As the car sped across the desert, the three of them began to talk. It started with simple questions—where they were headed, what they would do next—but the conversation quickly turned more personal.
Yinsen shared stories of his family, his wife and children who were hopefully waiting for him in America, as he left them there before going to Gulmira. His voice was soft, tinged with longing and sadness, but there was a spark of hope in his eyes that hadn't been there before. Tony, in his usual fashion, deflected any questions about himself with snarky comments and exaggerated bravado, but even he let a few genuine moments slip through—a mention of Rhodey, his best friend, and a wistful remark about his workshop back in Malibu.
When the focus inevitably turned to Stephen, he hesitated. He had grown so used to deflecting, to hiding behind half-truths and vague answers, that the idea of opening up felt almost foreign. But the memory of the Ancient One's words lingered in his mind, a quiet reminder that he didn't have to hide anymore. Not completely.
"My name is Stephen," he said finally, his voice steady but guarded.
"Stephen?" Yinsen repeated, his smile warm. "It suits you."
"Stephen what?" Tony asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.
Stephen shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just Stephen."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "What, like Madonna? Or Prince?"
Yinsen chuckled, but Stephen's expression grew more serious. "I don't use my last name," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
The air in the car shifted, the weight of his words hanging unspoken between them. Yinsen didn't press further, but Tony's curiosity was evident. He leaned back in his seat, his gaze flicking toward Stephen in the rearview mirror.
"Alright, Stephen," Tony said, his voice dripping with skepticism. "You've got some weird abilities, you can heal yourself, and you talk to your mentor while you're asleep. So what's your deal? What are you—some kind of lab experiment? A rogue AI? A government science project that got loose?"
Stephen huffed, his tail flicking sharply in irritation. "I'm not an experiment."
Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. So what are you then? A mutant? Alien? Secret government project?"
"No," Stephen said firmly. His eyes narrowed as he met Tony's gaze in the rearview mirror. "It's magic."
Yinsen, seated beside Stephen in the back, shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. His brow furrowed slightly, as though trying to reconcile what he had seen with what he knew of the world.
Tony, on the other hand, scoffed loudly. "Magic? Really? That's the line you're going with?"
Stephen didn't flinch. "It's not a line. It's the truth."
"Right," Tony said, dragging the word out with exaggerated disbelief. "Because magic is totally a thing. Did the Tooth Fairy tell you that before or after she gave you your wand?"
Stephen shot him a withering glare, his tone sharp. "You just watched me redirect a grenade with a flick of my paw and heal a bullet wound with nothing but concentration. What part of that suggests science to you?"
Tony didn't miss a beat. "All of it. Advanced tech, maybe. Biochemical augmentation? Some sort of electromagnetic field manipulation? I don't know, but I guarantee there's a rational explanation."
Yinsen finally spoke up, his voice quiet but steady. "Does it matter what it's called?"
Tony glanced at him, his expression skeptical but curious. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Yinsen gestured toward Stephen. "You saw what he did, Tony. Whether it's science or magic, it's real. Denying it doesn't make it any less true."
"It's not that hard to understand, Stark," Stephen grumbled, rolling his eyes.
Tony raised an eyebrow, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Then explain it. Because, newsflash: magic isn't real."
Stephen narrowed his eyes, sitting up straighter despite the slight pull of pain in his recently healed leg. "You're wrong," he said simply. "Magic exists. But I think your problem is with the word."
Tony snorted. "Oh, yeah, sure. Call it 'magic,' and I'm suddenly supposed to nod along like it all makes sense."
Stephen sighed, his voice calm but firm. "Fine. Let's try this a different way." He shifted slightly on the seat, meeting Tony's skeptical gaze head-on. "Do you believe in quantum physics?"
Tony frowned, his tone suddenly sharper. "Of course I do. I've built half my tech based on quantum principles."
"Then you already understand the basics of magic," Stephen said smoothly. "You just don't realize it yet."
Now Tony is the one who rolled his eyes. "Please. Enlighten me."
"Magic," Stephen began, his voice taking on a lecturing tone, "is simply the manipulation of the fundamental energies that underlie the structure of reality. Think of the universe as a complex code—a series of interconnected systems that govern everything from gravity to time to life itself. Sorcerers—people like me—are capable of understanding that code and rewriting it."
Tony's brow furrowed, his skepticism momentarily overtaken by curiosity. "Rewriting it? Like… hacking?"
