C489 Mount Wundagore

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The aftermath of the battle with Agatha Harkness left Peter and the Ancient One with no time to rest. Destroying the Darkhold was a victory, but to truly eliminate its influence, they had to take their mission one step further with the annihilation of the Darkhold Castle atop Mount Wundagore.

As the sinister remnants of Agatha's house smoldered behind them, burning to a crisp alongside the dark witches carcass, the Ancient One opened a portal that transported them to the closest mountain peak to their destination.

Stepping through the portal, Peter and the Ancient One emerged to a bleak landscape. An ominous black castle loomed in the distance, its spires piercing the sky like jagged obsidian knives covered in white snow.

"Darkhold Castle," the Ancient One murmured, her eyes locked onto their objective. "It's where the texts of the Darkhold were first transcribed. We must cleanse it completely, which means more of the Phoenix fire of yours."

"First a haunted house and now an ominous castle. This just keeps getting better and better…" Peter muttered jokingly.

Before they could even take a step toward the castle, the ominous silence was shattered by a terrifying sight. Countless black wraiths, reminiscent of the Dementors from Harry Potter, erupted from the castle's gaping maw. With unnatural speed, they hurtled toward Peter and the Ancient One, their ghostly forms trailing dark mist.

Without hesitation, Peter and the Ancient One sprang into action, their movements a dance of power and grace.

Peter, his senses heightened, anticipated the wraiths' approach. He summoned long Eldritch whips, the shimmering energy lashes slashing through the air with deadly precision. The whips made contact with the wraiths, sizzling on impact as the creatures let out unearthly shrieks. One by one, the wraiths disintegrated into tendrils of shadowy smoke, their threat extinguished.

The Ancient One, a true master of the mystical arts, wove intricate patterns with her fingers, conjuring countless golden blades, which hovered behind her. As the wraiths drew nearer, she launched the blades forward, sending them into the herd of wraiths. Their dark forms recoiled and dissipated as the blades pierced their cloak-like body's.

But the wraiths were relentless, coming at them wave after wave. Peter and the Ancient One found themselves locked in a relentless battle, their synergy and skill complementing each other perfectly.

Peter's agility allowed him to evade the wraiths' attacks, leaping and somersaulting through the air. He sent out bursts of Phoenix flames, forming fiery barriers that repelled the wraiths and left them writhing in agony. Each snap of his fingers sent forth a searing blaze that engulfed the dark entities, reducing them to ash.

The Ancient One called on the power of her necklace, the Eye of Agamotto. She created ethereal duplicates of herself, each capable of wielding Eldritch magic. These duplicates acted as a barrier against the oncoming wraiths, their combined power creating a shield of incandescent light that banished the shadows.

As the battle raged on, Peter's control over his Phoenix flames grew more refined. He summoned blazing rays of fire, launching them at the wraiths with pinpoint accuracy. The lines of inferno scattered the wraiths like leaves in a storm, their chilling cries echoing through the mountain peaks.

The Ancient One's spells became more intricate, drawing upon the fundamental forces of the universe. She chanted incantations that resonated with the very essence of creation, causing the wraiths to unravel and disintegrate into the elemental energies from which they were formed.

Despite the wraiths' sheer numbers, which had to be somewhere in the thousands, Peter and the Ancient One were a formidable team. With each passing moment, their attacks became more synchronized, their movements a testament to their time spent together.

Finally, as the last wraith dissolved into the cold mountain air, a moment of respite washed over them. But there was no time to savor the victory. The castle, still shrouded in darkness, beckoned them forward.

"Let's finish this," Peter said, his voice determined. "We have to make it back in time for dinner, or else Lily will complain…"

The Ancient One nodded, her expression resolute. Together, they made their way to the imposing castle, its ebony walls seeming to absorb the very light around them. As they crossed the threshold, they could feel the eerie atmosphere of the place.

…

Peter and the Ancient One pressed forward through the foreboding corridors of Darkhold Castle. The air grew heavier with each step, laden with the oppressive presence of malevolent magic. They had already overcome the wraiths that guarded the castle, but now they were faced with another challenge… giant demonic-looking golems.

As they entered a grand hall with towering ceilings, two colossal figures emerged from the shadows. These golems, grotesque amalgamations of stone and darkness, stood as tall as the castle itself. Their eyes gleamed with a malevolent crimson light as they lumbered forward, each step shaking the ground beneath them.

