As Stephen stood in the chamber, his breathing steady and his gaze sharp, the Ancient One's touch lifted from his forehead. A resonant hum filled the air, low and powerful, as reality itself seemed to ripple and dissolve. The chamber faded away, replaced by a boundless void—a swirling expanse of stars, shadows, and flickering streams of light. The vastness was overwhelming, yet Stephen didn't falter. He had been here before, in another time, in another life.
He could feel them before he saw them. Their presence was immense, pressing down on him like the weight of an infinite sky. They were the Vishanti—the mystical patrons of Kamar-Taj and guardians of the balance between dimensions. Yet, for all their grandeur, they were far from unified.
"I told you he would come," came a deep, rumbling voice, heavy with the weight of ages. The stars themselves seemed to bow under the resonance of Hoggoth's words. A massive feline-like form began to take shape in the void, its fur shimmering with the colors of galaxies. His glowing, ancient eyes were like twin suns, staring down at Stephen with both curiosity and expectation.
"And I told you he had no choice," replied another voice, this one clear and cold, like the slicing wind of a high mountain peak. Oshtur emerged, her form towering and graceful, her features crystalline and sharp, a goddess-like figure of ethereal beauty. Wings of light extended from her back, spanning the void, feathers shifting and shimmering with every motion.
"Must you both bicker every time?" came a third voice, warm yet tinged with exasperation. A glowing eye opened in the void, large and radiant, and from it emerged Agamotto. His appearance was the least humanoid of the three—a shifting, spiraling entity of light and energy, with no defined form save for the constant, watchful gaze of his central eye. His voice carried both wisdom and weariness. "We agreed to see him, did we not?"
Hoggoth growled low in his throat. "Agreed or not, he is here. Let us see what this mortal would ask of us."
Oshtur tilted her head, her luminous eyes narrowing as they fixed on Stephen. "And what makes you think we owe you answers, Strange?"
Stephen exhaled slowly, meeting her piercing gaze without flinching. "You don't owe me anything, Lady Oshtur," he replied evenly, his voice steady. "But I've dealt with you before in my universe. I know how this works. If you didn't intend to give me answers, you wouldn't have agreed to this audience in the first place."
A flicker of amusement passed through Oshtur's crystalline features, while Agamotto's spiraling form pulsed faintly, as if chuckling.
"You've grown bolder, Stephen Strange," Hoggoth rumbled, his tone holding a hint of approval. "But boldness is not the same as wisdom."
"I'm not here to waste your time or mine," Stephen said firmly, standing his ground. "I want to know why I'm here. Why this universe, out of all the infinite possibilities? Was it an accident, or is there a reason?"
The three Vishanti exchanged glances—or rather, the void around them seemed to shimmer as they silently conferred. Their separate forms began to shift, blending and merging until they became a single, unified presence. Their voices, once distinct, now spoke as one, layered and harmonious, carrying the weight of eternity.
"You seek purpose," they said. "You seek understanding of your place in a world not your own. But the answers you seek are not found in the questions you ask."
Stephen frowned, his patience wearing thin. "You're speaking in riddles, as usual. If you know why I'm here, then tell me."
The Vishanti's unified form shifted, the light around them pulsing like a heartbeat. "Your arrival is tied to what you were, to what you carried. The Time Stone. Its influence lingers, even now, though it is not present here."
Stephen's jaw tightened. He'd suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed brought little comfort. "The Time Stone? It was destroyed in my universe. How can it still have influence?"
"The Stones transcend destruction," the Vishanti replied. "They are bound to the fabric of existence, to the threads of possibility that weave the multiverse together. Your bond to the Stone marked you, Stephen Strange. It is why you were brought here."
Stephen narrowed his eyes, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "That's not an answer. Why this universe? Why now?"
The Vishanti's form pulsed again, their presence growing heavier, more oppressive. "You are not asking the right questions."
Stephen's fists clenched at his sides. "Then what are the right questions? What am I supposed to be asking?"
Instead of answering, the Vishanti shifted the void around him. The swirling light and shadow coalesced into streams of images—fragments of universes, possibilities, and paths. Stephen found himself surrounded by countless versions of reality, each flickering into existence for only a moment before fading away.
He saw a world where Tony Stark fell in battle, his sacrifice ending in failure instead of hope. Another where Christine Palmer stood at an altar, marrying a Stephen. A glimpse of a universe where Kaecilius never fell, remaining a loyal disciple of the Ancient One. And then, a darker vision—a version of himself, consumed by power, his hands stained with the destruction of countless lives.
Before he could protest, the void around him shifted again, and he felt himself being pulled—not through the familiar planes of existence he knew, but through something much larger, much more profound. He was moving through universes now, their threads weaving around him, showing him glimpses of infinite possibilities.
He saw Tony Stark again—so many versions of him, some triumphant, some broken. He saw his own face in different forms: as a humble healer, as a conqueror of worlds, as a man who had sacrificed everything for the greater good. The weight of it all pressed down on him, and for a moment, he wasn't sure if he could bear it.
When he finally stopped, the Vishanti's voices returned, softer now but no less commanding. "Do not seek the answer in words, Stephen Strange. Seek it in action. In choice."
"Why show me this?"
"These are just possibilities," the Vishanti said. "What was. What is. What could yet be."
Stephen's voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "Does this universe need me?"
The Vishanti's form shimmered with something akin to amusement, though their expressionless presence gave little away. "Does this universe need you?" they echoed. "That is not for us to decide."
"Then tell me what you know," Stephen demanded, his frustration giving way to determination. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do."
The Vishanti didn't answer. Instead, the images around him began to dim, their light fading into a single, golden glow. A familiar shape emerged from the void, floating toward him with an almost reverent grace.
