The Mirror Dimension folded around all three of them like a closing hand.
Sadurang, Clea, and Agamotto now stood in the Grand Canyon, a perfect copy of it within the Mirror Dimension.
The rock formations were identical, yet reversed, as if viewed through a mirror. The sky above was fractured into geometric planes that shifted and rotated slowly, each reflecting a slightly different angle of the landscape below. Crystalline surfaces hung in the air like frozen water. The colors were more vivid, almost too vivid as if reality itself had been oversaturated. Light bent strangely, casting shadows in multiple directions at once.
Sadurang looked around, his expression shifting from combat-ready to intrigued. He turned slowly, taking in the kaleidoscope of reflected surfaces, the way space itself seemed to breathe and shift.
"Interesting choice," he said, his voice carrying easily through the dimensionally altered space. "The Mirror Dimension where sorcery operates at its most efficient." He smiled, the expression calculating. "You think this gives you an advantage, Spawn of Umar?"
"Let's find out, shall we?" Clea said.
Sadurang attacked.
An obliteration hex came first, one of the oldest offensive spells in demonic sorcery: raw annihilation energy shaped into a crimson wave that rippled through the air. The spell was meant to reduce whatever it touched to absolute nothing.
Agamotto threw up golden shields, layering them over himself and Clea in overlapping patterns.
It worked, barely.
The hex dissipated against the barrier, but the aftershock still rattled through their defenses, making the golden shields flicker.
Sadurang attacked again, this time with entirely different magic. Black energy erupted from his hands. Dark fire surrounded Clea and Agamotto, forming a cage of crimson-black flames.
"The Thirteen Seals of Valtorr," Clea said quietly, reading the residual magical signature. "Bastard rewrote the terminal sequence."
"I noticed," Agamotto said grimly, already devising a counter, his hands moving in complex patterns. Clea joined him, her own gestures complementing his as the two worked in tandem to unravel Sadurang's modified spell.
Sadurang pressed forward, not giving them time to fully counter. Both his hands moved in overlapping patterns, casting two spells simultaneously, a feat that required absolute concentration and perfect division of focus.
The Vapors of Valtorr emerged from his left hand, a corrosive green mist that ate through magical constructs and physical matter alike, dissolving barriers and flesh with equal ease. From his right hand came the Shackles of Shaon Koth, binding constructs of dark energy that materialized as chains of shadow, seeking to wrap around his opponents and drain their magical power.
Clea and Agamotto had just finished countering the Thirteen Seals, the black fire cage dissipating into harmless sparks, when Sadurang's dual attack struck.
Clea was caught by the Vapors. The corrosive mist wrapped around her left side before she could fully dodge. Her protective wards flared and burned away as the mist ate through them layer by layer. She gasped in pain as it reached her skin, burning through her robes and scorching her flesh. The damage was superficial, but painful, red welts forming along her arm and side.
Agamotto quickly used the Winds of Watoomb. Mystical winds erupted from his outstretched hands and blew the vapors away from Clea, dispersing them before they could do more damage.
But in saving her, he left himself open.
The Shackles of Shaon-Koth wrapped around him, dark chains binding his wrists, his ankles, his torso. He struggled against them, but the more he fought, the tighter they became, and he could feel them beginning to drain his power, siphoning his magical and life energy.
"I wished for a proper duel with the great Agamotto," Sadurang spoke, his voice calm despite the anger simmering beneath it.
"I came here for him," His gaze didn't leave Clea.
"And you keep. Interrupting."
He spread his hands, the motion almost apologetic.
"So I'll kill you first. Quickly, if you're fortunate." he smiled coldly.
"Then he and I can have our duel, without"—a dismissive gesture toward her—"distractions."
Clea went on the offensive before he could finish posturing.
The Crimson Bands of Cyttorak erupted from her hands, thick crimson energy shooting toward Sadurang from three different angles simultaneously—left, right, and above—cutting off his escape routes and forcing him to either block or be bound.
Sadurang did not move.
He did not raise his hands to counter. He did not create shields. He simply stood there, watching the Bands approach with an expression of mild interest, almost boredom.
Then he spoke a single word.
