The Red Soldier: The Crimson Prophecy

ISSUE #5

(Y/N) stood by the fireplace in the living room as Agatha Harkness filled his satchel with books, scrolls, and a water canteen. She'd done a good job of washing the coat Howard Stark had given him, although it was beginning to become threadbare at the hems. He'd managed to scrub off the dirt from his combat boots, and now they were almost as shiny as they'd been on the day he'd been given them in nineteen forty-two.

         'Here you are,' Agatha said, placing a red cloak over his head and pulling it over his shoulders, smoothening out the creases in the hood. (Y/N) thanked her, buckling his satchel close and fiddling with the hem of his new cloak. It was made of a soft cotton material which he could imagine offering much needed warmth during the colder seasons. 'Now,' Agatha spread the map over the coffee table and took a few steps away from him, 'remember how you travelled last time?' (Y/N) (L/N) nodded his head. 'Just do the same this time, but think of the Sorcerer Supreme, focus on your desire to speak with her.'

         (Y/N)'s face screwed up as his mind began to focus on meeting with the Sorcerer Supreme. He thought about the Darkhold, wondering what information it held, and whether or not it would offer him the power to bring back the man he'd fallen in love with.

         A few red sparks trickled out from his fingertips, but nothing sufficient enough to transport him. 'Try vocalising the spell,' suggested Agatha, 'speak what you want aloud.'

         'I want to see the sorcerer supreme. I want to see the sorcerer supreme. I want to see...'

A flash of red engulfed him and suddenly he was no longer in his living room. Instead, he was kneeling down in front of a large circular window. Light from outside shined through the panes, blinding him slightly. (Y/N) got to his feet, letting his bag drop to the floor with a clatter. He crept towards the window and looked down at the street. This isn't Nepal, he thought, why am I in the Village?

         Footsteps from behind him got louder and louder as a stranger approached, 'who are you? What are you doing here? How did you get in?' a man's voice asked. (Y/N) removed his hood, turning around to face the stranger. 'Dr (L/N)...'

         'I need to speak with the Sorcerer Supreme.'

         'I am the Sorcerer Supreme,' replied the man, 'Dr (L/N), people are looking for you.' (Y/N) thought that would be the case, what he hadn't been expecting was the Sorcerer Supreme to be a man.

         'Let them search,' said (Y/N), apathetically, 'what's your name?'

         'Wong,' answered the man, taking a step back as (Y/N) (L/N) began to walk towards him.

         'Wong, I need to know the location of the Darkhold.' Wong's face turned to stone, (Y/N) could sense his breathing hitch slightly. 'Do you know where it's being kept?'

         'The Darkhold?'

         'The Book of the Damned,' he clarified, 'I want it.'

The Sorcerer Supreme shook his head, meeting (Y/N)'s (E/C) eyes, 'the Darkhold has been locked away for centuries, and for good reason. It's power corrupts the user's mind and soul.'

'I just need to know where it is,' (Y/N) told him, 'Then I'll leave.' Wong looked him up and down, as though trying to decipher what his next move might be. 'I'm not going to hurt you, Wong, not if I don't have to. So just tell me where the book is.'

'Even if I told you, there's enchantments protecting it,' the Sorcerer Supreme shrugged, 'and only the Ancient One has survived the journey to where it is kept.'

'Just give me the location, that's all I ask.' (Y/N) was becoming increasingly frustrated now.

'I can't do that.'