Clea was bleeding. Both her own blood and magic.

She had lost in a fight with Dormammu, her own uncle, as Sorcerer Supreme. She couldn't protect the inhabitants of the Dark Dimension, her people. Especially not in this weakened state.

Clea was growing weaker by the second, she could feel it. She could feel her magic escaping.

There was only one person who could help her now.

Breathing heavily, she sat down. She crossed her legs. And she began to meditate.

Normally, Clea wouldn't have any problem astral projecting, but it took all she had to concentrate, to try and reach out -

No. It wasn't working and she didn't have the time to make it work.

She had to do a spell of teleportation.

Using what magic she could, while simultaneously trying to hold onto consciousness, she cast her spell.

'I'm surprised you wanted to come over, Peter,' said Stephen.

'No, I always love being attacked by the weird magical entities hanging around the Sanctum Sanctorum, Doc,' said Peter.

'It's been a slow day today,' said Stephen, 'so I doubt anything will attack you.'

'A slow day, huh.' Peter shrugged. 'Must be nice,' he said, a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

'On the contrary, I'm quite concerned. On a day with little magical… goings on, something big must be happening. And quite soon.'

'Or maybe it just means you get a day off,' Peter put his hand on Stephen's arm. 'Think about it. You get a movie marathon to watch… I dunno. Harry Potter?'

Stephen raised an eyebrow. 'Because I'm a sorcerer you assume I like Harry Potter?'

Peter shrugged. 'Well, doesn't everyone like Harry Potter?'

Yes, Stephen was well aware of Harry Potter. He had all seven books in his library - all first editions, of course. But he'd never read them all the way through - he never had the time. Zelma probably had, and he knew Rintrah definitely had. With Wong though, that went either way.

'I wouldn't know. I haven't read them,' said Stephen.

'You haven't read -?' Peter asked incredulously. 'Oh man, Doc, you really need to read those books. You can borrow mine if you want.'

'No, that's quite alright,' said Stephen. 'I have my own copies.' Or did Clea take them with her to the Dark Dimension the last time she visited? 'So, Peter, what brings you to the Sanctum today?'

'Uh, nothing really,' said Peter. He produced an envelope and handed it to Stephen. 'Iron Man wanted me to give you this, so…'

With a trembling hand, Stephen took the envelope and opened it. 'Ah. Tony Stark is hosting a Halloween Party.' He looked up at Peter. 'Well, you can tell him that I'm grateful for the invitation, but I'm afraid I have to decline again this year. Halloween is a very busy night for magical occurrences and I must be around to protect Earth.'

'Sure. I'll let him know you can't make it, Doc,' said Peter. 'What about his Christmas party?'

'I'll think about that closer to Christmas,' said Stephen.

He had been to a few Avengers Christmas Parties. They were all lavish affairs with lots of food, alcohol, and seemingly endless games of Twister, but he never really enjoyed them. He preferred to sit back and relax; meditating in his library, learning from the Book of Vishanti, catching up with other Sorcerers Supreme, drinking alone, or watching It's A Wonderful Life on TV with Wong. Parties weren't his thing. They were Tony Stark's thing, and he respected that. But he didn't like them.

Peter shrugged. 'Whatever you say, Doc,' he said. 'Now I've gotta deliver the rest of these invites. Hopefully I can stop a few mugging or something along the way. Friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man and all that.'

'Alright. Good luck with that, Peter,' said Stephen.

'… Is Wong gonna be showing me to the door?'

'No. He's not here at the moment. He's away.'

'Where?'

'I believe, Peter, that's Wong's business,' said Stephen.

Peter nodded. 'Okay. Fair.'

Stephen walked to the door and opened it. 'Goodbye, Peter.'

'See ya, Stephen,' said Peter. He walked out the door and Stephen shut it behind him.

'Who was that?' asked Zelma, as she walked over to Stephen.

'That was Spider-Man,' said Stephen. 'Came to deliver an invite to Tony Stark's Halloween Party.' He held up the invitation in his trembling hand.

Zelma snatched the invite from him. 'Wow. I'm actually surprised Tony Stark doesn't send out e-vites. Seems to me for sure like the kind of guy who would.'

'Well. Tony Stark can be a really weird guy sometimes,' said Stephen. 'He calls me his "facial hair bro".'

