"Hey, Abel, which girl are you looking at?" Sean's voice was gleeful, teasing. "Am I—the famous 'Iron Tree' from Midtown School of Science and Technology—finally blooming?"
I ignored the commentary and pointed toward the girl radiating malevolence. "Sean, do you know who that is?"
"Which girl? Let me see..." He followed my gaze, then hissed through his teeth. "Hey, buddy, I didn't know I liked that type. I really have... unique taste."
My expression flattened. "I'm not interested in her. I just haven't seen her before, so I'm a little curious."
"Oh." He shrugged. "Her name is Amonsha. She transferred from another school about half a month ago. But she's super reclusive—doesn't talk, doesn't make friends, basically treats human interaction like it's contagious. Not many people know her."
He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "She likes to do everything alone. If he hadn't accidentally found out about her before, he really wouldn't be able to tell me who she is. Also, I've heard she's been in a really bad mood these past couple days. Even more gloomy and terrifying than usual. Everyone's afraid of her—students and teachers—because, you know..." He made a gun gesture with his fingers. "School shootings can happen anytime, right? So, Abel, it's better if I stay away from her."
We walked into the school as we talked.
I filed the information away and tried to put Amonsha out of my mind. I'd wanted to know who she was, nothing more. I had no intention of interfering with whatever darkness surrounded her.
That malevolence is way beyond what I can handle right now anyways.
Sometimes, though, if I don't look for trouble, trouble looks for me.
As Sean and I disappeared into the teaching building, Amonsha slowly lifted her bowed head. Through the gaps in her hanging hair, she watched my retreating figure.
Her eyes gleamed with something between inquiry and delight.
The day passed in a blur of classes I barely paid attention to.
By three o'clock, school was over. I grabbed my backpack, said goodbye to Sean, and headed for my bike.
No part-time job today—Mondays were free. I could go straight home, work on my wand core experiments, maybe actually get some homework done.
Normal teenage things. Very normal.
I rode into the one-way street that led to my apartment—a quiet stretch of road with overgrown trees and minimal foot traffic. I personally liked this route. The peaceful atmosphere let me think clearly, process the day's chaos, exist in my own head for fifteen blessed minutes.
Today, though, this road was destined to be anything but peaceful.
Halfway down the street, I saw someone standing in the middle of the road.
Blocking my path.
When did she notice me?
That question hit first, sharp and immediate, like a needle under the skin. I hadn't even done anything—at least nothing that should've mattered. I'd looked at her in the hallway. I'd felt that wrongness and stared a second too long. Was that enough? Did my attention trigger something? Some spiritual ripple, some "predator recognizes predator" effect?
I kept my face neutral anyway. Harmless. Boring. A kid with homework and no problems.
"Excuse me," I said, letting my voice drift into that polite, slightly awkward teenager register. "I need to go home and do my homework. If you have something you want to talk about, we can chat tomorrow at school. What do you think?"
Appeasement. De-escalation. The kind of move you make when the other person looks unstable and you're standing in a public place where you really don't want to start throwing magic around.
Amonsha tilted her head and studied me like I was something she'd found crawling under a rock. Her grip tightened around the handlebars of a bike I hadn't even noticed until now. Her expression wasn't confusion. It wasn't even anger.
It was excitement.
"No, no, no," she whispered, and there was a tremor in her voice, like she was on the edge of laughter. "You saw it just now, didn't you? You saw me. The real me."
My stomach tightened.
That's the kind of sentence that comes right before a normal person does something abnormal. The kind of sentence that makes your survival instincts quietly stand up and start stretching.
Her voice rose, spilling over into something feverish. "Come. Let me see what's special about you. Come on. Come on. Come on!"
The air around her thickened.
Black aura—like smoke that had learned hatred—poured off her body in waves. Her hair lifted, not from wind but from the force of whatever was boiling out of her. It exploded outward as if gravity had stopped applying to it, revealing her face more clearly.
Then I saw it.
Heavy dark circles around her eyes, not just tiredness but something carved in. Like she hadn't slept in a year, or like sleep refused to touch her. And on her forehead, glowing faintly red, was a symbol—intricate lines forming a mark I swore I'd seen before.
