The Dark Void
Kaecilius and his Zealots plummeted through an endless abyss, crashing onto the deck of a vast, otherworldly warship. Disoriented, Kaecilius pushed himself up, his mind racing.
"Where… is this?" His voice was tense, his body instinctively poised for battle.
A figure loomed above him, seated upon a grand throne of celestial design. Beside him stood a radiant angelic being, her presence exuding an unnatural, divine aura.
Kaecilius's breath caught as he met the piercing gaze of the throne's occupant—Ragna.
"I simply wanted to see," Ragna said casually, "if the Ancient One would have perished without your interference." His golden eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And if she doesn't die… will she succumb to darkness instead?"
Kaecilius shuddered. He had spent years seeking forbidden knowledge, yet this man radiated an authority beyond anything he had ever encountered.
"You… are you a god?" Kaecilius whispered, his gaze flickering toward the angel beside Ragna. The presence of such a celestial being made his knees weak.
Ragna's lips curled into an amused smile.
"God?" he mused. "Is that what you seek?"
Kaecilius clenched his fists. "If you are, then grant all of humanity eternal life!" His voice was fervent, desperate.
From the beginning, Kaecilius had never sought power for himself. He had turned to the Dark Dimension and Dormammu not to rule, but to liberate. To free mankind from the chains of time, from the agony of inevitable decay.
Dormammu's realm—the Dark Dimension—was a place where time held no dominion, where existence could stretch into infinity.
Ragna's gaze darkened.
"What is life?" he murmured. "What is eternity?"
The throne room seemed to pulse with an unseen energy.
"Time… never truly existed," he continued. "It is an illusion—a measure created by mortal minds to make sense of change. In truth, nothing is eternal. Even the universe itself will one day collapse."
He leaned forward.
"Dormammu is not eternal."
Kaecilius's eyes widened.
"He thrives on the fear of death, feeding off the dread of mortals who seek refuge in his darkness. That is his power—his 'immortality' is merely a cycle of consumption."
Ragna's voice turned cold. "If you wish for a form of eternity, I can grant it."
A flick of his hand, and the air shimmered with arcane force.
"I can turn you to stone, a sculpture untouched by time, existing for countless millennia." His golden eyes bore into Kaecilius. "Is that the 'eternity' you seek?"
Kaecilius fell silent, his earlier conviction wavering.
Ragna smirked.
He gestured toward his angelic companion, who moved swiftly, binding Kaecilius and the Zealots in radiant energy.
"The knowledge you hold… the dark power within you…" Ragna murmured. "They interest me."
His gaze flickered, distant, contemplative.
Dormammu.
A being who defied time. A creature whose power grew stronger the more humans feared death.
Was fear the source of Dormammu's strength?
Was his Dark Dimension merely a construct of collective belief?
Why did he crave Earth above all worlds?
And most intriguingly—why was Dormammu unaffected by the Time Stone?
Did his mind exist beyond the flow of time?
Or had he reached a state where he was permanently fixed—untouchable by temporal forces?
Ragna's fingers tapped lightly on his throne.
He intended to find out.
With a simple wave, Kaecilius and his followers vanished. Their fates were sealed.
But back on Earth, Strange's journey was far from over.
New York Sanctum
The abrupt disappearance of Kaecilius and his Zealots left Daniel Drumm, the guardian of the New York Sanctum, still standing—alive.
Then, Ancient One and Mordo materialized within the Sanctum's hall.
Strange turned to them, his face pale. "Kaecilius twisted space and reality like it was nothing… he wiped out the Sanctum's defenses in an instant… and then—" He gestured to the empty air where the Zealots had been. "Just like that, they were gone."
His voice trembled. "What's happening? First Dormammu, then that man in the Mirror Dimension… and now this?"
His fingers absently touched the Eye of Agamotto hanging around his neck. The relic felt heavier than before.
Mordo frowned. "How could Kaecilius and his Zealots just vanish?"
He clenched his fists. Kaecilius had already overwhelmed the Sanctum's defenders—his victory was inevitable. So why did he disappear?
Ancient One remained silent, her expression unreadable.
Then, softly, she spoke:
"I believe I know where they went."
Mordo's eyes narrowed. "Who took them?"
Ancient One exhaled. "For now, that does not matter. What matters is that while Kaecilius may not return, his followers remain."
Her gaze shifted to Strange.
"Daniel Drumm can no longer guard the Sanctum alone. You must take responsibility."
Strange's expression darkened. His voice was firm. "No."
Ancient One raised an eyebrow.
"I'm a doctor," Strange continued, his voice rising. "I don't want to be part of some mystical war! I don't want to hurt anyone!"
Mordo scowled.
Strange's hands trembled slightly as he clenched them. "I took an oath—to save lives, not destroy them."
Ancient One's eyes flashed with something between disappointment and understanding.
"You became a doctor for one reason," she said coolly.
"To save yourself."
Strange flinched.
"You fear your own mortality," she continued. "Your arrogance tells you that you must control everything—even death itself."
A heavy silence filled the room.
Strange's jaw tightened. "Then what about Dormammu?" he muttered. "Doesn't he control death? He grants immortality! I saw the missing pages!"
He glared at her. "And you… why are you immortal?"
Ancient One's expression shifted—briefly, almost imperceptibly.
She had planned to awaken Strange's potential through her eventual death.
But Ragna's interference had disrupted her vision of the future.
"You know, don't you?" Strange pressed. "You're dying."
Mordo inhaled sharply. "No… that's impossible."
His trust in the Ancient One was absolute. The thought of her perishing was unthinkable.
Ancient One's voice softened.
"No one lasts forever."
Mordo took a step forward, his expression desperate. "But you're the Sorcerer Supreme! You've lived for centuries! How can you—"
Ancient One shook her head.
Strange scoffed bitterly. "So that mysterious man was right." He yanked the Eye of Agamotto from his neck, throwing it toward her.
"Take it. I don't want it. I can't keep it. I'm just a doctor."
His voice cracked. His hands—his once-precise, life-saving hands—shook.
Ancient One caught the relic effortlessly.
She gazed at Strange with quiet understanding.
"You are no longer just a doctor," she said. "Look at yourself. The Cloak of Levitation chose you. You are a sorcerer now."
She stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm.
"Saving lives is still your duty. But tell me, Strange… is saving one life more important than saving millions?"
She held out the Eye of Agamotto once more.
"You can choose. Walk away, return to your old life… or step forward, and dedicate yourself to something greater."
Strange remained silent.
The weight of the world had never felt heavier.
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