Sanctum Sanctorum was a dust yarn in the wind away from looking deserted.

Its fourier was a epitome of grandeur dedicated to homage a forgotten museum, amongst the relics it hosted carelessly for decoration besides its imposingly tall stairs and onto rugs which cleaned themselves daily, on the clock. The home of a sorcerer was not supposed to look lively and Dr. Stephen Strange had made a home out of the temple he ought to guard for life.

He woke up to the scent of books and lavish luxury tucked behind mountains of books he sorted through day after day tirelessly. Burgundy and maroon danced across the soft bed hangings covered in lint. The very air was clogged in a mostly unseen waltz of dust which switched from adagio to allegro each time the man himself moved restlessly around his room with yet another reason for the crease on his forehead to grow a shadow.

The Eye of Agamotto's weight was ever growing these days, while the importance of the stone in it concerned Stephen just as much as the next individual who made it out of the Battle of Tuun. His silently vocal partner, the Cloak of Levitation was his fluttering aid around the situation at hand, weighing in his arms in the shape of a dome he had been given by the Hong Kong Sanctum. A self encrypting book which does not allow anyone to read it ought to keep his afternoon busy.

Yes. Stephen enjoyed being kept busy.

Being the Sorcerer Supreme, so called Master of Mystic Arts, granted him this one perk of being able to shut out everyone and delve into knowledge, into the only medium which was forgiving enough to never frighten him. One would think the terrors hidden in Eldritch magic startled just about any soul after a certain point, but Dr. Strange was far more terrified by different things and they never hid themselves in between spells, pages or mystical duties.

However, there was a high chance those small things may get riddled by the sound of footsteps approaching the dark nature of Stephen's room. Pacing around his room, all he spared at the thought of interruption was a frown, timed to sound its last octaves when Wong stepped through the door without opening it.

"Doorknobs and knocks are not there to be ignored," Stephen did not lift his eyes from the peculiarly sentient book.

"And the problems of the Hong Kong Sanctum shouldn't come before the issues of this temple," Wong reminded him, just a nuance more bitter.

"There are no more problems to be solved here, so I took the freedom of aiding our friends with this puzzle." His smile was nearing the point at which it could be considered a grin and that was all thanks to the seemingly genuine pride he took in his charitable work while on duty.

Wong saw it through different lenses though. He saw the Sorcerer Supreme overworking himself selectively and a friend avoiding at all costs a social outing, which might truly be a hoax, but it would at least get him out of the Sanctum, where he's been, almost constantly, ever since he found out Christine Palmer, his unspoken to crush from his doctor days, got married while the Multiverse was breaking and he was up day and night with Miss Harss, trying to fix it.

Those awfully tense times, a narrow bridge which tested all of their patience before letting them pass unharmed, came after the Battle of Tuun, which left its own scars. Christine's wedding took an exaggeratedly heavy toll on Stephen, more than he cared to admit, but certainly enough to grow the shine onto the white streaks of hair he sported on both sides.

"We have our own puzzle to solve," Wong pointed out, trying his best to still be considerate, given the circumstances and the implications.

However, the very allusion to the subject made Stephen overreact in the most dramatic way possible. He shut the dome closed and rolled his eyes without a single hesitation of shame. "Those cassettes again, Wong?"

"The Magician," he confirmed. "Should you be getting ready to attend the show?"

"I told you I looked into it. The cassette game was set up to make any carcass turn to dust unless opened, a simple trick really, while the ragged doll recording was a huge coincidence. Nothing more."

"Since when do we believe in coincidences?"

"There is no we," Stephen turned his back on Wong the second his oldest friend stepped closer. "If you want so much to double check this supposed magician, go ahead and attend the show in my stead, just don't stutter when you come back to tell me I was right."

"I can't," Wong's tone quickly absorbed the dark allure Strange was keeping around himself, fueled by a narcissism as distinguished as a truffle in Greece. When he received a side glance from the Sorcerer Supreme, he straightened up and tightened his fits all the same, even if the latter gesture hid itself behind his back. "The tickets are exclusively tailored by name."

"Enchant the ticket then."

"Stephen!"

