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“Choose one,” Tony declared, tossing a folder onto Stephen’s lap.
Stephen blinked, looking up from the neurology papers he was reading. Tony had put the tablet in his hand this morning after they’d finished breakfast—a new habit, now that Tony lived here in the Sanctum, with him—and asked for his opinion on the latest research into VNS devices, saying something nonsensical about SI’s medical division and Tony needing an expert.
Stephen knew it was a distraction technique, but he accepted it. It’d been a very, very long time since he’d focused on neuroscience. It felt… new, for all that it was older than anything else in Stephen’s life.
New was good. New reminded him he wasn’t trapped.
“What is it?” Stephen asked as he put down the tablet and picked up the folder—actual paper, how strange when coming from Tony—and opened it. Photos paperclipped to what looked like dossiers fell out and onto his lap. He frowned, confused.
“I’m buying an island,” Tony said. “Well, a new island. I already had one, but I gave that one to Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy years ago. So I need a new one.”
Stephen stared at Tony, the words made sense, technically, but the meaning behind them was a different matter. Billionaires made no sense; Tony wasn’t the exception. “What?”
“I’m buying an island,” Tony said, giving Stephen one of his ‘keep up already’ looks. Normally Stephen could, not this time.
“Why?” The question begged an answer.
Tony rolled his eyes, an exasperated sigh accompanying the expression. A smile tugged at his lips to indicate he didn’t mean it all that seriously. “Because, I’m taking you on vacation.”
“You need to buy an island for vacation?” Stephen asked, baffled. That seemed… excessive.
Tony shrugged. “You know me.” Stephen did, and this was ridiculous even for Tony, which meant that something more was going on. Tony waved at the dossiers. “Anyways, all of those are governmentally classified as deserted islands, and I’d be helping along the economy of whatever country owns whichever island you choose when I buy it. So, really, I’m doing the world a favor.”
Right. That sounded like Tony logic. “I’m not picking an island for you to buy,” Stephen said, gathering the dossiers together and sliding them back into the folder. “That’s just ridiculous.”
Tony arched an eyebrow, grin tugging at his lip. “Even if I say pretty please?” he teased.
“Still no.” Stephen shook his head. “What does it matter?”
Tony hesitated. “I’ve been talking to Wong—”
Irritation flared through Stephen’s chest despite himself. “This is about me, again, isn’t it?” He asked. Tony and Wong had both been concerned about him as of late—more and more as they went on and Stephen continued to struggle—talking to each other about what he needed and what they could do. He wasn’t incapable of managing his own life. He didn’t need the two of them conspiring behind his back, trying to ‘fix’ things. To fix him.
Tony didn’t react to the tone. “Yes,” he said honestly. He paused and let out a slow, deep breath. “I… Stephen. You’re not doing well.”
Stephen flinched, more at the truth of the words than the words themselves. He hadn’t broken when it mattered, but by the Vishanti, he felt broken now. The problems hadn’t appeared immediately, but… but the further he went, the more obvious they became. He’d stopped time over a dozen times, instinctively and without thought, only the fact that that same instinct that stopped time kept Tony out of that stasis he sent the rest of the world into helped. Tony would show up each time, would help Stephen pull away from the way his mind got stuck and the fear struck deep and true.
“I’m doing fine,” he snapped. It was a lie—they both knew it was a lie—but Stephen needed to cling to it. Needed to believe if he wasn’t fine now, he would be fine. Surely, surely if he just pretended things would get better. He’d made it through Dormammu, through Thanos; he’d make it through Castor, as well.
But he’d never been affected like this before.
“Stephen…” Tony’s voice was quiet, gentle. Stephen hated it just as much as he needed it—which only made him hate it more. “You are the strongest person I know. You have survived things that would have destroyed me, destroyed anyone. You are…” Tony trailed off. “You protected this world, Stephen. Even when it was yourself you needed to protect it from.”
The chair Stephen was on extended into a too-small loveseat—damn the Sanctum for knowing—allowing Tony to settle in close next to him. Tony’s knees pressed into Stephen’s thigh and his hand rested on his leg, thumb stroking gently. Stephen looked away and Tony let him, not pressing Stephen to meet Tony’s eyes where Tony might see the way Stephen was falling apart.
“You spent centuries in this Sanctum,” Tony said quietly. “Protecting everyone here while you tried to escape. You memorized the threats coming. The Shrytax, the Sprite invasion, the—” he stopped. “Well, you know, already. All the threats you’ve stopped before they could even really get started, because you’d lived them all before. I didn’t say anything, because that was who you are, what you do, and in a lot of ways you needed to do it. But Stephen, you can’t keep doing this. The Sanctum is your home, I know that. But right now, these hallways and rooms, they’re destroying you.”
