Skyl had to deal with local gods every time he crossed worlds. He was used to it by now.
In the Marvel universe, there were five great cosmic beings. Galactus was the survivor of a previous cosmos after its destruction; the remaining four were born at the universe's beginning: Eternity, the sum total of all time across the Marvel multiverse; Infinity, the sum total of all space; Death, the end of life; and Oblivion, the void and nonexistence.
The one descending here was Eternity.
They passed through blazing sun and yellow sands, and met in a place of stars.
The otherworldly mage looked perfectly at ease; the billionaire beside him looked like a ragged drifter.
Tony stared blankly at the figure strolling in from the far edge of the horizon, and the half-chunk of bread in his mouth slipped right out onto the sand.
Eternity's humanoid body was like a flawless silver mirror, reflecting the galaxy-strewn heavens. But as Tony forced what little focus he had left onto that starry sheen—discarding one wrong guess after another—he finally realized the light wasn't reflecting the cosmos at all.
It was the cosmos.
All the universe's things, contained within the outline of that body, shining from the inside.
Just looking at that ancient radiance made Tony's spirit tremble, the way humanity's first ancestors must have trembled the moment they first lifted their eyes to the night sky.
All Tony could manage was a "wow," smacking his lips like he wanted to slap a nickname onto the god in front of him—except his exhausted brain was mush, so the words never came.
"Greetings," Skyl said. He removed his wizard's hat, pressed it to his chest, and dipped his head.
Eternity returned the gesture, hand to chest in kind.
Playboy Tony panicked. Unsure what etiquette applied, he half-bent his knees like some courtly bow while throwing in a crisp salute with his hand—an impressively vivid performance of what it meant to have no idea what to do. A flag-waving New Yorker who lived free and easy most of the time, he always looked a little shaky when forced into a formal moment where he had to seem proper.
Skyl told him, "Relax. You'll survive."
"Buddy," Tony whispered near Skyl's ear, "is this outfit… maybe not the vibe?"
"What counts as appropriate?" Skyl said. "Does wearing gold and jewels automatically make you dignified?"
He snapped his fingers.
Tony's torn rags instantly became a solemn pope-like robe. A gold scepter appeared in his hand, and a diamond-studded crown sat on his head. His face was still slick with sweat and travel-worn grime. The gemstones and silk weighed him down so much he hunched, panting even harder, using the solid-gold scepter like a cane just to stay upright.
Tony looked himself up and down, then looked at Eternity, then at Skyl. Finally, he laughed—loose and genuinely amused—pulled off the crown, and tossed it aside.
"A beggar in the Pope's clothes is still a beggar," he said. "I'll stick to being comfortable."
Skyl and Eternity began to chat. Tony had expected something tense, something that would make his skin crawl.
Instead, the exchange was surprisingly down-to-earth—almost like a traveler speaking with a host at a farmhouse.
Like they were in a little cabin in the wilderness, warming their hands by a fire, sipping soup, and swapping stories.
"Apologies for arriving so abruptly in your domain…"
"You may stay as long as you like. We don't often have guests. You can bring others to travel, too—no need to be stiff…"
"Let's keep in touch. Please accept this phone…"
"If you run into trouble, I may need to impose on you again… This world has its share of unrest. Please take care of yourself as well."
Skyl and Eternity clasped hands lightly in farewell.
Tony stood there dazed for a long moment. When Eternity turned to leave, Tony finally snapped out of it.
"Hey! Big guy! I want to keep in touch, too!"
Eternity glanced back at Tony. Its pupils were like two white wells—endless light and heat, no readable expression. Then it left without stopping, and the world around them seemed to be pulled away with it, like a cloak being whisked off in a single motion.
Tony felt reality rewind at high speed. In the blink of an eye, the black obsidian beneath their feet turned back into yellow sand. The star-filled sky returned to bright blue, the sun burned overhead, and the stars vanished from sight.
If what had just happened was a mirage, it was the kind no one before or after would ever see again.
The billionaire picked up the bread he'd dropped, brushed the sand off, shoved it into his mouth—then immediately spat it out.
"Ugh. Remind me next time: bread that hits sand is dead to me," he muttered. "I'm guessing that's how people end up with dental bills out here."
