The line went dead.Tony pulled the earpiece out and looked at Pepper.
"Stark Pharma," he said. "New subsidiary. Joint venture with a partner I can't name yet. I need you to set up the corporate structure. Quietly."
Pepper opened her mouth, closed it, and added it to the list. The list was getting very long."Anything else?"
"Yeah. Clear my schedule for the next two weeks. I have a new element to discover."
Pepper stared at him. "A new what?"
Tony was already walking toward the workshop.
Jurupa Hills, California
The oak tree was impossible to miss.
Abel had portaled to the base of the mountain and walked the rest of the way. Partly because the destination was imprecise, he'd never been here before and satellite images only gave approximate coordinates. Partly because he wanted to feel the approach. Magical materials responded to intent, and arriving with purpose mattered.
The tree itself occupied a rocky outcrop near the summit, a massive clonal organism that had been growing, dying, and regenerating from its root system for roughly thirteen thousand years. Older than agriculture. Older than writing. Older than every civilization currently standing on the surface of the Earth.
In his previous life, wand wood needed spiritual resonance. Trees in the Harry Potter world had been saturated with ambient magic for millennia, developing a kind of awareness, a latent intelligence that made them ideal conduits for a wizard's power. This world's trees lacked that background radiation. No ambient magic meant no accumulated spirituality.
But thirteen thousand years of unbroken growth changed the equation. Even without a magical ecosystem, a tree that old had absorbed something from the earth, the air, the slow patient chemistry of survival across epochs. Not consciousness. Not intelligence. But a density of natural energy that came close enough.
Abel placed his palm against the bark.
He felt it immediately. A hum, deep and slow, vibrating at a frequency that had nothing to do with sound. The tree's heartwood pulsed with concentrated essence, thirteen millennia of accumulated vitality compressed into a single point at the core of the trunk.
This is it. This is the wand body.
His previous life's wand had been oak, heartwood core. The match had been perfect, a resonance so clean that his magic had flowed through the wand like water through an open channel. If he could replicate that here, with material this potent, the resulting wand would be leagues beyond the temporary pine-and-feather stick he'd been using.
Abel drew his current wand and touched it to the trunk.
The bark parted. Not violently, not with force, but the way a sleeping creature shifts to accommodate a familiar touch. The wood opened in a smooth, organic motion, layers peeling back to reveal the heartwood at the center. Pale gold, almost luminous, dense with the weight of ages.
Abel cut carefully. A section the length of his forearm, cylindrical, perfectly formed. The tree would survive. It had been regenerating for thirteen thousand years. The loss of one heartwood segment would slow it, reduce it to something more ordinary for a few centuries. But it would grow back. Eventually.
I'll come back for you someday. Transplant you somewhere safe. A tree this old deserves a guardian.
He sealed the trunk with a touch of his wand, the bark closing over the wound as if it had never been opened. Then he placed the heartwood segment into a prepared case, padded with enchanted silk, and stored it in his bag.
Back home, sitting at his desk, Abel held the oak heartwood up to the light of his desk lamp. The pale gold surface seemed to glow from within, warm and steady.
He reached out with his senses.
The heartwood spoke to him. Not in words. In resonance. In the deep, instinctive pull of magical compatibility. And what it told him was clear.
Dragon.
The core for this wand had to be dragon heartstring. Not any dragon. A powerful one. An ancient one. Something whose heart burned hot enough to match thirteen thousand years of accumulated earthen power.
Abel set the heartwood down and stared at the ceiling.
Where do I find a dragon in the Marvel universe that's willing to hand over its heartstring?
The answer, of course, was nowhere. No dragon was going to cooperate. Which meant Abel would need to hunt one, or find one already dead, or convince someone very powerful to help him access one.
The Ancient One. She's connected to dimensions I haven't even heard of. If anyone knows where to find a dragon strong enough for this wand, it's her.
As if on cue, a familiar voice resonated inside his mind. Not telepathy, not exactly. A magical projection, the Ancient One's preferred method of long-distance communication.
"Master Abel. Please come to Kamar-Taj. There is a matter I wish to discuss."
Abel stored the heartwood, grabbed his bag, and opened a portal.
She's either calling about Mexico, about the demons Kaecilius and Mordo are hunting, or about something I haven't thought of yet. Knowing her, it's all three.
He stepped through.
Kamar-Taj
The Ancient One was waiting in the strategy room, a circular chamber Abel had only been inside twice before. Maps covered the walls, both geographical and dimensional. Runes pulsed faintly along the ceiling, detection wards keyed to threats across the globe.
She wasn't alone. Wong stood to her left, arms folded. Daniel stood to her right, looking concerned.
"Thank you for coming quickly, Master Abel."
"Your timing was impeccable. I was about to call you anyway." Abel glanced at the maps. Several points glowed red, scattered across Europe, South America, and Southeast Asia. "The demons?"
"Blackheart. Mephisto's son." The Ancient One's voice carried the particular gravity she reserved for threats she considered genuine. "He crossed into our dimension five days ago. Since his arrival, demonic activity worldwide has spiked. Kaecilius and Mordo have taken teams to contain the worst of it, but they're stretched thin. There are too many hotspots and not enough sorcerers."
"You want me to help."
"I want you to do more than help." She turned to face him directly. "Blackheart is not a minor entity. He is one of the heir to the throne of Hell or at least one of them. His presence on Earth is destabilizing the barriers between our dimension and Mephisto's realm. If he isn't dealt with, the incursions will escalate. What we're seeing now is just the prelude."
Abel studied the map. The red dots were clustered in patterns that suggested coordination, not randomness. The demons weren't appearing at random. They were being directed.
"Where is Blackheart himself?"
"We're tracking him. He's moving, staying mobile, avoiding our detection networks. But we're narrowing the search."
Abel nodded. Then, because the opportunity was right and the Ancient One was in a mood to ask favors, he spoke.
"I'll help. But I have a request of my own."
The Ancient One's expression didn't change. She'd expected this. She always expected this.
"The new wand I'm building requires a dragon heartstring core. Not a common dragon. Something ancient and powerful enough to match thirteen-thousand-year-old oak heartwood." He met her gaze. "I need your help finding one. Access to a dimension where such a creature exists, or knowledge of one that's already been slain. In exchange, I'll commit fully to the Blackheart operation."
The Ancient One studied him for a long moment. Then she nodded.
"I know of a possibility. We'll discuss it after the immediate crisis is contained." A pause. "Your Patronus Charm. How far along is your mastery?"
"Formless. Shield-range only. Three to four meters."
"Against demonic entities, even a formless Patronus of that quality could be devastating. You may have the chance to test it sooner than expected."
Abel felt something in his chest tighten. Not fear. Anticipation.
Mephisto's son. Demons worldwide. A new wand waiting to be completed. And the Ancient One just told me my Patronus might be a weapon of mass destruction against the forces of Hell.
This summer is getting very interesting.
END CHAPTER 50