“I am the Master of the Sanctum,” Stephen said, but it wasn’t the sharp snap he’d been aiming for. It came out far more helpless than he’d ever wanted, a hollow ache to the words. “I… I can’t leave.”
“But you don’t have to be,” Tony said. “I know,” he continued quickly. “That you want this. That you deserve this. That you sacrificed for it. That you feel like it’s your duty. But… but you need to heal, and you can’t do that here.”
Stephen scoffed weakly. “I take it you’ve talked to Wong about this?” he asked.
“Yes,” Tony admitted, guilt in his voice. “I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry that I didn’t. That Wong and I have been… managing you. You don’t deserve that. It’s… It’s not right of us to try to make these decisions for you.”
The words helped. Stephen didn’t need managing. Stephen had survived. “No,” Stephen agreed. He paused. “I… I do understand,” he admitted. “I don’t like it, but I understand where the two of you are coming from. Just…” He shook his head.
Tony’s hand tightened on his thigh, a gentle squeeze. “I’ll work on it,” Tony said. “But Stephen… Please, just think about it. Let another Master take over the Sanctum. Not necessarily forever, just… give it a few months. Come away with me, somewhere you haven’t spent centuries trapped.”
It made sense. The logic was sound.
It just felt like failure. Like Castor had won. Not the ultimate battle, true, but the smaller, more personal one.
“It’s not failure,” Tony said, reading Stephen with impressive skill. Stephen was so used to knowing Tony. Between his two time loops in which he’d known Tony he’d had plenty of opportunity to learn how he thought. Had learn to read every one of his minute expressions. Tony didn’t have that opportunity, but he still knew Stephen.
Stephen looked down at the folder still on his lap, flipped it open again, glancing through the pictures of islands that Tony had selected for him to peruse and choose between. “People live on these islands. I thought you said they were deserted.”
“By governmental definition,” Tony acknowledged. “Some of them, at least. And it’s not like we’re going to kick them off their land or make a mess of conservation efforts,” he added, a little defensively. “I fully intend to help with economic growth and quality of life where I can without destroying the culture and lives of those people.”
“I know,” Stephen said. He hadn’t meant to imply otherwise, but after all these years, Tony was used to having to defend himself and his choices. Eventually Tony wouldn’t need those defenses around Stephen, but Stephen knew it took time to erase decades of a defense mechanism. Stephen continued to flicker through the islands, glancing through the dossiers with lackluster interest. He wasn’t convinced this was a good idea—especially the bit about actually buying the island—but… Tony wasn’t wrong. Stephen felt trapped. The pressure on his shoulders, the repeating actions he’d taken before, the halls he’d walked for centuries with little respite. Nothing had changed. Stephen needed something to change.
He stopped, eyes taking in yet another picture of an island covered in lush green jungle with beautiful beaches on each side, surrounded by turquoise waters. Something in his chest went light and warm. Power stirred. “Lighthouse Cay,” he said. The name felt right in his mouth.
Tony glanced at it. “Disney’s been thinking about buying it,” he said. “I bet I could beat them to it, if that’s the one you want. I always liked the Bahamas.”
“I still don’t think you should be buying an island,” Stephen said automatically. “Why can’t we just visit?”
Tony laughed. “Because I’m excessive, Stephen. You know this.”
Stephen did know that. He knew it very well, actually. His gaze fixed on the picture again. It was no more beautiful than any of the other islands. But… It called to him, though.
“This one,” he said quietly. “This is the one.”
Tony nodded. “It’ll take a bit of time,” he admitted. “Buying an island isn’t something you do in a day, you know. Even for me.”
Stephen imagined that however long it normally took, Tony would manage to do it faster. “I’m not agreeing to this, not yet.”
Tony hummed. “Well, I have time to convince you,” he pointed out. “I still need to buy the island.”
Stephen laughed, the act surprising him. He caught Tony’s hand still on his thigh and tugged Tony so that he was better positioned for Stephen to lean against. Tony pressed a kiss to Stephen’s temple, taking the folder of islands back and handing Stephen the tablet back. “Go back to your neuroscience,” Tony said.
“You sticking around?” Stephen asked.
“Only if you want me to.”
Stephen leaned further against Tony, letting the action speak for him.
Tony stayed.
The sun was warm against Stephen’s skin as he walked along the beach, sandals catching the sand and spraying it ahead of him. The sound of the ocean coming in and crashing along the beach a few feet away calmed him, the rush of water rising over the sand to stop inches from his path a pleasant backdrop to his thoughts.
