The battle had spilled into the Mirror Dimension—a fractured version of the real world, endless reflections folding in on themselves. Skyscrapers bent like branches, staircases spiraled into the sky, and gravity obeyed no master.
Doctor Strange hovered over a mosaic of floating streets, the Cloak of Levitation whipping around him.
“Wong, keep the fragment sealed!” Strange called, forming a glowing manda with his left hand. “We can't let him merge with it!”
But Voldemort was already there—hovering, his shadow stretched long against the gss-like streets beneath. In his bony hand pulsed the Shard of Chaos—a red, rune-glowing sliver of Wanda Maximoff's essence.
His lip curled. “So much power... buried in so much grief. I will use it. Mold it.”
Wong spun the Staff of the Living Tribunal, summoning a defense shield:
“Shields of Seraphim!”
Voldemort snarled, raising his wand high. “Avada Kedavra!”
The killing curse fred—emerald and lethal—striking the shield with a shuddering hiss.
Strange countered with: “Images of Ikonn!”
Mirage duplicates shimmered into existence, confusing Voldemort’s aim as Strange dove beneath his line of fire.
The air cracked.
The Mirror Dimension quaked.
Voldemort floated higher, eyes glowing scarlet, chaos energy mixing with his dark magic.
“I command her soul! Crucio!”
Red lightning crackled, forcing Wong to block with: “Vapors of Valtorr!”
He turned to Strange. “He’s merging with the shard! He’s accessing Wanda’s chaos field!”
“Then we shift the field,” Strange muttered.
He thrust his palms outward: “Multiversal Gate: Mirror Colpse!”
The dimension folded inward.
Voldemort stumbled—but held fast.
Dark magic surged around him. His voice deepened, unnatural: “Morsmordre... Fiendfyre... Imperio...”
Infernal beasts of fme spiraled from the ground—chaotic, writhing like broken Dementors, cwing the air.
Strange responded, hands bzing. “Crimson Bands of Cyttorak!”
Ruby chains erupted, wrapping around the fire beasts—holding, binding, imploding them.
But Voldemort had vanished.
Wong gasped. “He’s shifting!”
A shadow slit opened mid-air—the Dark Dimension, fragment of Dormammu’s realm—leaking violet light and swirling antimatter.
“Too te!” Voldemort's voice echoed. He appeared amidst the dimension gate, the Shard of Chaos now embedded in his chest, pulsing with living power.
“Your ws mean nothing here,” he growled. “She screams within me... and I listen.”
He cast: “Avada Kedavra!” infused with Chaos—its green bolt now rimmed in red hex energy. It split through dimensions, forcing Strange and Wong to dive through a portal into the Astral Pne.
In the ghost-light gray realm, their physical bodies faded.
Wong formed an ethereal bde: “Sword of T’yarak!”
Strange moved in tandem. “Shields of the Seraphim! Crimson Comet of Cyttorak!”
The comet struck Voldemort mid-torso, but he held fast, mutating. His form wavered—half Voldemort, half Scarlet Witch.
Wanda’s voice echoed in Strange’s mind.
“Stephen... don’t let him become me...”
Voldemort screamed—her voice meshed with his.
Suddenly, reality trembled.
A tear in space opened—an Incursion Realm, born from too many colliding universes.
Strange reached out, carving a glyph mid-air. “We end this—Ring of Raggadorr!”
Wong joined him, summoning: “Chains of Krakkan!”
The spells collided with Voldemort in the unstable dimension, locking him in pce—reality folding around him.
He screamed, “NO! She is mine!”
Strange shouted over the colpsing realm, “You were never strong enough to control her pain.”
With one final sigil, he spoke the forbidden invocation:
“Seal of the Vishanti: Bind the Soul.”
A fsh of white.
The shard burst from Voldemort’s chest—ripped free, suspended midair—and Voldemort vanished into the void.
The Mirror Dimension, the Astral Pne, and the Incursion Realm colpsed into stillness.
Strange floated toward the shard—red, alive, whispering.
Only he could hear her.
“Stephen,” Wanda’s voice breathed. “Help me...”
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