"ⵔ̴̧̛͉̣̬̻̩̬̱̫̬̜̩̈́̓͋̐̅̂̓̈́̀͘͜͝'̷̡̨̛̰̠̠͇̬̯̝̥͈̪̥̫̭̈́̽̓͋̾̈́͐̌͘͝͠ͅͅḻ̶̢̧̨̛̛̖̬̱̝̘͈̰̫̖͕̩̤̈́̏̓̓̋͂̊̈́͋̂̍̈́͋͠ỹ̷̢̧̧̛̛͙̹̬̳͍̤̱̱̣̰̹̖̓̒̑̓͗̾̐́̽̐̕͘͝é̴̡̨̨̛͍̫͚̘̹̦̝̮̦̞̹̼͊͒̈́̇͑̀͒̀͗̀̚͝͝h̷̢̨̧̛̖̞̠̯͚̮͕̪̱̦̮͉̔̐̔́̾̓̇͑̓̔̐͘͝͝'̵̡̨̢̛̭̻̬̠͔̙̲͍̟̥̇͌̆̓̋̿̄̊̿̓̚̚͜͠͝ͅņ̸̨̛̛̬͎̮̪̝̘̤̬̙̈̓̿̇̾̓̀̉̓̓̚͝͝g̶̨̧̧̛̛͍̩̪̪͕̗̗̥͐̾̏̆́̈́͆̐̍͐͝l̵̢̡̛̜̫̜̹̞̱͇̪͚͕͂̅̐̐͋͛͑̍̄̓͊͘̚͜ų̴̡̢̛̺̳̟̱̼̯̬̥͉̬͍͇͊̉̄͋̏͂̔̇̕͘ī̸̢̨̛̦͎͔͉͇̰̦̻̠̙̮͔̪̍̈́̑̍̎̋̌͛̕̚"
The word was not in any language Clea recognized. It wasn't any of the mystical tongues she knew, and she knew many—she had studied under her mother Umar for centuries. This was something older, something that felt fundamentally wrong to hear.
The Crimson Bands stopped in their tracks.
Stopped. Frozen in midair as if time itself had ceased for them and them alone.
Clea gasped in shock at the sight.
"The Void Tongue," Agamotto said, with what Clea could hear was a tinge of fear. "I have only once heard it spoken."
Clea looked at Agamotto sharply. This was not something she knew of, not something that had come up in any of her studies. If it made Agamotto concerned, it was dangerous.
"Few still remember it," Sadurang agreed, his smile widening with satisfaction at their reaction. "Fewer still can speak it without being consumed by what they invoke."
Sadurang began chanting in the Void Tongue once more.
Each syllable was carefully enunciated, and with each one, the air grew heavier, darker.
"N̴̢̨̢̛̠̘̞̰͎̭̱̗̩̖̺̭̈́̈́̽̾͌̈́̓̋̈́͘͝y̷̨̧̛̪̰̱̞̦̰̰̭͓̖̖̔͐̓̈́̇̿̉̊̕͜͠a̶̡̨̢̛̛̗͖̰͈͚̞͔̪̣̼͕͌̄͐̏́̾̈́̚͝r̸̡̢̛̛̲̳̹̜̮̩̥̹̯̝̞̀̌̿̓̈́͒̀̃͘͜͝l̴̨̨̛̗̭͚̭̖͈̼̰͙̖̃̈́͆̓͛͐̒͊̅̚͝a̸̧̢̛̰̼͇̱̞̻̹̬͕̭̱͆̔́̇̈́͋̈́̿̓͝t̴̡̢̨̰̩̳͚̰̭̯̬͇̻̓̽̋̈́̑̏̉̿̈́͘͜͠h̸̨̧̛̞̘̮̗̟̮̪̻͈͇̿͗̇͆̄̑̐̈́̚͠ͅơ̸̢̧̛̯̼͖͓̪͓͍͇̫̤͌̃̈́̃̾̈́̂͘͝͝t̵̨̨̧̛͙͓̹̮͎̹̖̹̬͉̓̓̒̒͊͊̋̈́̕͠ē̷̡̡̛͚̫͓̝̱̜̺͈͈̮̍̾̌̓̅̈́͛̓̚͜p̴̢̢̛̛̠̣̹̙̻̝͕̹̮̹̿̂̃̈́̽̑̅̚͘͜ ̸̨̧̨̛̩̮̬͕̹̖̩̺̫̦̈́͐̒̈́̈́̏̌̉̕͠͠s̶̡̨̡̛̛͓̬̝̳͔̬̱̯͓̆̐͌̋̎́̈́̀̚h̸̨̨̛̗͓̫͎̙͉̺̙̼͉̿͒̿̓̋̏̆̌̕͘u̴̡̨̡͍̪̱̼̰͔̭̙͖͌͐͋̈́͋͌̊̓̚͝͝g̶̨̨̢̛̝͚̘̹̪̰̺͉̭̈́̒̿̐̄̑͂̓̀̚g̵̨̢̧̛̛̹͍͍̠̰̫̺̯̦̀̈́̑́̾̿͒́̕͜͠—̸̡̢̧̛̪̞̗̼̖̮̝̫̘̈́̓̓̅̽̈́͒͘͝͝ẙ̴̡̨̛̛̛̙͕͙̞̰͚͎͊̂̈́̓͋̚̕͜͠ơ̷̢̡̡̛̯̼̲̜̱͔̜̤͆̾̾͋̀͑̓̏̚͜g̶̢̨̧̢̛̛͕͓̙̰̘̹̻̖̈́̓̋̀̓͆̋̈́̚͜g̶̢̨̡̧̨̛͍̙̱͕̝͔̣̒̇̿̎̓̾͊̕͝o̸̧̢̨̩̞͚̱̙̘̫͈͂͆̀̋͑̉̈́̏̔͝͠t̴̡̢̧̨̛̜̤̦͔̼͖̙̦̒̌̿̎̑̈́̓̓̕͠h̷̨̨̛̟̪͍̞̮̬̟͕͙̜̾̂̓̀̊̓̀̈̚̕ ̶̨̢̛̛̹̰͕̖͍͙̦̝̝̈́̑̓̈́̀̃̍̚͠n̴̨̧̨͙̪͚̪͓̥̙̦̓̑̀̈́̀́̈́̕͘͝ͅg̸̢̢̡̨̛̛̼͉̩̣͎͕̳͕̀͆̈́̈́̐̅̿͘͝l̴̨̨̛̛͙̼̯̹͓͈̠̻̠̿̈́̽̈́͂̽̄̚͜͝u̶̧̢̡̙̭̙̫̜̺̬͖̍͑̿̆͆̉̈́̋͘͝ĩ̸̢̨̧̛̛̭̜̖̼͍̺̞̘̓̾̓̅̋̌̚͝"
