After continuing his search for the Time Stone, Dana found himself becoming Little Dana's golden finger.
Every day, Little Dana required a trace of "Merlin's magic." That meant Dana had to extract a sliver of Merlin's power from his own body and deliver it quickly across time.
Even after ten or eight years, those daily traces added up to only three units of magic—barely a drop in the ocean compared to Merlin's several hundred.
To ensure the closed loop of history, Dana completely devolved into an unfilial descendant—stripping his ancestor's robes, mailing his ancestor's remains, doing whatever it took.
Sometimes, he was so infuriated with his past self that he nearly cursed aloud.
How was he supposed to retrieve something that hadn't even existed yet?
And that so-called "Merlin's knowledge"!
Knowledge, my foot! He had studied under the oak tree for an entire year back then—how could his past self have called that "easy learning"?
When Little Dana was just entering second grade, Mr. Strange received an invitation from the newly formed Gringotts of the Republic of Yugoslavia to explore ancient ruins beneath Kotor Old City.
Founded in 535 AD, Kotor had once housed forty-four churches at its peak. Discovering magical ruins there was no surprise—after all, the medieval church itself had long been entwined with the mystical world.
Before setting out, Dana extracted a small reserve of his magic and created a magical AI, an enchanted construct he jokingly named Akinator. Its function was to deliver a trace of Merlin's magic to Little Dana each day, responding to specific requests.
Of course, its most frequent response was a flat rejection—"Merlin doesn't have that."
But when asked about the Entrance to Avalon, Dana programmed a more elaborate answer:
"Path One: destroyed."
"Path Two: destroyed."
"Path Three: portal not in original position—searching…"
"Portal found. Beginning summoning…"
"Summoning failed. Blocked by power originating from Avalon. Portal address revealed—Whitehall underground, London."
Sometimes Dana could only sigh at the stupidity of his past self. The portal to Avalon had been right there, hanging from his pendant all along—and he had never once tried to test it with magic. He deserved to be fooled by himself.
With everything arranged, Dana departed for Yugoslavia.
The Cathedral of Saint Tryphon stood in solemn majesty. Its Romanesque structure bore the weight of centuries, while frescoes of saints and angels shimmered under the dim light, preserving the city's ancient dignity.
In this sacred place, Mr. Strange—looking very much the casual traveler—met Gringotts' curse-breaker, Fanny Blanca.
"Mr. Strange, you're finally here! I've long admired your reputation—I'm your fan! I'm Fanny Blanca."
At one meter ninety, Miss Blanca looked impressively sturdy, though her voice was unexpectedly soft and birdlike.
Dana gave a polite nod.
"Hello, Miss Blanca. Let's skip the pleasantries. Please take me to the excavation site."
"Alright, sir. Please follow me."
There were no tourists in the cathedral. Understandably so—the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia had only just dissolved, and the new Republic was still riven by ethnic conflict. Anyone daring to travel here would need courage bordering on Captain America's.
Miss Blanca led Dana down into the underground tomb.
Medieval churches often had such crypts beneath them, built to store the remains of nobles and bishops. This one was vast, with six lead coffins arranged symmetrically along either side of the chamber.
"This is a basic entrance-concealment enchantment," Fanny said with a bright smile. "I'm sure Mr. Strange is quite familiar with it."
Dana merely glanced at her, then approached the second coffin on the right. He pressed lightly on the lid, and with a faint rumble it slid aside along hidden grooves, revealing an iron statue of the Virgin Mary inside.
He extended a finger and sent a pulse of magic into the statue. Instantly, the floor began to sink, rearrange, and reshape itself, until a portal appeared before them.
Fanny let out an awkward laugh.
"Mr. Strange is truly amazing!"
Her team of curse-breakers had needed two full hours to uncover that same mechanism. Her earlier claim of being his admirer now felt like polite lip service.
Dana had little interest in working with Gringotts, but he couldn't afford to miss any newly discovered ruins. His mother's body deserved the best possible vessel when her soul returned.
The exploration went smoothly—but its results stunned everyone.
After navigating countless traps and hidden corridors, they discovered a mirror city beneath Kotor, an exact reflection of the one above.
Its immense scale and depth left even Dana speechless. Such a colossal undertaking couldn't have been achieved through magic alone.
Standing on its stone streets, Dana saw blurred silhouettes, lingering echoes of people who had once lived there.
His pulse quickened.
That phenomenon—the automatic preservation of living images—was clear proof of a Time Stone vein nearby!
He quickly shook off the curse-breakers and began a careful solo search.
The underground world knew no day or night. Time itself seemed suspended. Dana combed through every alley and chamber, unaware of how many days—or years—had passed above.
Eventually, he realized the entire mirror city functioned as a seal, restraining something buried even deeper below.
It could be a Time Stone mine… or something far worse.
While the curse-breakers busied themselves hauling relics to the surface, Dana methodically inspected every structure that might conceal a passageway.
Until one day—a thunderous boom shattered his obsession.
He froze. Did he truly need the Time Stone?
Perhaps not. Everything depended on how his mother, Anna, wished to exist again.
Then came another explosion—
"Boom! Boom!"
Following the sound, Dana reached the mirror city's wealthy district, near the southern Underground Kotor Fjord. A hoarse, furious voice echoed through the gloom:
"How dare you disturb my peace?"
Dana stiffened. The voice was hauntingly familiar.
A figure wrapped in blood-stained bandages appeared amid the carnage—dozens of curse-breakers lay dead at her feet.
"Morgan!"
Dana shouted, emerald light flaring from his palm.
He had never expected that unearthing a ruin would also unearth her. The very witch who had once destroyed his life.
"Emrys! Why are you so persistent?" Morgan's voice trembled with anger and exhaustion.
This was not the calm, scheming woman he had faced in their previous encounters.
"I only wish to live quietly," she cried. "Why do you keep destroying everything I build?"
She stood knee-deep in blood, bandages fluttering in the hot underground air.
"I haven't provoked you, Emrys. Why won't you let me go?"
She thrust her hands forward, releasing a surge of black smoke that swept toward him like a living tide.
Dana frowned. Within that smoke he sensed four curses intertwined with two types of poison powder.
He flicked his robe, pushing the surviving curse-breakers safely aside, then opened his mouth and unleashed a torrent of green dragonfire.
This was no ordinary flame—it burned with the combined fury of dragon essence and the Graphorn Fire Spirit's power.
The poison powder disintegrated instantly, and the curses, deprived of their medium, dissipated into harmless motes.
Morgan screamed in rage, momentarily forgetting that Dana had inherited everything from Merlin. Against him, she stood no chance.
His dragonfire roared through the crypt like a hurricane. Morgan's black magic shattered beneath it. In desperation, she dissolved into gray smoke and tried to flee upward.
This Emrys has none of the old Merlin's magnanimity! she thought bitterly. He isn't elegant at all!
But to Dana, Morgan was the root of every tragedy in his life. He would not let her escape again.
His legs reshaped into four claws, propelling him into the air. He kicked off nothingness itself and pursued her through the collapsing ceiling.
Morgan's smoke-form slipped into the insulating layer of the underground realm and vanished without a trace.
Dana's eyes narrowed. With a cold snort, he conjured a spatial tunnel before him and stepped through without hesitation.
The ability of the Zouwu—his inherited beast form—let him track her aura across dimensions.
"Morgan," he muttered, "you can't escape this time."
And with that, he disappeared into the rift.
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