Chapter Text
He had done this a million times. His will and knowledge and expertise, all of which sharpened into one fine-cutting scalpel. An incision here, an incision there. Sometimes the man wondered if there was any difference between the two arts he had been acclaimed for in his life.
“By the winds of Munipoor, the bindings of Cyttorak and the ever watchful eyes of the Vishanti, I condemn thee to nether realms on the forever dead currents of the River Cryx.”
And just like that. The power of the Ancients flowed through him. With a precise gesture. The most precise ones always came from performing these banishments. These dark arts. He almost wished he could hold a real scalpel with this amount of precision again.
As the vile assortment of goop and eyes vanished into whirlpool of dead water, Doctor Stephen Strange’s hands began shaking once more as the power of magic ebbed within him. Even a simple gesture as fixing his hair became a task when all but the roughest of motions had been left to your hand muscles.
“That will be that then. I will have to check if the Nyctorial Entity has been properly chained to the bottom of the river. I pay good infernal coin to the ferryman to help me keep count of these multidimensional beasts. Some of these are just impossible to keep in the physical realm.”
As he channeled the powers that be for another time, his form folded on itself, almost immediately unfolding inside the deepest room of the Sanctum Sanctorum.
“Sir. I received a message through the Orb of Agamotto.”
The familiar voice didn’t even make Strange flinch. The bald Chinese man named Wong was such a vital part of his life that if he were ever to disappear, it’d feel like the Sorcerer Supreme had once again lost his hands. With a simple nod as he floated back to the ground, Stephen allowed the helper to continue.
“The Nyctorial Entity you just banished has been secured in Cryx. The ferryman once again tried to bargain for a raise in interest. I…. kindly declined and reminded him of who owed their life to who.”
That made Strange crack a small, almost non-unnoticeable smile. Wong was an impressive man who had proven himself a veritably great amount of times and he had not disappointed the good doctor this or any other time.
“Very well. I’m feeling slightly famished. Maybe we could eat something? As long as it’s not made of goop or involves eyeballs. I’ve had much of that today.”
“I recall we still had some craftian octopus tentacles in the fridge. With eggs of demon sturgeon and harpy’s blood, perhaps?”
Strange’s stomach took the moment to pronounce itself in favor of that before he could even express his agreement. It felt weird that he desired such an odd dish but that was how the life of a magician went, especially so of one Sorcerer Supreme. He gave a short cough.
“That would be most appreciated. Make the eggs half-boiled, if you could. I will peer through the veil of the Orb. Come for me when it is ready.”
As he finished, once again the doctor began floating, crossing his legs, the Orb of Agamotto’s mists beginning to move within.
“Yes sir.”
“Wong?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“I only do what is my life-bound duty to perform.”
With that, Wong retreated out of the chamber as the sorcerer focused on the glowing glass sphere. Almost as soon as he had gone, the images cleared and the doctor’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be…
“Hoary hosts…. This cannot be.”
That was all that looped on his mind as floated perfectly still, his body becoming rigid as stone, a wisp of blue light exiting his body and fading out of existence. Upon arriving at the dimension that worried him, the wisp expanded to represent his regular astral projection.
Investigating the area around him, it took less time for Stephen to find what had appalled him so. Fire in the heavens. Envoys of Mephisto? Dormammu’s guard demons? Or maybe some new foe? Little mattered as he took the case in his hands. The same motions activated the flow of power that his words unleashed as stood between an army of purple horned creatures who breathed fire and spat venom and their target.
“The blessings of Seraphim that repel the vile and the pungent stench of evil protect us with the strength of a thousand fold.”
As the sigils appeared on his hands, the dome of pure light rose and enveloped the city. That should protect the folks enough for them to escape, as long as he maintained some focus.
But that’s when it all came to a head. There was nothing behind him. No city being terrorized. Just a simple shining void. A small shake brought him to the reality of the situation. He wasn’t supposed to feel the limitations of his crippled body in this form, but there it was.
The demons had somehow broken through the Seraphim’s shield he had conjured. There was no time for fancy conjurations, or the use of the Eye of Agamotto to unveil the truth. The doctor was forced into a fight or flight situation, and his hands flicked into magic bolt shooting mode. With an ear shattering cry, Strange saw life going in slow motion as what had been bothering his mind finally dropped on his head. Floating on the shiny void, the sight of demons disappeared and shifted back to one of finely-winged forms, as pure white feathers blew over him.
And that was when the doctor found himself being brought back to his body. Opening his physical eyes, he felt his hands shaking and his body laid on the floor. He felt weaker than ever. Looking up, he could tell the aide who always took care of him was clearly worried about his state.
“I ran up as soon as I heard your fall, sir. What happened? What’s going on out there? Is it a new foe? Or perhaps another dreaded plan from Dormammu himself?”
Stephen Strange looked upon his long-standing partner and friend’s eyes, distress clearly leaving its marks.
“I… I can’t… I can’t feel their power anymore.”
“Whose? What happened?”
In his mind’s eye, Strange replayed the scene multiple times. Beyond the illusion he was led to see, it was clear now. The Sorcerer Supreme had murdered one of the Seraphim in cold blood.