Tony Stark noticed Stephen Strange was missing at dinner.
Not in a dramatic way.
There was no thunder.
No magical alarm.
No disembodied voice announcing that the Sorcerer Supreme had vanished into the abyss.
There was simply an empty chair.
And somehow, that was worse.
Dinner at Stark Tower had developed a rhythm over the past few weeks.
A loud rhythm.
An exhausting rhythm.
A rhythm Tony would have denied enjoying under oath.
Peter talked too fast whenever he got excited.
Ned forgot food existed whenever someone mentioned code.
Harley stole things off everyone else's plates and called it resource redistribution.
Shuri corrected Tony's engineering terminology whenever she felt he needed humbling, which was apparently constantly.
Vision occasionally contributed something so painfully literal that everyone collapsed into laughter.
Sir Whiskers committed petty crimes beneath the table.
Friday provided commentary whether invited or not.
And Stephen...
Stephen usually appeared five minutes before dinner.
Sometimes through the elevator.
Sometimes through a portal.
Once through the pantry, which Tony still suspected had been deliberate.
He'd sweep in wearing robes or in one of Tony's increasingly suspicious collections of borrowed shirts, inspect whatever Tony had ordered like an offended food critic, ask whether the children had completed their homework, and then somehow end up sitting at Tony's right while pretending this arrangement had not become routine.
Monday evening, his chair stayed empty.
Tony looked at it once.
Then again.
Peter noticed.
"Is Doctor Strange coming?"
Tony tore a piece off his bread.
"Probably trapped in a mystical zoning meeting."
Ned looked up.
"What's mystical zoning?"
"Same as normal zoning, except the building screams when you violate regulations."
Harley snorted.
"That's not real."
Tony pointed his fork at him.
"You've known magic exists for approximately twelve minutes. You don't get to decide what isn't real anymore."
Shuri took a sip of water.
"Doctor Strange said he would return this evening."
Tony's fingers paused against his glass.
Barely.
Then continued.
"Merlin also thinks six thirty means six thirty. He's still adjusting to billionaire time."
Peter smiled.
The conversation moved on.
Tony's attention didn't.
Under the table, he opened his phone.
Dinner. You alive?
Send.
Thirty seconds.
Nothing.
Tony added:
Also, tomorrow Fury wants us to meet the Guardians of the Galaxy. Apparently there is a raccoon. I refuse to process this without wizard commentary.
Send.
Still nothing.
Tony stared at the screen.
Not strange.
Well.
Strange, technically.
But not alarming.
Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme.
His job description probably included spontaneous dimensions, cursed temples, spectral emergencies, and meetings that operated outside linear time.
Maybe he'd lost track of a few hours.
Maybe there was a demon.
Maybe Wong had dragged him into something.
Maybe Stephen was doing that thing where he meditated so hard he forgot human beings required clocks.
Tony could work with all of those.
He put the phone away.
"Harley."
Harley froze halfway through stealing one of Peter's fries.
"What?"
"Put it back."
"It's already in my mouth."
"Then reverse time."
Harley chewed very slowly.
Tony glared.
Peter laughed.
Dinner continued.
Stephen's chair remained empty.
Tony woke at 3:14 a.m.
His eyes opened.
No nightmare.
No alarm.
Just awake.
Which was worse, because when Tony's brain woke itself in the middle of the night without an immediate catastrophe, it usually intended to invent one.
He stared at the ceiling.
"Nineteen seconds," Friday said softly.
Tony frowned.
"What?"
"You have been awake for nineteen seconds, Boss."
"Stop timing my existential crises."
"My apologies."
Tony rolled onto his side.
Waited.
Then sighed.
"Did Gandalf come home?"
There was a tiny pause.
"No, Boss."
Tony's eyes opened again.
"Message?"
"No communications from Doctor Strange."
He stared into the dark.
"He probably stayed at the Sanctum."
"That is possible."
Tony hated that phrasing.
Possible.
Not likely.
Not confirmed.
Possible.
"He does that."
"Yes, Boss."
"Busy guy."
"Yes."
"Big wizard responsibilities."
"Indeed."
Tony squinted at the ceiling.
"You are being suspiciously agreeable."
"I am attempting to respect your preferred coping mechanism."
Tony sat up.
"My what?"
"Denial."
"Go to sleep, Friday."
"I do not sleep."
"Learn."