Tony had bought the island—much to Stephen’s mild dismay and utter exasperation—crowing a bit about beating Disney to the purchase.
There were a few communities that lived here—though without the organization requisite to be labeled a town, allowing the government to pronounce it ‘deserted’ and sell the land away—but Tony had set up a small home for the two of them beyond those communities to give Stephen space to recuperate. They were close enough that they could find the rest of the population with a relatively moderate walk when Stephen wanted to see other people, but no one bothered them.
A tug in his chest caught his attention. Stephen paused, examining the tug, before deciding there was nothing malevolent about it. The energy in his chest seemed almost eager, prodding him on. Stephen shrugged, then diverted from the shoreline and up the beach to the jungle line. He frowned as he reached it. He hadn’t spent much time among the trees, having preferred the warm sun and sand. The tug in his chest pressed more firmly, urging him in.
Stephen shrugged, stepping into the shade of the trees. If he got lost, he had a sling ring on him and could get back home to where Tony was working. Stephen didn’t know how Tony had gotten the underground lab built as quickly as he had, but Stephen was beyond underestimating Tony’s efficiency.
Tony spent much of his days still working, letting Stephen decide when he wanted Tony’s company and when he wanted to be alone. Stephen appreciated it. The silence and solitude didn’t bother him as much, here, the way it had when he was in the Sanctum.
It was almost galling how right Tony was that Stephen had needed this.
Stephen had only stopped time once since they’d been here, and that had been when he’d woken from a nightmare. The only reason he knew was because he’d caught a mosquito in mid air, likely about to lunge in and feast on the two of them. It had been one of his shortest time stops; Tony had woken up and helped ease Stephen into letting go of time, complaining the whole time about the mosquitoes attempts to bite them with soothing prattle that worked just as well as anything else to bring Stephen down.
Tony had proceeded to install mosquito repellant nets in carefully chosen locations and they’d subsequently been bitten far less.
The undergrowth of the jungle got heavier and Stephen had to pick his path carefully, moving forward in the direction of the gentle tug in his chest. It took almost ten minutes before he stumbled out of the undergrowth into an unexpected clearing.
He frowned. There was something almost unnatural about the clearing in the middle of the otherwise densely covered jungle. He reached out gently, searching for danger, but there was nothing there. Just power, nestled deep and powerful, vibrating its way his soul and resonating through him. Oh. He hadn’t realized it, but Lighthouse Cay was on a nexus point. Here, in this clearing, was the center of that nexus. How unusual. Most nexus, when untouched by humans, bristled with life. This area should be thriving.
He gently scoured the area again, searching for what had happened here to divert from the norm. Another search showed nothing wrong, just an eager restlessness, the magic deep in the ground waiting for something. “What are you waiting for?” he asked.
The wind rustled through the trees, you, the world whispered. Sanctum Master.
Stephen’s breath caught in his chest. Oh.
There hadn’t been a new Sanctum in… in centuries. He couldn’t possibly be understanding correctly. But… but it felt right. So much of Stephen’s new life was built off instinct that came from being so closely bound with magic and time.
A Sanctum. Here on Lighthouse Cay. An additional defense for the world. A fourth stabilizing force for the mystic shields that kept outside forces at bay. Eagerness built in his chest as he moved to the center of the clearing. He dropped to the ground, settling onto the soil on his back so that he could stare up into the sky. He lay there with his eyes closed for ages, feeling the energy of the earth and the magic twist through and around him.
He breathed fully for the first time in years.
Tears pricked at his eyes and he let them slip out, until broken, painful, necessary sobs escaped him. Instinctive knowledge that he was safe here let the pain come free as he hadn’t been able to allow himself to, not even with Tony, who he had let in further than anyone else.
Here, the magic held him, time stood still—not in truth, paused by Stephen’s distress, but in his own perception alone—allowing him to pass through in unhindered grief.
He lost track of everything, reveling in this space he’d found.
The sun had started to go down when he finally stirred. He pushed himself to his feet, trying to knock the soil loose from his clothes and hair. He needed to bring Tony here. The thought had barely manifested before a portal opened up in front of him, Tony on the other side in the kitchen cooking. The absence of the sling ring on his fingers itched.
Tony turned to look at him, small smile tugging on his lips. “Good day?” He didn’t notice the missing sling ring; Stephen didn’t let himself think about it. It joined an ever-increasing list of things he didn’t think about.
“Can you come through?” Stephen asked, moving to the side and gesturing for Tony to come through the portal.