Then he looked at Skyl. "So, man. What's your name?"
"Skyl," Skyl said. "If you want something that fits your naming habits, just call me Skyl."
"Tony Stark," Tony said. "Technically Anthony Edward Stark, but Tony's fine."
They shook hands in a way that almost looked formal. Tony stared at his own palm afterward, as if it had become fascinating.
"So… that counts as shaking hands with a god by proxy, right?"
Skyl snorted. "Yeah. Better never wash that hand again."
They continued walking through the desert. Tony's papal robe was white; he peeled off an inner layer and wrapped it over his head like a makeshift hood. Surprisingly decent for keeping the heat off.
"So who was that, exactly?" Tony asked.
"Something like the primal spirit that represents time," Skyl said without looking aside. "You can think of it as time's totality."
"I thought it was God," Tony said after trudging along for a while. Then he glanced at Skyl. "Your phone is pretty wild, by the way."
"You want one?"
Tony jolted like he'd been activated by the word "buy." He put on a charming, billionaire-friendly smile. "Ahem. How much?"
Skyl didn't even blink. "Nice try. Still talking about money. Even if you liquidated everything you own, you couldn't afford that phone. Unless you become a god… or join the Tower of Tomes."
Tony rolled the name around in his mouth. "Tower of Tomes… Sounds like a Subway franchise. Where do I apply?"
"You just compared a caster's holy ground to fast food," Skyl said, unbothered by the joke. "Impressive."
Then, more seriously: "You're smart. You're not a wizard, but if you study hard, you could still become an excellent mage."
"That sounds incredible," Tony said immediately. "I'm ready. Let's do it!"
"Do what?"
"Train me!" Tony said, eyes wide. "Like one of those Rocky-style montage movies. Should I call you 'Master'? Or does that make you sound old? You look younger than me."
"I'm not taking apprentices," Skyl said, turning toward him—but his gaze slid past Tony's shoulder.
Tony glanced back. "What are you looking at? Is someone behind me—"
A circular portal crackling with sparks opened in the air. A bald female monk stepped through.
"Well, look at this," Tony said. "Another one. I didn't think a desert could get this popular."
The monk flicked a quick glance at Tony and offered a gentle smile. Then she straightened, face composed, and saluted Skyl with proper respect.
"Master Skyl."
Skyl returned the salute. "Master Ancient One."
Tony threw in an overly fancy bow for good measure. "Master this, Master that—can somebody please teach me magic?"
The Ancient One invited Skyl to visit her sanctuary, Kamar-Taj. Tony shouted, "I'm coming too! Also, quick question—do you have double cheeseburgers in the cafeteria? If not, bacon works!"
This Muggle followed the two mages through the portal. No one stopped him; they just let him wander around Kamar-Taj like he belonged there.
Not long after they left, a U.S. rescue helicopter swept across the desert. They didn't find Tony Stark—but they did recover the Iron Man armor he'd left behind, and they found the wreckage of a destroyed terrorist camp. Still no sign of the man himself. No living body, no corpse.
In the end, the team could only report helplessly that the young billionaire had likely gone missing for good—or had died out there.
The news detonated across the civilized world.
It didn't disturb the quiet peace of the hidden sanctuary in the Himalayas one bit.
Meanwhile, Tony Stark was in Kamar-Taj's cafeteria absolutely demolishing his meal. He had no idea what kind of chaos his disappearance was causing. He only knew he needed to fill his stomach—and then figure out how to pry some magic knowledge out of these monks. He'd already stood before a god. His heart leaned toward the door of mysteries. The seed of cultivation had been planted.
As the Ancient One spoke with Skyl, she also brought up Tony's situation.
"He is a mortal under Eternity's gaze," she said, hands folded behind her back, eyes bright with something strange. "He is destined to surge forward on the path of secrets. You truly don't wish to take him as your apprentice?"
"Let a fine student like that be raised by you," Skyl said with a shrug. "Either way, he'll join the Tower of Tomes sooner or later."
The Ancient One smiled—then, hesitating like she wasn't sure how to ask, she pulled out the phone Skyl had given her. She opened the Tower of Tomes social app and glanced up.
"Um… could you forward my contact info to Eternity?"
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