❝let's just say, i'm like the bodyguard
of master strange.❞ she casually
explained to the kid. ❝so, you're
like happy hogan? but with magic
powers?❞ the boy asked innocently.
cass...
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TWENTY SEVEN | THE HEART AND THE HEAD
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IN THE EVENT that the current Sorcerer Supreme meets their untimely demise and a Guardian is present and alive, the latter must temporarily take over the role until the masters of the mystic arts can elect the next Sorcerer Supreme of Earth.
Cassandra stared at her hands, remembering the words that were written in the tomes she and Wong studied before. The title, the role, had now fallen into her hands and she didn't like it. It reminded her of the loss and the pain. She became Sorceress Supreme because Stephen died. The woman shivered, still feeling how her beloved's hands felt when they dusted. She felt how he dusted away, how she lost the pressure of his body against her. Watching someone you love die is an image you will never forget.
It had been three hours ever since Wong told him that half of the students of Kamar-Taj, the twins, and her mother were among those who were dusted out of existence. Cassandra felt numb, so raw; like there is no skin over her pain and the wind made it bleed. She wanted to cry, wanted to grieve, but she just felt emotionless. She felt nothing. It was like her heart was just taken away, and she could no longer feel anything. The woman lifted her gaze, drinking in her surroundings. She was in the foyer of the Sanctum and Wong was in front of her, pacing slowly back and forth as he talked about what their next actions should be. "... we have to make preparations for the funeral, Cassandra. Are you listening?"
She hummed, breaking out of her reverie. The woman shook her head then stood up from the couch. "Yeah, we must do that." She deadpanned, walking up the stairs.
"Cassandra..."
She didn't listen to her friend and continued her march up the stairs. Alone, she wandered the hallways, feeling the heaviness radiate from the walls. Cassandra stepped into her shared bedroom with Stephen. The room was bleak, cold and completely dark. It was quiet and somber in there and she felt a chill as the darkness engulfed her. She had always hated dark rooms. It was the most piercing darkness ever - it was not merely the darkness that came out of absence of light, it was much more gloomy. There was nothing warm about the place. She sat down at the edge of their bed, letting her fingertips trace the intricacies of their blankets.
That's when she trembled and before she knew it, the torrents of her tears soaked through the blankets. Cassandra clenched her fists. It hurts, it all hurts. Thanos may have driven her own sword into her gut, but he also pierced her heart. Swallowing back her grief, her eyes focused on the books and the scattered papers she knew her beloved left on their study table. She sniffed, rose to her feet and arranged them all. Stephen always forgot to organize his things and she would be the one who would put them back in their place. As she set them all aside, she caught sight of two manila envelopes that had two colored Post-it notes attached at its front.