"Look," Stephen turned towards Wong again. He let go of the book and it floated heavily, suspended in the space he left it while he stepped forward, "I know what you're trying to do. But I am doing my job and that should be all that matters here."

"All you are doing is your job-"

"Alright, we are done." With a flat smile and a raise of his curiously expressive eyebrows, Dr. Strange clapped his hands and the room expelled Wong out of it, so that he woke up standing outside the door.

"That's what I get," he mumbled, staring at the solid and sturdy wood until his anger diminished and he sighed out every ounce of negativity, "for caring for the likes of him."

Stephen did not move an inch until he heard steps moving away from his door, but even then, his relieved exhale was corrupted by his cloak's collar giving him a short slap. "Oh, please," his sigh sharply turned annoyed. "Not you too."

Though the cloak attempted pulling Strange towards his nightstand, where the cassette entitled "The Magician" held both the visit card and the custom-made ticket he received, he was determined to walk back to the mysterious book and continue decrypting, or at least attempting to find the right spell organization to do so.

Quite far from 177A Bleecker Street, Wendy Weber and Peter Parker landed in an alley from a quick web slinging. Even further away, about 150 million kilometers or so, the sun, without any movement whatsoever, began setting for this merry city on Earth. And they were fashionably running late to the event of the year.

"Just in time to queue," Peter stopped their run breathlessly, sliding them into the growing queue outside New York City Center. The neo-moorish architecture of the building got lit once in a fiery sunset and twice in the warm glow of dozens of round light bulbs. Ushers dressed in vintage outfits greeted the select guests at the entrance.

The event seemed to be quite exclusivist when Peter looked it up, but now that they were there, he hardly recognized anyone. Which was for the better. It wasn't like he wanted to meet his girlfriend's boss while they were out on a fun date.

The queue moved fast.

Wendy held on a little tighter to Peter's hand while she stared into the glass windows they were passing to reach the entrance. Traveling via Peter's webs was quite fun, a melancholic reminiscing of their times in Universe 2714 before a neon variant of Captain America tried to murder them, however, it did quite a number on Wendy's hair. She was trying to fix the mess and neat it out in her reflection on those windows when she suddenly saw herself clearer for a portion.

She pointed out the poster for this magic show to Peter and since they reached the ushers in almost no time, he commented about it to them, "Cool idea to have the posters be mirrors, since most magicians ask the public to be volunteers in magic acts."

"They're not mirrors," a blonde woman replied to his praise. The ushers checked their tickets with a single glance and allowed both Wendy and Peter inside, where the pristine all white costume of this woman stole the attention rather fast. Plastered somewhere still visible under the furred collar of her jacket was a silver name tag: 'Emma F.'

"I was appointed lead on the marketing," Emma boasted slowly, with a crystal clear smile, bright enough to make both Wendy and Peter think of the last toothpaste commercial they've watched. "It's not mirrors, it's pure diamond."

But there were at least ten posters outside, Wendy thought.

How much does diamond cost nowadays? Peter's mind wandered too, in a different direction.

Both their faces consoled the idea of absolute confusion, which ultimately made Emma laugh and wave a hand at the two. "I am just playing with you, dears. Of course it's mirrors." Her twinkling laughter slowly corrupted them too and only once the atmosphere got comfortable again, she joined hands over her chest and stepped aside to reveal a second entrance, curtained in red.

"The first row is a VIP section and it has its own shortcut." A hint of confusion immediately sparked concern, but just as kindly as her smile denoted, Emma pointed at their tickets, "VIPs have a special color."

"Right," Wendy nodded, lifting her ticket slightly. Getting past Emma after that was quite awkward, but she was right, once they passed the red curtain, they got exactly to the front row, before the stage, where a quick walk would get them to their seats too.

"Eerie vibe can be checked off the list, right?" Peter gave Wendy a little nudge when he felt her silence for a bit too long. Something about that discussion with Emma must have disturbed her and frankly, he was on edge for tonight about just how much Wendy will enjoy a magic show... considering her "mother".

"Can't have magic shows without it," Wendy laughed it off instead. The seats were cushioned and comfy and theirs seemed to be the best in the house: first row, right on the middle. The whole wide stage, unlit and waiting was before them. That looming pitch black on the stage was dubious, considering so much light fell from the enormous ceiling so people could find their seats, but nothing past that 'no phones allowed' sign made it to the actual stage and no matter how hard any of the guests would squint, they would not see a thing until the show begun.