Tony took the pot of water off the stove. “What’s up?” he asked. He looked around. “Huh. Nice little clearing you found.” He wrinkled his nose, head tilting. “It’s…”
“Strange?” Stephen offered, when Tony couldn’t seem to decide on a descriptor. “Do you feel it?”
Tony turned to look at him, gaze scrutinizing. “I feel something,” he admitted. “Not sure what it is I’m feeling, though.” He looked vaguely unnerved at the thought. Tony had put in a great deal of effort since they’d met into understanding magic, but he’d drawn the line at trying it. Except Tony had taken the full brunt of Stephen’s own power and connection, had, for a moment, existed within it. The sense that each sorcerer used to feel for magic had been blown wide open in Tony’s mind and soul.
It joined the list of things Stephen didn’t think about and they didn’t mention.
Stephen reached out, took Tony’s hand. “Lighthouse Cay is on a nexus point.”
Tony sent him a sharp-eyed look, concern and calculation. “Do we need a different island?” he asked.
Stephen rolled his eyes. “You are not buying a new island, Tony. Don’t be ridiculous.” He looked around. “And no. I didn’t mean it as a bad thing. I meant it as… as this is where we’re supposed to be, Tony.” He looked at Tony. “Not to act like everything that’s yours is mine—”
“It is,” Tony said easily.
“—but here—” he waved at the clearing. “—is where we’re going to build our home.”
Tony didn’t mention that technically they already had a home on the island, one that Tony had had constructed before they’d even arrived. “Okay,” he said. “We can do that.” He moved to the edge of the clearing, pacing around the large clearing. It was hardly a small clearing and Stephen trailed beside him as he did, taking it in. “Can I ask why?” Tony asked, as they finally finished their circuit.
“Because,” Stephen said. “It’s going to be a Sanctum.”
Tony stopped, turning to look at him. “You can just… build Sanctums?” he asked. “Why does Kamar Taj only have three, then?”
“No,” Stephen said. “Sanctum’s need to want to be built. Even then, there’s no guarantee that the magic will take, no matter how well the construction, rune work, and magic infusion goes.” He didn’t doubt, though, that the magic would take, here. He could feel it in his bones.
“Okay,” Tony said. “You know, construction takes time, especially when we’re transporting material out here.”
“That’s fine,” Stephen said. “It doesn’t matter how much time it takes.”
Tony turned to look at Stephen, gaze hooded and eyes thoughtful. “You sure this is what you want to do?” he asked quietly, a wealth of meaning in the words.
Stephen parsed through them. The obvious answer was yes, but Tony wasn’t just asking about the Sanctum. Or at least not in the temporary meaning of building it. If this Sanctum was built, if Stephen bound himself to it as its master… There was something of permanency about that. Stephen wouldn’t be leaving Lighthouse Cay any time soon. And Tony…
“Do you want it?” Stephen asked.
Tony looked away, brows furrowed. “This is the most alive you’ve looked in… in a long time, Stephen.” His gaze turned back. “It might take some adjustment to make this my home base on a more permanent basis, but I can do that.”
Stephen’s heart tripped in his chest. “We’re going to be here a long time,” he said. For a moment time flickered in his mind eye, and he saw the two of them…
He shied away from what he saw. It was too much, something he couldn’t handle yet.
Time slid back, waiting on the edges for the moment Stephen could accept the truth, sending instead an image of the Sanctum, built here in this clearing, the magic buzzing along the edges and strengthening the nexus here.
Awe filled his chest.
“Then here’s where we’ll be,” Tony said easily. “And hey, between your portals and my Iron Man suit, it’s not like I’m going to be missing any birthday parties because my flight’s cancelled.”
Stephen blinked at the words. They weren’t exactly invited to all that many birthday parties. But then, he got the point. They did still have lives in New York, distant as they felt right now, people that they cared about. Staying here didn’t mean losing them.
“I need to bring Wong here,” Stephen said. “He needs to know what I’m doing.”
Tony laughed, skin around his eyes crinkling. “He’s going to be so exasperated. Only you, Stephen, could go on vacation and discover the location for the Masters of the Mystic Arts newest Sanctum. Pretty sure you’re supposed to be relaxing.”
“This is better than relaxing,” Stephen said honestly. “This is…” He searched for the words. “This is changing things. It’s building something new.”
Tony squeezed Stephen’s hand. “Well, I’m going to take all the credit, obviously. The island was my idea.”
“Oh shut up,” Stephen said, fondness leaking from his voice. “I chose the island and I am the person who actually knows what we’re about to do. Clearly the credit goes to me.”
“You wouldn’t be here without me,” Tony pointed out. “Thus, the credit is mine.”