Tony dropped back onto his pillow.
Stephen was fine.
Obviously.
Tuesday Morning
Breakfast was wrong.
Tony knew it before he reached the kitchen.
No butter.
No cinnamon.
No coffee being insulted.
No pans clattering beneath suspiciously precise hands.
No Cloak of Levitation stealing pieces of fruit when it thought nobody was looking.
Just the sterile hum of Tony's very expensive kitchen doing absolutely nothing interesting.
Tony stopped in the doorway.
The stove was cold.
The space Stephen usually occupied was empty.
He didn't like that.
So naturally, he ignored it.
"Friday. Coffee."
"Already prepared."
A machine hissed.
Tony collected the mug.
Peter wandered in ten minutes later with two textbooks under one arm and one shoe untied.
He looked toward the stove.
Then toward Tony.
"No pancakes?"
Tony stared at him.
"No."
Peter blinked.
"Oh."
That tiny, disappointed sound irritated Tony far more than it had any right to.
Ned arrived next.
"Doctor Strange isn't back?"
"Busy."
Harley came in behind him.
"Doing what?"
"Wizard stuff."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer you're getting."
Shuri entered last.
She took one look at Tony.
Then his phone.
Then Stephen's empty place.
Then back at Tony.
Tony hated smart children.
"Have you spoken with him?" she asked.
Tony took an unnecessarily long sip of coffee.
"Not yet."
Peter's expression changed.
Not panic.
Not quite.
Concern.
"That's weird."
"No, it's not."
"It kinda is," Ned said. "Doctor Strange replies really fast."
Harley frowned.
"Yeah. Like weirdly fast."
Tony lowered the mug.
"You're all acting like Merlin disappeared into a volcano. He hasn't answered for one night."
Peter shifted.
"Mr. Stark..."
"School."
"But..."
"School."
Four teenagers stared at him.
Tony pointed toward the elevator.
"You are legally required to learn things that aren't how to collapse spacetime. Go."
That worked.
Mostly.
Happy arrived.
Bags were collected.
Shuri gave Tony one last look before entering the elevator.
It was not an accusatory look.
It was worse.
It was the look of someone who knew Tony was worried and was politely allowing him to pretend otherwise.
The doors closed.
Tony waited three seconds.
"Friday."
"Yes, Boss?"
"Message Strange."
"I have sent three messages on your behalf this morning."
"Send another."
"What would you like it to say?"
Tony thought.
Then:
Morning, Stephanie. I have raccoons, aliens, estranged Avengers and Fury threatening meetings. If you don't respond, I'm assuming you finally ran away to join the circus.
Friday sent it.
Nothing.
Tony's jaw tightened.
At 11:47 a.m., Tony stopped pretending he wasn't checking his phone.
At 12:03 p.m., he gave up.
"Friday."
"Boss?"
"Doctor Watch."
There was a pause.
A different kind.
Doctor Watch had started as a joke.
Mostly.
A collection of passive systems Friday had quietly expanded after Stephen began spending more time around the Tower.
Arrival logs.
Communication patterns.
Known Sanctum appearances.
Emergency medical records.
Public cameras.
Satellite imaging.
Magical-energy anomalies Tony's sensors could detect but absolutely did not understand.
Tony had teased Friday mercilessly when he discovered it.
Then told her to keep it.
Because paranoia was only embarrassing until it saved someone's life.
"Initiating Doctor Watch Protocol," Friday said.
Screens appeared around him.
Tony stopped pacing.
Data poured across them.
Phone signals.
Security footage.
Public traffic cameras.
Known portal activity.
Thermal scans.
Sanctum perimeter logs.
Avengers databases.
Stark satellites.
Facial recognition.
International travel.
Hospitals.
Emergency services.
Nothing.
Tony watched the searches complete.
One by one.
Nothing.
"Again."
"Boss..."
"Run it again."
Friday did.
Nothing.
Tony stared at the empty results.
"Okay."
He said it too casually.
Friday knew.
Tony knew Friday knew.
He started pacing again.
"Okay. Technology can't find the wizard. Fine. Because, shocking development, magic cheats."
"Would you like me to contact Master Wong?"
Tony stopped.
That was the logical next step.
He hated it immediately.
Because contacting Wong made this real.
Contacting Wong meant Tony wasn't checking where Stephen was.
He was admitting Stephen was missing.
