Just as exhaustion began to truly weigh him down, the heavy door creaked open once more. It was the same monk, his expression still utterly devoid of emotion, but his gaze was direct, unwavering. "You are to follow me," he stated, his voice a low, resonant rumble. Jon's racing thoughts momentarily broke their cycle of despair. A sliver of calm settled over him, replacing the panic. He straightened his shoulders, a silent resolve firming his jaw. This was it. No fear, just a cold, focused determination. He simply nodded, stepping forward without a word.
The monk led him through hushed, dimly lit corridors. No questions were asked, no answers offered, despite the numerous paths and closed doors they passed. The air grew subtly different here, laced with an ancient, earthy scent that hinted at secrets. Finally, the monk pushed open a heavy, lacquered door, revealing a chamber bathed in soft, ethereal light. Four exits, one on each cardinal side, vanished into deeper shadows. And in the center, serene and still, stood the Ancient One.
Her eyes, fixed on Jon as he walked in. There was no surprise, no judgment, only an unnerving quiet understanding. She politely gestured towards a low, knee-height table on the matted floor, where two simple ceramic cups and a small, squat tea jar rested. "Have a seat," her voice was calm, almost melodic.
Jon moved with deliberate slowness, every nerve alert. As he sat, cross-legged, facing her, a flicker of confusion crossed his mind. The tea. The lack of inquiry. Did she already know? Had she seen this moment, this awkward ritual, through the Eye of Agamotto? He pushed the thought aside. He couldn't afford to be sidetracked now. Not here. Not with her. Maintaining his composure, he reached for one of the cups. The tea was warm, earthy, settling, though he tasted little of it. He brought the cup to his lips and drank, slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving the Ancient One. She mirrored his movements, taking her own cup, her expression unhurried, unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the soft clink of ceramic.
Finally, Jon emptied his cup, placing it back on the low table with a soft click. A strange sensation bloomed in his stomach, not the satisfying fullness of a meal, but a quiet, profound contentment. He hadn't eaten anything substantial all day, yet the gnawing hunger had simply… vanished.
"What is your motive for seeking me out?" There was no preamble, no mention of his mysterious arrival or his knowledge. Just a simple, profound question, delivered with a quiet intensity that filled the space between them.
Jon met her gaze, his mind a steel trap, every word he had rehearsed falling into place. He would speak only what was necessary, no more, no less, to deny any loopholes. "I am not from this world," he began, his voice a low, steady rasp. "I do not know how I came to be here." He paused, letting the weight of his impossible claim hang in the air. "I have nowhere to go. And I will not simply exist, vulnerable, in a world like this without means to defend myself." His eyes flickered, a brief, controlled show of the desperation he felt. "I seek to learn the mystic arts from you. To gain the power to survive, to live, in this world." He offered no explanation for his sudden appearance in a new body, no mention of his past life or his foreknowledge. Just the stark, unadorned truth of his immediate need and his singular, audacious request.
The Ancient One's serene expression remained unmarred, her features betraying nothing. Yet, her next words were direct, piercing the quiet of the chamber. "How do you know of us?" Her voice, though still calm, held an undercurrent, a subtle weight of expectation.
Jon met her gaze unflinchingly. His internal monologue was a rapid fire of calculations, confirming his planned gamble. This is it. Time to push back, gently. "I will not speak anything on how I know," he responded, his tone firm, respectful, but unyielding. He watched for any shift in her eyes. "My knowledge of you, and of this place, was not gained from anyone who means harm to you or to this world. You should already know that, Ancient One."
A subtle challenge, a deliberate nudge towards her. Jon's calm exterior belied the calculated risk he was taking. He believed in his two possibilities, either she already knew, which meant his words merely acknowledged her foresight, or she didn't, in which case his assertion would compel her to investigate, to use her power to verify his claim. He knew the Sanctum guarded artifacts like the Eye of Agamotto, capable of revealing myriad futures. He wasn't afraid of what she might find about his intent, for he genuinely meant no harm. Suspicion might arise if she lacked information, but for one who could peer into countless timelines, such concerns were merely temporary hurdles. He was being truthful in his core intent. He simply presented the facts as they were from his limited, yet oddly prescient, perspective, confident that her own abilities would confirm his sincerity and lack of malice. The tension in the air, however, was palpable, a delicate balance between a seeker's desperate plea and a sorcerer supreme's profound inquiry.
After some long moments passed, a silence with unspoken possibilities, the Ancient One finally spoke again. To Jon's surprise, her expression remained utterly neutral, but her words defied his expectations. "While you are aware of one of the uses of the Eye of Agamotto," she began, her voice soft but clear, "your understanding is not entirely accurate." She paused, her gaze steady. "To see the future, we do not simply gaze into a definite future. Think of it as a form of quantum entanglement with causality. We mostly use our own unique magical signature, or that of the individual or event we wish to observe, as a 'temporal anchor.' Without such an anchor, our consciousness would merely drift across an infinite multiverse of possibilities. timelines too divergent and insignificant to offer any meaningful insight for our reality."
Jon felt a jolt of genuine surprise, pushing past his caution. He hadn't expected such a candid explanation.
