Dr. Stephen Strange.
A man of many talents.
Attending physician. Renowned surgeon. Collector of obscure vinyl records and vintage watches.
And now, improbably, a student.
Specifically, a student of an ancient order dating back thousands of years, studying the occult arts, magic, and mysticism that most of the world didn't even know existed.
How had he fallen so far?
Stephen glanced down at his trembling hands. Scar tissue crisscrossed his knuckles and palms—some from the accident, others from the desperate surgeries that had failed to restore what he'd lost. These hands had once performed miracles in operating rooms across the globe, earning him a reputation for precision and steadiness unmatched in his field.
Now all they did was shake. A constant, humiliating reminder of everything he used to be.
In this place of magic and mysticism, overcoming that tremor—healing what medicine couldn't fix—was the mountain he had to climb.
So here he stood in the training courtyard of Kamar-Taj, attempting to summon a portal with his Sling Ring. The deceptively simple brass device would allow him to travel anywhere in this universe, or any universe imaginable, if only he could make the damn thing work.
The concept alone should have excited him. The multiverse wasn't science fiction anymore—it was real, tangible, accessible. Though technically this wasn't science at all, was it? This was magic. Ancient, incomprehensible magic that operated on rules his rational mind struggled to accept.
If only he could conjure the damn portal.
Stephen rotated his arms through the prescribed motions again, channeling every ounce of concentration into the Sling Ring. A few pitiful sparks sputtered in front of him before fading into nothing. No portal. Not even close.
Around him, other students practiced the same exercise. Several had already succeeded, golden portals shimmering before them like windows into distant worlds. He was falling behind. Again.
Stephen gritted his teeth and tried once more, his mind drifting back to his first private lesson with the Ancient One. She had compared spells to programming code—source code that allowed mystics to tap into the ambient energy of other dimensions, reshaping reality to their will. Shields. Weapons. Constructs limited only by imagination and skill.
It was the foundation of everything they did here.
The Ancient One had told him that mastering these skills required the same dedication it had taken to become a surgeon. Years of study and practice. Though for exceptional students, she'd added with a knowing smile, it might only take months.
If only he could summon a damn portal.
Stephen's jaw clenched in frustration as he swept his arms through the motions for what felt like the hundredth time. More sparks. Nothing more.
"Relax and release your anger, Strange."
Stephen exhaled sharply, lowering his hands to glare at the woman beside him.
"You're forcing it too hard," she said patiently. "You need to feel it, not demand it."
"How can I not force it, Morn?" Strange asked, his tone sharp with frustration. "Every achievement in my life came from persistent effort. From demanding results."
The Jedi Shadow known as Celeste Morn offered him a knowing grin.
It was still surreal—the fact that this woman was from outer space, from her own order of mystics who wielded something called the Force instead of the sorcery practiced here. Stephen had taken to calling the Jedi Order "Hogwarts in Space."
She hadn't gotten the reference. Yet.
"You sound exactly like my boyfriend when you talk like that," Celeste remarked.
"Really?" Stephen said flatly. "You have a boyfriend? How'd you manage that?"
He received only a bland stare in response before something hooked his ankle and sent him sprawling face-first onto the courtyard stones.
"Celeste," a stern voice called out, though Stephen could detect amusement beneath the warning.
Celeste adopted an expression of perfect innocence as she turned toward the group's instructor, who now watched her and Strange with barely concealed entertainment.
"Yes, Master Mordo?"
"We don't trip our fellow practitioners," Mordo said calmly, though his lips twitched upward.
Morn projected false confusion. "Trip? Master Mordo, what do you mean? Can't you see Master Strange is frustrated? He simply stumbled in his annoyance at his own failure."
"In so many ways," a serene female voice added.
In an instant, the Ancient One stood among them, though no one had seen her arrive. Stephen pushed himself to his feet, muttering under his breath, and turned to face the Sorcerer Supreme as she glided into the training courtyard.
"Mordo, Daniel—they're ready for their next lesson," the Ancient One said, her gaze sweeping across the assembled students. Mordo nodded and gestured for the class to follow him.
"Not you, Strange."
The Doctor sighed heavily, stopping mid-step. He turned back to face her.
"My hands—" he began bluntly, holding up his scarred, trembling limbs.
"This has nothing to do with your hands," the Ancient One interrupted gently but firmly.
"How can it not be about my hands?" Stephen shot back, irritation bleeding into his voice. "All I'm doing is waving them through the air like some kind of—"
"I do the same thing." Celeste raised one hand casually. Her lightsaber detached from her belt and floated into her palm without her touching it. "Didn't the Ancient One explain how to accomplish what you're attempting?"
"Yes—years of study and practice," Strange said, rolling his eyes. "Very helpful."
"And I've only been here a few months," Celeste pointed out. "But I spent years at the Jedi Temple before that. The principle is the same."
