The Red Soldier: The Crimson Prophecy

ISSUE #11

(Y/N) closed his eyes, allowing his current attire to disappear and transform into a pair of soft shorts and a t-shirt which hugged his upper body warmly. The bed was beginning to look increasingly inviting now, and so he crawled into it, resting his head upon the feather pillows, and taking a deep breath. They were definitely more comfortable than the cloak he'd been using as a cushion, and the jacket he'd been using as a blanket.

His eyelids were beginning to grow heavier and heavier with each breath he took. The memories of lying in bed with James Barnes plagued his mind, the warm cuddles from behind despite his metal arm, the soft kisses they'd leave on the backs of each other's necks, and all the little sweet nothings Bucky would whisper in his ears before wishing him goodnight.

(Y/N)'s fists clenched, glowing a bright scarlet which shone through the thin sheets. Before he could let his magic take hold, (Y/N) (L/N) consciously forced it to stop. No matter how much he wanted to see Bucky Barnes, he couldn't shake off the feeling that his reality-altering abilities may be infiltrated by Chthon once more, and he didn't fancy being almost suffocated by the man he loved again.

He took a couple more deep breaths, shifted the spare pillows so that he had something to hold on to, and then let his eyes close, allowing his mind to lead him into a deep sleep.

***

(Y/N) awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in years. All the colours in the room seemed a little brighter, the bags hanging below his eyes had decreased in size and darkness, and he could simply exist without the compulsion to hover rather than stand. His sleep had not been interrupted by the cold draughts which had blown through the castle, or the snowdrifts which often spread their way through the hall from the entrance and to where he slept.

Fresh towels had been folded atop the ensuite counter, so he decided it fine for him to use the shower. (Y/N) closed the curtains and turned off the lights, he'd seen what he looked like in his clothes, he dreaded to think of what his body might look like without them.

Hot water splashed over his shoulders, wetting the tips of his hair and cascading over his chest. The steam cleared his airways. He'd forgotten what it had been like to breathe properly. His fingers dipped into the soap before he began to use it to scratch away at the dirt stains covering his body and to remove the grease which had embedded itself into the roots of his hair.

When he stepped out of the shower, he wrapped himself in one of the soft bath sheets monogramed with the initials 'S.S'. There was nothing he particularly enjoyed about towels which were soft, he'd rather they be starchy and capable of drying quickly rather than them absorbing loads of moisture and feel as though he were trying tirelessly to dry himself with a soggy blanket.

Once he'd dried his body off thoroughly and attempted to remove as much moisture from his hair as possible, (Y/N) flourished his hands, and a wave of red light flooded over him. (Y/N) (L/N) once more looked worthy of the name Red Soldier.

Down at the other end of the hallway sat the Sorcerer Supreme, relaxing in an armchair with a chai tea resting in his lap. He was flicking through a book written in a strange language (Y/N) hadn't seen before. 'I see you've slept well, Dr (L/N),' Wong mentioned, looking him up and down briefly.

'I did, thanks,' (Y/N) replied, unsure exactly as to what terms he was on with the sorcerer. Wong poured him a cup of tea and handed it over. (Y/N) gulped it down greedily, enjoying every last drop despite it almost scorching his tongue and throat.

The Sorcerer Supreme closed his book as (Y/N) picked himself up and sat atop a rustic-looking sideboard. Wong regarded him with scornful eyes, closing his book and resting it on the floor beside him. 'Your little problem has had me awake half of the night,' he complained, wiping his eyes tiredly, 'you have no clue what you have unleashed by casting your magicks upon Wundagore Mountain.'

'What do you mean?' (Y/N) questioned, 'it's just a cold mountain with a castle on top.'

'I was correct in what I was telling you last night. Chthon's soul is bound to that 'mountain with a castle on top', and by casting your magic upon it you have drawn him to it,' Wong uttered gravely, 'his physical form is not yet able to leave the confines of the Darkhold castle, but given time there is no reason why he may not find a way to break free from the binds which keep him there.' (Y/N) nodded his head, trying to keep up with what the sorcerer was telling him. 'The Darkhold, I'm afraid you're going to need it if you wish to stand a chance against Chthon.'

(Y/N) facepalmed mentally. In all of the commotion he had left the book he'd once been so desperate to find. Instead of admitting his mistake, he decided to backtrack, 'you said it's power could corrupt the users mind and soul.'

'You have proven yourself to be the Red Soldier by reaching the book and unintentionally summoning Chton, and therefore I do not fear for your mind and soul should you use it,' said Wong, placing his empty teacup on the closest table once he had stood up, 'so I suggest you learn every piece of magic within those damned pages if you want to stand even the slimmest chance against the demon.' (Y/N) (L/N) looked down at his shoes sheepishly as he twiddled his thumbs. 'You left the book in Transia, didn't you,' Wong sighed indignantly. (Y/N) nodded his head timidly, it hadn't been intentional.

'I didn't mean to,' he argued, 'I was just scared – all I wanted was to find the strongest magic person I know!' He was lying. The strongest magic wielder he knew was Agatha Harkness, but he wasn't going to drag her into a fight, somewhere deep down, he cared for her. She'd taken care of him after Thanos's snap, albeit in her own rather twisted sort of way. Agatha had shown him his true potential, and he'd forever be thankful to her for that.

The Sorcerer Supreme seemed slightly appeased by this, nodding his head gently as his eyes scanned the Red Soldier. 'You're going to need to go back to Wundagore, Dr (L/N),' he instructed, 'without those spells I'm afraid you'll be going up against Chthon half-blind.'

'You won't be joining me?' asked (Y/N), screwing up his face, he was surprised Wong didn't want to keep a watchful eye over him after their previous exploits.

'Masters of the Mystic Arts are not meant to set foot upon the forbidden grounds of Wundagore,' the Sorcerer Supreme shook his head, looking disgusted by the mere suggestion.

(Y/N) scoffed, 'what if Chthon's there waiting for me?'

'You simply need to collect the Darkhold and return here where we can store it safely. Here you may use it to learn as much from it as you can,' Wong instructed plainly, 'during your absence I will formulate a plan B.'

'You don't trust me to get the Darkhold?' (Y/N) asked, feeling a little offended.

'I don't trust witches,' the Sorcerer Supreme shook his head, 'now I suggest you go; time is of the essence Dr (L/N).'