"Evacuate?" Victoria Hand looked utterly shocked.
Baron Mordo nodded. After relaying the command, he turned and walked away without another word, followed by nearly every Kamar-Taj sorcerer aboard the Judicator. The same was happening aboard the other two sky battleships, the Crimson Rose and the Golden Hundred Petals. Each ship would retain only a single mage to maintain a portal for extraction, while the rest were descending to the ground to assist the Immortal City's armed forces with the withdrawal.
"Wait." Agent Hand called after Baron Mordo. She pointed toward Fimbulwinter Mountain, whose snow-capped peak was drenched in streaks of golden and blood-red light, and at the horde of extra-dimensional creatures swarming its base. "Without the firepower support from the sky battleships and siege corps, how is the Monarch supposed to handle that many extra-dimensional entities at the summit?"
"These are the last wave of the enemy. At the current rate of bombardment, they'll be wiped out shortly," Mordo patiently explained. "The Sorcerer Supreme is already clearing out the remaining portals. Once he's done, this region will be sealed against further teleportation. No more reinforcements will come through. This is our final opportunity to withdraw to a safe distance. Any further questions? I have more critical matters to attend to."
"No," Hand said stiffly. She finally understood why she'd received orders to authorize the launch of every nuclear weapon the Immortal City possessed. Despite being Director of Intelligence, there were still many secrets within the city she was not permitted to access—something that greatly displeased her. Though Solomon's operational style resembled Nick Fury's to an uncanny degree, having such a commander wasn't comforting. She felt she had more than proven her loyalty and competence—there was no reason for Solomon to keep things from her.
If Mordo had known what Victoria Hand was thinking, he might have tried to console her.
It wasn't a matter of trust. Rather, Hand's refusal to undergo bio-enhancement limited her clearance. As it stood, the intelligence operations within the Immortal City were already enough to keep her overwhelmed. Had she been entrusted with certain deeper secrets, her unmodified body might not even survive the workload. Moreover, some secrets required arcane safeguards—sealed deep within the soul itself. Hand had long been averse to anyone tampering with her mind, especially after someone once fired a bullet into her brain. As a result, she was only cleared for mortal-accessible intelligence. For instance, prior to today, she hadn't known a single word about the war machines. That was not knowledge intended for her.
Arms crossed, Agent Hand stood on the Judicator's bridge, watching the mages around her cast the teleportation spell that would carry the airborne dreadnought to a safe distance from Fimbulwinter Mountain. The other two ships executed their own transfers simultaneously. After about thirty minutes of tense silence, a golden beam of light shot into the sky from the direction of the mountain, piercing the pale pink and deep blue morning heavens. A moment later came a soul-rending, earsplitting shriek that echoed from the spiritual plane.
Tony Stark had never even heard of a place called Noahdune or Fimbulwinter Mountain before today—and now he never would again, not in person. All he had to work with were archived satellite images. Whatever had happened there, it was now erased—obliterated by the massive impact craters left behind by multiple high-yield nuclear detonations. The soil was saturated with lethal radiation. The mountain itself had collapsed inward. Seismographs as far as the UK and Siberia had registered the quake.
His only solid piece of evidence was one anomalous energy reading captured by a surveillance satellite. That reading was identical to one recorded during the Battle of New York. The rest of the reports were too vague to be useful—people talking about "a second sun in the sky." Nothing that would hold up under scrutiny. Stark knew Solomon would never casually unleash the full power of the Sacred Sword—Solomon had even shared with him and Fury the specific conditions required to unseal it. Not that it helped much.
Still, Stark couldn't accept that the Avengers remained completely in the dark about such a catastrophic event—as if knowing would have made a difference.
And yet, when he tried to locate Solomon, the sorcerer had completely vanished from every traceable record.
Solomon, for his part, was... extremely uncomfortable.
He was currently face to face with both Rosa and Balder—former bearers of the Eyes of the World. "Former" because the Eyes had been returned to their original form, sealed inside a blue sapphire set into a pocket watch, encased by a spell jointly cast by Rosa and Balder, with the Sorcerer Supreme personally overseeing the ritual. Bayonetta and Jeanne sat nearby, but neither looked inclined to help Solomon out of this awkward family encounter. They looked just as out of their depth—after all, neither had much experience meeting parents either.
Rosa's expression remained neutral. The Sorcerer Supreme had laid out the entire plan after reviving her. As for Balder, though he still bore the grief of losing his wife, Rosa now stood alive before him—he had little left to complain about.
The only thing shaking his composure was the report on the Sun Island Incident.
He understood that, had it not been for Solomon and the Sorcerer Supreme's audacious gambit, his fate would have followed that tragic report exactly. He still struggled to believe he would one day try to kill his own daughter. Now, in his early forties, having survived unimaginable trials, it was hard to envision what five centuries of carrying the Prophet's soul would do to his mind. He was simply grateful a different path had been taken. Still, he wouldn't say thanks. The only show of approval he could muster was choosing not to oppose his daughter's relationship with a mage.
Balder remained silent.
Solomon couldn't complain either—this was one of the rare Disney-style happy endings of his life. Even though he hadn't had time to take off his armor, his muscles ached from battle, his mental state was a wreck, and he was sticky with sweat, he had no right to grumble. He was more concerned with the cost the Immortal City had paid for this operation—and how long it would take to replenish the military stockpile.
He could already imagine Stephanie furiously cursing him as she scribbled out the logistics reports.
"We're going traveling. The Oxfordshire estate is yours now," Rosa finally broke the silence. She glanced at Balder, who was sitting beside her sulking. Amusingly, every witch present happened to be about five centuries older than their respective partners. "You're independent now. You don't need a nagging old woman like me. And you certainly don't need a father figure to manage your lives. Not that Balder has ever had any parenting experience."
"Rosa..." Balder closed his eyes and shook his head helplessly, not knowing what to say.
"I'll bring you some gifts. But don't expect a postcard from Balder. When I was imprisoned in the witch's dungeon, he didn't even send me a single letter. If he hadn't led the assault that rescued me, I'd have thought he died!"
It was true. Had Balder not listened to the lies of angels and instigated that purge, none of this would've happened. Standing at the crossroads of witch and lover, Rosa found it difficult to reconcile Balder's actions. Her emotions were a storm of gratitude and resentment. Thankfully, five hundred years had softened the pain. Otherwise, she might've forced him to pay for the downfall of the witches long ago. She turned to Solomon. "I've seen you as a child, but this is our first real conversation. Solomon, do you know what awaits you in the future?"
"Yes, I do."
"Don't break Cereza's heart," Rosa nodded. "And Jeanne's. If you can help it."
Balder narrowed his eyes, looking none too pleased.
(End of Chapter)
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