'Well, are you?' asked Zelma.

'Am I what?' asked Stephen. 'Going to the party? No I am not. I have bigger things to do that night.'

'Drinking at that sorcerers only tiki dive bar, I know. But are you Tony Stark's facial hair bro?' asked Zelma.

Stephen sighed, clearly not wanting to answer the question. 'I think the physical invitations are for those who don't have email. Not every superhero has one. The whole digital footprint and not wanting to be found thing. So Tony probably thinks that because I'm a magician, I don't have email. Either that or he doesn't have my email address.'

'You didn't answer the question, Stephen,' said Zelma.

'I'm going to…' Stephen mumbled something incoherently. '… uh, Bats.'

And with that, he walked away, leaving Zelma giggling to herself.

As Stephen walked through the Sanctum Sanctorum, Wong emerged from one of the magical doorways.

'How was your trip to Kamar-Taj?' asked Stephen.

'Everything went well,' said Wong with a nod of his head. 'No magical disasters to speak of.'

Stephen hummed. 'I just can't shake this feeling, Wong, that something big is happening. I can feel it, but I can't tell where it's coming from. If it isn't Manhattan, Kamar-Taj, the Temple of Watoomb… could it be Asgard? Is it Loki?'

'Stephen, what happened while I was gone?' Wong asked, changing the subject.

'Spider-Man came by inviting me to Iron Man's Halloween party later this month,' said Stephen. 'But you don't have to change the subject. I'm very concerned - what if it's another threat to magic, like the Empirikul? Our enemies might already be here and I can't detect them.' He sighed. 'I'm going to the library to meditate on this.'

'Oh. Okay. So I take it you won't want dinner,' said Wong. 'Good luck meditating. I hope you find the answers you seek.'

Stephen nodded. 'Thank you, my friend.' He turned away from Wong and kept walking.

'Stephen.' It was Bats, the ghost basset hound. 'There's an intruder.'

Stephen stood upright, fixing himself into a fighting stance. 'Where?' he demanded.

'The library,' said Bats. 'I don't know what's going on or how they got here - I thought this place was supposed to be magically fortified or something.'

'It is, Bats!' Stephen ran down the hall to the library, the ghost following close behind. He burst into the library, fingers ready to cast a spell…

Then he saw it.

A body. Lying on the floor.

He turned to the dog. 'You said there was an intruder.'

Bats looked over at the body and then at Stephen. 'Didn't look like that when I was here. There was a lot of screeching, fire, and arms flailing and stuff.'

Stephen shook his head, lowered his hands, and went over to the body. He touched it.

Still warm.

Still… bleeding.

Bodies don't bleed. Not like that.

'By the Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth,' Stephen said. He turned the body over, confirming his suspicions. Still alive. And… was that…?

No.

No it couldn't be.

'WONG! ZELMA! GET HERE NOW!' he shouted, his voice shaky and full of panic.

The body in front of him.

That was the Sorcerer Supreme of the Dark Dimension.

That was his estranged wife.

That was Clea.

'Stephen…'

'Shh, no, it's okay, save your energy,' said Stephen, taking Clea's bloody hand in his.

Wong ran into the library. 'Stephen? What's wrong?'

'It's Clea.'

Wong had no reaction to seeing Clea bleeding out in front of him in Stephen's library. Or rather he did, but he didn't show it. 'What happened?' he asked calmly.

'Dormammu,' Clea mumbled. 'He… did this.'

'Clea -'

'He… don't let him.'

'What's he doing?' asked Stephen.

Zelma stood in the doorway and yelped, covering her mouth.

'He's after…' Clea grabbed Stephen's tunic. 'You must save… our child…'

Before Stephen could even respond, Clea slipped into unconsciousness.

Stephen felt for a pulse on Clea's neck and turned to Wong. 'Wong, make an urgent call to Linda,' he said, doing his best to try and maintain a calm composure, only his voice betrayed him.

Wong nodded and hurried off.

'Stephen, you, uh, you didn't tell me you had kids.' said Zelma.

Stephen looked at his bleeding and battered estranged wife lying in front of him, who'd come to him in her hour of need, wondering why she would say that?

'I don't.'

Title is from the Bruce Springsteen song Darkness on the Edge of Town.