Wanda carefully pushed open the door to the New York Sanctum's chamber, stepping inside on quiet feet.
The lights were off. A massive sofa loomed in the darkness like some beast, breathing heavily. The air was thick with incense and an array of unidentifiable smells. The only illumination came from the constantly flashing TV screen, its garish sitcom laugh track echoing with shallow enthusiasm. The young witch crept to the side of the sofa, feeling like she had entered a strange and haunted place—everything in the room seemed to be watching her thoughts.
Lady Calamity had removed her mask. She was clicking away at the remote, seemingly unaware of Wanda's presence. Solomon had opened a portal to Wanda's penthouse before departing on his investigation, but she hadn't returned home right away. Instead, she had asked Master Daniel where Lady Calamity's room was. Reaching this place wasn't easy—many rooms in the New York Sanctum connected to realms incomprehensible to normal minds. One wrong turn, and one could be lost forever, never returning to the real world.
It was only because Wanda was Solomon's apprentice that she was allowed beyond the Sanctum's main hall.
The flickering TV light cast Lady Calamity's face in a rapidly shifting strobe, impossible to make out. In Wanda's Second Sight, her face was a blur—whenever she instinctively tried to focus, all she saw was starlight: awe-inspiring, grand vistas of the universe, filled with radiation and celestial majesty.
Suddenly, the room lit up, and Wanda jumped, instinctively searching for cover.
"Did you come to listen to secrets?" Lady Calamity turned and looked at her.
Her eyes were unnaturally clear. The madness had evaporated, and the mysteries of countless stars swirled within her pupils. Wanda hadn't even had time to answer. With her Second Sight still active, her brain simply couldn't withstand the pressure. She collapsed onto the couch—her head landing squarely in Lady Calamity's lap. It was like plugging a live high-voltage cable directly into her mind—her senses overloaded, unable to handle the chaotic, dangerous signal.
Lady Calamity seemed startled, nearly spilling her juice. But after a moment of thought, she reached out and gently stroked Wanda's long hair.
Good. No fever.
Satisfied, Lady Calamity nodded and resumed channel surfing.
"Wanda's awake? You don't need to call me about that. Just send her back through the portal," Solomon said as he picked up the receiver. A chocolate bar wrapped in foil drifted past him, followed by a bag of gummies, a pen, a bottle of ink, and, at the rear, a gray short-haired cat with flailing claws, slowly spinning through the air. "Signal's bad out here—space tends to delay conventional communications. Cheshire, don't scratch the comm line!" He grabbed the cat's fluffy tail. The feline let out a long meow. "Alright, old man, I'll do what I can to find a way to break your family curse. But don't rush me. The Drum brothers asked for that in exchange for being guides. I know you put them up to it... Oh, now you're pretending to feel bad?"
Solomon hung up. After he called Master Daniel out, the old man immediately fled, and the line was taken over by the Sanctum's infamous potted two-headed snake—the same one that constantly flirted with people. Every magus was sick of it. Solomon included.
The Drum brothers' family curse and Lara Croft's jungle expedition were both tasks he couldn't afford to neglect—but that didn't mean he was incapable of managing Eternal City business.
The Sky Carrier had left Earth's gravity and was on a steady course through space. Because it wasn't equipped with gravity-generating engines, all the furniture was bolted to the floor—but loose items floated freely. Flanking the carrier and the sky battleship were numerous assault shuttles maintaining a safe escort distance. While not built for direct void combat, the shuttles were still capable of interstellar maneuvering and perfect for escort duty.
Solomon had deployed such a fleet because he was heading into a negotiation—and this show of force was his leverage.
The opposing side wasn't going to let him just walk into their space station.
Tita was fully armored, barely concealing her anticipation for the conflict ahead.
She wore ceremonial armor, wielding a longsword forged by Solomon and a plasma pistol. If negotiations failed, she was prepared to tear through any resistance using her weapons and the elite warriors of the Sisterhood—clearing the station for her master. Solomon picked up the comm once more and sent a message to the station's owner. "Final warning. Open your hangar bay doors, or I'll blow this station to pieces—with all the green-skinned parasites inside."
After a series of escalating threats, the space station's hangar doors finally began to open. Three assault shuttles, painted black and gold and bristling with weaponry, flew in one by one. Once the doors sealed and pressure normalized, Solomon and Tita disembarked down the ramp, coming face-to-face with the station's armed personnel.
"Long time no see, Nick Fury," the magus said coldly, arms crossed. "Tell your little bugs to back off. Do you really think these weapons pose any threat to me?"
"What the hell are you doing here, you little bastard!" the former S.H.I.E.L.D. director looked ready to explode, but he still ordered his security to lower their weapons. He knew Solomon wasn't bluffing. Even if the armored guards behind him did nothing, Solomon alone, in his crimson sanctum robes, could wipe them all out in a second.
"This isn't the first time your ships have patrolled near here!"
"To stop those green aliens from sneaking onto Earth." Solomon nodded at the Sisterhood, who brought forth the purpose of their visit. Under Fury's wary gaze, they unceremoniously dumped a corpse sealed in reinforced glass.
"You made me a promise, Nick Fury. No Skrulls on Earth," Solomon said. "And yet, here we are."
The former director studied the Skrull body. Its chest and abdomen were ravaged by what looked like an explosive wound, and one of its limbs, partially sewn back on, was missing a segment. Fury exchanged a quick word with a nearby human woman.
"This one wasn't ours," Fury muttered after receiving some kind of confirmation. "Where did you find him?"
"It, Nick Fury," Solomon corrected, glancing at the woman. "In the elevator of my base."
Even without using a mind-probing spell, Solomon could tell—she flinched at his gaze. She hid it well, but to a spellcaster like him, an unshielded mind was an open book. She was a Skrull, disguised as a human. Likely one of those Carol Danvers had saved years ago.
"If he disguised himself as one of your people, you never would've found out."
"That's how it should've gone. Skrull disguise works at the genetic level. He first posed as a mafia member. When our people took over the mafia, he blended in. But he tried to impersonate someone he never should have—my Praetorian Guard," Solomon said. "That parasite snapped. If you dissect its brain, you'll find nothing but pulp. Now find me a place where we can talk privately. I need to know how many aliens you've smuggled onto Earth behind my back—and where they are now."
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