Night fell.
The monks' quarters at Kamar-Taj lay silent.
Strange lay in bed, clutching Christine's photograph as he tossed and turned.
"I'll bring you back," Strange murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of the photograph. "I promise."
With a sigh, he got out of bed.
Grief and longing gave him no peace. He needed a distraction.
Strange put on his sorcerer's robes, slipped out of his room, and went to Kamar-Taj's library.
The library was empty at that late hour.
Strange resumed searching through books on spirit magic.
Intricate Sanskrit and ancient incantations danced under the lamplight.
He lost himself in their profound theories.
He had no idea how much time passed.
Dong! Dong! Dong!
An urgent alarm shattered the silence.
Moments later, a muffled explosion boomed.
Something's wrong!
Strange rushed out of the library to investigate.
The corridors outside were already in turmoil, with sorcerers hurrying past.
Strange stopped one of them. "What happened?"
"No idea!" the sorcerer replied quickly. "But the alarm came from the London Sanctum! The explosion came from the Hall of the Doors!"
"Let's check the Hall of the Doors first. Its portals connect to the Three Sanctums!"
Strange followed the sorcerers toward the Hall of the Doors.
When they arrived, the hall was in ruins.
Mordo and Wong were leading several sorcerers in a fierce battle against a group of intruders.
Every intruder had dark circles around their eyes like a panda and a crimson rune branded on their forehead.
They fought viciously, every strike aimed to kill.
Wong knocked a Dark Zealot back with his magical shield and spotted Strange out of the corner of his eye.
"Leave this to us!" Wong roared, pointing to a wooden door at the side of the hall. "Go through that door! Protect the New York Sanctum!"