"Exactly," Stephen said, gesturing lightly with his paw. "You could call it reality hacking. The universe is made up of layers—planes of existence, dimensions, timelines—and they're all connected through these energies. What you call the laws of physics are simply one layer of the code, one system among many. Sorcerers can access the deeper layers, the ones most people can't see."
Yinsen leaned forward slightly, his expression thoughtful. "You're saying… there are other planes of existence? Other worlds?"
Stephen nodded. "Yes. Infinite worlds. Some are separate, completely disconnected from ours, while others overlap with this one in ways you wouldn't believe. Some of them are purely physical, like this universe. Others are purely metaphysical—places of energy, thought, and consciousness."
Tony snorted again, though there was a faint hint of discomfort in his voice. "Yeah, sure. Alternate dimensions and infinite worlds. What's next, time travel?"
Stephen smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with something almost mischievous. "Time isn't as linear as you think, Stark. It's just another part of the code, another system that can be bent—or broken."
Tony let out a disbelieving laugh. "You can't be serious."
"I am," Stephen replied, his tone unwavering. "And deep down, I think you know it. You've seen glimpses of it, haven't you? Things that defy explanation, things that science can't fully account for. You just don't want to admit it, because it would mean acknowledging that there are forces out there you can't control."
Tony's jaw tightened, his grip on the wheel growing visibly more tense. "What I've seen," he said slowly, "are people using technology to do things that look impossible. There's always an explanation."
Stephen inclined his head slightly, his voice calm. "Believe what you want. But just because you can't see something doesn't mean it isn't real. Magic is as real as the atoms in your body, Stark. It's just harder to measure."
Yinsen, who had been listening intently, cleared his throat. "You said sorcerers can manipulate this… code. How? Is it through some kind of training?"
"Yes," Stephen said, turning to him with a small nod. "It takes years of study, focus, and discipline to attune yourself to the energies of the universe. Most people lack the ability—or the patience—to learn. It's not something you can just stumble into. It requires understanding, intention, and a connection to the deeper layers of existence."
Yinsen's brow furrowed. "And you… you've studied this for years?"
"Centuries," Stephen said softly, his gaze distant. "In another lifetime, in another place."
Tony, still refusing to let go of his skepticism, let out a low scoff. "So, what, you're immortal too?"
Stephen's lips quirked into a faint, humorless smile. "Not anymore."
That answer, cryptic as it was, seemed to give Tony pause. He glanced at Stephen again in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing as though trying to figure him out. "You're serious about all of this, aren't you? The code, the layers, the magic…"
"Deadly serious," Stephen replied. "You don't have to believe me, Stark. But it's the truth."
Tony fell silent, his expression unreadable as he turned his attention back to the road. Yinsen, on the other hand, nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a quiet awe.
"It's… a lot to take in," Yinsen admitted. "But after everything I've seen… I think I'm willing to believe you."
Stephen inclined his head in acknowledgment, his posture relaxing slightly. "Thank you."
Tony let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Well, I'm still calling it bullshit until I see some real proof."
Stephen smirked faintly, his tail flicking against the seat. "You already have. You're just too stubborn to admit it."
"Yeah, right. Well, if you ever decide to trade in the wand and the hocus-pocus, let me know," he muttered under his breath.
Stephen rolled his eyes but chose not to respond. Yinsen, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, his expression thoughtful.
"I've seen many things in my life," Yinsen said softly, his voice almost reverent. "But never anything like you, Stephen. If what you say is true… if this is magic…" He trailed off, his brow creasing. "Then perhaps the world is far larger than I ever imagined."
Stephen inclined his head slightly, acknowledging Yinsen's words. "It is. Far larger. And far stranger."
Tony let out a scoffing laugh but kept his eyes on the road. "Great. A wizard and a philosopher. I'm officially the most normal person in this car."
"Normal isn't the word I'd use," Stephen muttered dryly.
Yinsen chuckled softly, but Tony didn't take the bait. Instead, he lapsed into silence, his expression unusually thoughtful as he processed everything he had just heard—or, more accurately, refused to believe.
Stephen, for his part, felt no need to press the issue. Whether Tony Stark believed in magic or not didn't matter. The truth remained unchanged, and for the first time in a long while, Stephen was content to let it speak for itself.
And, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, the tension that had lingered between them began to fade. They were three survivors, each carrying their own scars, their own burdens. And for now, that was enough.
Stephen leaned back against the seat, his eyes half-closed as he let the warmth of the sun wash over him. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he allowed himself to simply be—not the Sorcerer Supreme, not the guardian of the timeline, but just… Stephen.
And for now, that was enough.