Tony rubbed his mouth.
"Find his number."
"Already retrieved."
Tony glared upward.
"How?"
"Doctor Strange listed Master Wong as an emergency contact."
That did something unpleasant to Tony's chest.
"Call him."
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then Wong answered.
"Stark."
Tony blinked.
"Wow. No hello?"
"You only call when there is a crisis."
"Rude. Accurate, but rude."
Wong sighed.
"What happened?"
Tony leaned against the workbench.
"Have you seen Stephen?"
Silence.
Tiny.
Almost imperceptible.
Tony caught it anyway.
"No," Wong said.
"When did you last see him?"
"Monday morning."
Tony's jaw tightened.
"He missed dinner last night."
Wong remained quiet.
"And breakfast."
Still nothing.
"He isn't answering messages."
Now Wong sounded alert.
"That is unlike him."
"Thank you. Welcome to the anxiety party."
"Have you checked the Sanctum?"
"Not yet. Figured I'd ask the guy who literally manages the magic building first."
"One moment."
The call went quiet.
Tony heard something in the background.
A chime.
Then chanting.
Something deep and resonant.
Tony waited.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Two.
"Wong?"
"I am searching."
"For what?"
"Stephen."
Tony stopped moving.
The answer came several moments later.
"I cannot locate his magical signature."
Tony's stomach dropped.
He kept his voice light.
"Define cannot."
"Cannot."
"Fantastic. Love a precise technical vocabulary."
"His signature is not present in New York."
Tony waited.
"Okay."
"Nor elsewhere in North America."
Tony's fingers tightened around the edge of the bench.
"Wong."
"I am expanding the search."
More silence.
Longer this time.
Tony stared at the nearest holographic screen without seeing it.
Finally:
"He is not anywhere I can detect on Earth."
Tony's mouth went dry.
"That's not a sentence I'm enjoying."
"It does not necessarily mean he is in danger."
"No? Because from where I'm standing, 'wizard vanished off planet' is ranking pretty high on the bad-news scale."
"He may be within the Mirror Dimension."
Tony frowned.
"The copy-world thing?"
"Yes."
"And you can't detect him there?"
"Not easily. If he is deep enough within it, no."
Tony let out a breath.
There.
Explanation.
Reasonable.
Manageable.
"He lost track of time."
"It is possible."
"He's done that before?"
Wong hesitated.
Tony narrowed his eyes.
"That was not a confident pause."
"Stephen becomes absorbed in his work."
"That's doctor language for yes."
"Yes."
Tony nodded.
"Fine."
Wong didn't respond.
"Fine," Tony repeated.
"You do not sound reassured."
"I'm delighted."
"Stark."
"Wong."
Another sigh.
"I will continue searching."
"Good."
"And Tony?"
Tony stilled.
"If Stephen returns to the Sanctum, I will contact you immediately."
Tony swallowed.
"Yeah."
The line ended.
Tony remained leaning against the workbench.
The lab suddenly seemed too quiet.
Friday waited.
Tony looked at the dark phone screen.
"He's in the Mirror Dimension."
"It is one possibility."
Tony pushed off the table.
"Right. Wizard Narnia. Probably arguing with himself."
Friday said nothing.
Tony rubbed his thumb over his phone.
Stephen had never ignored him.
Not once.
Not since they'd started actually knowing one another.
Tony sent nonsense at two in the morning.
Stephen replied.
Tony sent complaints about meetings.
Stephen replied.
Tony sent photos of Peter asleep at a workstation with the caption your student is defective.
Stephen replied within thirty seconds:
Your child. Your engineering. Your defect.
Once Tony had accidentally messaged Stephen instead of Rhodey at four in the morning:
If I buy Greenland do you think Pepper will kill me?
Stephen's answer had arrived almost instantly:
Yes. I will help her. Go to sleep.
Stephen always replied.
Even when annoyed.
Especially when annoyed.
Tony stared at the phone.
"Mirror Dimension," he muttered.
He needed it to be true.
By dinner Tuesday, the children had noticed.
Of course they had.
Peter kept glancing toward the elevator.
Ned barely touched his food.
Harley tried to hide concern beneath irritation.
Shuri did not bother hiding anything.
"Where is Doctor Strange?"
Tony looked up.
"He's working."
Peter frowned.
"He's been working for two days?"
"Welcome to adulthood."
