The Malibu house was dead silent. The cold wind coming off the ocean helped dull the ache in my chest, but the physical drain of surviving the vacuum of space was still there. I stood in the dark kitchen waiting for the water to boil, focusing on the simple routine of making tea to keep my mind grounded.
A shower of golden sparks flared in the dark.
I didn't turn around. I just poured a second cup of hot water as the portal hissed shut, casting long shadows across the marble floor.
"You look terrible, Raizel," she said.
She stood a few feet away, her hands tucked neatly into the sleeves of her yellow robes. Her posture was perfect, but the lines around her eyes gave her away. She looked exhausted.
"Space is cold," I said, sliding the spare cup across the counter toward her.
She stepped up and wrapped her hands around it. She didn't drink. She just stared at the dark liquid for a long moment.
"London. 1666," she said softly.
I paused, my own cup halfway to my mouth.
"You stood by the window and watched the city burn," she continued, finally looking up at me. "You told me human history belonged to humans. You wouldn't lift a finger."
I took a slow sip. The tea was bitter.
"You've spent centuries out of the fray," she said, her voice dropping a fraction. "Why today?"
The kitchen was quiet, save for the rhythm of the ocean outside. I stared down at the marble counter. It was easy to be a ghost when you kept your distance. For years, I had treated this world like a foregone conclusion. I knew the script. I knew who was supposed to live and die.
But...
"It's easy to stay unattached when you're just watching from a balcony," I said quietly.
She tilted her head, waiting.
"I saw them down there," I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Throwing themselves at an army they couldn't possibly beat. They were bleeding, breaking themselves to pieces... and they just refused to stay down."
I met her eyes. "Sitting in the dark stopped feeling like peace. It just felt like hiding."
The Sorcerer Supreme held my gaze. This was a woman who compromised her own soul every single day just to keep the Earth spinning. If anyone understood the hypocrisy of stepping over the line to protect something fragile, it was her.
Her shoulders relaxed, just a millimeter. "I know."
She finally took a sip of her tea. When she lowered the cup, the warmth of the old friend was gone. The Master of the Mystic Arts had returned.
"But you didn't just step out of the shadows, Raizel. You kicked the door down."
He remained silent.
"And it fractured the timeline," she countered gently, but firmly. "Every time you force your will on this reality, it reacts. The ripples you caused today... they were violent."
She set the cup down. The porcelain clinked sharply against the stone.
"There is a designated path," she warned. "Forces govern it." She looked at me with serious expression. "They won't care that you were just trying to save a few lives. They will come for the anomaly."
I ran a thumb over the rim of my cup, feeling the residual heat fading away.
"I know."
She studied me for a long time. She was looking for regret, or maybe hesitation. She didn't find either.
With a small, resigned nod, she raised two fingers. The golden sparks spun into a circle, revealing the stone walls of Kamar-Taj. She paused on the threshold, the harsh light of the portal illuminating the side of her face.
"Rest," she said quietly. "You're going to need it."
The portal snapped shut. The house fell back into darkness, leaving only the cold wind off the ocean.