I refuse to say," he said. "I am protecting the future as best I can while also admitting that some things cannot be avoided."

"Like Kaecilius stealing the ritual," Stephen said.

"That's right," Wong confirmed.

Stephen drew in a deep breath. "By about this time you and Mordo were explaining what we are and what we do. Mind filling me in, just for the record."

Wong smiled. "We can do that. Come." He led the way into the rotunda as he spoke, "While heroes like the Avengers protect the world from physical dangers, we sorcerers safeguard it against more mystical threats." He spun the rings of the pedestal so that the globe above them lit up. "The Ancient One is the latest in a long line of Sorcerers Supreme, going back thousands of years to the Father of the Mystic Arts, the mighty Agamotto." He lowered a scolding eyebrow on Stephen. "The same sorcerer who created the Eye you so recklessly borrowed."

Stephen looked down, shuffling his feet. He would probably be getting a few more scoldings before this was over.

Wong continued, gesturing to the globe as golden-orange runes and barriers started taking shape. "Agamotto built three sanctums in places of power where great cities now stand." He gestured to each of the three doors surrounding them. To their left, "That door leads to the Hong Kong Sanctum," the door straight from the library, "that door to the New York Sanctum." To the door on their right, "That one, to the London Sanctum. Together the Sanctums generate a protective shield around our world."

"The Sanctums protect the world," Mordo said, "and we sorcerers protect the Sanctums."

"From what?" Stephen asked, not quite sure if he wanted the answer.

"Other dimensional beings that threaten our universe," Wong answered.

"Like Dormammu?" Stephen asked, even as the name sent a shiver down his spine.

"Where did you learn that name?" Mordo asked.

"I just read it in The Book of Cagliostro, and Dr. Strange mentioned it shortly before the merge was seriously underway," Stephen answered. "Why?"

"Dormammu dwells in the Dark Dimension, beyond time," Wong answered, turning the rings again so that the globe was gradually eaten away by some dark energy. "He is the cosmic conqueror, the destroyer of worlds. A being of infinite power and endless hunger, on a quest to invade every universe and bring all worlds into his Dark Dimension. And he hungers for Earth most of all.

"Out of some morbid curiosity, my Stephen delved into more research on Dormammu and the Dark Dimension. According to some ancient accounts, the Dark Dimension was created for those worlds who never fell to temptation, so that their tempter and the enemy of all Holiness and Light would have a place to dwell outside of their protected perfection and innocence."

"So, Dormammu just settles for the fallen worlds since the unfallen are out of his reach," Stephen said. He tore his gaze from the writhing and neuron-like images from the Dark Dimension. "The pages Kaecilius stole."

"A ritual to contact Dormammu," Wong confirmed his worst fear, "and draw power from the Dark Dimension."

Stephen drew a deep breath. "We have to stop him," he declared. "I don't know how, but we can't let this happen." He paused at Wong's wider than usual smile. "What?"

"I'd dare to say I like your spirit better than my Stephen's," Wong said. "You have a heart for the world and those around you. At this time, my Stephen thought only of himself. You are a good man, and we will stop Kaecilius."

"Any hints?" Mordo asked.

A bell, like some great clock or church bell, clanged above them. "London," Wong said.

The door to the London Sanctum burst open, seconds before the London guardian stumbled out, some transparent weapon protruding from his back.

Stephen's heart stopped. "John!?"

"Kaecilius!" Wong shouted as only a great, burning gold light could be made out.

"No!" Mordo shouted.

An explosion sent Stephen flying back. He barely felt doors give at his back before he fell to the floor. Air escaped his lungs as broken masonry crashed around him. By some miracle, none hit his head or elsewhere that would have caused serious damage. Coughing, he scrambled to his feet. "Wong! Mordo!" he called, just as a stone wall replaced the water-like portal. More stone fell, chasing him out of the short hall.

He stumbled into a large foyer. He absently noted stinging pain on both cheeks and on his forehead. Not too bad as it didn't feel as though more than a trickle of blood was coming out of them. But his head and ears. They were ringing from the explosion, making it difficult to think straight, to move without stumbling.

Somehow, he managed to keep his feet as he reached the outer door, hoping for some sense of where he was. He found himself in daylight, thankfully cloudy for his aching head. The lazy street was somewhat familiar to him. English. He was hearing English, even if his mind wasn't willing to decipher the words. He turned back to the building he had exited. The address plate read, "177a Bleecker St."

Stephen gasped. He was in Greenwich Village, New York. He had just managed to be zapped away from Kamar-Taj on the near exact opposite side of the world. And he had no idea if he was the lone survivor or not.

Author's Note: For the record, Wong surprised me too. I had not expected that confession while I was racing toward my November goal. But then it turned into a heartfelt moment and I couldn't turn that down. Especially considering what's coming up.

For those wondering, in the current world Stephen is in, John Watson is not the guardian of the London Sanctum. John and Sherlock are merely literary characters here. But fear and lack of sleep can lead to some confusion. Besides, I could never be that cruel. . . . Right? A part of me doesn't want to answer that.

So, the attacks upon the Sanctums have begun. Theories as to how they'll play out?