"You're limiting yourself to the physical," the Ancient One said, shaking her head. "The Mystic Arts do have a physical component—gestures help focus intention—but ultimately, everything depends on your mindset. Your spirit."
The Ancient One glanced to her left, where an older Asian master stood silently observing.
"Hamir, if you would."
Master Hamir stepped forward, hands tucked into his sleeves. He drew them out slowly, and Stephen blinked in surprise.
The man's left hand was missing—severed cleanly at the wrist.
With a fluid gesture of his remaining arm, Hamir summoned a complex golden mandala that spun in the air before him, glowing with intricate runes and geometric patterns.
"Thank you, Hamir," the Ancient One said warmly.
The master bowed slightly and withdrew.
"See?" Celeste said, gesturing toward Hamir's retreating form. "It's in your mind, not your hands."
"You cannot beat a river into submission," the Ancient One continued. "You must surrender to its current and make its power your own."
Stephen muttered darkly, "Celeste's told me about the Force and how she has to open herself to it. How does that help me? It doesn't make sense."
"Not everything has to make sense," the Ancient One replied. "Not everything can be rationalized and categorized. Your intellect has carried you far in life, Stephen, but it will take you no further. Surrender it."
Celeste suddenly tensed, realizing what was about to happen. "Wait, Master, are you sure—"
"Trust me, Morn," the Ancient One promised with a mischievous glint in her eye. She summoned a portal with a casual wave of her hand. "Silence your ego, and your power will rise."
Before Strange could protest, the Ancient One gestured for him to follow her through the shimmering gateway. Celeste remained behind in the courtyard, feeling the biting cold radiating from the other side. She could barely make out the muffled conversation happening in that frozen wasteland.
Less than a minute later, the Ancient One stepped back through the portal alone and closed it with a gesture, leaving Stephen stranded on the other side.
A muffled, terrified shout echoed from Mount Everest before being cut off by the portal's closure.
Celeste winced. "Do you think he can do it?"
"You did, didn't you?"
The Jedi gave her a flat look. "Master, I have the advantage of the Force and years of training in opening myself to the universe. Stephen is... not that type of person."
"What's happening?" Mordo asked, his voice curious as he returned to stand beside them. He glanced around the now-empty courtyard. "Where's our newest student?"
"He's been deposited somewhere remote," Celeste said quickly. "If he doesn't succeed, he'll die."
"He'll be fine," the Ancient One said breezily, producing a fan and waving it leisurely.
Mordo caught Celeste's expression and let his shoulders slump.
"Oh no. Not the Everest test again."
Stephen Strange was currently waving his hands desperately, trying to summon a portal back to Kamar-Taj while fighting off the lethal cold of Mount Everest.
Sparks. He could only produce sparks. He screamed in rage and terror as another attempt failed.
He was going to die here. He was certain of it.
Stephen looked wildly around the snowy peak, his breath coming in ragged gasps as frostbite began setting into his exposed skin. The wind howled like a living thing, and the temperature was so far below zero that every breath burned his lungs.
The Doctor closed his eyes, ready to accept defeat—to accept death—when a half-remembered conversation drifted through his panicking mind.
"The Force? What is that?"
"It's my Order's understanding of the universal energy field—our version of magic, if you will. It exists everywhere, connecting all living things. When I trained as a Padawan, my Master always told me the Force flows through you. You just have to open yourself to it and allow it to move freely. Think of it as electricity, and yourself as the conductor."
Stephen's eyes snapped open. His body trembled violently from the cold, but he stared at the space before him with new understanding.
"Open myself," Strange whispered through chattering teeth. "Let go... just let go... let it flow..."
He stopped trying to force the portal into existence. Instead, he surrendered. He felt for that current the Ancient One had described, that river he needed to join rather than fight.
And something shifted.
Celeste, the Ancient One, and Mordo stood together in tense silence, waiting.
Several more minutes passed. Celeste wordlessly began preparing to open her own portal to retrieve him, but the Ancient One gently placed a hand over hers and pressed it down.
As she did, Celeste's eyes widened. A grin spread across her face at what materialized before them.
A golden portal bloomed in the courtyard, unstable and flickering but real.
Strange stumbled through it and immediately collapsed into a shivering, fetal position. He was ice-cold, frost clinging to his hair and clothes from his impromptu visit to Earth's highest peak.
Mordo instantly conjured a thick woolen blanket and draped it around Stephen's shoulders. The Doctor nodded gratefully, too cold to speak.
He looked up at the Ancient One, who smiled down at him with unmistakable pride.
"You've taken your first step, Mr. Strange."
The Doctor let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh as he struggled to his feet, supported by Mordo and Celeste on either side.
Together, Celeste and Mordo helped him back toward his quarters, where warmth and recovery awaited.