In Your Eyes // Steve Rogers

What is The Eye of Agamotto?

"You need my help?" asked Stephen skeptically. 

"I came here because I felt that," I tried to explain, pointing at the necklace he wore. "I'm connected to that. I don't know how, or why, so don't ask any further questions. I think I'm somehow aligned to Agamotto. Maybe the stone itself. Perhaps both. I have no idea. I just know I'm supposed to be around that necklace if I want to survive."

Stephen's face hardened. "You're dying?" 

"Not yet. I will be. Every day I've spent since I connected to that stone has felt like Hell. I haven't been me in months. I've wandered the world, a vessel for that stone. I was supposed to wait when I felt it activate."

"I did that when I touched it," guessed Stephen. 

I nodded. "And doing so brought me back into my body, with a warning. I need to touch the necklace, connect it to my soul, maybe. The message was rather confusing and I did just get my brain back, so I'm a little slow right now, forgive me."

"You need it to save yourself."

"That's what it's sounding like."

"Why me?" asked Stephen rudely. "I have my own issues, my hands, my--"

"Because you're the one who woke me up," I snapped. "I have spent months being wedged away from the love of my life, my friends, because of this goddamn stone. I have traveled across the globe, through time, just waiting for the day that stone was located on this Earth. You're the one that happened to do it. So, Stephen, you're going to help me, or you're going to feel the wrath of that stone and myself.. And I can do a hell of a lot worse than you think I can."

Without my consent, blue and green wisps started to surrounded my hands. I didn't try to retract them; it would be no use. My anger had awakened whatever hold the stone had over my abilities. I felt different in the use of my powers. I could do worse than ever before, I knew it. It terrified me.  

It scared Stephen, too. He didn't show it through his face, but I had shaken him up enough to demolish the mindset he previously shared about the situation. He stood straighter, clasping his hands together.  

"How can I help?"

I approached the desk he stood behind. I flipped around the book he had open, scanning over the page. Each page brought more confusion to my mind. 

Distraught, I said, "I can't read anymore."

"It's in a language commoners don't know. I've learned it since I arrived here. It's spells, mystic arts type of spells. I was in the middle of translating it," he said, slapping my hands away from the book. He flipped it back to him. 

"'Mystic arts'?" I repeated, raising my brow. "Like, magic? That exists now, too?"

"In some shape," agreed Stephen. 

"I--"

Stephen then hushed me. Sending me a look that clearly told me to silence myself, he took a deep breath, ridding his conscience, presumably. He spread his feet apart.

"'First, open the Eye of Agamotto,'" he translated. 

Raising three fingers on each finger, he connected the bottom two, then crossed his wrists. The parallel set of lines over the necklace opened. It's emerald beam of light shined on my chest, generating a burning warmth within my soul. It struggled against Stephen's neck to reach me.

My knees weak, I reached for the desk. I clutched at my chest, slammed my fist against it, scratched-- anything to try to rid the burning inside of me. I coughed endlessly. It was as if no amount of coughing was going to end my struggle to breathe.