Demon King of Time in Marvel

Chapter 22 - The Sanctum's Gate

The keep hummed a low tone, indicating their arrival. The door materialized in a New York alleyway.

Observing the street, Devon confirmed they were in 1996. Passersby sported high-waisted jeans, oversized flannels, and chunky sneakers. The air reeked of hot dog vendors and exhaust fumes. Car horns, chatter, and distant sirens filled the air.

Devon had chosen this year because even his own timeline was blank after 2008. As he and Shuri walked the streets, they attracted curious gazes, their attire giving onlookers a sense of nobility. Ah, the perks of being well dressed.

They reached Bleecker Street. Now, where's the sanctum? 221B? Isn't that 'the' detective's address? For all his powers, he had no way to directly detect a place hidden by magic.

"So, how are we going to find the sanctum?" Shuri asked.

"Let's wait," Devon replied. "The Ancient One should know we're here. She's probably preparing a… welcoming committee."

An hour passed. Crows cawed overhead. "So," Shuri asked, taking a bite of a hot dog (don't ask where she got the money), "when do you think they'll arrive?"

Could it be that she doesn't know? Maybe, my temporal powers stop her from seeing my future. But she should still have different methods. I am pretty sure I classify as a multiversal threat. So why is no one here?

Devon decided to take a different approach. He focused his power, sending a wave of golden energy that encompassed a single block of Bleecker Street. Time within the field froze: pedestrians mid-stride, cars suspended in motion, the air still and silent. The rest of the city continued on, oblivious. Magic interacts with reality, and reality is bound by time. But time happens to be my domain.

Shuri stared at the frozen scene, her jaw dropped. "Devon! What did you do? Did you just—freeze time? On an entire block? Are you insane?"

"Getting her attention," Devon replied, his voice calm. "This should be enough of a… disturbance to warrant a visit."

He examined the frozen block. A temporal distortion of such magnitude should do the trick. If she is half as powerful as I think she is she would know.

Devon scanned the street, his precognitive senses picking up subtle magical residue emanating from a specific building a few blocks away. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there. That's it, he thought, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He turned to Shuri. "Looks like we have our destination," he said, pointing down the street.

As they began to walk, a ripple distorted the air around them. The very fabric of reality seemed to waver for a moment. Mordo materialized seemingly out of thin air, his dark green robes flowing around him. His eyes, however, weren't focused on Devon or Shuri. They were fixed on the block behind them, where the air shimmered with an almost invisible energy.

His expression tightened, a mixture of concern and disapproval etched on his face. He recognized the signs: a significant manipulation of time. "You seek the Ancient One," Mordo said, his voice clipped and formal, his gaze shifting to Devon. "I have been instructed to escort you." He gestured down a nearby alleyway, where a shimmering portal had materialized, barely visible against the brick walls. He did not elaborate further, his gaze returning to the shimmering block with undisguised scrutiny.

Mordo turned and walked briskly down the narrow alleyway, the sounds of Bleecker Street fading behind them. The air grew noticeably colder, and the shadows deepened, swallowing the sunlight. Shuri shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. She glanced at Devon, who remained impassive, his gaze fixed on Mordo's back.

At the end of the alley, a shimmering portal hung in the air, its edges rippling like heat haze. Mordo stopped before it, his expression unchanging. "This is the way," he said, his voice flat.

They stepped through the portal, and the world shifted around them. The alleyway vanished, replaced by a vast, circular chamber. The air was still and silent, the only sound a faint hum that seemed to resonate from the very walls. Intricate carvings adorned the stone surfaces, depicting celestial bodies, ancient symbols, and scenes of mystical power. The chamber was filled with strange artifacts: glowing orbs, ancient scrolls, and objects that defied description. Devon felt a prickling sensation on his skin, the distinct feeling of being watched.

As Devon and Shuri took in the surroundings, a soft light emanated from the center of the chamber, illuminating a raised platform. Standing there, seemingly materializing from the shadows, was the Ancient One. She was dressed in simple robes, her face etched with the wisdom of centuries. Her eyes, however, held a sharp intelligence, observing them with a knowing gaze.

"Welcome." the Ancient One said, her voice calm and resonant, echoing through the chamber.

"Devon" Devon replied, confirming his suspicion of not being able to divine his future. So, she can't see my future.

