Doctor Strange - This One Summer

Conflict

Prayer Beads

She didn't know how long she was there in that room, trapped and bound in the dark magic seal. Strands of Eldritch magic wound around her arms and legs, restraining her. She was completely vulnerable to her captors. Runes were painted on her skin in black ink—prayers and sealing spells, intended to placate her and whatever demon master she supposedly hailed. They were treating her like an animal.

Another person dressed in wine red robes—a signature of an apprentice of the Order of the Mystic Arts—entered the empty room where they were holding her. The acolyte knelt by the woman in the devil trap—the nameless stranger that had come to Kamar-Taj seeking refuge and knowledge. The year was 1854. She had to remember that. Careless of her to assume they'd let someone of her history in. So they'd trapped her here to moniter her. To ensure she didn't do anything untoward, they'd said. They maintained her here, which was courteous. But she didn't know how much longer she could do this.

She let the acolyte hold her upright and drank the water she was offered. Then a man joined them. Young, robust, and almost mystically unparalleled. The Sorcerer Supreme's second in command, the Master Sorcerer of Kamar-Taj. She wished she didn't have to deal with him again. The acolyte left the room. She sat up on her own this time, staring at him as earnestly as she only ever had.

"I'll ask you once more," he spoke calmly. "What is your true name?"

"I don't remember it," she said for the hundredth time.

"You can't be nameless and bound to your master," he said. "I hope you understand the only reason why we're keeping you here is that you're a potential threat. Until we can ensure the safety of the multiverse, we'll be keeping track of you. It's our duty to keep you contained."

"I understand, but my answer remains," she insisted. "I have no name."

His expression was unreadable. "Perhaps your master knows."

She flinched, pressing as far away from him as the trap would allow. That did little to stop him. He pressed one of his hands against her forehead, and she felt a blinding pain there as he summoned the mark of the Dark Dimension once more. He'd done this before to no avail. No one would believe her when she said she wasn't a follower of Dormammu. They didn't believe anything she said. And after days of this treatment, she was beginning to regret coming here at all.

"Master Amir. Enough."

The two of them looked to the door as another man—one the woman had never seen before—joined them. This man was much older and feeble-looking. But he was unmistakable in his expression and how he carried himself. The Sorcerer Supreme himself had come out of hiding to see their captive.

"Master, you've returned," Amir backed away from the woman and bowed reverently. The woman doubled over in the most respectful bow she could manage in her position. The Sorcerer Supreme knelt before her and pulled her upright very gently. The binding around her arms and legs disappeared. She looked frantically from her freedom to the man again, confused and a bit wary.

"Master!" Amir tried to caution him, but the Sorcerer Supreme just raised a hand to silence him. Even as the woman bowed again, trembling, he only comforted her and ordered the acolyte to bring her a set of novice robes and to prepare a room.

He knew her, he'd told her later. The evidence of her affiliations were unforseen but undeniable—she was a witch who contact the Dark Dimension, but not a follower of Dormammu. That made her rare, and powerful. He wondered if Dormammu even knew who she was. The Sorcerer Supreme had seen her for what she truly was, and knew that she had high promise as a follower of Kamar-Taj. It was this one moment, the one chance she was given, that was pivotal to who she became.