Attending a magic show after the happenings with Agatha was how Wendy hoped she'd get rid of the nightmares. There was no one she'd rather be doing this with than Peter. All Wendy really had to do was leave the paranoia behind, no matter the incident with the alien thing and the white caped guy which happened merely two days ago. That, much like everything else, was in the past.

"Can't believe Aunt May got us VIP tickets...," Peter mumbled, a bit uncomfortable now to know this comfortable seat must have cost his aunt a lot and she didn't even want to see the show herself. In fact, he started feeling his simple costume was ridiculous too, and that perhaps the tutorial he followed to get his tie right has lied to him.

"Please," Wendy laid her hand gently on his shoulder, "according to her, the tickets magically bought themselves and appeared in the mail all alone, remember?" They both chuckled at that utter nonsense, however, with one glance down at her ticket, resting in her lap, waiting to get her attention, Wendy noticed something she did not see before.

Peter followed her gaze down then took a look at his own ticket, picking it up. "Act one," he started reading out loud some words written right under their names, "The Appearance." Their silence wasn't allowed to linger too much, not on the background of the whole theater getting filled and the seats on both their sides getting taken.

"Tell me how I look!"

With a desperately thin voice, Marion Hall stepped out of the changing room and paused rather stiffly for Remy who was only half paying attention to her. The other half was solely focused on shuffling a deck of cards.

A black and white lined skirt puffed itself from her waist to a small space above her knees. That very same waist was dressed with a white shirt, not buttoned fully, and tied with the golden buttons of a red jacket. Her long sleeves carried more golden details, while her hair fell down on her shoulders despite the fact that she actively looked like she needed a breather or a new fan. The one blowing some coldness in the back of the stage was overworked and overwhelmed solely from Marion's stress.

"Come on, Remy," she half cried her complaint, "be honest with me here!"

His eyeliner defined eyes tiredly took in her appearance as a whole. It reflected Marion's shock that very morning, in the midst of their seventh rehearsal, when she remembered she never planned the outfit for the first grand act. "I mean this with more respect than I usually say it, but lose the skirt."

She stared down quickly and hit the puff of her skirt, "Knew I should have gone for the gas-pipes!" Like a storm, she returned to her changing room, pulled the curtains. Two seconds later, scaring the living out of Remy and the cards out of his hands, Marion exited the changing room looking the exact same.

"Marion?" Remy sighed with cards spread all over his chest and onto the box he was half laying his side on. "You're nervous."

"Me?" Marion brought her hands down and just then realized her skirt was still there. "I am not nervous!" She kept her curse to herself, turning around and returning to the changing room once more. From behind the pulled curtain, she continued. "I know tonight will be perfect, but it's still... our opening night." She spoke loud enough for Remy to hear her too, but eventually, her tone faded to a whisper, "And if I don't look the part, no one will take me seriously."

The curtains got pulled aside and Marion stepped out wearing a full red and black outfit, minus the sporadic golden details on her buttons and epaulets. Tight black pants hid themselves under the longer back of her red jacket, tight sleeves left nothing for the wonder and a bold bowtie pulled together her outfit with a more composed aspect.

Five seconds in the changing room did that for her.

Remy gave his thumbs up of approval and Marion's shoulders visibly relaxed, to the point that she could look at herself in the mirror and smile too. "It's really happening...," she spared a moment to mumble for herself while fixing the black bowtie.

"We've got a situation," Illyana approached. Her, much like Remy, wore similar gala outfits as Emma, only in a different color. Illyana chose a bold blue, while Remy sported dark purple like a true professional.

"Oh?" Marion turned around, eyes wide like that of a deer in the headlights.

"He didn't show up," Illyana ripped the band aid off fast and Marion's reaction was, quite as expected, a true dramatism. She collapsed on the chair before her makeup desk and forgot to blink.

But it only lasted for a moment, that spark of weakness and despair, because after a lengthy blink, she fired back up again and passed Illyana. "That's okay, a bit unexpected, but everything's still going according to plan."