"And in your case," she continued, her eyes holding his, "your very existence here, the manner of your arrival, is a complete divergence. A quantum anomaly, if you will. Therefore, I could not have seen you. Your presence here completely re-weaves the tapestry of timelines I once knew."
Jon found himself fascinated, a strange relief mingling with the stark reality of her words. He blurted out, "But... why tell me this? Surely, for all your decisions, you would gaze into the future?"
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched the Ancient One's lips, gone as quickly as it appeared. "Not for all decisions," she corrected gently. Her hand reached out, her fingers quick and precise, plucking a single strand of hair from Jon's head before he could react. As she held it, her other hand began to move in intricate patterns, air shimmering with golden light. Arcane runes, swirling and complex, materialized in the air, following her graceful movements, bathing the single strand of hair in a soft, internal glow. She observed the magic intently, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly, a flicker of something akin to confusion, then perhaps mild exasperation, crossing her features.
Several breaths of silence passed, the only sound the faint hum of the magic she was wielding. Then, with a soft sigh, she released the hair. "It is most... vexing," she murmured, her voice holding a touch of genuine bafflement. "Our known magic cannot show your origin. It cannot even pinpoint its direction, let alone its nature."
With a flick of her wrist, a small, shimmering portal, barely large enough for her hand, materialized in the air beside her. She reached into it, her fingers sifting through what appeared to be countless glowing scrolls and arcane texts, pulling a few out, flipping through them rapidly. She seemed to be browsing through a vast, unseen library of knowledge. After a long moment, she stopped, letting the portal dissipate, and simply looked at the space before her, as if staring into the very fabric of time itself. Her face became utterly expressionless, a mask of profound contemplation.
The silence that followed stretched, taut and heavy. Then, the Ancient One's eyes, settled on Jon. "Your knowledge of our world, of us, and what you wish to accomplish with it," she began, her voice gaining a grave resonance, "is of significant concern."
Jon's composure, hard-won and fragile, remained steadfast. He met her gaze, his expression carefully neutral. Despite her earlier explanation of my 'quantum anomaly,' her words still carried weight. She might not see my future clearly, but she was still the Sorcerer Supreme. She could still compel. "Ancient One," he began, his voice steady despite the internal tremor, "if my existence here is as... anomalous as you say, and if my knowledge is truly a concern, what then is stopping you from simply compelling me to reveal what I know, or extracting the information through more direct magical means?" His words were a calculated probe, acknowledging her power while still safeguarding his secret, testing the boundaries of her perception and her intentions.
The Ancient One's gaze did not waver, but a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in her deep eyes sent a shiver down Jon's spine. Her next words were delivered with a quiet, unshakeable certainty that carried no malice, only profound understanding. "Jon," she began, her voice devoid of inflection, "your origin is unique. A true anomaly. Our magic, even the Eye of Agamotto, cannot breach a mind that exists outside the established causal flow of this reality. Any attempt, by myself or by another, to forcefully extract information about your precise origin, or to compel you to speak of knowledge from your original world that is not yet manifest here, would be futile. It is not a matter of willingness, but of fundamental magical impossibility for your specific nature."
Jon felt a strange mix of relief and awe. His brow furrowed, a new kind of curiosity replacing his fear. "So... it's just not possible?" he managed, his voice barely a whisper. The sheer finality in her tone, the utter conviction, was chilling in its implication of his unique nature. He was concerned, yes, but also intensely curious about the mechanism behind such an absolute pronouncement.
The Ancient One inclined her head slightly. "When you first knocked upon our door," she began, her voice measured and calm, "the monks who guard this Sanctum, ever vigilant, detected a faint, yet distinct, dimensional distortion around you. An anomaly. Such occurrences are rare, but significant enough to warrant immediate attention. They informed me, and before your physical presence was even admitted."
Her senses had stretched across the subtle currents of the universe. She looked for any sign of his past, any echo, any point that could explain his sudden coming. But there was nothing. No history. He was like a blank space in the grand cosmic records, as if he simply didn't exist before this moment. This lack of any past information was a huge warning. It meant he arrived in a way that was so complete, so changing, it was almost like he was erased from elsewhere.
'So, as a last resort', she continued, her voice resuming its calm flow, "I used the Eye of Agamotto. I looked into the various futures that would unfold if your true origin, or knowledge from your former world, was tried to be revealed. In every single one of those futures, the attempt itself caused a paradox, and the information simply vanished, leaving only a blank."
Jon stared at her, his face a canvas of bewildering emotions, shock, confusion, a growing sense of the absurd. So all this... the tea, the waiting, the probing questions, the meticulous plan to reveal just enough, but not too much... it had all been rendered moot before he even properly began? He felt a strange, detached frustration, then a sardonic amusement that escaped him as a quiet, incredulous mutter. "So... all this drama... for what? You should have already seen this, shouldn't you?"
The Ancient One's small smile became a fraction more pronounced, a hint of ancient wisdom and perhaps a touch of weary acceptance. "Even if I have seen it," she replied, her voice soft, "I still have to live through it, Jon." Her use of his name, a simple detail, felt like a subtle acknowledgment, a concession in the face of his impossible situation.
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