The Raven

I- Time

The hardest choices require the strongest wills.

A small price to pay for salvation.

I hope they remember you.

I could simply snap my fingers and it would all cease to exist. I call that mercy.

You should have gone for the head.

     *snap*

Stephen bolted upright in bed, panting and in a cold sweat with the crisp sound of clicking metal still fresh in his memory. The Cloak almost immediately came to his aid, flaring protectively at his bedside. "I'm alright. Good morning to you too." He muttered. A glance at the window showed him it was still early morning. Great, so much for sleep.

Head still spinning, he rolled out of the warm covers to splash cold water on his face. His eyes caught the reflection in the mirror. Bedhead in full swing, blanched skin, and dark spots under his eyes made it seem like he was still in Med School. After straightening his hair some and changing into his casual robes, he wandered around the sanctum aimlessly until he reached the podium sporting the Eye of Agamotto.

You never once used your greatest weapon.

The Eye of Agamotto, holder of the Time Stone. The power this small relic held was overwhelming in a way. The familiar weight was comforting as he slipped it on, the Eye resting on his chest as if it was always meant to be there. After the death of the Ancient One, he could often be found wearing it around the Sanctum, even on the most mundane days.

     Eventually, he made his way to the Karmar-Taj Common Area where a clock told him it was currently 3:45 am in New York versus the 2:30 afternoon Kathmandu sunshine streaming through the windows. He strolled the library, fingers lightly brushing the book spines when the Eye started to pulse with energy. Stopping dead in his tracks, he scanned his surroundings but saw nothing it could be warning him of so he took the closest book off a shelf with a sigh and plopped onto a comfortable-looking armchair.

     He cracked the cover open and was greeted with the oddly addictive smell of old books. It didn't take but a moment of reading the first few lines to realize he'd grabbed the book about the Infinity Stones. Was the universe trying to tell him something?! First the nightmare then the Eye! That's probably something he should look into, in all honestly. He leaned back, put in his earbuds, and let "Back in Black" drown out the world. (AC/DC and Pink Floyd got him through multiple all-nighters, if it ain't broke don't fix it.)

    A surprisingly interesting read, he managed to finish the rather short book before New York's noon. Having been up eight hours already and feeling a bit peckish, he returned to the Sanctum looking for Wong. "Wong?" He called out.

     "Yes?" was the answer. Stephen found the man sorting through his small stack of books on the table. Over the past few weeks, he'd been dabbling in research and magics from other cultures, particularly the practices of the Native American Shamans.

     "What're you doing?" Stephen asked.

     "Master Mendoza needs to borrow the Picayrix. I was seeing if you had it." Wong continued picking through the stack.

      "Perhaps I'll save you time by letting you know I don't have it." He commented. Wong huffed in reply. "I thought you kept a list of who had what?"

     Wong gave him a look, "do you really expect me to believe you don't 'borrow' books without my permission?" He eyed the book Stephen was currently cradling at his side.