Stephen let his body rest, sinking deeper into the backseat as exhaustion finally claimed him. Yinsen's hand rested lightly on his fur, a silent gesture of reassurance as the car rumbled through the desert, but Stephen barely noticed. The physical pain from his leg faded into the background as his mind drifted elsewhere, slipping free of the constraints of flesh and bone.
When his eyes opened again, it wasn't in the car. His astral form stood outside, the desert stretching endlessly around him, bathed in the faint light of dawn. The wind was still, the world quiet, but Stephen wasn't alone.
The Ancient One was waiting for him.
She stood a short distance away, her yellow robes faintly shimmering in the ethereal light of the astral plane. Her expression was calm, her posture relaxed, but there was a glint in her eyes that Stephen couldn't quite read. He tensed instinctively, bracing himself for the reprimand he was sure was coming.
"I know what you're going to say," he began, his voice laced with weariness. "I meddled. I interfered. I broke the rules."
The Ancient One tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Did you?"
Stephen blinked, caught off guard by her response. "Don't patronize me. I changed the timeline. Yinsen should be dead. The suit should be destroyed and not as intact. None of this—" He gestured vaguely at the desert around them. "—should have happened."
She stepped closer, her gaze steady as she studied him. "And yet, it did. Because you made a choice."
Her words hit him like a blow. He turned away, his shoulders slumping as he stared out at the empty horizon. "I didn't mean to. I just… I couldn't let him die. He tried to give me food, even when he barely had enough for himself. He didn't deserve to die like that."
"And so you acted," the Ancient One said, her tone gentle but firm. "Not as the Sorcerer Supreme, but as yourself. As Stephen."
He shook his head, his voice tight. "You don't understand. I've added to your burden. You'll have to fix this. You'll have to deal with the mess I've made."
To his surprise, she laughed softly, a warm, genuine sound that eased some of the tension in his chest. "Oh, Stephen," she said, her voice filled with affection. "You think too much of me."
He turned back to her, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What are you talking about?"
She stepped closer, her gaze softening as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "The timeline is not as fragile as you believe. It bends, it adapts, and sometimes… it needs to change. You more than anyone should know that."
Stephen's jaw tightened. "That's not an excuse."
"It's not meant to be," she replied. "It's the truth. The timeline is resilient, Stephen. It can withstand far more than you give it credit for. And perhaps, just perhaps, this change was needed."
He frowned, his mind racing as he tried to process her words. "Why? Why would it need to change? Yinsen was supposed to die. Stark was supposed to destroy the suit in his escape. That's how it always happened."
She smiled faintly, her expression enigmatic. "Perhaps it wasn't supposed to happen that way this time. Perhaps the timeline needed you to make this choice. To remind Stark—and yourself—that the future is not set in stone."
Stephen's shoulders sagged, the weight of her words settling over him. "And what if I'm wrong? What if I made everything worse?"
"Then we'll deal with it," she said simply. "Together."
He looked up at her, his eyes searching hers for some sign of judgment, of disappointment. But there was none. Only warmth, and pride, and a quiet understanding that he hadn't realized how much he needed.
"You're not angry," he said after a moment, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Of course not," she replied. "How could I be angry at you for making a choice? For following your heart? That's what makes you human, Stephen. That's what makes you you."
His throat tightened, and he turned away, his gaze dropping to the sand beneath his feet. "I've spent so long trying to follow the rules. Trying to do what's expected of me. And now…"
"You're free," she finished for him, her voice gentle. "You're no longer the Sorcerer Supreme. You don't have to carry the weight of the universe anymore. You're free to make your own choices, to live your own life. And I, for one, am proud of you for it."
Her words cut through him, breaking past the walls he had built around himself. He clenched his fists, his chest heaving as he struggled to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I don't deserve that," he said hoarsely. "I don't deserve your pride."
"You deserve far more than you believe," she replied. "You always have."
.