The Orb of Agamotto.
Stephen's breath caught as the artifact hovered before him, its surface glowing with a soft, pulsing light. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the orb's surface, and as he did, the Vishanti's voice echoed one final time.
"This universe does not need you, Stephen Strange. It deserves you."
The words reverberated through him, striking him like a physical blow and, as the surrounding void began to dissolve, he felt the weight of the Orb settle into his palm. It pulsed faintly with energy, as though alive, and he knew it wasn't just a gift—it was a responsibility.
When the vision ended, Stephen found himself back in the chamber, the murmurs of the disciples and Masters grounding him once more. The Ancient One stood before him, her gaze steady and knowing.
Stephen tightened his grip on the Orb, his mind swirling with the Vishanti's words. He didn't have all the answers—not yet. But he had a path. And for now, that was enough.
The chamber fell into a stunned silence as all eyes turned to the glowing artifact in Stephen's hands: the Orb of Agamotto. It pulsed faintly, its golden light casting soft rays that danced along the walls of the chamber. While the disciples murmured quietly amongst themselves, their voices a mixture of awe and confusion, the Masters exchanged glances, some surprised, others skeptical. The Orb was a relic of immense significance—rarely granted, and only to those deemed worthy by the Vishanti themselves.
If the Ancient One shared in their surprise, she gave no sign of it. Her expression remained serene, her posture steady. She allowed the moment to linger, the weight of what had just occurred settling over the room, before she stepped forward and resumed the ceremony without missing a beat.
"As you have all witnessed, the Vishanti have spoken," she said calmly, her voice cutting through the hushed murmurs. "Master Strange has been entrusted with the Orb of Agamotto, a mark of their faith in his wisdom and his potential. Let us honor their decision by showing him the same faith."
The murmurs quieted, and the disciples straightened, their gazes fixed on Stephen with newfound reverence. The Ancient One turned to him, her calm eyes meeting his. "Master Strange," she said, her tone inviting but firm, "do you have words you wish to share with the Order?"
Stephen hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly around the Orb. The weight of the room's attention pressed against him, but he squared his shoulders, forcing himself to focus. His journey had been long, his purpose unclear, and his place in this universe still uncertain. But here, in this moment, he felt... steady. Grounded.
"Yes," he said, his voice calm but resolute. He stepped forward, his gaze sweeping over the disciples and Masters. "I do."
The room stilled, the quiet expectant as all eyes locked onto him. Stephen took a deep breath, his fingers brushing over the Orb's surface as if drawing strength from its faint warmth.
"I stand before you today not as someone who has all the answers, but as someone who is still searching," he began, his tone carrying a quiet honesty that seemed to resonate in the room. "When I first came to the mystic arts, it was out of desperation. I was lost, angry, and clinging to the remains of a life I thought defined me. But through the guidance of others, I found a new path—a path of purpose, of learning, of understanding."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the faces before him. "That path has led me here, to this moment. And while I still search for clarity and purpose in why I was brought here, I've come to understand one thing: we do not walk this journey alone."
The disciples leaned in, their expressions ranging from thoughtful to inspired. Even some of the Masters nodded subtly, their respect for Stephen's words growing.
"I am not here to lead with perfection or to claim superiority," Stephen continued. "I am here to share what I've learned—to offer what knowledge I can to those who seek it, and to learn from all of you in return. Because it is only by supporting one another, by lifting each other up, that we can find the strength to continue. To search. To grow."
He exhaled softly, the faint flicker of a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know what lies ahead. But I do know that we are stronger together than we are apart. And I look forward to walking this path with all of you."
A quiet ripple of applause spread through the chamber—not loud or boisterous, but filled with respect and approval. The disciples exchanged glances, nodding to one another as if reassured by his words. The Masters stood a little straighter, their initial skepticism fading into something closer to acceptance.
Stephen stepped back, the Orb still glowing faintly in his hands. The Ancient One watched him, her serene expression softening ever so slightly, a faint glimmer of pride in her eyes.
"Well spoken, Master Strange," she said, inclining her head. "Your journey has brought you here for a reason. And I have no doubt that your presence will be a source of strength and wisdom for our Order."
With those final words, she raised her hands, signaling the conclusion of the ceremony. The chamber seemed to brighten, the tension in the air easing as the disciples and Masters began to murmur amongst themselves once more.
Stephen allowed himself a small, quiet sigh of relief. The ceremony was over, but his journey—his new journey—was only beginning. The Orb of Agamotto felt heavier now in his hands, not as a burden, but as a reminder of the responsibility he had chosen to accept. He glanced briefly at the Ancient One, who gave him a knowing nod before turning to speak with one of the other Masters.
As Stephen moved to step away from the center of the chamber, a disciple approached him—a young woman with wide eyes and an eager expression. "Master Strange," she said, her voice hesitant but hopeful, "your words... they were inspiring. I hope to learn from you one day."
Stephen offered her a small smile, inclining his head. "And I hope to teach. One day," he said, the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.
As she stepped back, Stephen allowed himself a moment to breathe. The Orb pulsed faintly in his hand, a quiet reassurance that he had taken the first step on this new path. Whatever came next, he would face it—not alone, but with the strength of the Order beside him.
.
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I'm tired af
Work had been hard lately with not many of us workers and more clients coming. My sister, the one I live with, has gone on a month long trip to our home country and I have to take care of her cat (name: Snoopy), so yeah, this has not been my month, at all.
I tried to write when I could but... well, I've not been really succesful. Let's hope September is easier on me now that my sister returns in two days and I don't have to take care of everything.