Hey guys sorry for the wait, I was in the hospital for a couple of days. BUT I am doing better!
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Abel looked down at the two unconscious sorcerers sprawled on the alley ground.
They weren't weak. That was the thing. They had training, experience, actual skill. The problem was that they'd made assumptions. They'd focused entirely on Daniel at first—he was the one wearing Kamar-Taj's robes, the one with obvious magical presence. They'd dismissed Abel as some younger, less experienced sorcerer in a hooded cloak.
And the narrow alley had worked against them. No room to create distance, no room to dodge effectively. Facing an unfamiliar magic system while compressed into tight quarters? Their performance had degraded badly.
But still. They'd been decent enough in a normal situation. If they'd had room to move, if they hadn't underestimated Abel...
He wasn't going to lie to himself though. His casting speed, accuracy, and battlefield judgment were all significantly worse than they'd been in his previous life. The comfortable life, the stable routine—it had made him slack. He needed to fix that.
"What should we do with them?" Abel asked Daniel quietly. "We can't just leave them here. If they wake up and leave, they'll just go back to doing the same thing to other people."
"You're right," Daniel agreed. His expression had shifted to something more serious. "These two are serious threats if they're left to wander around. Even if they don't know your appearance, sorcerers have methods. We need to handle this properly."
"I can bring them to Kamar-Taj," Daniel continued. "The Ancient One can decide what to do with them. We have a place called the Mirror Cage—a prison specifically built for sorcerers who've committed crimes or made serious mistakes. They'll belong there."
"Mirror Cage?" Abel had no memory of that name. He wasn't sure if he'd forgotten something from his previous life or just never known it.
"It's a dimensional prison," Daniel explained. "Sorcerers who abuse magic, who prey on others, or who violate our laws—they end up there. It keeps them contained and prevents them from harming anyone else."
Daniel opened a portal with a smooth gesture, and the two of them grabbed the unconscious sorcerers. The portal led directly back to the Sanctuary—apparently, as the guardian, Daniel had the authority to open portals to Kamar-Taj locations that even senior students like Kaecillius didn't have access to.
When they arrived back at the Sanctuary, Kaecillius was there to greet them. He took one look at the two bodies and his expression shifted to curiosity.
"Sorcerer Daniel, what's the situation here?"
"These two operate in the Black Cauldron," Daniel said calmly. "They specialize in blackmailing and robbing younger sorcerers. I was going to take them to the Mirror Cage."
Kaecillius nodded with understanding. "I see. Actually, I'm heading back to Kamar-Taj anyway. I can take them directly—you and Sorcerer Abel have other matters to attend to. No need to waste time on the trip."
"That's really kind of you. Thank you."
Kaecillius accepted the two bodies, and Abel watched as he made precise hand gestures—some kind of mudra—that formed a circle made of fire filaments. The circle lifted both sorcerers gently and Kaecillius stepped into a fixed portal between the Sanctuary and Kamar-Taj, disappearing with his prisoners.
"Kaecillius seems like a genuinely good person," Abel said, watching the portal close. "Very... principled."
"He was a psychologist before he came to Kamar-Taj," Daniel replied. "He has real ideals. Wants to make the world better. That kind of drive is admirable."
Abel nodded, but he was thinking something else. People with strong ideals were dangerous when they got corrupted. The brighter the light, the darker the shadow it could cast.
But that was a problem for another day. For now, Kaecillius was still good. No point borrowing trouble.
"I should head out," Abel said. "Nothing else to handle here?"
"No, we're good. See you the day after tomorrow?"
"Yeah. See you then."
Abel left the Sanctuary with his backpack and caught the subway home. While he was on the train, scrolling through his phone, a news headline caught his attention:
[TONY STARK SUCCESSFULLY RESCUED FROM MIDDLE EAST - Governments Credit Military Response - Businessman Returns Safe Amid International Praise]
Abel read the article quickly. Stark had been captured by terrorists, and apparently, he'd been rescued by military operations. The governments were falling over themselves to take credit, but reading between the lines, it was pretty clear that Stark himself had engineered his escape somehow.
That made sense. Stark was a genius engineer. Of course he'd figure out a way out of a terrorist camp.
But this moment—Stark surviving captivity, Stark building something that allowed him to escape—this was the beginning. This was the bell that signaled the start of everything. The moment Tony Stark decided to change, the world changed with him.
