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The moment he understood what was happening to him and knew what being had attached itself to him, Stephen threw himself into the Mirror Dimension to isolate himself from all others.
What is this place? said the foreign voice in his head. It is different and yet the same.
“Mirror Dimension,” he answered, forcing his voice to a calmness he didn’t feel.
The alien parasite—this symbiote—could feel everything, though. Of course. You understand me now, it answered. You know what I am. And you are afraid.
There was little point in trying to deny the accusation with the creature in his body. It could probably sense the subconscious changes that caused shifts in the chemical balances within him, that charged his emotions. “I know that your species has destroyed entire planets with but one host to start.” And despite rumors of more benevolent symbiotes, this one certainly was not. He had felt the strange, sudden urges of blood lust several times throughout the week. It was that symptom in particular that had eventually led him to the awful discovery.
It laughed. It is my nature. And yet you still try to fight. That is pointless. I am amongst the eldest. I have eaten many worlds. You will be mine and this world will be like the others.
Like hell he would. “You underestimate me. If I cannot find a solution to neutralize you, I am fully prepared to die.”
Again it was amused. And I move to another host.
“You won’t be able to from the Mirror Dimension,” said Stephen. “This place is inaccessible to most of humanity. If I die, you are forever stuck here.”
It scoffed in disbelief. Your pontificating is quaint. I will enjoy consuming you.
Oh, this thing had no idea what it was getting into.
This is tedious, said the symbiote five weeks later. It had been quiet for a couple days until that point, as if finally realizing that Stephen was more than willing to make good on his threat. The lofty gestures of destruction and grandeur had also fallen away to something a bit more casual.
Stephen couldn’t help but smirk. “I’ve been through worse tedium.” Dormammu came to mind. Hell, even parts of med school were worse than this. This alien parasite really had no idea what war it had started with him.
In the beginning, it wasn’t at all difficult to create a portal far from his body, then cross the astral plane to visit Wong with his impromptu plan for the foreseeable future. Wong, in turn, left food and books in a designated drop spot twice a day at designated times. It was easy to avoid it during those times, and Stephen effectively kept himself quarantined within the Mirror Dimension as he researched and experimented on getting rid of the symbiote.
The bad news was that nothing was removing it from his person; the symbiote was too strong for what tricks his research had unearthed this far. The good news was that the symbiote was a good deal less patient than Stephen.
There was silence again for a little while, and Stephen thought it would be quiet again for some time. So when it spoke again about an hour later, he was surprised.
I’m not leaving, the symbiote said. Stephen raised his brow; the tone was interesting. It was less haughty. You know I feed off what you call hormones. You normally make much more in one of your days than I see in other mortals. It’s very satiating.
“And yet you still wanted more. I felt your attempted encroachment upon my mind and your desire for blood, and I will not allow it.”
There was silence for a moment. I… might be convinced to live with your hormones. There was a lot in the beginning. It was delicious. I especially liked what you call adrenaline.
Stephen pressed his lips together. “That might suit, but from all I’ve read, your species absorb key nutrients that my vital organs need at an unsustainable rate. I’m afraid the human body simply isn’t enough to provide for you long-term.” He looked back at his book. “Now that you’re more agreeable, perhaps I could place you in a dimension with no organic lifeforms for you to kill.”
But that’s boring! it whined. It actually whined. I want more adrenaline. You’ve given me so little.
“You’re ignoring the fact that I just told you my body physically cannot handle you.” He grimaced. “Even if I could make you swear not to harm Earth or its residents, this isn’t sustainable.”
Stephen felt a grudging admiration that wasn’t from himself. I can’t do anything you don’t want. I’ve tried. No one’s ever stopped me before. You’re strong. There was a pause. I like your strength. I want to stay here—even if you’ll only give me hormones.
“Did you not listen to a thing I said about my body’s ability—”
You’re a sorcerer! the parasite argued. You don’t have normal mortal inhibitions. I can feed off many things. I can feed off your magic and you can keep your body’s nutrients, as you say.
Stephen felt a spike of alarm. “I need my magic. You cannot have it.”
I’m not leaving, it said again, stubbornly.
“I’ll find a way to remove you,” Stephen promised.
Another two weeks passed. It was nearing the end of their second month quarantined in the Mirror Dimension and they were still at an impasse. The symbiote was in no way going to break through Stephen’s mental defenses, and Stephen was having a hell of a time getting the creature either out of him or dead.
And the news that came with Wong’s morning drop that day made Stephen realize just how permanent his situation might be.
The Cloak could immediately feel his resignation as he read the letter and tapped at his arm to ask why his mood changed. “Wong says that the Masters need to look into a new Master for the New York Sanctum if this is not resolved soon.” Stephen clenched his teeth; he gave an oath to protect the world, and if this was the only way to do it…
Cloak has an idea, said the symbiote unexpectedly, breaking a three day silence.
That caught him off guard. “Beg your pardon?”