My brain lunged for recognition and came up with a fistful of static.
Where have I—
She lunged.
No warning. No slow buildup. One moment she was standing there vibrating with obsession, the next she was in motion, her aura reaching for me like it wanted to peel my skin off.
I didn't even think. I cast a silent Levitation Charm and shoved myself backward, skidding away like someone had pulled my collar with an invisible hand. The movement wasn't graceful. It was desperate.
Amonsha watched me retreat, and her excitement cooled into something far worse: focus.
"So that's it," she breathed, her voice dropping low. "So that's it. You have magic? Yes you do. You do, right?"
Then she laughed.
It wasn't happy. It wasn't even sane.
"Heh… heh heh…" Her shoulders shook. "Someone like you… I want to eat you."
My blood iced over.
Not metaphorically. My body actually reacted like the temperature dropped.
Cannibal wasn't even the right word. This felt like hunger aimed at the soul.
The black aura contracted, tightening around her like armor.
Then her body flickered.
In the blink of an eye, she was in front of me again.
Not running. Not jumping. Not normal movement.
Teleportation? Speed? Space-warp?
I didn't have time to categorize it. The aura snapped outward into tentacle-like strands, coiling toward my chest and throat with predatory intent.
What the hell IS this power?
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
I threw the spell at her on instinct, and it did exactly nothing. The magic touched her aura and slid off like water off oil. She was too saturated with that malevolent energy—too anchored to something that wasn't purely physical.
But the world around her?
That was still mine to use.
I yanked a parked blue Mercedes sideways with telekinesis, muttering a quick, guilt-ridden apology to whatever poor guy would have to explain that insurance claim.
The car slammed into her from behind.
BANG.
Metal shrieked. Glass cracked. Amonsha stumbled half a step, her aura flaring.
I didn't waste the opening. I propelled myself back again, magic burning through my reserves at a rate that made my vision pulse.
I couldn't beat her in a straight fight. Not like this. Not wandless. Not with my aim still trash and my stamina still recovering.
But I also couldn't run home.
Leading… that… to my apartment where my mother slept was not an option. I'd die before I let that happen.
New plan: lead her to the Sanctum. Let the Ancient One deal with this nightmare.
It was practical. Reasonable.
And, as always, my mistake was assuming the universe cared about reasonable.
BOOM.
Black flames erupted from the ground in front of me like someone had set the street on fire with a curse.
I twisted sideways, barely avoiding the blast. Heat seared my face. The fire wasn't normal fire—no orange, no comforting physics. It was darker, hungrier, like the flame was made of emptiness and it wanted to feed.
I looked back at her, genuinely shocked.
The red mark on her forehead was glowing brighter now, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Behind her, space itself began to twist, air warping as if reality was being wrung out like cloth.
A void opened.
Not a full portal, but a tear in the world's skin—darkness bleeding through, colors wrong, depth infinite.
And inside that void, something moved.
A shape, massive and barely visible, flickering in and out of perception like it couldn't fully enter but very much wanted to. The pressure from it made my skin crawl and my teeth ache.
What the fuck is that?!
Amonsha advanced slowly, enjoying herself, black flames dancing at her command. Her expression was deranged pleasure wrapped around suffering, like she was both hunter and victim and didn't care which role she played as long as someone bled.
I backed up, mind racing.
I needed distance. I needed a portal. I needed a wand. I needed the Ancient One. I needed—
A flicker of magic caught the corner of my eye.
Irregular crystalline mirrors appeared in the air with no warning, bending reality and snapping into a curved shell between me and the black flames. The fire hit the shimmering barrier and slid aside, contained, redirected, like someone had grabbed the laws of physics and forced them to behave.
Mirror Dimension barriers.
Kamar-Taj technique.
Someone from the Sanctum was here.
Relief hit so hard my knees almost buckled.
Then a circle of sparks began to form a few meters ahead—golden, spinning, slicing through the air. A portal opened, and a figure in yellow robes stepped through as if she'd been on her way to buy groceries and this was a mild inconvenience.