They stood in silence for a long moment, the stillness of the astral plane wrapping around them like a cocoon. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Stephen allowed himself to breathe, to let go of the guilt and self-recrimination that had weighed him down for so long.
Finally, he turned to her, his expression hesitant but resolute. "What happens now?"
The Ancient One smiled, her eyes twinkling with the wisdom of countless lifetimes. "Now, you rest. You heal. And when you're ready… you decide what comes next."
Stephen nodded slowly, the knot in his chest loosening as her words settled over him. He wasn't sure he believed her—not entirely—but for now, it was enough.
As his astral form began to fade, returning to the confines of his injured body, the Ancient One's voice followed him, a quiet whisper in the stillness.
"You are not bound by fate, Stephen. None of us are. Remember that."
She patted his shoulder with a warm smile and Stephen's eyes fluttered open as he returned to his body, the car's vibrations lulling him into a state of uneasy rest. His injured leg throbbed, and the faint sound of Tony and Yinsen's whispered conversation reached his ears, but he didn't stir. Instead, he let the Ancient One's words replay in his mind, over and over, like a mantra.
For the first time in centuries, the weight on his shoulders felt just a little lighter.
Now, everything was uncertain. And as much as Stephen hated to admit it, part of him found that uncertainty almost… freeing.
You're free.
For better or worse, the timeline was no longer his to follow. It was his to reshape.
.
The car jostled over the uneven terrain, the tires crunching against loose sand and jagged rocks. The rising sun bathed the desert in golden light, its warmth cutting through the cool morning air. Stephen stirred in the backseat, his small, black-furred body shifting slightly before his blue eyes fluttered open.
Pain lanced through his hind leg, a sharp reminder of the bullet wound he had taken during their escape. He shifted his weight carefully, his claws flexing against the worn upholstery as he stretched. Yinsen, who had been watching him closely, immediately leaned forward.
"You're awake," the older man said softly, relief evident in his voice. "How are you feeling?"
Stephen didn't answer right away. Instead, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, centering himself. The familiar warmth of magic surged through him, golden light flickering faintly around his wounded leg as he focused on the injury. The process was instinctive, almost effortless, and within moments, the pain began to fade. The bullet dissolved into shimmering sparks, the torn flesh knitting itself back together as though it had never been damaged.
When Stephen opened his eyes again, Yinsen was staring at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"You… you could heal yourself this whole time?" Yinsen asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Tony, who had been driving in silence, glanced over his shoulder with a frown. "Wait, what? You could do that all along?"
Stephen let out a low sigh, his tail flicking against the seat. "Yes."
"Then why didn't you?" Yinsen pressed, his brow furrowing in concern. "You've been in pain for hours. Why would you wait?"
Stephen hesitated, his gaze dropping to his freshly healed leg. The truth sat heavily on his chest, but he forced himself to say it. "Because I thought I deserved it."
The car was silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. Tony, as tactless as ever, broke the quiet with a blunt question. "What changed?"
Stephen's eyes flicked toward him, narrowing slightly. "I spoke with my mentor."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "While sleeping?"
"Yes, Stark, while sleeping," Stephen replied dryly. His voice was calm, but there was a faint edge of sarcasm that made Yinsen chuckle despite himself.
Tony rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath, but he didn't press the issue. Yinsen, however, leaned forward, his expression softening. "What did they say to you?"
Stephen looked away, his gaze fixed on the horizon as the memories of his astral encounter replayed in his mind. The Ancient One's words echoed in his thoughts, grounding him in a way he hadn't felt in years.
"She reminded me that I'm not bound by the past," he said quietly. "That I don't have to carry the weight of the universe anymore. I can make my own choices, even if they're messy, even if they break the rules."
Yinsen nodded slowly, his lips curving into a faint smile. "That's good advice."
Stephen didn't respond, but the tension in his posture eased slightly. For the first time in a long while, he felt lighter. Freer.