Ned pushed rice around his plate.
"Is he coming back tomorrow morning?"
Tony hated the way he asked it.
Too careful.
Too young.
Tony leaned back.
"Yeah."
Four faces looked at him.
He smiled.
Easy.
Confident.
Believable.
The face that had sold weapons to generals, lied to congressional committees, bluffed terrorists, investors, journalists, and occasionally himself.
"Wizard conference ran long," Tony said. "Apparently magical bureaucrats are worse than normal bureaucrats, which I personally consider offensive. He's probably buried under scrolls somewhere pretending he doesn't secretly love paperwork."
Peter relaxed slightly.
Ned smiled.
Harley rolled his eyes.
Shuri watched Tony for half a second longer than the others.
Then looked down.
Tony had fooled three of them.
He would take the win.
"Will he make breakfast?" Peter asked.
Tony scoffed.
"Absolutely not. Man abandons us for mystical paperwork; he loses kitchen privileges."
Ned smiled wider.
Harley pointed with his fork.
"I'm holding you to that."
"Please do."
Dinner moved on.
Tony ate nothing.
By midnight, every child was asleep.
Tony checked.
Peter curled beneath blankets with a chemistry textbook still open beside him.
Harley sprawled diagonally across his bed like furniture placement was a personal insult.
Shuri's room was perfectly organized except for three holographic designs hovering over her desk.
Ned had gone home after dinner, but Friday confirmed he'd messaged Peter twice asking whether Stephen had returned.
Tony stood alone in the hallway.
"Friday."
"Yes, Boss?"
"Anything?"
"No."
Tony walked toward the penthouse lounge.
"Technology?"
"Nothing."
"Magic?"
"Master Wong has not reported success."
Tony poured whiskey.
Didn't drink it.
Just stood with the glass in his hand.
"He can teleport."
"Yes."
"He can move between dimensions."
"Yes."
"He can stop time."
"Within limits."
"He fought a cosmic entity in a death loop."
"Correct."
Tony stared out across Manhattan.
"So what happens to the guy who can go anywhere when nobody can find him?"
Friday had no answer.
That frightened Tony more than anything else had.
Tony finally drank the whiskey.
"He's staying with me."
Friday remained quiet.
Tony stared at his reflection in the window.
He remembered saying it.
Not joking.
Not casually.
Stephen had been apologizing for settling into the Tower.
Tony had shut that nonsense down immediately.
You made yourself at home in my home.
Tony had meant it.
Every word.
Stephen had a room here.
Clothes here.
Books here.
Tea Tony didn't drink taking up an unreasonable amount of cabinet space.
His stupid expensive kettle.
Tony had complained.
Then ordered a second one.
Stephen belonged here now.
That was how Tony's brain worked.
It wasn't always healthy.
Rhodey had told him that repeatedly.
Tony collected people.
Spaces.
Things he loved.
Then built walls around them.
Stephen was no exception.
Maybe that possessive streak should have embarrassed him.
It didn't.
Tony stared into the dark city.
"You said you'd stay."
The room did not answer.
His grip tightened around the glass.
"You're staying."
That sounded less like a complaint.
More like a promise.
Wednesday Morning
Everything was wrong.
Tony entered the kitchen at six forty-seven.
Stopped.
No pancakes.
No French toast.
No tea steeping beside the stove.
No sardonic surgeon complaining that Tony's coffee had enough caffeine to chemically preserve a corpse.
No Cloak rifling through the fruit bowl.
No Stephen.
Just quiet.
Tony hated quiet.
Peter came in.
Then Harley.
Then Shuri.
No Ned today. His mother was taking him to school.
They all looked toward the empty kitchen.
Nobody said anything.
That was worse.
Tony tried making French toast.
He burned it.
Harley stared at the blackened slice.
"Is it supposed to smoke?"
Tony pointed the spatula at him.
"Eat cereal."
Peter was too quiet.
Shuri was too observant.
Harley was too careful with his jokes.
This was getting into them.
No.
Absolutely not.
Tony dropped the spatula into the sink.
"Happy."
"Yeah, Boss?"
"You're doing school run."
Peter looked up immediately.
"You're not coming?"
"Got a wizard to yell at."
Three heads turned.
Tony realized his mistake.
He smiled.
"Because he promised me a meeting and I'm going to drag him out of Kamar-Taj by the cape if necessary."