Clea felt her skin crawl, every instinct telling her to flee, to escape, to be anywhere but here.
The Void Tongue spell took effect.
Black fire erupted from the tears in reality he had created. It poured forth in waves, spreading across the Mirror Dimension's crystalline surface.
Clea raised shields immediately, emerald constructs from her ring reinforced with Faltinian protective wards. Agamotto erected the Shields of the Seraphim, layering them three deep, golden light blazing.
The black fire hit both defenses simultaneously.
And consumed them.
Clea screamed as it touched her, the pain unlike anything she had experienced. It did not burn her flesh, it burned at her very existence, trying to unmake her at the most fundamental level. The ring tried to protect her as much as it could with the remaining energy it had. The only reason she survived was because of her nature, because of who her father and mother were, but even that would not help her if she did not escape from this.
Agamotto's body convulsed as the black flames wrapped around him. He felt his connection to the mystical energies of Earth weakening, felt himself beginning to fade.
He tried to speak, to utter the words that could help them both. His voice was strained, weakened by the assault. What he spoke was not a spell from any grimoire, not something easily taught. This was old, something that predated even the oldest magics themselves.
"⟁̴⟊̵⟟̷ ⍜̶⋔̴⟟̵⟁̷ ⟒̴⟟̵⍓̶ ⟁̴⋔̷⟊̵⟟̶, ⟊̷⟟̴ ⍓̶⟒̴⟁̵⟊̷ ⟒̶⟟̴⍜̵ ⟊̷⟟̶ ⟍̴⟊̵⟟̶, ⟁̷ ⟒̴⟟̵⍓̶⟊̴⟟̷ ⟒̶⟟̴ ⟊̵⟟̶⍜̴ ⟁̷⋔̴⟊̵⟟̶!"
White light erupted from Agamotto's body, pure and blinding. It expanded outward in a sphere, pushing back the black fire, creating a bubble of protected space around himself and Clea.
"AAAARRRRAAAAHHHHHHHH!" the Sorcerer Supreme screamed as the entire dimension was filled with light.
The black fire hissed and recoiled, unable to withstand the ancient counterspell.
"HHHHAAAAAGGGHHHH!" Agamotto's scream became a roar of absolute defiance as, slowly and painfully, he forced Sadurang's spell back. The void flames retreated, pulled away by the sheer force of Agamotto's mystical mastery, until finally they dissipated completely.
