An Imaginary Throne // Doctor Strange // Far From Home

Chapter Eight // this ends now

THE THICK frosted glass feels slick against her trembling finger tips. Casey stands before the marble podium, eyelids drooping and mind barely awake. Even still, the voice in her head rages stronger than ever. With a sharp jerk, she pulls a menacing ivory dagger free from the leather holster on her belt.

This is it, your opportunity to save them all. To repent your mistakes.

Every cell in her body feels as if it has been set alight when she flips the weapon in her hand and jams the hilt into the glass with all the strength she can muster. A resounding crack echoes across the sanctum, flanked by an explosion of clear shards. The sound is stifled by the burgundy rug beneath her bare feet but the initial crash has already alerted the house's other occupant. Casey shudders when she hears the thud of urgent footsteps descending the central staircase.

Cheeks hot with adrenaline, she knocks out the remaining glass clinging to the wood frame, setting her clammy hands on the gleaming crown inside.

Do it.

"Adria, no!"

A FEW HOURS EARLIER

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Casey asks, gaping at the man in the black trench coat.

"Clearly you haven't been paying attention."

"Where's the kid?" Strange wonders aloud. He stands by the glowing fireplace, navy robes replaced with more casual attire. A grey sweater stretches taut against his chest as he crosses his arms, leaning against the mantelpiece. Orange light reflects off the gray in his hair, which Casey strongly suspects he dyed himself.

She turns her head towards the other man as he responds.

"He heard she would be here." Fury says plainly. He sits, legs crossed on a navy blue settee. Swathed in a dark clothing and donning a leather eye patch, he poses a striking figure but his words only spark anger within her.

"I guess he's not too fond of me." She mumbles, picking at her cuticles. A speck of blood springs free from the damaged skin.

"After your fiancé disclosed his identity to the entire world, yeah I guess so."

Casey clenches her teeth, barely able to tolerate the tension in the room. It is clear this man likes her no more than Strange does, despite all the answers she had given him during their earlier debriefing. She hadn't expected her confession to change much in the first place but the extent of his suspicions were bothering her. Still, she couldn't help but feel to blame. She had been complicit in Quentin's crimes- worse, she had assisted him with some of them -and people were still suffering because of it.

"Speaking of Beck, you're not gonna believe what we found."

All three bodies swivel to meet the eyes of the fourth voice and Casey's scowl softens into a genteel smile when she sees the short, robed man standing in the doorway.

"Wong?" She asks, swiping the morning newspaper off her lap and standing to greet him.

To the blatant amazement of Strange who had grown accustomed to Wong's colder nature, he pulls her into a loving hug.

"Unlike Parker, I only came because of you." He says, voice an intentionally low hush, "Sorry it took so long."

Casey shakes her head, peeling herself away from him, "It's okay, you're here now."

"You seem surprised." Casey says to Strange, slumping back onto her seat.

"I've just never seen Gilfoyle show this much emotion."

Wong's expression darkens at the nickname though Casey smirks, nudging him with her elbow.

"You were saying." Fury's voice calls from the adjacent sofa, reminding them of the situation at hand.