The age of superheroes was dawning.
Abel's life would continue. He had his plans, his goals, his timeline. But the MCU was accelerating now, and he'd need to adjust accordingly.
It was the understanding of consequence that stuck with Abel as he rode home from the Sanctuary. Everything was accelerating. The timeline was speeding up.
He had time. But not as much as he'd thought.
Friday evening, Abel came home and went through the familiar motions. He put his school materials away carefully, showered, and changed into something decent—nothing fancy, just clean clothes that didn't scream "just fought two sorcerers in an alley." Then he found Theresa in the kitchen, already working on something.
"Hey, Mom. Sean's having people over tonight."
Theresa looked up from her cutting board, raising an eyebrow. "Sean's party? The one you've been refusing for the past two months?"
"Yeah, well. I couldn't say no this time."
Theresa smiled—the knowing smile of someone who'd watched her son isolate himself for months while she pretended not to notice. "Good. You need to spend time with people your own age." She wiped her hands on a towel. "When do you need to leave?"
"Around seven."
"Alright. Give me twenty minutes. I'll make something you can bring."
Abel watched as Theresa moved into full chef mode—not her professional three-star restaurant mode, but something warmer. Her home cooking mode. She worked quickly, with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what she was doing, preparing two dishes that were both impressive and unpretentious. Authentic american pie home cooked, the kind that made people actually appreciate what they were eating instead of just showing off.
"These are for sharing," Theresa said, carefully arranging the food in containers.
"Thanks, Mom."
"And Abel?" Theresa fixed him with that look mothers have. "Enjoy yourself. You don't have to solve the world's problems tonight."
He took the containers and headed out around six-thirty, riding his new bike—a replacement for the one that had been destroyed by Amensa's power. The new bike was reliable, nothing special, just functional. Sometimes that was enough.
Sean's house was in one of those neighborhoods where the homes were individually designed showpieces. Not cookie-cutter suburbs, but actual wealth expressed through architectural choice. The house itself was a one-family residence that probably cost more than most people's college education. Large, well-maintained, with a driveway that currently held several cars.
Abel knew Sean's parents weren't home. His father was white, his mother was Black, and apparently they had weekend plans. Which meant Sean had the perfect setup for a party—the whole house to himself, with no parental oversight.
When Abel arrived, Sean was already at the front door, greeting people as they showed up. He wore the easy confidence of someone hosting in his own space, casually directing people where to put their shoes, their jackets, where the food went.
When Sean spotted Abel pulling up on the bike, his entire face transformed. He excused himself from whoever he was talking to and literally jogged over.
"Abel! You actually came! I thought you were gonna ghost me again!" Sean grabbed him in an enthusiastic hug, completely unbothered by Abel's general discomfort with physical affection. "Dude, I've been asking you to parties forever and you kept saying no. I was starting to think you hated me."
"I don't hate you," Abel said. "Just... been busy."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You're here now and that's what matters." Sean's eyes landed on the containers Abel was carrying. "Please tell me you brought actual food and not like, store-bought stuff."
"My mom made some pie."
Sean's expression became almost religious. "Theresa made it? Dude. You're a legend. Come on, let me take these." He gently extracted the containers from Abel's hands. "Everyone's already inside. We've got drinks, snacks, the whole thing. But honestly, real food is going to blow everyone's minds."
There were actual cheers from inside.
The house smelled like a mix of people, cologne, some kind of expensive candle, and the faint suggestion of expensive snacks. Music played from somewhere—something current and upbeat. He could see classmates scattered throughout the living room, some sitting, some standing in conversation clusters, all that particular kind of teenage social choreography where everyone was relaxed but also very aware of who was looking at whom.
It was so aggressively normal. So far removed from mirror cages and sorcerer battles and the beginning of revolution.
"Come on," Sean said, already dragging him toward the kitchen. "Let me show you where everything is. And then you can actually meet some people instead of just sitting alone like an old man like you always do."
For the next hour, Abel found himself doing something he hadn't done in months: being a normal teenager. Talking to classmates about homework and teachers and the usual complaints. Eating good food and listening to people react with genuine appreciation to Theresa's cooking. Standing in a room full of people his own age without thinking about magical systems or dimensional prisons or the birth of the superhero age.
It was strange. Not bad. Just... different.
And maybe, he thought, that was exactly what he needed.
END CHAPTER 16