"Cloak," Peter corrected automatically.
Tony pointed.
"Traitor."
That got a smile.
Tiny.
Enough.
Happy shepherded them toward the elevator.
Shuri paused before stepping inside.
"Mr. Stark."
Tony looked at her.
She said nothing.
Just held his gaze.
Tony's expression softened.
"I'll find him."
She nodded.
The doors closed.
Tony stood alone.
Then turned.
"Friday."
"Yes, Boss?"
"Car."
Greenwich Sanctum
Tony had visited the Greenwich Sanctum several times.
He still disliked the building.
Not because it was magical.
Tony had accepted magic existed.
Mostly.
He disliked the building because it behaved like it knew things.
Doors moved.
Stairs changed.
Windows showed views they absolutely should not.
Once a coat rack had followed Tony's movements for twelve minutes.
Stephen claimed it was not alive.
Tony remained unconvinced.
The Sanctum doors opened before Tony touched them.
He stopped on the pavement.
Looked at the doorway.
"That's creepy."
The doors remained open.
Tony tilted his head.
"Invitation?"
Nothing.
"Hostage situation?"
Still nothing.
Tony shrugged.
"I'm choosing invitation."
He walked inside.
"Stephen?"
His voice echoed.
Nothing.
"Merlin?"
Silence.
"Stephanie?"
Still nothing.
Tony frowned.
"Okay, now I know something's wrong. That usually gets a reaction."
He walked farther.
The Sanctum was not empty.
Not exactly.
A building like this never felt empty.
There were creaks.
Whispers.
Distant chimes.
The occasional sensation that something behind a wall was breathing.
But no Stephen.
Tony took the stairs.
"Stephen!"
Nothing.
Past the library.
He checked.
Empty.
One book floated itself back onto a shelf.
Tony pointed at it.
"Don't start."
The book remained innocent.
Tony continued.
His mind was moving too fast now.
Search parameters.
Portal frequencies.
Dimensional mapping.
Could Stark satellites detect magical displacement if he recalibrated them?
Could Vision use the Mind Stone?
Could Thor track Strange through some Asgardian nonsense?
Could Loki, once he woke...
No.
Loki stayed compartmentalized.
Children didn't know.
Most of the Compound didn't know.
Different crisis.
One missing wizard at a time.
Tony turned down a hallway he did not remember.
"Stephen?"
Nothing.
The hallway opened into a room.
Tony stopped.
"That's new."
Artifacts.
Hundreds.
Shelves climbed toward a ceiling lost in shadow.
Glass cases.
Stone pedestals.
Sealed boxes.
Weapons.
Jewelry.
Scrolls.
One skull with six eye sockets.
A mirror covered entirely in chains.
A tiny wooden duck.
Tony stared at the duck longest.
"Absolutely not."
He should leave.
He knew that.
Tony Stark possessed an IQ high enough to recognize a room marked metaphorically and perhaps literally DO NOT TOUCH.
Unfortunately, intelligence and curiosity were roommates who hated each other.
His eyes moved across the room.
There were devices here older than countries.
Objects radiating energy Friday couldn't classify.
Impossible engineering.
Magical containment systems.
Tony's brain practically started purring.
"Okay," he whispered, moving closer to one pedestal. "Just looking."
Friday answered through his glasses.
"Boss."
"Looking isn't touching."
"Historically, your definition of looking becomes touching within approximately forty-seven seconds."
"Defamation."
"Documented behavior."
Tony moved around a glass case containing something that resembled a black crystal heart.
His mind was still on Stephen.
That was the problem.
Normally, Tony inspected dangerous things with obsessive attention.
Today, half his brain was trying to reverse-engineer mystical metallurgy while the other half replayed every unanswered message from the past forty-eight hours.
So he didn't notice the threads.
They were nearly invisible.
Hair-thin lengths of golden material hanging between two small bronze hooks beside an ancient circular disk.
Not chains.
Not exactly.
Threads.
Five of them.
Delicate.
Glowing faintly.
Tony stepped closer to inspect the disk.
"Fri, scan this."
"Unknown composition."
"Energy?"
"Minimal."
Tony leaned in.
"Looks like..."
His left hand shifted against the pedestal.
His knuckles brushed gold.
There was no flash.
No explosion.
No dramatic magical consequence.
Just the faintest sound.
ting.