The Ancient One's lips curved into a subtle, almost imperceptible smile. "Indeed. It is… unusual. A disruption in the natural flow of time, perhaps. Or perhaps, you are a being outside of its influence entirely. Your method of announcing your arrival was certainly… effective. Which suggests an attempt to communicate. So what is it you seek Devon?"

"I seek the Time Stone," Devon stated plainly.

The Ancient One's smile vanished, her expression becoming serious. "The Time Stone is a sacred responsibility. Your… demonstration on Bleecker Street suggests a willingness to manipulate time with little regard for its delicate balance. Why would you seek such a powerful artifact? Is it merely for the sake of wielding its power?"

"I've already wielded a Time Stone," Devon countered, his voice steady. "I understand its power, and I understand its limitations. I know it's useless outside its native universe."

The Ancient One's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "You have wielded a Time Stone? That is… most unusual. Such an artifact chooses its wielder carefully. What became of it?"

"I threw it away," Devon stated clearly, "The reason I need yours is because I believe it can restore what once was lost. A life. Not by rewriting history but just by returning stolen time."

A flicker of sadness crossed the Ancient One's face. "And who was this life, Devon?" she asked gently.

"Her name was Lily," Devon replied, his voice barely a whisper, a raw emotion barely contained within him.

He looked up, meeting the Ancient One's gaze. "In the whole multiverse, time itself was fractured. A being stole time, not just from events, but from individuals. Lily was one of them. Her body died, but her time… it was taken."

Shuri, who had been listening intently, gasped softly. She looked at Devon, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and concern. Lily. Who was Lily? Someone Devon cared deeply about, clearly. But what had happened to her? "Devon… I didn't know…"

Devon offered her a small, sad smile. "There are many things you don't know, Shuri." He turned back to the Ancient One. "I've seen the consequences. I've seen what it does to a person, to a timeline. In another universe, I found answers. I learned that it is possible to restore stolen time, to return what was taken. In Aethel, I… I was able to create a new vessel for her. A new body."

The Ancient One's eyes widened slightly. "A new vessel? You speak of resurrection, Devon. A feat thought to be impossible."

"Not impossible," Devon countered. "Just… complex. I have the vessel. I have her consciousness. All that's missing is the time that was stolen from her. I believe your Time Stone can provide that. It can return the stolen time, allowing me to restore her fully."

The Ancient One remained silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on Devon, as if trying to discern the truth in his words. Then, she spoke, her voice low and resonant. "You ask for a great deal, Devon. To restore a life is to alter the very fabric of time, to create ripples that could have unforeseen consequences. Such an act cannot be taken lightly." She paused, her gaze shifting to Shuri, then back to Devon. "I understand your desire, your… grief. But I must be certain of your resolve. Do you understand the weight of what you ask?, are you prepared to accept the consequences? whatever they may be."

The air in the Sanctum shimmered, and the very structure of the chamber seemed to shift and change around them. The Ancient One raised her hand, and the room was filled with visions of branching timelines, each one a potential future, each one a consequence of a single choice. "Show me, Devon," she said, her voice echoing through the shifting realities. "Show me that you are worthy of this power. Show me that you understand the cost."

Devon met her gaze, his expression unwavering. "I understand the cost," he said, his voice low and resonant, echoing the power that thrummed within him. "I've lived it."

The Ancient One's expression remained calm, but her eyes held a deep intensity. "I see that you possess a profound understanding of time, Devon. Your… demonstration on Bleecker Street was a testament to your power. But power without wisdom is a dangerous thing."

The Sanctum began to tremble, the carvings on the walls glowing with an intense light. The very air crackled with energy, and the shifting realities became more chaotic and unpredictable. This was no longer a simple demonstration; it was a containment field, designed to hold Devon's immense power.

"You seek to restore a life," the Ancient One continued, her voice echoing through the turbulent Sanctum. "A noble goal, perhaps. But to do so would create ripples that could unravel the very fabric of reality."

"I'm not trying to unravel anything," Devon countered, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "I'm trying to fix what was broken. Time was stolen, and I intend to return it. I will not let her remain lost."

The Sanctum reached a peak of instability, the visions swirling and merging, creating a chaotic tapestry of potential futures. The Ancient One and Devon stood face to face, their wills locked in a silent struggle, the fate of countless realities hanging in the balance.