The tea did, in fact, taste like hot flowers. But Stevan found he didn't mind it at all.
He sat cross-legged on a woven mat inside the Ancient One's private quarters at Kamar-Taj. The room was simple and warm, lit by the soft glow of a crackling fire. Outside, the rain continued to wash over the mountains of Nepal.
Stevan's clothes were completely dry. With a simple wave of her hand, the Ancient One had pulled the moisture right out of his shirt and jeans, leaving them perfectly warm.
"I have to admit," Stevan said, taking another sip from his clay cup. "This is a lot better than the stale coffee I've been drinking out of Tony Stark's care packages."
The Ancient One sat across from him, holding her own cup with both hands. The heavy mantle of the Sorcerer Supreme seemed to rest a little lighter on her shoulders in this quiet room.
"Kamar-Taj has many secrets, Stevan," she smiled warmly. "But our greatest secret is our tea supplier."
Stevan chuckled. He looked at her, really looked at her. Her eyes held the weight of centuries, but right now, they were soft and relaxed.
"You know," the Ancient One said, her voice turning a little more serious, "I was watching your magical aura while we fought the Shadow Hounds today. The bond between you and the Lord of Order is changing your physical vessel."
Stevan paused, lowering his cup. "Changing it how? Am I going to start growing golden feathers?"
"No," she laughed softly, shaking her head. "It is changing your relation to time. The magic is preserving you. As long as you carry the mantle of Doctor Fate, your mortal cells will not degrade. You will age, Stevan, but so slowly that a century will feel like a single year to your body."
Stevan stared at his hands. He hadn't really thought about it. He knew Doctor Fate was powerful, but immortality? Or something close to it?
"So... I'm going to outlive everyone," Stevan said quietly. The thought was suddenly very heavy. He thought of his favorite superheroes, Captain America, Iron Man. They were human. They would grow old.
The Ancient One reached across the small wooden table. She gently placed her hand over his.
"It is a heavy truth," she said gently, her thumb tracing the back of his hand. "To watch the world spin forward while you remain still. It is the curse of the protectors. We watch the leaves fall, but we are the roots."
Stevan looked up from their hands and met her eyes. He realized she was telling him something much deeper. She was telling him that she knew exactly how it felt to watch everyone else grow old and pass on.
Stevan turned his hand over and gently held hers. Her skin was warm.
"I guess the roots have to stick together, then," Stevan whispered, giving her hand a firm, comforting squeeze.
Her smile returned, small and incredibly bright in the firelight. She didn't let go of his hand. They sat there in the quiet room for a long time, just listening to the rain, perfectly content in the silence.
_________________
Stevan stepped back through the golden portal into the giant, impossible library of the Tower of Fate.
He let out a long, happy breath. His mind felt clear. His chest felt light.
"Your heart rate is elevated. Your brain chemistry is flooded with mortal endorphins," Nabu's voice echoed flatly from the golden helmet resting on the central table. "You are experiencing romantic attachment."
Stevan walked over to the table and rolled his eyes. "And you are experiencing a severe lack of chill, Nabu. Can't a guy just have a nice afternoon?"
"Attachment leads to fear. Fear leads to chaos," the ancient god warned. "A Lord of Order must remain impartial. If the Ancient One were to become a threat, would you be able to strike her down?"
Six months ago, Stevan would have panicked at that question. He would have argued or felt guilty. But Stevan had grown up. He wasn't just a kid wearing a magic hat anymore.
"She is the anchor of Earth's mystic defenses," Stevan said calmly, pulling out a heavy, dusty book from a floating shelf. "She is not a threat. And if the day ever comes when she is in danger, my attachment will not cause chaos. It will be the reason I fight harder to restore order. Emotions are not a weakness, Nabu. They are the fuel."
Nabu was silent. The ancient god did not argue. It was a sign of respect. Stevan was no longer just a vessel; he was becoming an equal partner.
Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious buzzing sound cut through the quiet hum of the library.
BZZZZZ! BZZZZZ!
Stevan jumped. He looked around until he saw the black Stark smartphone vibrating aggressively on a stack of scrolls.
He picked it up. The screen said it was 3:00 AM in California. The caller ID flashed: Tony Stark.
Stevan answered the phone. "Tony? Do you know what time it is?"
