The Ancient One had always been careful. Gul'dan's orders still echoed in her mind like chains: Grow quietly. Do not expose yourself too early.

Thus she obeyed. She spread Fel energy only in whispers, refusing to teach the guardians of the three Sanctums, and keeping them away from Kamar-Taj. None of them had returned for some time. It was safer that way.

The sorcerers Kaecilius slaughtered in London had not been touched by Fel at all. They were still pure disciples, still defenders of the old ways, still oblivious to the truth that Kamar-Taj had already changed. And even the Ancient One herself was no longer the same.

Kaecilius didn't know that either.

When Strange arrived at the New York Sanctum, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of scorched stone. He froze for a moment at the top of the stairs.

Corpses of sorcerers lay scattered, their shields shattered like glass. Dark spells had eaten through the walls, twisting runes and wards into smoldering ruins.

And there, standing in the wreckage, was Kaecilius. His movements were precise and ruthless, his followers striking down what little resistance remained. His eyes gleamed with the mark of Dormammu, dark power swirling at his fingertips.

His purpose was obvious, destroy the Sanctums, open the way, and let the lord of the Dark Dimension descend into Earth.

Kaecilius paused mid-swing, his attention snagged by the faint glow above him. On the second floor, Strange stood calmly at the railing, watching.

"Who are you?" Kaecilius called up, his tone casual, even arrogant. "Another lamb to the slaughter? A new recruit?"

Strange descended the steps slowly, his lips curving into a faint smile. His eyes burned bright with unnatural green light. "You can call me Doctor Strange."

Kaecilius frowned. A sorcerer? No, something was wrong. Sorcerers did not walk with that glow in their gaze. The light felt alien, dangerous, and wrong. His instincts screamed a warning.

'Why do I feel danger from him? Impossible. I carry Dormammu's blessing. I should fear no one.'

But that feeling persisted, worming into his chest, gnawing at his confidence.

"Doctor?" Kaecilius repeated, more sharply now. "Why is a doctor here? Who are you really?"

Strange's smile widened. Inside, his pulse quickened with anticipation. He hadn't yet had the chance to test his Fel power in real combat. Here, surrounded by the stench of death, he felt it stir, the hunger, the raw, intoxicating craving.

For the first time, he noticed how delicious life itself smelled. Kaecilius, his two disciples, each of them radiated vitality like freshly cooked meals laid out before a starving man, he finally understood what Mordo had felt that day in the alleyway.

Strange chuckled under his breath. "Does it matter?" He raised his hands, and emerald light flared to life in his palms.

Kaecilius sneered at the display. "It seems you've chosen death."

He cut the air with his hand, and a curved blade of black energy shimmered into existence. His disciples mirrored him, weapons forming, their eyes dark and pitiless.

But before they could move, Kaecilius felt something, a pull, faint but unmistakable, tugging at his chest. His breath hitched and his hand faltered.

Then he saw them.

Three green tendrils of light lashed outward from Strange's hands, almost invisible to normal sight but binding tight around Kaecilius and his disciples.

His eyes widened. The pull intensified, not on his body, but on his very essence. He could feel it in his very soul.

"No!" Kaecilius gasped, staggering back.

Half of his soul was already being dragged free, his form split between body and astral. His followers screamed helplessly against the suction.

Kaecilius stared in horror as a gray stream poured out of his chest, siphoned away into Strange's glowing hands. His skin sagged, wrinkles etching themselves into his face in seconds. His vitality, decades of life, was being devoured before his eyes.

"What is this power?" he rasped.

Strange only laughed softly, savoring the flavor. To him, it was intoxicating, like drinking sunlight through a straw. "Your life… is mine."

Kaecilius fought desperately, his mind racing. Dormammu's power coursed through him, yet even that could not anchor his soul against the pull. His subordinates fared worse, within seconds, their bodies shriveled, their hair turned white, their eyes hollowed.

Kaecilius trembled. He was next. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. There was only one escape, one ally who might match this monster.

Still in astral form, he shut his eyes tight and began chanting. A forbidden incantation. A prayer, a summons. A call to Dormammu himself.

Save me, master.

But before the spell was completed, the air rippled. A golden portal spun open, sparks flying, and the Ancient One stepped through calmly.

Her gaze swept the scene: Strange radiant with green hunger, Kaecilius half-consumed, two disciples already half dead. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but her voice was calm. "Enough."

Strange's glow pulsed brighter, reluctant to stop. His hunger clawed at him, urging him to finish, to take Kaecilius too.

The Ancient One's eyes narrowed. "Leave him alive. Absorb the other two. Kaecilius still has his uses."

Strange tilted his head, annoyed, but at last loosened his grip. The green tendrils snapped back, and Kaecilius collapsed onto the floor, gasping. His skin sagged, his eyes sunken, but he lived, if just barely.

Once, the Ancient One would have struck him down without hesitation. But now… now the world had changed. Power mattered more than loyalty.

Kaecilius was skilled, dangerous, and desperate. He had already sworn to Dormammu, but perhaps Fel energy could unmake that vow, twist it, bind him to a new master.

And if he refused? Then he would be food, nothing more.

The Ancient One's eyes glowed faintly green as she studied him. Darkness against Fel. Which is stronger?

She already knew the answer. She had tasted both with her own body.

And now, Kaecilius would too.

…