The Ancient One.
Of course it was her.
She moved through the mirror barrier like it wasn't there, her steps light, her presence heavy in that quiet way power has when it doesn't need to announce itself. She studied Amonsha with calm professionalism—like she'd seen worse things before breakfast.
"So," she said, voice soft. "We have a problem."
Amonsha's attention snapped toward her like a predator sensing a rival. The black flames intensified, spreading outward. The void behind her widened, and that massive shadow pressed closer to reality like it was trying to force its way through with brute will.
"You," Amonsha hissed, and her voice wasn't fully her voice anymore. Something else sat underneath it, deeper, layered. "You always get in my way."
"That tends to happen," the Ancient One replied, "when you try to conquer a dimension that is not yours." Her gaze sharpened, and the air itself seemed to still. "Am I not right… Dormammu?"
Amonsha's eyes twitched violently, as if something inside her had been jabbed with a needle.
The void behind her pulsed.
The shadow pressed harder.
For a second, I felt that same terrible presence I'd felt in Latveria—like a cosmic eye turning toward you, amused and hungry.
Dormammu really was here.
Not fully. Not in body.
But present enough.
The Ancient One sighed, and it was the most insulting sound I'd ever heard anyone make in the presence of a dimensional lord.
She raised her hand.
The Mirror Dimension shifted—not breaking, not collapsing, simply rearranging. The street folded. The sky refolded. Space rewrote itself like a page being turned. The normal world was pushed away in an instant, and Amonsha found herself standing in an isolated reality bubble where only the combatants mattered.
I caught a glimpse of the barrier expanding before it shielded me from the worst of it. The crystalline mirrors around me thickened, protecting me like I was fragile cargo.
Through them, I watched the Ancient One and Amonsha face off.
Black flames surged like a wave. Golden sigils snapped into being, interlocking like gears. The void behind Amonsha strained, and for a heartbeat, I saw something like a hand—too large, too wrong—press against the fabric of the Mirror Dimension from the other side.
Then the Ancient One did something I didn't expect.
She didn't attack.
She stepped forward.
Her hand passed through the black flames without flinching, as if fire—dark or otherwise—had no authority over her. She reached out and placed two fingers gently against Amonsha's forehead, right on the red mark.
Amonsha's face crumpled.
Not with rage.
With anguish.
Pure, collapsing despair, like someone had finally cut the strings and she could feel how badly they'd carved into her. Tears spilled instantly, shocking in the middle of all that darkness.
"Help me…" Amonsha whispered.
The void behind her flickered.
Weakened.
The Ancient One's expression didn't soften into pity exactly—but something in her eyes shifted. Understanding. Recognition. The look of someone seeing a victim inside a weapon.
She whispered a spell I couldn't hear.
Golden light threaded into the mark like roots, not forcing, not ripping—unweaving. The red symbol dimmed. The black flames stuttered, then died like candles pinched out. The malevolent aura dissipated like morning mist.
Amonsha sagged forward.
The Ancient One caught her.
Cradled her like you would a child who'd been running on terror for too long.
Then she stepped back through the mirror barrier, bringing Amonsha with her.
The world snapped.
Street. Trees. Normal air. Normal sky.
The crushed Mercedes still sat there like a confession.
The pavement was scorched where dark fire had burned it, and the air smelled faintly of ozone and something older, like smoke from a place that didn't belong on Earth.
I stood there breathing hard, trying to convince my brain this had actually happened.
The Ancient One looked at me calmly while holding the unconscious girl in her arms.
Her eyes flicked over my face, then down to my hands, then to the slight tremor in my posture.
Not judgment.
Assessment.
"I—" My throat felt too tight to talk normally. "I noticed something wrong. She felt… dangerous."
The Ancient One nodded slightly. "She is. And she is also being used."
My stomach twisted. "By Dormammu."
"Yes," she said simply.
I looked at Amonsha—pale, exhausted, terrifying even in sleep—and felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Fear. Anger. Relief. The distant echo of sympathy I didn't want to admit to yet, because sympathy makes you careless.