Solomon was well aware that if this grand plan—one capable of changing the fate of the entire universe—were to succeed, it would ultimately cost him the power, wealth, and armies he had spent so long building. But that didn't matter. Because by then, humanity would no longer suffer from disease, hunger, poverty, or the myriad other obstacles to survival. Wealth and knowledge would cease to be the privilege of a select few. Every person would possess long life and the intelligence to explore the universe's mysteries.
At that point, humanity would no longer need an immortal leader. Each human would become a near-omniscient and omnipotent being, capable of making the right decisions through reason alone. Justice and truth would become the only laws. In that perfect world, Solomon planned to disappear—settling somewhere quiet with two Siberian hamsters, enjoying sunsets, beaches, and wine with the witch. He imagined himself yawning under the warm orange hues of a summer evening on the balcony, dozing peacefully, then being woken at nightfall by the witch tugging his ear and dragging him to dinner prepared all day by Dana.
To reach that goal, the path ahead had to be paved with blood and thorns.
Wanda could understand Solomon's ideals, but until today, she hadn't known what his ultimate goal was. Her mentor's sights were set not on this present era of survival and wealth measured in digits, but on a far-off future, centuries down the line. The dream was so grand that Wanda couldn't speak for a long time. She blinked several times, wiped her eyes, and then nodded hard at Solomon.
"I knew you'd understand me, Wanda. But that's not what makes me happiest," Solomon said with a beaming smile. "When I first started teaching you, I told you the most basic rule of all: the deeper and more powerful the knowledge we seek, the more we are exposed to outer-dimensional truths—and the more terrifying the risks. Without a stable mind, no spellcaster can learn such dangerous secrets. I'm proud you managed to stabilize your emotions so quickly. That means I no longer have an excuse to limit your exploration. Just remember—"
"—an open mind is as vulnerable as an unguarded fortress," Wanda recited, looking up at her mentor. "I'll remember that. If this was a test, why now? Is it because of my progress on the path of the witch?"
"That's part of it, Wanda. Your magic is innate. Your mother or grandmother may very well have been a witch. I had you explore the witch's path to uncover the source of your power and your bloodline's legacy," Solomon said, nodding gently like a patient scholar. At some point, a cup of tea had appeared in his hand, the sweet scent of honey curling upward with white steam from the reddish-brown liquid. "You've indeed learned much from that path. Soon, the black magic theories I taught you will have real-world application. Black magic resonates more deeply with your power—but it's also far more dangerous. Before that happens, I needed to be sure you're truly ready."
"I'm ready," Wanda replied. "What kind of opportunity is it?"
Solomon squinted slightly, recalling a piece of intel he'd recently received.
Johnny Blaze's girlfriend had called him, saying the Ghost Rider's instincts had picked up on something incredibly foul, though Johnny himself had no idea what it was. So now that motorcycle-riding vagabond was roaming the world, trying to track it down. Solomon knew exactly what Ghost Rider was sensing. The Book of the Vishanti in the Kamar-Taj library had recently revealed to some spellcasters a spell for seeking and locating. While no one would be foolish enough to cast a spell they didn't understand, anything that could prompt the Book of the Vishanti to react so urgently could only mean one thing: the Darkhold. Solomon remembered what came with the Darkhold. He judged this to be a perfectly challenging exam for Wanda.
Even if it wasn't the most difficult task, Solomon still prepared backup plans. But this wasn't a full-scale military operation—there would be no airstrikes or artillery, just soldiers from the Fimbulwinter First Secret Corps carrying light and heavy individual weaponry. Of course, this was something Solomon would never tell Wanda—not just to protect her pride, but to ensure she completed the task using her own strength and intellect, not Eternal City's or Solomon's power.
"A book of magic that predates the birth of humanity is about to reappear," he said. "It's tied to the legacy of Camelot, the Dark Dimension, and the Knights of the Round Table. I want you to retrieve it."
Though he often joked about his casual teaching, Solomon was a highly responsible mentor.
He not only took his student's academic progress into account, but also their emotional and cognitive thresholds. This came naturally to him—not only because he took his role seriously, but because he understood how dangerous the Scarlet Witch could become if she lost control. His teaching methods were refined from the Ancient One's own techniques. Not every spellcaster could be hurled into an outer dimension to gaze at the entropy of the cosmos and not lose their mind. For someone like Wanda, whose mental stability was already fragile, safeguarding her psyche was of paramount importance. The Ancient One throwing him into the Dark Dimension as a child had been extremely reckless. There was no gradual learning curve—just brute exposure. Though he had some protection, if anyone else had been treated the same way, they might have turned into cultists of some outer-dimensional horror.
Solomon never used such reckless teaching tactics with his own students. Even when it came to black magic, he began with the simplest theories. Like a chemistry lab, you had to learn the safety manual before you touched the equipment. So, just as Wanda's excitement peaked, Solomon doused her enthusiasm with a bucket of cold water. He pulled out fifty pages of printouts—covered from top to bottom in handwritten questions, in size 5 font.
"Write the essays in your notebook. They're due next Monday," he said with a smile that Wanda found more terrifying than black magic itself. "Don't worry—I accounted for this. You're exempt from witch path studies this week."
"But today's Saturday!"
"So?" Solomon shrugged, half-lidding his eyes as he slowly sipped his tea. Fortunately, the embedded agent within Agent Coulson's team had sent the tipoff in time, or Wanda would've missed this chance—and the book that fate had destined for her. Solomon still needed to call Johnny Blaze and ask why he had dared to share the Ghost Rider's soul with someone else without Kamar-Taj's approval—even if it was to track an outer-dimensional corruption, it wasn't acceptable.
But what was done was done. Solomon couldn't very well yank that new soul back out now. He had to see if the new Ghost Rider was up to the job. Wanda's upcoming mission included evaluating the new Ghost Rider, Robbie Reyes. That had been requested by Father Morru of the Vatican, via a silver dove letter. After Johnny Blaze realized what he'd done, he went straight to Father Morru. If Solomon didn't respect Morru's stubborn integrity so much, he might've picked up his warhammer and given Johnny a taste of it.
Since Johnny couldn't die, Solomon wouldn't mind beating him within an inch of his afterlife. He doubted the Ghost Rider would dare fight back.
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