Agamotto collapsed to his knees, gasping.
Clea was on the verge of unconsciousness.
Sadurang laughed, a sound of genuine appreciation, respect, and delight.
"And THAT is why I wanted to face you, Agamotto!" he said, clapping his hands together. "A true master of the mystic arts! To know the Primordial Counter, to speak words that predate even the oldest magic, magnificent! Magnificent! Absolutely magnificent!"
Agamotto looked up at him, his face pale, blood running from his nose. "All those Earths, all those people," he said, his voice hoarse. "All that destruction, all that suffering... all of that for this? Just to face me in battle?"
"Yes," Sadurang said simply, his smile widening.
"There was no equal for me in my universe. I stood alone at the pinnacle," his expression grew distant, almost wistful, "until I learned of you. But you had already become one with the Vishanti."
Agamotto's eyes widened, hearing of his eventual fate.
Sadurang noticed and smiled. "Oh yes, that would have been your fate here as well, but no, that won't happen here. Now I—"
Sadurang did not get to finish his sentence as he was struck by the Flames of the Faltine. The attack was sudden and unexpected, catching him mid-sentence.
Clea had recovered and stood with her eyes blazing emerald.
Sadurang reacted instantly, his hands moving in a blur. He used the Winds of Watoomb on them both. The mystical winds caught the flames and dispersed them, then continued toward Clea and Agamotto with crushing force. The winds slammed into them, hurling them backward across the Mirror Dimension's crystalline surface.
Then Sadurang began chanting in the Void Tongue once more.
"S̸̢̨̛̳̰͎̹̖̼͕̻̥̪̓̈́̈́̋̌̓̅̕͝h̸̨̧̛̩̫̘̖̯͈̘̻̪̿̾̀̓̋̈́̚͜͝u̴̡̨̧̨͍̻͓̞̝̙̬͒͊̾̓̿̑̈́̕͜͝b̸̢̧̛̛̳̰̱͍̜̞̻̫̈́̓̿̈́̈́̽̚͠-̸̨̡̧̛̰͎̪̳̞̮̼̦̓̄̾̾̏͋̒̚͝N̸̡̨̛͔̰̱̱̘̫̫̮̈́̍̋̓̎̑̈́̕͜͝i̸̧̨̡̛̞̜͎̬̫̹͚͋̾̋̀̄͋̊̚͜͝g̸̨̧̨̛̛͓̜̼̰̙͇̖͉̈́̾̽̌̆͋̚͝g̸̨̨̧̛̛͎̜̩͕̙̼̬̙̈́̏̈́̅̉̕͝ų̴̡̨̛͙̩͕͎̻͕̹̈́͆̈́̀̓̏̚͜͝r̸̨̨̧̛̛̞̰̦̱̪̮̠̓͛̿̈́̀́̚͜͝a̸̡̧̨̛̳̼͔̯̦͙̪͆̈́͆̋̓̈́̿͜͝͝t̸̨̧̨̛̞̹̺͖̞̦̬̿́̈́̎̿̓̕͜͝h̸̨̧̡̛̰̼͓̪͔̰̘̿̈́̂̋̿̒͘͜͝ ̸̧̨̨̛͕̩͓̼̹̳̪̈́̓̈́̂̿̕͜͝͝y̸̨̧̧̛̺̹̞̖̜̳̪̓̈́̈́̋̈́̓͘͜͝o̸̢̧̧̨̰̫̙̱͎͕͒̈́̈́̊́̿͘͜͝g̸̨̧̧̛̛̜̰͚͍̲̖̰̈́̈́̀̏͋̓͜͝—̸̨̡̧̛̛͉͎̜̫̳̟̥̿̈́̍̿̂͘͝s̸̨̧̡̛̛̫̱̩͓̳̣̙͒̍̈́̂̔͘͝ơ̸̧̨̨̛̫̙͚̰̮̱̦̈́̎̈́̂̄͘͜͝t̸̨̧̨̛͔̪̻̻̠̪͍̓̈́̈́͋̈́̓̚͜͝h̸̨̧̧̛̛̙͚̝̠̞̱͎̾̿̈́̒͊̚͝ ̸̧̨̨̛͚̰̹̦̫̱̮̈́̓̈́̂̿̕͜͝͝Y̸̨̧̧̛̺̹̞̖̜̳̪̓̈́̈́̋̈́̓͘͜͝'̸̨̡̧̛̛͉͎̜̫̳̟̥̿̈́̍̿̂͘͝g̸̨̧̧̛̛̜̰͚͍̲̖̰̈́̈́̀̏͋̓͜͝o̸̢̧̧̨̰̫̙̱͎͕͒̈́̈́̊́̿͘͜͝l̸̢̡̛̜̫̜̹̞̱͇̪͚͕͂̅̐̐͋͛͑̍̄̓͊͘̚͜o̸̢̧̧̨̰̫̙̱͎͕͒̈́̈́̊́̿͘͜͝n̸̨̧̨̛̛̝̺̫̞̠̙̦̈́̓̾̒̈́̚͝a̸̡̧̨̛̳̼͔̯̦͙̪͆̈́͆̋̓̈́̿͜͝͝c̸̨̧̨̛̛̰̞̦̱̪̮̠̓͛̿̈́̀́̚͜͝"
His chanting increased in intensity.
