The Sanctum Sanctorum trembled with unnatural energy. The relics on the walls pulsed dimly as if trying to escape the room. Floating above the floor, Voldemort held the Darkhold open, his fingers weaving runes in the air that did not belong to this world. Bck and red tendrils of corrupted chaos magic slithered around him like vipers.

  Doctor Stephen Strange appeared at the doorway, eyes sharp, magic already spinning between his palms.

  “Put it down,” Strange commanded. “You have no idea what that book will do to you.”

  Voldemort didn’t flinch. “I’ve spent lifetimes mastering death. This… this is just another path to immortality.”

  With a hissed chant, Voldemort fired a bolt of cursed magic—a twisting emerald fme—at Strange. The sorcerer countered with a shield of Eldritch energy, but the curse cracked it, throwing him back into the Grand Hall.

  The Sanctum twisted in response.

  Walls distorted. Gravity inverted. Relics screamed in ancient tongues. The Eye of Agamotto pulsed, sensing the Darkhold’s presence.

  The duel had begun.

  Strange unched a torrent of spinning glyph discs—golden buzzsaws of magic—but Voldemort parried them with twisting wand movements, shielding himself with warped energy sigils from the Darkhold.

  “You think you know magic?” Voldemort snarled, casting a brutal chain spell that wrapped like a serpent of fire and shadows. “Your world is young. Primitive.”

  Strange grunted, pushing back with a bst of crimson bands—the Chains of Krakkan—but Voldemort shattered them with a combination of Sectumsempra fused with chaos magic, creating an unholy slicing wave that cut through the floor.

  Wong arrived at st, stepping through a sling ring portal. He immediately unched a binding circle around Voldemort—but the moment the spell touched him, Wong staggered back, pale.

  “That magic…” he whispered, “it’s not natural. It feels like it’s already… dead.”

  Voldemort smiled coldly. “Because I am.”

  Before they could react, Voldemort cast a translocation curse, his form dissolving into mist and reappearing behind the Cloak of Levitation, grabbing the Darkhold pedestal relic powering the Sanctum’s wards.

  “No!” Strange yelled—but too te.

  With a final burst of energy, Voldemort shattered the protective sigils, cracked open a magical passage, and stepped through a breach—vanishing into the heart of the MCU.

  All was still for a moment.

  Wong clutched his side, breath ragged. “He’s going after the chaos. He’ll seek the Darkhold Temple. Mount Wundagore. Maybe even… Agatha.”

  Strange nodded grimly, summoning his sling ring. “Then we stop him before he rewrites our universe the same way he ruined his own.”

  Far away, high atop a crumbling fortress in Sokovia, the winds howled. A whisper passed through the air.

  A name.

  “Wanda…”

  But it wasn’t a call.

  It was a challenge.