“You get… 12 percent of the credit.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at Stephen. “Have you been talking to Pepper?” he asked. “Because really, you say something once, and no one ever lets you forget it.”
Stephen laughed. “No, actually. Though that’s a very telling statement.” He arched an eyebrow. “Everyone knows that Pepper is behind at least half of your success.”
Tony sputtered. “I’m sorry, whose name is on all the patents? Who comes up with all the ideas? Who—”
Stephen kissed Tony to stop him from going on to explain everything he did. Which was, if Stephen was honest, a ridiculous amount of things. “All right,” he said. “She gets 49 percent.”
“Serious—” Tony pulled back just far enough for Stephen to see him roll his eyes, before pulling Stephen back in for a kiss. “You are the worst,” he complained, but he didn’t seem to mean it all that much. They kissed for a short minute before Tony pulled away more firmly. “This is what you want?” Tony asked again.
“Yes,” Stephen said firmly.
Tony nodded. “I’ll figure out which contractors will work here. You talk to Wong. I’m sure you have ideas for the design.”
Stephen could see it perfectly in his mind, the exact design the Sanctum wanted to take; he nodded. “You could say that.”
“Great,” Tony continued. “Then you’ll get your Sanctum.”
Construction moved slowly the next few months. Tony was right that transporting things would be a pain, especially since it had taken some time to find contractors willing to move everything in with Stephen’s portals—a necessary requirement if they were going to preserve the environment around the Sanctum, which both Stephen and Tony insisted on. Still, compared to how much time a project like this would normally take, their timetable was truly remarkable.
Stephen spent at least two hours a day meditating in the clearing, most of the time after construction had ended for the day. The energy flowed through the area and Stephen directed it into the foundation of the building, watched as runes slowly appeared, day after day, in the stone and concrete foundations as though they’d been carved there by human hands.
Tony had spent two days at the very beginning in the skeleton of the house asking the fledgling Sanctum if it preferred bamboo flooring or mahogany, how it felt about tile versus laminate in the kitchens, and what its thoughts were on brass door handles versus chrome, managing to understand the Sanctum with surprising accuracy despite everything.
Stephen loved Tony with every fiber of his being, but somehow, in moments like that, Stephen thought he somehow managed to fall even further.
The building was modest, all told. At least in regards to the work that the construction team did. As the process went, the construction team did less and less—much to their own disconcerted confusion. Hallways built themselves overnight and then disappeared the next day. Stephen was glad he’d told the construction team to quadruple the lumber supply, because the majority of the building had hidden itself in its own construction.
The construction crew had been vaguely unnerved, but they were paid enough that they seemed to think that if Tony and Stephen were ‘hiding’ the lumber overnight for some secret project, they weren’t going to make a fuss about it.
Tony and Stephen had paid for it, after all.
Stephen might actually need to have Tony order more wood. Especially the strand woven bamboo flooring, the Sanctum seemed to have a particular fondness for it. Stephen’d already doubled the quartzite order. The Sanctum had used up the first batch to create its relic room instead of the kitchen it had been intended for.
The construction foreman seemed entirely relieved to hand the keys over to Stephen when the project was finished. “Everything is up to your specifications,” the foreman promised, glancing awkwardly behind him to where the sun bathed the newest of earth’s Sanctums in light, the sunshine glinting off the large window shaped in the form of the Seal of Vishanti. Stephen had heard the foreman and several of the workers muttering about haunted houses near the end. Stephen had told the Sanctum to behave, but he didn’t think the Sanctum had listened.
“Thank you,” Stephen said. “Your work is appreciated.” He’d ask Tony to give the team a bonus; they deserved it. The keys were warm in his hand, magic sparking through them. He slid them into his pocket and felt them disintegrate into pure magic. The Sanctum didn’t actually need keys. Sanctums, by nature of what they were, were never physically locked, open to whoever needed them. And, for the most part, Sanctums could handle keeping out anyone they didn’t want, unlocked doors an utterly inconsequential factor.
He opened up a portal and the crew moved through and back to their offices, wishing him luck with the new place. Most seemed grateful not to be coming back—another whisper of haunted following behind them—but a few looked back with longing.
Tony huffed a laugh when the portal shut. “Haunted, huh?” he asked. “How long do you think it’ll take for rumors to go out saying the entire island is haunted, not just the building?”
“Not long,” Stephen said. “Mostly because when it comes to you, rumors tend to get expansively bigger with each retelling.”
Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “Oh, this is all you,” he said. “I don’t do hauntings, that’s entirely your field of expertise.”
“What happened to taking all the credit?” Stephen teased. “Already going back on that?”
“…I can’t win this one, can I?”