Clea and Agamotto tried to attack together with all they had.
Agamotto launched the Chains of Krakkan, the mystical restraints shooting toward Sadurang. Clea followed with concentrated blasts from her ring, laced with dark hexes.
But Sadurang continued chanting, his voice never faltering, the Void Tongue words drowning out everything else.
"Why don't you use that ring?" Agamotto shouted over the cacophony, dodging a tendril of void energy that lashed at him.
"It's almost out of power!" Clea shouted back, her voice strained.
Agamotto glanced at it, then at her. "Max never has that problem!"
"Of course not, he is the fucking Will—" Clea could not complete the sentence as they were hit by attacks from clones of Sadurang that had now appeared around them. Dozens of identical figures, all chanting in perfect synchronization, their voices layering over each other in a chorus of the Void Tongue.
"N̸̢̨̛̛̰̱̙͙̞̻̖̪̈́̓̈́̿̓͋͘͝'̸̨̧̧̛̛͙̳̺̫̻͕̦̈́̈́͊̈́̃̚͝g̸̨̧̧̛̛̰̯͚̺̹̜̱̈́̈́̈́͋̋̚͝ḧ̸̨̧̨̛̛̯̝̞͓̺̙̦́̾̓̈́͐̚͝a̸̧̨̨̛̛̰̫̦͔̞̺̻͆̓̽͋͊̚͝—̸̨̧̧̛̛͉̙̫̰͍̪̱̈́̾̈́̂̕͝͝F̸̨̧̧̛̛̯̫̝͓̺͓̰̈́̾͌͊̍̚͝t̸̨̧̨̛͓̞̻̺͔̱̦̓̈́̏̒̈́̓̚͜a̸̧̨̨̛̛̺̞̫͔̱̯̪̽̈́͊̓͛̚͝g̸̨̧̧̛̛̰͚̝̺̜͙̘̓̈́̈́̊̔̚͝n̸̨̧̨̛̛̝̺̫̞̠̙̦̈́̓̾̒̈́̚͝ ̸̧̨̨̛͚̰̹̦̫̱̮̈́̓̈́̂̿̕͜͝͝Y̸̨̧̧̛̺̹̞̖̜̳̪̓̈́̈́̋̈́̓͘͜͝a̸̡̧̨̛̳̼͔̯̦͙̪͆̈́͆̋̓̈́̿͜͝͝h̸̨̧̡̛̰̼͓̪͔̰̘̿̈́̂̋̿̒͘͜͝-̸̨̡̧̛̰͎̪̳̞̮̼̦̓̄̾̾̏͋̒̚͝K̸̨̧̧̛̛̜̰͚͍̲̖̰̈́̈́̀̏͋̓͜͝a̸̡̧̨̛̳̼͔̯̦͙̪͆̈́͆̋̓̈́̿͜͝͝d̸̨̧̨̛͔̪̻̻̠̪͍̓̈́̈́͋̈́̓̚͜͝i̸̧̨̡̛̞̜͎̬̫̹͚͋̾̋̀̄͋̊̚͜͝s̸̨̧̡̛̛̫̱̩͓̳̣̙͒̍̈́̂̔͘͝h̸̨̧̧̛̛̙͚̝̠̞̱͎̾̿̈́̒͊̚͝t̸̨̧̨̛͓̞̻̺͔̱̦̓̈́̏̒̈́̓̚͜u̴̡̨̧̨͍̻͓̞̝̙̬͒͊̾̓̿̑̈́̕͜͝!"