"Goldie. Hey. Wizard of Oz. Magic man," Tony's voice came through the speaker. He was talking incredibly fast. He sounded out of breath, like he had just run a mile. "Are you awake? Do you sleep? I don't sleep. Sleep is for people who don't have wormholes in their brain."
Stevan's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Tony, calm down. What's wrong? Are you under attack?"
"No, no, no," Tony stammered. There was the loud sound of a power drill whirring in the background. "I'm just... building. I'm building suits. I have to build suits. But I can't stop thinking about the... the space hole. The big blue door. You saw what was on the other side, right? You were there. I'm not crazy, right?"
Stevan understood immediately. It was PTSD. The Battle of New York had scarred Tony Stark deeply. He had flown a nuclear bomb into space and almost died.
"Tony, where are you right now?" Stevan asked, his voice steady and calm.
"Malibu. The workshop," Tony breathed heavily. "Just... tell me there isn't another monster coming right now. Just tell me your magic crystal ball says we're okay."
"Stay right there," Stevan said. "I'm coming over."
"What? No, you don't have to fly all the way from—"
Stevan hung up the phone. He didn't put the golden helmet on. He didn't need the full power of Fate for this. He just needed to be a friend.
Stevan raised his hand, traced a golden circle in the air, and pictured the massive, modern basement workshop of Tony Stark's Malibu mansion. He stepped through the light.
________________
Stevan stepped out of the portal into a room that was blindingly bright, incredibly noisy, and completely chaotic.
Tony's workshop was a mess of wires, holographic screens, and heavy machinery. But the craziest part was the walls. Standing in high-tech display cases all around the room were at least thirty different Iron Man suits. Some were painted blue, some were bulky, and some looked barely finished.
In the middle of the room stood Tony Stark.
He looked terrible. He was wearing a grease-stained tank top. He had dark, heavy bags under his eyes. His hands were shaking as he held a welding torch.
Tony spun around when he heard the portal snap shut. He blinked at Stevan.
"Whoa," Tony said, lowering the torch. "You didn't use the front door. And you're not wearing the shiny hat."
"You looked like you needed someone to talk to," Stevan said gently. He walked over to a cluttered metal workbench and leaned against it. "And you didn't need Doctor Fate. You just needed Stevan."
Tony stared at him for a second, then let out a shaky, exhausted laugh. He threw the welding torch onto a table and rubbed his face with both hands.
"I'm losing my mind, kid," Tony admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "I close my eyes, and I'm back in that suit. I'm falling backward through space. I see the alien army. The mothership."
Tony paced across the concrete floor, pointing wildly at the dozens of Iron Man suits lining the walls.
"I have to protect her," Tony said, meaning Pepper Potts. "I have to protect the world. But how do I build a suit of armor around the whole planet? Because they are out there, Stevan. The gods, the aliens, the monsters. And I'm just a guy in a metal can."
Stevan watched the billionaire pace. He felt a deep wave of sympathy. Stevan knew exactly what was out there. He knew Thanos was coming. It was a terrifying reality to wake up to.
"Tony," Stevan said quietly.
Tony kept pacing. "I mean, look at you! You can teleport! Thor has a magic hammer! Hulk is a green wrecking ball! I'm just a mechanic. If they come back—"
"Tony. Look at me." Stevan's voice didn't echo with Nabu's power, but it was firm and commanding.
Tony stopped pacing. He looked at Stevan, his chest heaving with anxiety.
Stevan pushed a tiny, almost invisible wave of golden magic out of his body. It wasn't a mind-control spell. It was just an aura of pure, calming Order. It washed over the workshop, instantly settling the frantic, chaotic energy in the room.
Tony let out a long breath. His shoulders dropped. The shaking in his hands stopped.
"You aren't just a mechanic, Tony," Stevan said, holding Tony's gaze. "You flew a nuclear bomb into a black hole to save millions of people. You survived. That doesn't make you weak. It makes you the bravest guy in the room."
__________________
Tony leaned against a sleek silver sports car parked in the corner of the lab. He looked exhausted, but the wild panic in his eyes was gone.
"Thanks," Tony whispered. He tapped his chest, right over the glowing arc reactor. "Whatever Jedi mind trick you just did... thank you."
"It's just a little bit of calm," Stevan smiled slightly. "You're trying to carry the whole world on your back, Tony. But you don't have to."