Stephen laughed. “No.” He reached out and took Tony’s hand. “Come see our new home?” He’d kept Tony out for most of the construction, wanting to surprise Tony with it. Tony’d had input into the foundational design, his engineering expertise coming into play when the contracting team didn’t agree with Stephen’s ‘vision’, and had discussed with the Sanctum on the materials it wanted, but Stephen had been in charge of near everything else.
“Looking forward to it,” Tony said, eyes glittering with excitement. “Even if I’m pretty sure it’s sacrilege for me to get to go in before Wong.”
Stephen rolled his eyes. “I’m this Sanctum’s master,” he said. “And you…” he searched for the right word.
“I belong to you,” Tony supplied, truth to the words that echoed deeper than intended, whispering of things Stephen wasn’t ready to look too closely at. Now wasn’t the time for that, either.
“Just come on,” Stephen said, tugging Tony forward and to the door.
The door opened the moment Stephen pressed a hand to the door, recognizing him.
Tony let out a surprised breath as he stepped in and the Sanctum welcomed them both in. “Oh,” he said. “That’s…”
Stephen smiled. “Yes,” he agreed with the unspoken awe. “It is.”
“So,” Tony said, once he’d gathered himself back together. “Do you need to do some sort of ritual? Make it all official?”
“Strangely enough, no,” Stephen said. “Though I understand why you might expect that. But this place was already a Sanctum, in some ways. All I’ve done the last few months was give it structure and tie it into the wards around the earth. What do you think I’ve been doing the last few months?” He shook his head. “A ritual performed after the fact would be far weaker, what I did was weave the magic into the very creation, far more powerful and long lasting.”
Tony nodded.
They wandered through the brightly lit halls, their footsteps echoed through the empty space. They still needed to furnish the Sanctum, but they’d do that in time. It didn’t have the relics or history of the other Sanctums, but it would, eventually.
Stephen couldn’t wait, knew that he’d see it happen.
Time flickered in his mind again, but Stephen pushed it back and away.
Not now.
“You built another Rotunda of Gateways?” Tony asked when they reached the third floor, examining the four doors and the dials on the door frames. “I’d have loved to see the construction teams reaction to that.”
Stephen smirked. “That they definitely didn’t see. The Sanctum and I did that bit ourselves.”
He tugged Tony along again, taking him through the so far empty relic room, with a single case for when the Cloak wanted some privacy and through the ‘normal’ amenities like the kitchen, library—with large, windows in the walls, giving it an atmosphere so unlike the one in the New York Sanctum, that even once the library filled with books, Stephen would never again feel trapped—and master bedroom.
Tony sent him a lascivious smile. “We’re going to have to christen the place, you know.”
Stephen laughed. “Oh, I look forward to it.” He pulled Tony back out. “But not now, Wong has probably noticed the new gateway tying the Sanctum to Kamar Taj and the other three Sanctums. I need to unlock it from this side before anyone can come through.”
“He can wait,” Tony teased. “Patience is an important lesson for a sorcerer to learn.”
Stephen shook his head. “Tony, I want to take my time with you. I’m not going to be able to do that knowing Wong is waiting for us.”
Tony made a face. “Well, when you put it that way, it does rather put a damper on the idea.”
“Thought it might,” Stephen said.
They made their way to the door that would lead to the space between Sanctums. The magic nestled there, waiting for Stephen to open up the connection.
It took half a thought to send the magic through the doorway.
The door disappeared, leaving an empty doorway that appeared to go nowhere.
A moment later, Wong stepped through. “Took you—” His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said. “It’s…” He took a deep breath. “You did well, Stephen. This is…” He shook his head. “Truly remarkable.”
Warmth twisted in Stephen’s chest. “Thank you,” he said.
Wong examined him, a strange look in his eyes, wonder and awe and… something almost sad. “You best prepare for a good number of visitors, to start with,” he warned. “There won’t be a single master in Kamar Taj who won’t want to see this.”
Stephen smirked despite himself. “Obviously,” he said. “This is rather historic.” And for once, it was historic in a way that was wholly positive. Stephen was more than finished with being marked by historic events comprised wholly of tragedy averted.
Nothing about the creation of a Sanctum was tragic. Stephen… he’d created something, something that wouldn’t be undone, something that was so very similar to what he’d had, but entirely new.
A Sanctum.
His Sanctum.
Stephen stopped at the sound of Tony’s voice saying his name coming from the sitting room. “—told Stephen I’d stop having conversations about him behind his back.” A chill ran down Stephen’s back; this didn’t sound like something he wanted to hear. He’d just finished giving Master Minoru a tour, pleased at the awe in her eyes. As a Sanctum Master herself, she understood the marvel of the place in a way many of the others didn’t despite their awe. This was a cold plunge back to reality.