Peter wasted no time. He summoned two golden swords and lashed out with precision and speed. The swords struck the golems' legs, causing cracks to spread through their stone forms. With another swift strike, Peter shattered their legs, sending the golems toppling to the ground.

The Ancient One joined the fray, her hands moving in a complex dance of magic. She conjured ethereal chains that wrapped around the golems, binding them in place. With a final incantation, she channeled her mystic energy into the chains, causing them to constrict and crush the golems' bodies into rubble.

The golems crumbled into lifeless piles of stone, their threat extinguished. Peter and the Ancient One exchanged a glance before continuing on.

Their journey through the castle led them to a grand chamber, its walls adorned with eerie symbols and flickering torches. At the center of the room lay a massive tomb, its surface engraved with ominous runes. The power of the Darkhold pulsed within, its presence undeniable.

Peter and the Ancient One could feel the malevolence radiating from every corner of the room, a palpable darkness that threatened to consume them.

"This is it," the Ancient One said, her voice grave. "Where it all started. The heart of the Darkhold's influence."

Peter nodded as he summoned a fiery ball of Phoenix flames into his hand, its searing heat casting a sunny glow on his face. As he prepared to unleash the flames upon the tomb, a guttural, demonic voice echoed through the chamber.

"No!" The voice was filled with desperation and rage, a chorus of torment and anguish. The dark energy in the room seemed to thicken, coalescing into a shadowy humanoid figure.

It was C'thon, the demon who had created this castle, or what remained of him. His form was tattered and ethereal, a specter of his former self.

The Ancient One smirked, her eyes locking onto the pitiful entity before them. She knew better than anyone that C'thon was long dead, his once-mighty essence reduced to a mere remnant trapped within the castle. After all, she was the one that killed him.

C'thon's spectral voice echoed with desperation as he pleaded, "I can offer you anything. Power beyond imagination, riches beyond measure, dominion over realms. Spare the tomb, and all of it can be yours."

Peter, unfazed by C'thon's offers, shrugged casually. "Nah, I'm good," he replied, his voice completely and utterly uncaring.

With a deft flick of his wrist, Peter hurled the fiery ball of Phoenix flames at the tomb. The flames engulfed the stone structure, spreading with voracious hunger. Soon enough, the room was bathed in a brilliant inferno, and the power of the Darkhold was consumed by the cleansing fire.

C'thon's screams of agony filled the chamber as the flames consumed him, his torment echoing through the fiery vortex. The remnants of the once-dreaded demon was reduced to ashes, his malevolence finally vanquished.

Peter and the Ancient One backed away and watched as the castle itself began to crumble, its foundations weakened by the relentless flames. The very essence of the Darkhold was eradicated, its influence extinguished from this world.

With a satisfied nod, the Ancient One turned to Peter. "It's done," she said, her voice filled with a sense of finality.

Peter couldn't help but smile. "Yup, but I'm surprised you didn't do this much earlier…" he remarked, his gaze fixed on the fading flames.

As the last embers of the castle were consumed by the relentless blaze, Peter and the Ancient One turned and made their way through a waiting portal. The world was now free from the insidious grasp of the Darkhold, and they had emerged victorious once again.

————

While one universes Darkhold was vanquished, another's was being put to good use…

In a dimly lit chamber, the Scarlet Witch stood before an ancient tome, its pages adorned with eldritch symbols that seemed to writhe and pulse with dark energy. The Darkhold, the forbidden grimoire of unspeakable power, lay open before her. Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch, had dared to delve into its malevolent secrets.

Her eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now glowed with a sinister intensity as she chanted incantations from the Darkhold. The room trembled as dark tendrils of magic swirled around her, binding her to the very essence of the tome.

With each incantation, she summoned forth visions of chaos and terror, giving birth to a monstrous creation born of her darkest desires. The creature, a nightmarish humanoid fusion of twisted limbs and grotesque features, took form before her, its eyes gleaming with malice.

Wanda smiled, her power augmented by the Darkhold's malevolent influence. She had created a monster, a weapon of destruction, and she knew exactly where to send it.

…

Meanwhile, in the quiet neighborhood that housed the Parker residence, Lily sat at the kitchen table, her fingers idly tracing patterns on a drawing of a spell circle she'd been working on. America, their ward for the time being, watched with a curious expression, her dark eyes filled with wonder.

MJ, with an apron tied around her waist, stirred a simmering pot on the stove, the aroma of a homemade dinner filling the cozy kitchen. The atmosphere was one of warmth and normalcy, a stark contrast to the impending darkness that lurked just beyond their awareness…

A/N: 1710 words :)

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