"I thought you said he was crucial to the plan," Illyana narrowed her eyes, worriedly, following Marion to the positions. They had two minutes until a little red light would go off backstage and their show had to begin.

"Should have expected him to be a meater in the last moment, but worry not, sweet Illyana, our plan can still work, it will just need a little push from us. Trust me, alright," Marion held her friend's hand all through the little reassurance spoken at a speed remarkable enough to pose as an enemy to Quicksilver himself.

A lousy whisper passed through the public as they all seemed to excite themselves over the same matter once their ceiling lights dimmed: "It's starting."

Indeed, it was time.

Ten years she had waited for this, perhaps an entire life to close her eyes and let Marion Hall become the Magician.

The stage was the center of all attention and the stage shall remain the focus throughout the show. The Magician was noth but the face of the puppeteer orchestrating the large assembly. Curtains had already been pulled aside, but slowly, a single white light brightened itself above the very middle of the stage, revealing six tall rectangular mirrors placed in a circle. They were reflective on both their sides.

"Appearance," Marion's voice sounded over the silence marking the beginning of the show. "A perception, an impression, an act of arrival or a performance itself." From behind the right curtain a white rabbit hopped silently while she spoke, making its way to the middle of the circle of mirrors.

"To us, magicians, appearance is the first act of a successful show." The circle of mirrors started spinning around the rabbit, from a slow pace to a faster one which facilitated the dizziness of an optical illusion.

One mirror passed before the rabbit and in the blank space, it turned into a red headed woman; then another mirror passed and the rabbit returned. She started moving, on the very same spot as where the rabbit was supposed to be, turning from profile into facing the public. She was the one talking.

"An act of appearance is what we like to call production," she smiled, the mirrors kept spinning faster, reflecting flashes of light towards the public. Another set of lights lit above the stage, still coldly white. "But what is an appearance if not a great entrance?"

The mirrors all fell over, soundlessly turning into clouds of smoke of different colors, through which, in the applause of the public, the redheaded woman stepped forward with the white rabbit in her arms.

"I swear, that line sounded much better in my head," the Magician smiled to the audience she couldn't see anyhow. The lights were blinding her too much for anything other than the applause to be a guideline. And oh, at least those were roaring confirmations, along with the occasional laughter.

She clicked her heels until she stood at half the distance between the front edge of the stage and the middle of it. "But then again," the Magician flashed a charming smile, "I am pretty sure a better introduction is on the way. Somewhere along the classic lines of... Hello, New York City!" Her tone exploded and she could feel excitement from the public getting inhaled into her lungs, "and welcome, to the greatest show of all time."

Gesturing grandeur with her free left hand, she managed to show at herself too, "I am the Magician and I will be your guide through this four act, exclusive display of the most entertaining magic which marked our wonderful history. As you may have guessed already, tonight we are talking about making things appear and it was not in my plan, but the theater filled so quickly that a few items from my outfit have been forgotten by my hurried little mind to get to meet you all. What do you say we make them appear?"

Cheers confirmed the start had been rather appealing and with a proud smile, the Magician lifted her chin. "Then, let me free up my hands a little," she said rather calmly and without any special reaction, she placed the rabbit down. Not on the ground, not on a table, because the whole stage was empty save for the two of them...

The rabbit sat comfortably in the air and the theater went crazy with gasps and shy applause.

The Magician cast a confused gaze at the audience then dramatized shock to stare back at the rabbit. "Oh, Mr. Whiskers, I don't think New York City knows magicians like us love levitating. Don't worry, I can calm them down." And turning back to fully face the public, she clasped her hands innocently, "No worries, everyone, my rabbits just sitting on my table, accidentally made invisible the other day." As if to break down her own argument, while winking, the Magician slid her right foot under her rabbit. There was nothing underneath it holding it up.

"You wouldn't possibly think of me as some second hand parlor trick performer," the Magician teased with a grin now and lifted both her hands up. Her arms were tightly embraced by red sleeves, but she found the hem around her right wrist and pulled. "There's nothing up my sleeve but the truth."

She tilted her right arm forward, hand towards the ground, but from the opening of the sleeve sand started falling. Her face showed immediate and obvious embarrassment, eyes growing wide as in the sand pile, from the same sleeve, beach toys started falling out. Castle building shapes, colorful shovels.