Like a glass bell heard from very far away.
Tony straightened.
"What was that?"
"I detected a minor energy fluctuation."
Tony looked around.
Nothing had changed.
The disk remained where it was.
The cases remained sealed.
No demons appeared.
No cursed skeletons began tap dancing.
"Probably fine."
Friday was quiet.
Tony looked back toward the doorway.
Then his phone rang.
Rhodey.
Tony answered immediately.
"Tell me you found my wizard."
"No. Tell me you're finally done sticking your head in the sand."
Tony frowned as he started walking.
"Excuse you?"
"You've avoided the Compound since Thor's landing landed."
"I have not avoided anything."
"Tony."
"I am strategically delegating."
"You sent Friday to summarize every briefing."
"Efficient."
"You had Vision sit in on weapons discussions."
"Good management."
"You sent me a text asking whether the raccoon had tried to steal anything important."
"He did."
"He tried to steal my cannon."
"So I was right to ask."
Tony left the artifact room.
Behind him, two of the five golden threads were gone.
He never saw it.
Rhodey continued.
"You need to meet them."
"I've met aliens."
"Not these aliens."
"I met Thor."
"These ones come with a raccoon."
"Your argument is weakening."
"And you need to speak to Steve."
Tony's steps slowed.
There it was.
The actual reason.
"No."
"Tony."
"Ostrich strategy."
"What?"
"If I don't look directly at Rogers, he ceases to exist."
"That's not how object permanence works."
"Prove it."
Rhodey made a noise that contained twenty-five years of friendship and regret.
"Your ostrich strategy is stupid."
"My ostrich strategy is going beautifully."
"You are hiding in a wizard house."
"I am searching."
"With your head in the sand."
"Technically ancient hardwood."
"Tony."
Tony descended the stairs.
"I'm coming."
Rhodey went quiet.
Tony rolled his eyes.
"Don't make it emotional. I said I'm coming."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"To the Compound."
"That's generally where you people are keeping the space raccoon."
"Guardians."
"Galaxy hobos."
"Tony."
"I'm leaving now."
"Good."
Tony approached the front doors.
They opened automatically.
He frowned at them.
"Still creepy."
Rhodey continued talking through the phone.
"And you're actually going to listen?"
"No."
"Tony."
"I'm going to be physically present while Friday feeds me the key points you've already discussed."
"That is not listening."
"It's executive listening."
"It's obnoxious."
"It's efficient."
"You've been spending too much time with Strange."
Tony's smile disappeared.
Rhodey caught the silence.
"Still nothing?"
Tony stepped onto the pavement.
"No."
Rhodey's voice softened.
"We'll find him."
Tony looked back at the Sanctum.
"I know."
He didn't.
But he needed the words anyway.
Tony headed toward the waiting car, already arguing with Rhodey about why avoidance technically counted as a conflict-resolution strategy if you were rich enough.
He never looked at his left wrist.
Never saw the thread.
Hair-thin.
Golden.
Wrapped once around his skin.
No clasp.
No knot.
Just there.
The second thread was nowhere in the Sanctum.
Far beyond Earth, beyond the Mirror Dimension, beyond every coordinate Wong had searched, Stephen Strange stumbled through violet undergrowth.
His fever had worsened.
His side burned.
His legs shook.
The Cloak was torn.
Something hunted him through the trees using Peter's laughter.
Stephen ignored it.
One step.
Then another.
Then he stopped.
His left hand twitched.
He frowned.
For the first time in three days, the sensation was not pain.
Something warm brushed his wrist.
Stephen pulled back his torn sleeve.
Nothing.
At least, nothing he could see.
But beneath the fever...
beneath the poison...
beneath the dimensional static that had turned every attempt to reach home into screaming...
something tugged.
Once.
Gentle.
Almost impossibly distant.
Stephen stared at his wrist.
The jungle went quiet.
Then somewhere in the darkness, a creature wearing Tony Stark's voice whispered:
"There you are."
Stephen's head snapped up.
The feeling vanished.
Or perhaps it merely became too faint to distinguish from his pulse.
His jaw tightened.
He raised one trembling hand.
Golden magic sputtered weakly between his fingers.
"No," Stephen whispered to the dark.
Whatever had found him...
whatever had touched him...
he could not trust it.
Not here.
Not anymore.
He turned and limped deeper into the jungle.