The clones all chanted together, their voices harmonizing in impossible frequencies. Black fire erupted from each one, converging on Clea and Agamotto from every direction.
The clones surrounded Agamotto, forming a perfect circle around him, trapping him.
"N̸̢̨̛̛̰̱̙͙̞̻̖̪̈́̓̈́̿̓͋͘͝'̸̨̧̧̛̛͙̳̺̫̻͕̦̈́̈́͊̈́̃̚͝g̸̨̧̧̛̛̰̯͚̺̹̜̱̈́̈́̈́͋̋̚͝h̸̨̧̨̛̛̯̝̞͓̺̙̦́̾̓̈́͐̚͝a̸̧̨̨̛̛̰̫̦͔̞̺̻͆̓̽͋͊̚͝!"
They struck simultaneously.
Dark hexes lanced out from every direction at once, bypassing every protection, every ward, slipping through his mystical armor as if it were not there. One of the spells, a particularly vicious curse spoken in the Void Tongue, hit him square in the chest.
Agamotto gasped, his eyes widening in shock and pain.
The hex invaded his system immediately, turning his own magic against him. His stomach rebelled violently, and he doubled over midair, his hands clutching at his abdomen.
He vomited acid.
The caustic fluid poured from his mouth in horrible, uncontrollable torrents, burning his throat and tongue as it came up.
Agamotto fell from the air, hitting the surface hard on his hands and knees. The acid continued to pour from him, pooling beneath him, eating through the Mirror Dimension's surface with hissing sounds. His throat, mouth, and stomach were completely burned and continued to be eaten away.
He screamed, terrible sounds of agony echoing across the fractured dimension. His throat was burning, the flesh inside his mouth blistering, and still the acid kept coming, an endless stream.
The clones laughed in unison, the sound multiplied and harmonized into something nightmarish.
"AGAMOTTO!" Clea screamed.
She flew toward him desperately, abandoning her own defense entirely. Green light blazed from her ring and from her magic as she created a protective sphere around them both, a dome of emerald energy. The clones' follow-up attacks hit the barrier, black flames washing over it, but she held it through sheer force of will, pouring what little power remained in the ring into keeping it stable.
She landed hard beside Agamotto, dropping to her knees next to him. Her hands were already moving to produce the counter-spell.
The hex fought her, resisting, trying to maintain its hold.
Clea gritted her teeth and pushed harder, unwinding the Void Tongue's influence, forcing it out of Agamotto's body.
The acid production slowed. Then stuttered. Then stopped.
Agamotto coughed violently, spitting out the last of the caustic fluid mixed with blood. Blood ran from his lips. His throat was raw, severely damaged, the flesh burned and torn.
Clea worked quickly to heal him. It was rushed, desperate work, crude compared to what a proper healing spell would accomplish, but it was effective enough.
"I'm... fine," Agamotto rasped, though his voice was barely a whisper as he himself used a healing spell to repair his throat.
The clones' laughter echoed around them, cruel and mocking, enjoying Agamotto's suffering. They attacked once more, and both Clea and Agamotto were thrown back by the force as all the clones disappeared.
The chanting had stopped.
Agamotto looked from where he lay, only to see in horror Sadurang transforming.
His body expanded, limbs elongating, his spine extending, his human form stretching and warping. His robes tore apart as scales erupted from his skin, deep crimson scales, each one etched with runes of the old Aesir.
His face elongated into a massive snout lined with teeth like obsidian daggers. Horns erupted from his skull, curving backward, each one carved with more of those terrible symbols. Wings unfurled from his back, vast leathery expanses that blotted out the fractured sky above them, each wing stretching nearly a thousand feet from base to tip, their membranes traced with veins that pulsed with black light.
His body grew and grew, becoming serpentine, massive, a dragon easily fifteen hundred feet from snout to tail. The scales across his body burned with crimson fire, but from his mouth came something far worse, black flames, void flames, the same terrible fire that had nearly killed them before.
It was a terrifying transformation. The Mirror Dimension itself seemed to recoil from what Sadurang had become, the crystalline surfaces cracking further, unable to contain the sheer power of his new form.
The dragon could wield magic and was also resistant to most magic in this form. Sadurang was nearly impossible to defeat by magic users while in this state. His scales absorbed spells, his very nature bent mystical energy around him.
"He is nearly immune to all forms of magic now," Clea said as she took in what Sadurang had become. "It's impossible to beat him with magic now."
"Nothing is impossible," said Agamotto.
Sadurang roared, which turned into laughter, the sound rumbling like thunder.