Cloak’s volunteering to contribute part of its own magic. It has a significant amount.
Stephen blinked as a number of questions were raised by that statement. The first that was vocalized was, “The Cloak talks to you?”
Not exactly, the symbiote said. It is what you call inorganic. I am of the same kind. But what you call free will is powered by other forces that you have no word for, and in that way I can understand its intentions and it, mine. It was very annoying at the beginning, it ended with a light grumble.
Stephen lifted a hand to one of the gold clasps of the Cloak to indicate it to detach itself. While communication was limited, the cloak could do quite a bit with gestures and touches. “Is what it says true? That you can communicate with it?” he asked as the Cloak came to face him.
The Cloak bowed its collar in confirmation and Stephen pursed his lips. “And you are offering to give part of your magic in order for me to survive and leave here?” Another nod in confirmation. Stephen hesitated. “I don’t want to see you harmed.”
It won’t hurt it, the symbiote said as the Cloak shook its collar and reached out for Stephen’s hand in reassurance. Its magic is much older than yours. It is better than yours to sustain me.
Stephen frowned. “I cannot let myself out of here if this symbiote’s words do not match his intentions. Can you see its intentions, and does it speak the truth?”
The Cloak nodded twice as the symbiote said, Magic tastes interesting. It is an acceptable substitute for blood, and tastes well with your adrenaline.
He thought about it for a moment. This may be an acceptable solution, as he trusted the Cloak with his life and knew it would not lie. “I do not know what magic would accomplish this.”
You don’t need to do anything, said the symbiote. It’s between Cloak and me. So we’ll do it, then we can get out of here.
“Wait,” he said before they could start anything. “I will need approval from my peers. If they think it too dangerous, I am obligated to stay here.”
He felt annoyance from the symbiote. Fine, it grumbled. It at least knew how futile arguing about this would be.
Stephen wrote a note in response and set it back at the drop point, then waited until the evening to leave his body and travel across the astral plane to meet Wong there. He got there just as Wong stepped through, and as he began to read the note, Stephen broke through the barriers of reality to speak with him.
Wong gave him a look. “You think it’s safe?”
“I trust the Cloak.”
Wong nodded towards the portal as he went towards it. “Still, you’ll need to convince the others.”
Let no one say that Stephen Strange was anything but a very, very good debater. The meeting took two hours as they went through everything that could go wrong and Stephen’s answers to why that wouldn’t happen, or what they could easily do to prevent catastrophe. Part of him was partially convinced that he won them over through sheer stubbornness.
(It probably helped that they really didn’t have any great candidates to take over the New York Sanctum, too. They were still spread too thin and no one really wanted to lose him to a threat that he seemed to have now under control.)
When Wong let him back into the Mirror Dimension, he floated his way back to his body and settled within it.
Well? the symbiote asked.
Stephen frowned as he noticed something off. “… did you try to move me while I was gone?”
… possibly. It must have felt Stephen’s irritation and continued, I couldn’t really do anything. You’ve blocked your mind even when outside your body. And Cloak got in the way.
He huffed his annoyance. “Well, if we’re going to live with each other, that can’t happen anymore.”
So they agreed?
“They did,” Stephen said. “Now promise me you won’t try moving my body while I’m elsewhere.”
He felt the pang of disappointment. Fine.
He pressed his lips together. “Right. Well, if the Cloak is still in agreement, you two do what you need to do.”
The Cloak shifted. It reached forward on the left side so that it was fully covering his heart, and the right side lifted to cover his head, wrapping his face within the folds of the fabric. He blinked in surprise, but otherwise didn’t move.
A short moment later, Stephen could feel the threads of magic about him and entering his skin. This magic was an old magic, a very ancient magic that weaved the very fabric of reality, the inherent magic of Earth that helped create a universe that could support the other magics borrowed from other dimensions that they used in various spellwork. He understood that the Cloak was ancient, but he truly did not realize until that moment the sort of power that was interwoven within each of its threads.
The power was breathtaking and exhilarating.
When the process stopped, Stephen had to remind himself to breathe. Slowly he exhaled, and the Cloak lifted itself off him completely to face him.
It had changed in physical appearance. Its checkered interior lining, formerly a faded red and grey, was now streaked with jagged black lines that spilled like ink from the collar downward. On the exterior, the darker solid red checkers were now pitch black, and the embroidered details upon the lining, the collar, and down part of the back were now made of black thread rather than the lighter red.
“How do you feel?” Stephen asked the Cloak. It spun around once in able movement, then settled down upon his shoulders as if to comfort him.
Cloak’s fine, said the symbiote. This feels quite interesting. Tastes good with your adrenaline. Give me more.
“Say please,” he muttered, even as his heart, already beating fast from the transformation process, kept its steady, fast beat as he created a portal back into the world. “We’ll have some more ground rules to establish if you’ll be staying for an extended period within my watch.”
I look forward to it, the symbiote purred as Stephen stepped through the gateway and to his new chapter in life.