The Magician laughed awkwardly, "How did that get in there? If any of you know my kids, don't tell them about these little things. They thought the sand monster ate them. Oh dear!" Her exclamation joined the laughter fit of the entertained crowd. Up above the stage, the cold white lights turned warm yellow. From the Magician's sleeve, bigger items started falling: a whole beach ball, a towel and finally, a surfboard.

"Well, now I am just scared to see what's up my left sleeve," the Magician joined the laughter and a bit shyly, she slowly pulled on the hem around her left wrist. Tension built as she took her sweet time tilting that hand forward. And when she finally did...

"Nothing?" The Magician almost exclaimed. "I should have probably checked this one first, because why be right when you can be all that's left, only in reverse." Lifting her sleeve back up, she took a physical peek into it and gasped in delight. "Oh, nevermind, that good old thing was just stuck."

The Magician drove her whole right hand through the left sleeve and as she pulled it out, with considerable struggle, all shown on her rounded face, she held a tall brown chair, which she placed beside her in the round of applause.

"You know, this very chair is the reason why I started magic," she began the story. "I always wanted to be like those snarky comedians who get a tall chair, but since I was told I am quite a bore with jokes, magic was the next best thing."

The Magician joined in on the little giggles and took a good look at her chair. "All I need now is a glass of water and I think I am ready to make my missing outfit items appear." She searched her jacket pockets for the said glass of water until she gesticulated an idea coming to mind and for that, she stepped around the chair, back to the floating rabbit.

"Excuse me," she bowed her head and lifted the rabbit off the floating glass of water which appeared underneath it. Once again, the Magician placed the rabbit in the air, a bit further, to be able to take the glass.

"Alright, alright," she moved her hands to calm the crowd, "I think it is time to complete my outfit and get over with the show because I am paying this place by the hour and I heard there's a musical here, five minutes after my show. First and foremost, my dear ladies, distinguished gentlemen and formidable mysteries..." Her dramatic pause was decorated by yet another all-knowing smirk.

"What is a Magician without her wand?"

Sound was added to the stage. The effects popped at her question and the Magician laughed along, "Still Magicians, obviously, but don't tell my wand I did all those tricks without him, or he's going to throw a huge tantrum all night. I will conjure up elephants and he'll be like 'sorry, did you say mice?'."

Jokes were flowing and the crowd was enjoying themselves to laughter after laughter.

"So let us call forth my very special, not quite conventional wand!"

The drum roll began and the Magician lifted the glass of water with her left hand. Her right went underneath it, where with just one finger, she circled the bottom of it. Once. Twice. Then her palm connected with it and she looked at the audience she couldn't see.

"Abracadabra." With a smile, the Magician pulled down her right hand and in the grip of her palm stood the rounded end of a walking cane of intricate design, carrying symbols and spirals of ancient aspect. She pulled the glass off of it, accidentally spilled all the water with a gasp, but finally clicked the walking cane down and the lights above changed hue: from warm yellow, they turned somewhat blue.

"Look what you did to my comedian glass," the Magician looked down at her wand-cane. "How am I supposed to see the half full glass idea now?"

She clicked the cane again while showing off that empty glass to the public and under their very eyes, the glass filled itself up again. In the applause, the Magician mumbled her smile, "That was quite a thanks from my dear wand. All this talking got me a little thirsty. I can't lose my voice before I summon my final piece of the outfit, can I? And the show is just beginning... So excuse me."

With a cheers towards the public, the Magician brought the glass to her lips and took a healthy, large sip, while clicking her cane one more time on the wood of the stage floor. The bottom of the glass quickly found itself on the wooden chair, but as soon as she placed it down, the Magician held her stomach and bent over, to the side, for the public to see her face when she brought her left hand to her mouth.

"Oh, what was in that water, wand?" the Magician asked, rather rhetorically and slowly gagging. Now, she turned to face the public fully, straightening up and opening her mouth. With a cry, a whole pigeon flew out of her mouth and startled the crowd such that it took them a second to react with applause, a thunderous one too. Not even halfway in and they were all already wondering how she was doing it.

And the Magician knew.

Which was why she continued the show with such confidence and skill.