“This is not about managing him,” Wong said, tone tired. “He made me promise the same before you both moved here. I have done my best not to do so.”
Tony didn’t sound convinced. “Then what is it about?”
Stephen moved quietly closer, the Sanctum masking his footsteps.
Wong didn’t answer immediately. “What do you know about building a Sanctum?” Wong asked.
“What Stephen told me,” Tony answered; Stephen could hear the shrug in his voice. “That Sanctums want to be made before they can be made, that places are technically already Sanctums, that the process is more giving them form, but even then it’s not a guarantee, the magic has to choose it.”
“Yes,” Wong said. “That’s true.” He sighed. “That’s not… Do you know how many sorcerers worked to create the Sanctums we have now?”
Stephen’s heart pounded in his chest.
“Wong—” Tony cut off. “Does it matter?”
“You know it does,” Wong said.
Tony let out a frustrated noise. “So what?” he asked. “So Stephen did something that should have taken more than one person. Maybe the magic was particularly eager here. It’s had centuries longer to prepare for this.”
“When Stephen came to me to tell me that a Sanctum wanted to be built here, I went and found every book I could on how the first Sanctums were created,” Wong pressed. “I expected Stephen to come for them, but he never did.”
“Maybe he already read them,” Tony retorted. “You know how his memory works, and he’s had plenty of time after over ten thousand loops to gain knowledge.”
Stephen swallowed. He’d never read those books. He’d just… known.
“Some say that the Vishanti themselves played a role in the construction of the Sanctums,” Wong said. “That the gods themselves needed to bless them before the magic could take root.”
Tony didn’t answer.
The hallway wall caught Stephen as he stumbled slightly, the words catching him off guard. Time nudged at him, as it often did, these days. Waiting for Stephen to be ready.
“Tony—” Wong continued.
“You should be telling Stephen this,” Tony said. “I don’t—” The words came out hoarse and footsteps echoed. Tony had just walked away from Wong. “This is about Stephen, you should be talking to him about it.”
“It’s about you, too,” Wong said. “Stephen isn’t ready to face this, but when he is, you need to have come to terms with it first. You cannot be reeling from the truth when he needs you to be stable.”
“I don’t see what I have to do with anything,” Tony denied.
Wong sighed. “Tony, you’re…”
“Talk to Stephen,” Tony snapped. “I don’t—”
“He needs you,” Wong snapped back. “You know that between the two of you, he is my priority. You agree with that, even if he doesn’t. He should be your priority as well.”
“Maybe I don’t want to face it either!” Tony’s voice echoed through the halls. “Don’t you think I already… I’m going to lose him, Wong.” His breathing came sharp and ragged, filling the space with grief. Horror filled Stephen. No, he didn’t— he couldn’t— “I don’t want to face it either,” Tony all but whispered.
Silence reigned. Stephen should step into the doorway, should stop this conversation before Wong could take it any further, but horror had turned his feet to stone, and he stayed where he was, waiting.
“Tony—” Wong’s voice was almost gentle. Almost. “After everything that’s happened, you have to know now… Stephen will do whatever it takes to keep you.”
Horror gathered like bile in the back of his mouth.
“What are you saying?” Tony asked.
Stephen needed to stop this conversation. Needed to make sure Tony knew that Stephen would never do that to Tony, that he’d… He wouldn’t.
“You know what I’m saying,” Wong said. “You are his Psyche, the mortal so beloved they ascend. You’ve already felt it, haven’t you?”
The realization came slowly. This wasn’t a matter of what Stephen would or wouldn’t do, because Stephen already had. Relief fought the horror. Because he couldn’t do this without Tony, but… but what had he in his selfishness done to Tony?
Tony’s laugh came out exhausted. “Yeah,” he said finally. “I’ve felt it.”
Guilt swamped him. He had to… No. He couldn’t have. He needed to… this needed to stop.
The ocean waves crested just in the moment before they could crash into the sand.
It’d been a while, Stephen mused, quiet, painful exhaustion tugging at him, since he’d stopped time. Building the Sanctum here on Lighthouse Cay had been good for him, had given him purpose and safety and…
The shifting of sand warned him a moment before Tony sat down next to him. “Heard me and Wong, huh?” Tony asked, voice quiet.
Stephen shrugged. “I’m… I’m sorry.”
Tony sighed. He shifted until he was leaning against Stephen.
Stephen’s heart raced, because Tony wasn’t drawing away from him, even though… even though Stephen had… even though Stephen had changed Tony… against Tony’s will, the act so instinctive, so necessary to Stephen on a fundamental basis, that he’d just… done it.
