"The Sorcerer Supreme's true teachings?"
Salomon didn't answer right away.
Ever since he'd seen the Dark Dimension, he'd stopped taking things at face value. Whatever "true teachings" meant, it definitely wasn't just the magic from the Book of the Vishanti.
That book sat in plain sight in the Kamar-Taj library. Anyone could read it. There were no exams, no ranks deciding who got access. Learn as much as you want, or don't. That part was open.
The real secrets—
Those were buried deeper.
Anything tied to the Dark Dimension was locked down tight. There were fragments in the library about contacting Dormammu, but anything beyond that was sealed away by the Ancient One herself.
And Salomon knew why.
He'd been there.
He understood exactly how dangerous it was.
—
Athena watched his expression shift and laughed softly.
"Young," she said. "You're still young."
She leaned back slightly, relaxed.
"To me, even your Sorcerer Supreme is young. A little over a thousand years, isn't she? The Dark Dimension isn't exactly a secret to beings like me."
Salomon almost got up and left.
Right there.
How did the Ancient One deal with beings like this?
Creatures who had lived so long that nothing about humanity surprised them anymore. And Athena wasn't just ancient—she was the goddess of wisdom.
There was no way she was weak.
"I respect her strength," Athena continued. "She stands on equal footing with my father."
Even seated, she carried herself like a warrior. There was grace in her posture, but also something sharp. Direct. Unyielding.
"I follow the agreement," she said. "That doesn't mean the rest of the Greek gods are happy about it. They comply because they have to."
Her gaze sharpened.
"Tell me—have you ever wondered why she's training you?"
Salomon's eyes narrowed.
In that instant, his mind raced.
The Ancient One had been preparing to leave for a long time. She had carried the burden of protecting Earth for over a thousand years.
That kind of responsibility didn't come without cost.
And the Dark Dimension—
It had taken its toll.
If she wanted to step down, to finally let go, to explore the universe beyond—
He couldn't blame her.
But that wasn't the whole picture.
He thought of Odin.
The All-Father's lifespan wasn't a secret. Once, Odin and the Ancient One had fought to a standstill. Earth had remained independent, not absorbed into Asgard's domain.
But things had changed.
Thor, the crown prince, wasn't exactly known for restraint or wisdom.
If Odin was nearing the end of his life, would he risk losing influence over Earth?
Or would he act first?
And if the Ancient One stepped down at the same time—
Would that invite something worse?
Gods didn't die easily.
Not really.
—
Then another thought surfaced.
Why him?
Why push him toward the Dark Dimension?
The answer was… uncomfortable.
His personality.
Salomon wasn't ambitious. He wasn't driven by power or status. If anything, he leaned the opposite way.
Lazy.
Detached.
Hard to tempt.
If Dormammu tried to lure him with power, Salomon wouldn't even bother listening.
If the whispers got too annoying, he'd probably just insult him back.
And he had.
More than once.
Every time Dormammu noticed him, every time that overwhelming presence pressed down—
Salomon couldn't fight back.
So he used the only weapon he had.
His mouth.
Relentless. Petty. Creative in all the worst ways.
If they were destined to be enemies anyway, why bother holding back?
The Ancient One had not appreciated that.
He'd blamed it on "things he read online."
Kamar-Taj's internet outage afterward was… unrelated.
Obviously.
—
Power didn't tempt him.
But knowledge?
That was different.
That could pull him in.
And the Ancient One knew it.
That was what this training was really about.
Balance.
Restraint.
Knowing when to stop.
The same principle that allowed her to draw from both the Vishanti and the Dark Dimension without losing herself.
—
Salomon looked back at Athena.
He had already considered everything she implied.
If the Ancient One stepped down, the entire multiverse would notice.
Everything she had kept suppressed—
Would rise.
Gods. Entities. Things that had been waiting.
Earth would become a target.
And whoever came next as Sorcerer Supreme wouldn't be ready.
So someone else would have to hold the line.
Just like the Ancient One had.
—
Athena watched him closely, then nodded.
"Good. You're starting to see it."
She didn't need to read his thoughts. The conclusion was obvious.
"I want you to continue her work," she said. "Keep those gods out of this world."
Salomon didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he met her gaze.
Flat.
Unimpressed.
"That's not enough," he said. "Not enough to explain why you helped me at the British Museum."
He didn't believe in favors.
Not from gods.
Not from anyone.
Help always came with a price.
Sometimes you just didn't see it until it was too late.
Athena smiled.
"A fair point."
She opened her hand.
A small object rested in her palm.
White.
Smooth.
No larger than half her hand.
A sculpture.
A winged horse, perfectly detailed, every line precise. At its head, a delicate golden bridle gleamed faintly.
It looked like marble.
But it didn't feel like it.
Salomon frowned slightly.
"…Pegasus?"
It was the only thing that made sense.
The myth.
The constellation.
Athena's expression shifted, just slightly.
Annoyed.
"Don't confuse myth with reality," she said. "You should read my book."
She exhaled, then continued.
"Zeus doesn't arrange the stars. The constellation is just a story. Pegasus is… something else."
She tilted her hand slightly.
"My personal summon."
Salomon's eyes flicked back to the sculpture.
Athena continued:
"I lent it once, to Bellerophon. Helped him slay the Chimera."
A pause.
Then—
"I'm lending it to you."
Salomon blinked.
"…For how long?"
Athena's smile returned.
"Until the end of your life."