"They're going to come back," Tony said stubbornly. "The aliens. Whoever sent Loki. I know it."
"You're right. They will," Stevan said honestly. He wasn't going to lie to Tony.
Tony looked up, surprised that Stevan wasn't trying to tell him it was all in his head.
"But when they do come back," Stevan continued, his voice hardening with absolute confidence, "they are going to have to go through us. You aren't alone, Tony. You build your armor of iron. And I will build the armor of magic. If the sky opens up again, you aren't going to be the only one flying up to meet them."
Tony stared at the young man in the gray hoodie. For a second, he didn't see a college kid. He saw the immovable, god-like warrior who had tied a Leviathan in glowing chains.
A slow, tired smile finally appeared on Tony's face. "You know, Goldie... you're pretty good at this superhero pep-talk thing."
"I read a lot of books," Stevan shrugged modestly.
Stevan reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small, flat, rectangular piece of solid gold. It wasn't a phone, and it didn't have any buttons. It was covered in ancient, glowing runes.
Stevan tossed it to Tony. Tony caught it, looking at the heavy metal curiously.
"What is this?" Tony asked. "A magical pager?"
"It's a beacon," Stevan explained. "No batteries, no signal bars. If you ever feel like the sky is falling, or if you ever see something you can't punch with a metal suit... just break that piece of gold in half. The moment it breaks, I will instantly teleport to exactly where you are. No matter what."
Tony looked down at the golden rune. He gripped it tightly in his fist. For a man who relied entirely on technology, holding a piece of raw magic gave him a strange sense of deep comfort.
"I appreciate this, Stevan," Tony said sincerely. "Really."
"Get some sleep, Tony," Stevan said, stepping back and drawing a glowing golden portal in the air behind him. "The world is safe tonight."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Tony nodded, turning off the welding torch on his desk. "Hey, Stevan?"
Stevan paused at the edge of the portal. "Yeah?"
"Next time you come over," Tony smirked, some of his old snark returning, "wear the hat. The hoodie makes you look like you're here to mow my lawn."
Stevan laughed. "Goodnight, Tony."
He stepped backward through the portal, and the light vanished, leaving the Malibu workshop quiet and peaceful.
___________________
Stevan stepped back into the Tower of Fate.
He took a deep breath. Helping Tony felt incredibly good. It reminded Stevan why he had accepted the helmet in the first place. He wasn't just here to fight monsters; he was here to bring order to a chaotic world. Sometimes, that meant fighting a space whale. Sometimes, it meant talking a friend down from a panic attack.
Stevan walked across the massive library, heading toward his bedroom to finally get some sleep.
But as he passed the center of the room, he stopped.
He looked toward the far wall. The stone was smooth and blank. But Stevan's magical senses were tingling. He walked closer to the wall.
Behind that specific patch of stone was the pocket dimension where he had hidden Loki's Scepter six months ago.
Stevan placed his bare hand against the cold marble. He closed his eyes and looked through the magical barrier.
Inside the tiny, dark pocket dimension, the golden scepter was floating silently. But the blue gemstone at the tip of the weapon was glowing. It was pulsing slowly, like a rhythmic heartbeat.
Thump... thump... thump.
Stevan frowned. The Mind Stone was awake. It was completely trapped by the Tower's magic, unable to reach out to anyone on Earth. But it was definitely thinking. It was whispering to itself in the dark.
"It senses your growing power," Nabu's voice spoke quietly from the helmet across the room. "The Infinity Stones are drawn to cosmic energy. It is trying to find a crack in your mind."
Stevan didn't flinch. He didn't feel the cold, slimy whispers trying to control him like he did on the roof of Stark Tower. His mind was vastly stronger now. The Mind Stone was just a bug in a jar to him.
"Let it whisper," Stevan said coldly, his voice totally fearless.
He pushed a fresh wave of thick, heavy golden magic into the stone wall. The magical locks glowed brightly, sealing the pocket dimension even tighter. The faint blue glow behind the rock completely vanished, buried under absolute Order.
"Nothing is getting out of this Tower," Stevan promised the empty room.
He turned his back on the wall, completely unworried, and went to get some sleep. He had a lot of reading to do tomorrow, and a paper crane to fold for the Sorcerer Supreme.