The moment they stepped through the dimensional gate, gravity forgot its job.
Mark stumbled mid-air, only to float sideways. Wong, more experienced, twisted into a practiced hover using a stabilizing rune etched into his sleeve. They both landed on a platform shaped like a Möbius strip—but it pulsed, folding and unfolding as if the laws of shape were still being written.
"Don't anchor to logic," Wong said calmly. "Let it be felt, not forced."
Mark took a breath, shifting his awareness from the physics he remembered to the rhythms of magical resonance—the same way he felt portal gates vibrate through his bones.
The world around them wasn't a world at all.
It was a fractured pocket dimension—a temporal dead zone barely held together by magic. Islands of land floated like debris across a slow-motion whirlpool of broken stars.
And at the center stood a ruined temple.
Its design was unmistakable.
Kamar-Taj.
Or… a version of it.
A Message from the Ancient One
A projection of the Ancient One appeared before them—her voice woven through threads of golden light.
"This is not your world, but it remembers you. You are here because this dimension—abandoned, collapsing—has a tether to Wong."
Wong stepped forward, confused. "To me?"
"To another you. A variant that strayed. One who opened a portal to the Dark Dimension… and never came back."
The illusion faded.
Silence fell. Even Mark looked at Wong with surprise.
Wong's jaw tightened. "I thought I'd closed that door in every timeline."
Mark stepped beside him. "We're here to seal it. Whatever version of you is still in there—if he's the reason this realm's breaking down—then this is your test."
The Temple of the Other Wong
They entered the shattered Kamar-Taj. Glyphs twisted endlessly across the stone, writing and rewriting the names of spells never cast. Time itself looped in corners, creating echoes of footsteps that hadn't yet happened.
At the far end of the hall, standing perfectly still, was him.
Another Wong.
But his robes were blackened, glowing with the same sickly purple energy Mark had seen on Kaecilius years ago. His eyes were hollow sockets filled with void-light.
"Another interruption," he said with a voice that echoed from somewhere behind them.
"You're… me," Wong said.
The other Wong smiled bitterly. "No. I was you. Before I understood the truth: that the Ancient One only teaches half the path. That real power lies beyond."
Mark stepped forward. "You're bleeding this world dry. It can't even hold time anymore."
Other-Wong raised a hand. "Because I unchained it. Because I refuse to serve fate."
The ground shook. Reality warped again. Mark felt the strain—like the whole realm was trying to collapse into itself, one heartbeat at a time.
The Duel Between Selves
Wong stepped forward. "Then you've become what I feared."
Other-Wong struck first.
The clash was silent and terrifying. No flashy energy blasts—just raw, efficient sorcery. Two masters using dimensional folds like blades, shields, and snares. Space warped between them as they wove their battle through shattered time.
Mark didn't interfere. He couldn't. This wasn't just a fight.
It was a reckoning.
But he did stabilize the terrain—summoning his energy control to prevent the world from buckling under the pressure.
Wong finally overpowered his other self with a binding seal made from layered reality glyphs—five interlocking dimensions forming a prison the corrupted variant couldn't escape.
"Why didn't you kill him?" Mark asked, breathless.
Wong looked tired. "Because part of me still believes… he could have been me."
The Realm Sealed
Together, they performed the sealing ritual. The temple crumbled. The whirlpool of stars slowly unraveled into nothingness. But this time, it was a peaceful end. No corruption. No collapse.
As they stepped through the portal back home, Mark looked back one last time.
"A whole dimension," he said. "Ruined by one version of one person."
Wong nodded. "Now you understand why the Ancient One trains us slowly."