The Ancient One sat quietly across from Henry, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her teacup as if the motion could guide her thoughts. She was silent for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then she finally spoke.
"Henry," she said, "I cannot make this decision for you. Matters involving the multiverse are... layered. Complicated. Sometimes even I find myself unable to interfere."
Henry had expected that answer. Still, a small part of him had hoped for something more definitive. Advice. A rule. Even a warning.
"But," the Ancient One continued, her voice soft yet firm, "while I may not be able to determine your future, perhaps I can offer something else—a bit of friendly advice."
Henry straightened slightly. "That would mean a lot."
The Ancient One placed her cup down and turned her gaze toward the sealed object between them: the Book of Darkness. Its presence radiated silent tension, like a coiled beast sleeping under a thin veil.
"Have you read it?" she asked, her tone even.
Henry nodded. "I opened it. Just one page."
"What did you feel?"
He paused for a moment before answering. "It was... alluring. Compelling. I felt a pull, like it wanted me to keep going. Like I needed to."
The Ancient One's expression darkened slightly. She nodded, unsurprised. "That is its nature. It doesn't just contain dark magic, Henry. It is dark magic. It is sentient. And it wants to be used."
She studied him closely. "How much do you know about the nature of dark power?"
Henry thought for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Only what I've read. That it devours the soul. Corrupts people. Twists their desires into something else."
The Ancient One shook her head. "You've misunderstood, like so many before you."
She stood and walked slowly toward the tall window overlooking the Kamar-Taj courtyard.
"It is not darkness that corrupts," she said softly. "It is power."
Henry raised his eyebrows.
"Whether it comes from the Book of the Vishanti or the Book of Darkness," she continued, "power is still power. When a person is given too much of it—especially without preparation—it is that which causes their fall. Not the source. That's why we prohibit our students from touching dark magic. Not because it is inherently evil, but because most souls are too fragile to withstand it."
She turned back toward him.
"If the book is able to seduce you—even a little—it means you are not yet ready to control it. Your soul is not yet strong enough to master the power inside."
Henry lowered his gaze. That made sense. It was exactly the conclusion he'd been arriving at on his own—but hearing it from her, with the weight of centuries of wisdom, made it feel absolute.
So that was the Ancient One's advice: Not now.
She wasn't saying never. She was saying wait.
"I remember reading once that the Book of the Vishanti and the Book of Darkness are meant to oppose each other," Henry said after a pause. "Would mastering one help to balance the other?"
The Ancient One gave a small, thoughtful nod. "Correct."
Henry's mind lit up.
If he could completely master the Book of the Vishanti—every ward, every protective spell, every high-order construct—and build his soul to a level of resilience, then perhaps he could eventually harness the Book of Darkness without being consumed by it. Use its power for good. Use it against evil.
Probably the same approach the Ancient One had taken herself.
But there was still one more thing that puzzled him.
"Supreme Mage," Henry said, "I have another question. It might be a bit... philosophical."
"I'm listening," she replied, returning to her seat.
"From everything I've studied," he began, "magic seems to operate through a kind of... cosmic economy. Mages don't generate power—we borrow it, right? From other realms. From beings like the Vishanti. Or Dormammu. Or even Sithorn."
The Ancient One tilted her head. "Borrow?" she echoed, a faint smile playing on her lips. "That's an interesting way to describe it."
Henry leaned in. "But isn't that what it is? We request power. We channel it. We pay for it—in some way or another. That's borrowing, isn't it?"
She nodded slowly. "You're not wrong."
"Then what happens," Henry continued, "if I borrow just a little from each of them? Every ancient being, every god—just enough that none of them notice or ask for anything back right away. What happens then?"
The Ancient One stared at him for a moment. Then she laughed.
A soft, surprised chuckle, as if she hadn't expected the question but found it amusing.
"You're thinking like a banker," she said. "I suppose I can't blame you."
She leaned forward slightly, the flickering candlelight reflecting in her eyes.
"In the end, it depends on who claims your soul when the debts come due."
Henry blinked. "What?"
"Every god who lends you power will want something in return," she explained. "Your loyalty. Your prayers. Your actions. Your soul. That is the cost. If you borrow from all of them, then eventually... they will all come to collect."
Henry's mind raced.
"So... it becomes a contest?" he asked. "Whoever has the most influence over me wins?"
The Ancient One nodded. "Exactly."
He leaned back in his seat, staring at the Book of Darkness once again.
In that case... couldn't he just keep borrowing? Stack power like chips on a table? As long as he didn't let any one god take full control, his soul would remain his own. And if he ever did owe one of them too much?
Well. He'd just borrow from someone even stronger to overwrite the debt.
It was risky.
But it was also... a strategy.
Henry looked up. "I understand now. Thank you."
The Ancient One gave a faint smile. "Then go. You have much to prepare."
Henry bowed slightly, then opened a portal and vanished from the hall.
The moment he was gone, the Ancient One exhaled deeply and closed her eyes.
"He really is blessed by the gods," she muttered.
Not long ago, she had watched Henry receive the Time Stone, a relic most could never even touch. Then came the Vishanti's attention—she could feel their magic respond to him like sunlight to a flower. And now... Sithorn himself had offered Henry the Book of Darkness.
"Chosen by two ancient gods in one lifetime," she said aloud to no one. "And still not dead. That's a record."
She rose from her cushion and gazed out the window, her mind quietly turning.
Maybe it was time.
She had lingered in Kamar-Taj for decades longer than she'd planned, watching over the world, protecting the boundaries of the multiverse. But with Henry now rising so quickly—perhaps faster than even Stephen Strange might have one day—it was becoming clear that her successor had arrived.
"I stayed behind because I thought he wouldn't be ready," she said softly. "But now... maybe I'm the one holding things back."
She sipped her tea and let the thought linger.
Then she chuckled.
"Maybe it's time I packed up and left. Or go bother the Eternal Emperor for a while."
With that, she returned to meditation, preparing for what came next.
Back in New York, Henry stepped out of the portal and into his villa. The study greeted him like an old friend—books stacked in neat rows, magical symbols glowing faintly on scrolls, and the faint scent of sandalwood still lingering from his last round of incense.
He took a deep breath, stepped inside, and sealed the room with a gesture.
It was time to train.
The Book of Darkness was locked away. For now. He knew he wasn't ready yet. But he would be. And soon.
Over the next week, Henry buried himself in study.
He read through every spell, every ritual, every line of text from the Book of the Vishanti. He expanded his mastery of time magic, refining his control over temporal manipulation, stasis fields, and predictive paths. He even opened the mirror dimension—a plane of reality where spells could be practiced without affecting the real world.
He meditated constantly, strengthening his soul, fortifying his mind.
He stopped using portals for short travel, choosing instead to walk, to build discipline.
He learned to bend light into illusions.
He cast protective wards over the entire villa.
And finally, on the seventh day, when the moon was high in the sky, Henry stood in the center of his study.
He closed his eyes.
And opened the mirror dimension with a flick of his hand.
Time to begin the next step:
The soul journey across the multiverse.
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