"It's time to finish this, Agamotto!" Sadurang's voice boomed. "And you too, girl!"
He unleashed his fire breath upon them.
Black flames erupted from his massive jaws in a torrent, a river of void fire that seemed endless, consuming everything in its path, turning the Mirror Dimension's surfaces to nothing wherever they touched.
Clea and Agamotto dodged desperately, flying in opposite directions.
Agamotto raised shields, the Shields of the Seraphim layered six deep, reinforced with the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak woven into a barrier. The black flames hit, and the shields broke instantly, shattering like glass, the protective magic unable to withstand the void's hunger.
He dove, rolled, and created another portal to escape through.
Clea used her ring to create shields, but they too dissolved on contact with the black flames. She flew desperately through the Mirror Dimension's fractured planes, weaving between reflective surfaces, trying to stay ahead of the relentless assault.
Sadurang rampaged through the dimension, his massive form coiling and striking, his wings sending hurricane-force winds with each beat. He used magic in his dragon form as well, casting spells while breathing fire, attacking with both physical might and mystical power.
Crystalline planes shattered under his claws. The void continued to bleed through the cracks.
Agamotto noticed how the dimension seemed to be collapsing in on itself due to Sadurang's use of the Void Tongue and this transformation, now being supercharged by that forbidden magic. The Mirror Dimension was unable to sustain the weight of what Sadurang had become.
"We should just leave him here to die when it collapses!" Clea shouted as she narrowly avoided another gout of black flame.
"No!" Agamotto countered, dodging a swipe from Sadurang's massive claw. "We must kill him! He will certainly escape, and we cannot allow him to even enter our world in this form."
The attack continued as Sadurang taunted them.
"Is this the best the great Sorcerer Supreme can do?" he roared, his voice shaking the fractured reality around them. "Run? Hide? Where is your power, Agamotto? Where is the power of the great Sorcerer Supreme, the son of Oshtur?"
He breathed fire again, a concentrated beam that carved through the dimension like a knife through paper.
Agamotto barely escaped, creating a portal at the last second. "We need a plan!" he shouted to Clea.
Clea was in the middle of defending, creating emerald shields that bought her seconds before dissolving, when the idea struck her.
"The Channeling of Cyttorak!" she shouted back, dodging another blast of void fire.
"What?" Agamotto said, momentarily distracted. He had to throw up another shield as Sadurang's tail whipped through the space where he'd been floating.
"That's the only way!" Clea insisted, her ring flaring as she created a construct hammer to deflect a magical bolt Sadurang had cast.
"It cannot be used!" Agamotto protested, understanding dawning with horror. "There is not a conduit in the multiverse that can contain—"
"Yes there is!" Clea interrupted. "And I can make it!"
Agamotto dodged another attack, his eyes widening. "You can?! You mastered its power?"
"No!" Clea admitted, narrowly avoiding Sadurang's jaws as they snapped shut where she'd been hovering a moment before. "I have a theory!"
"A THEORY?!" Agamotto's voice rose in disbelief even as he launched the Vapors of Valtorr to obscure Sadurang's vision for a moment. "You want to use the Lord of Oblivion's most powerful spell, a spell that can't even be contained in our plane of existence, on a THEORY?!"
"YES!" Clea shouted, showing him the ring on her finger. The emerald light flickered weakly, but it was still there.
Agamotto stared at the ring, then at her, understanding flooding through him. "Oh. Oh."
"I need time!" Clea said.
Agamotto sighed deeply, a sound of resignation and determination combined. "I thought you would say that."
He unleashed a devastating attack on Sadurang, combining the Flames of the Faltine with the Bolts of Balthakk and the Seven Suns of Cinnibus all at once. The combined assault struck the dragon head-on, actually forcing the massive creature to recoil.
Then Agamotto flew toward Sadurang, drawing the dragon's attention away from Clea as she flew in the opposite direction to prepare.
"Come, beast!" Agamotto shouted. "Face the Sorcerer Supreme!"
==========
Agamotto fought Sadurang with all he had.
The spells came slowly, each incantation agony as his throat still hurt, his mouth raw and burning from the acid. But still he held strong, refusing to yield, refusing to give the dragon even a moment's respite.
He launched the Bolts of Balthakk, amber lightning that struck the dragon's scales with thunderous force. Sadurang roared and countered with black flames, but Agamotto was already moving, creating portals to reposition, attacking from new angles.