“Stephen. I’d have chosen you, you know that, right?”
“I didn’t give you a choice,” Stephen pointed out.
No answer.
“Wong’s not completely right, you know,” Tony said quietly. “There…” Tony paused. “I heard voices, that day we broke you free. I felt you leave, I felt you… You were dying.” Tony took a heavy, ragged breath. “And I couldn’t lose you. I… I tried to pull you back. But…” Tony laughed. “You’re kind of an unstoppable force, Stephen, and I had no clue what I was doing, and I… I followed you, instead. Your magic tried to stop me, tried to anchor me back. It tried to keep me safe, the way it—the way you—always do. There were… there were these voices.”
Stephen froze; he remembered the voices. “What did they say?”
“Would you follow him?” Tony quoted quietly. “Would you follow him, to death, to life, to the unknown?”
He will follow you, to death, to life, to the unknown.
Stephen remembered that. He just hadn’t understood what it meant, not then.
“And I knew, that if I said no, you’d… you’d be gone, and I’d be safe, and I would mourn you for the rest of my life.” Tony sighed. “And I knew, that if I said yes, that it would be your choice whether we both lived or died. And god, Stephen, I was so selfish. I said yes. I said yes and some part of me knew that you’d choose to come back, because it was me asking, because it was me and you’d never…” Tony fell quiet. “I was selfish.”
“You didn’t know.”
Tony didn’t answer.
“No, Tony, you didn’t know.”
“If it weren’t for me, you’d have chosen to die,” Tony said. “I took that—”
“No,” Stephen interrupted. Because it was as true as it was false. “I chose to live. You didn’t make that decision for me. No one could have made that decision for me.”
“You didn’t choose to be…” Tony paused. “You didn’t choose this.”
This.
The words that none of them had truly put into words yet. Even Wong had talked around it.
“No,” Stephen admitted. He hadn’t realized this was the choice that had been in front of him, even though he’d been warned. Power and Time had told him, had warned him that he’d been remade. Stephen had just refused to face what that meant. “I didn’t. But neither did you.”
Tony shifted a little, pressing a kiss to Stephen’s temple. “I chose you, though,” Tony said. “I always will, Stephen.”
“Even though it means that you’re…”
“I don’t think I am,” Tony denied. “Not the way you are. You’re…” Tony took a deep breath. “You’re a god, Stephen.” The words echoed in the stillness of the word, the truth put into words for the first time. They should be sacrilege of the highest order, but they were just… there. Echoing out into a world made silent and still by nothing more than Stephen’s will. “Or something like it,” Tony continued. “What happened to you changed you. Magic, Time, they… they’re yours, now, to command, to use, to bend. I’m just your… favored mortal.”
Stephen closed his eyes and Time flickered in his mind, showing him the vision that Stephen had forced back time and time again.
Him and Tony together, even as time spanned around them, changed, developed.
A moment in the far distant future where they retreated away from the world, their island and Sanctum slipping away into the mist, forgotten to the world, until they were nothing more than legend in the way of the Vishanti.
Never entirely gone, but patrons of the world rather than actors upon it. They’d become a source of strength for others to draw on, but they would not wield that strength themselves. There would come a point when they had to leave, because if they didn’t, they’d remake the world in their vision.
Humanity had to make those choices themselves.
For now, their humanity clung to them. For now… Well, they still had time to leave their mark. Still had time to create the legends that would live on beyond their presence here.
“You’re more than that,” Stephen said finally. “More than just my ‘favored mortal’.”
Tony scoffed. “I’m not what you are.”
“No,” Stephen admitted. Tony hadn’t been remade quite the way that Stephen had been. But that didn’t mean he’d gone untouched. “But you’re something.”
He could look through time, could see just how Tony had been remade—remade to match Stephen, if not in power, then in intent; remade so that he could stay with Stephen, when time stopped, when the world moved on, when everything changed; remade so that when Stephen faded into legend, Tony faded with him—but he didn’t.
They’d figure that out on their own and in their own time.
They sat in silence, the waves and world stilled, nothing but each other in a frozen world. Peace came slowly, but it came.
Tony knew—he always seemed to—when Stephen finally returned to something close to equilibrium. Tony took Stephen’s hand, an anchor to the world that Stephen needed, a reminder. “Come on,” Tony said. He stood, pulling Stephen to his feet after him, gentle with Stephen’s hands. “I miss the sound of waves.”
Stephen accepted the quiet request and loosened his hold on Time again. The wave crashed into the sand and the water rushed up the shore and swirled around their bare feet.
The world moved on.