"I hope that pigeon finds its way out and doesn't shit on my dear audience. Surely, it's New York City, it wouldn't be new, but still." With a graceful turn, the Magician walked back to the floating rabbit and got it into her arms. She loudly clicked her cane down and left that thing standing straight on the spot she left it.

"My final piece of the outfit," she showed off the rabbit, then in a soft movement, pulled him back and out of thin air, the animal turned into a fearless hat, a classic tall black one which the Magician twisted, laid on her head and ficked the round margin of. Her right hand grasped the cane once more, moved it around the chair and behind the passage, the public saw the chair disappear, turning into the rabbit, which now hopped to exit on the left side, in the soaking applause.

"Mr. Whiskers stole my show for the whole intro and he still doesn't want to admit he has a full time job," the Magician called, waving the white furred friend, then, the tone changed and the blue lights above the stage slowly started turning purple. The shadows on the stage started growing. "But now, let's get to the true core of this act, shall we? Because I am about to tell you the story of the greatest appearance made in human history across the whole vastness of existence..."

A gust of wind coming from under the stage blew into the sand pile in front and the sand turned to flickers of light bathing the whole stage. In them, the Magician disappeared, becoming the narrating voice to the story happening on stage through marionettes and shadows. "This is the story of the daughter of the evil witch, the story of how Wendy Weber, the child of nothingness fought against all odds and was written into our world. The greatest magic act of all."

Wendy's eyes widened as even the ragged doll on the stage looked exactly like her, in the blue dress she wore the day Peter and her fought Agatha.

"What the...?" Peter got on the edge of his seat, confused and scared, because Spider-Man was one of the dolls too. They've enjoyed the show so far, but the dream turned into a nightmare fast for them, while the whole rest of the audience still enjoyed the jokes, the laughs and the quirky little tricks in the puppet show, in the light show and happening on the stage, under the now pink lights.

But disbelief pinned Peter and Wendy to their seats and they couldn't leave early, but right on time. The second the show ended, they had no idea how, but they ended up in no time at the door of the Sanctum Sanctorum.

Insistent and loud knocks on his front door didn't usually happen, especially not close to midnight. Dr. Stephen Strange was not disturbed from his sleep, because slumber was unimportant when he was one single magic circle away from cracking the code behind the puzzling book which seemed to him to be hiding druidic recipes, rather than ancient secrets. To say it annoyed him to hear the ruckus was an understatement.

With a snap of his fingers, he teleported his nightly visitors in the fourier, then floated himself through the floor of his room right down the ceiling of it. "Wendy and Peter?" he questioned. The event from back when the Multiverse were grumbling flashed before his eyes while he stared down at the two young people, joined in hands and wearing formal attire which did not match the confusion, anger and desperation on their faces.

"The Magician knows everything about us," Wendy blurted out. "She told the whole theater my name and that I am not from this universe, that I fought Agatha in another universe and that I am Spider-Man's girlfriend." She wasn't just rushing, she was venting to Dr. Strange, who just landed down before them.

He blinked, confused. "The Magician? Like that cheap magic show..."

"Don't you get it?" She raised her voice. "They all know now. Everything. She put it all on stage and now I can't go out... Mr. Stark is going to freak out about this. And publicly being Spider-Man's girlfriend? What if they figure out Peter is Spider-Man?"

"Last I checked that's exactly how the Multiverse broke in the first place with the other Peter," Peter himself added onto the conversation, just as concerned. So much for stopping anyone's nightmares through a fun night...

"You two need to take a deep breath and calm down..."

Both Wendy and Peter leant back. With only a second of blankly staring ahead as hesitation, they started spinning in circles. Stephen looked at them confused just for a second, before he breathed out, absolutely exasperated, "Hypnosis. Of course..."

author's note:    AND SO IT BEGINSSSSS
after like two years worth of books in TOW series, all in which Stephen appeared, he finally gets time to shine alone too... and it made me realize just how happy referencing past projects makes me goshhhh 😭 even if I always have to reread the last chapters of Age of Destruction Act I to remember the name of the planet where Thanos ate dirt, I LOVEEEE referencing in this chapter oof

NOW, rate The Magician's first show? 👀👀👀
Believe me, your rating it important, but shh, I won't say why 💖🤫