Above them, Clea was creating a massive construct.
Emerald light began to fall down upon them all as it took shape, an enormous construct in the form of a large cube, growing larger with each passing second.
Sadurang noticed and tried to attack Clea.
He launched himself upward, wings beating, black flames gathering in his massive jaws. But before he could release them, Agamotto began trapping him in the Crimson Bands of Cyttorak.
It was a massive undertaking. The Bands materialized around the dragon's limbs, thick restraints of pure mystical force. Sadurang broke through the first set with brute strength, his muscles rippling beneath the crimson scales. But Agamotto created them again and again, layering the Bands, multiplying them.
More Bands wrapped around Sadurang's wings, preventing him from flying. More around his tail, pinning it to the fractured ground. More around his neck, pulling his massive head down.
Sadurang thrashed, his roars shaking the dimension, but Agamotto did not relent. He poured everything into maintaining the Bands. Each time he spoke, blood poured out from his mouth in droves, but this never stopped him from weaving the spell.
The dragon was being held down, barely, as Clea completed her gigantic construct above.
"Whatever you are doing won't be able to stop me!" Sadurang roared. "Mephisto has already won! He would have gotten his prize by now!"
Agamotto's eyes narrowed even as he created another layer of Bands. "What is Mephisto planning?"
Sadurang only laughed and lashed out with renewed fury. The Crimson Bands strained, some breaking under the assault, forcing Agamotto to immediately replace them.
Above them, Clea's ring warned her.
WARNING: POWER RESERVES REACHING CRITICAL LEVELS. 2% REMAINING.
Clea ignored it as she finished the construct and began to create the spell within it, the Channeling of Cyttorak. It was a spell that brought forth a portion of Cyttorak himself.
Golden-red energy began to gather within the emerald framework, building, growing, the two colors swirling together.
Agamotto looked up, saw what she was doing, and immediately opened a portal. He stepped through and appeared beside her, floating in the air near the massive construct.
"I will do it," he said firmly, his damaged voice barely above a whisper. "You hold him down."
Clea nodded and dove.
She used all the power remaining in the ring to create a massive hammer construct, the emerald weapon easily two hundred feet long. Then she imbued it with the most powerful spell she knew, the Flames of the Faltine in their purest, most concentrated form.
The hammer blazed with white-gold fire wrapped in green light.
Clea descended toward where Sadurang struggled against the Crimson Bands, flying faster and faster, the hammer pulled back for a devastating strike.
She struck him.
The impact was cataclysmic. The hammer connected with Sadurang's skull with such force that the entire realm shook. Shockwaves rippled outward from the point of impact, shattering crystalline planes for miles in every direction. The dragon's head was driven down into the ground.
Sadurang roared in pain and fury, but the blow had stunned him.
Above, Agamotto worked.
He channeled the spell of Cyttorak into the emerald construct. The construct shook violently, cracks appearing in its surface, the framework barely able to contain the immense mystical energy being forced through it.
The golden-red light within grew brighter, more intense, building toward critical mass.
Below, Clea and Sadurang were fighting directly under the construct.
The dragon had recovered from her strike and was attacking with renewed desperation. Black flames poured from his jaws. His claws lashed out. His tail whipped around, trying to catch her.
The construct above them was glowing like a second sun now, so bright it was painful to look at directly.
"CLEA!" Agamotto screamed. "MOVE!"
Sadurang's massive claw grabbed her.
His talons wrapped around her body, crushing, squeezing. Clea screamed as she felt ribs crack, as the dragon's strength threatened to pulverize her completely.
The construct fired.
A beam of golden-red light erupted downward, the full power of Cyttorak's dimensional energy channeled and focused through the conduit construct.
Clea exploded in power, both magic and the last remaining energy in the ring, freeing herself from Sadurang. She created a portal at the last possible instant. The portal opened directly beside her, and she fell through it just as Sadurang realized what was happening and tried to follow.
The beam hit Sadurang with its full catastrophic force.
The impact was beyond description. The dragon was struck by the power of Cyttorak. His scales, which had deflected every spell thrown at him, offered no protection against this. The beam punched through his body as if it were made of paper.
Sadurang screamed.
"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH! AAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
His roar was cut off as the beam intensified, the golden-red light consuming him completely. His dragon form began to disintegrate, scales vaporizing, flesh burning away, bones turning to ash.
The entire realm was engulfed as Agamotto dragged an unconscious Clea out of the dimension as it fully collapsed in on itself.