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Chapter Sixty-Three: 117A Bleecker Street

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The heavy door creaked open and I entered into the building with the address 177A Bleecker Street in gleaming gold letters across the façade.

"Hello?" I called out tentatively.

"Alivia Byrd," a strange voice sounded from somewhere, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Suddenly, someone was standing to my right. I nearly jumped out of my skin, and I felt the fire flare to life in my chest. I smothered it as I turned on the man, who wore a long red cape and strange-looking necklace.

"And... You are?"

"Dr Stephen Strange," the man responded as he turned for the massive stairway that faced the door.

"Um—That doesn't really help me out," I said, as I followed gingerly after him, "I mean who are you? How do you know me and how the hell did you..." I waved my hands around, imitating the circle of sparks that had left his address at my feet.

"You want answers, that's fair enough. But I'll have to warn you to brace yourself," the man said, as he seated himself in a large armchair, and gestured at me to do the same. I lowered into one across from his, and he folded his hands together. "Tea?"

"Uh... Sure?" I said, and then, "Should I be worried? I mean—Are you going to try to kill me?"

"Kill you?" He frowned. "I guess that would solve the issue rather quickly, but it's a solution that's a touch too barbaric for my style."

He waved his hand, and suddenly, there was a steaming mug of tea in my hands.

"I honestly shouldn't be surprised at this point," I began, looking up at him, "But what the f—"

"I'm the Sorcerer Supreme," he cut me off, and my confusion deepened, "To answer your question."

"The... The who now?"

"The Sorcerer Supreme. I'm entrusted with the safety of the planet, and keep a watch list on individuals from other realms that may be a threat to this world. You, Firebyrd, make that list."

"But I—" I swallowed, lowering my gaze to my tea, "I don't mean to—"

"I know that. My order has kept an eye on you from the beginning. And on your mother before you—"

I started. "My mother?"

He nodded, "Your abilities have always been on our radar. Something to watch and be mindful of. To our knowledge, they aren't always under your control. They act in tandem with your emotions. That's a dangerous thing."

"So why now, then? Why track me down now? Not when I almost blew up Greenwich? New York?"

"Like I said, you've been on our radar a long time. You, Ms. Byrd, are a highly powerful, but so far, docile nexus being. That changed a week ago, when you blew up a warehouse in the Netherlands. There was a massive disturbance in the world's ambient magical energies, a bigger one than you've ever caused before."

I squirmed uncomfortably, pushing back the memories of that day.

"My predecessor thought it best to leave you to your devices—She oversaw the Masters of the Mystic Arts before me. But the event in the Netherlands is the first caused by you to occur on my watch. And let's just say I have some opinions that differ from my predecessor. Mainly that a walking bomb shouldn't be left to her own devices."

I flinched. It was an accurate likeness but it still stung.

"So what now?" I asked as I set aside my tea, "You're not going to kill me, so how do you plan on neutralizing the threat? Send me back to Asgard? Throw me in a cell?"

He laughed. "Again, I'm not your enemy. You don't have anything to fear from me. I brought you here to answer a question of my own."

I frowned, waiting for him to continue.

"I ask that you let me train you to better wield your mystic abilities."

I gawked at him, "I'm sorry? And what exactly do you know about my powers?"

"Nothing," he confessed, opening his hands, "But I'd like to learn about them. What I do know is that I'm a master at mind and magic. I can teach you not only to separate the two, but to use the two in tandem."

"You can teach me not to lose control?"

"If you agree, you'll never lose control again."

"And if I don't agree?"

"Then I let you leave. But you'll leave with the knowledge that should your powers ever get out of hand and place this world in danger—I will do whatever it takes to uphold my duty and protect it."

I swallowed back the lump in my throat and nodded stiffly.

I couldn't go back to the Avengers—Couldn't summon fire if I wanted to. And I couldn't go home. Not with the horrible memories of everything I'd done a constant threat looming over me. That I could do that to another person, that I could lose control so easily. It wasn't knowledge I wanted to live with.

Plus, the thought of having an all-knowing, all-powerful wizard hellbent on killing me if my powers ever spiralled wasn't exactly appealing.

From where I was standing, there was only one choice.

"When do we start?"

He smiled.

"We already have."

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Stephen Strange delivered on his promises. He taught me everything he knew. And over the next two years, I learned to use my powers in a way I never had before. I learned to use them separately from my mind and emotions, and I learned to use my emotions to fuel them.

I learned about the Mystic Arts, about its practitioners. I grew close to Stephen, until I stopped seeing him as a teacher, and started seeing him as a friend.

I made sure to call Nat every week, and she supported me through my grief, through my progress with my powers. She supported my decision to leave the Avengers.

But despite the progress I made, every night before I slept, my mind drifted back to him. To that day.

It all felt like a faraway life, lived by someone else. A life I never wanted to go back to. So even after Strange insisted my training was complete, even after he'd done as he'd promised, I stayed there, at 177A Bleecker street. I learned, I practiced, I grieved.

I hid from the world.

Until circumstances forced me out.

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