Chapter Text
Thanos held the Infinity Gauntlet high, and snapped his fingers just once – and all across the universe, half of all life winked out. On the Earth, lives were lost. And in one universe, perhaps you could name some of them, or name some of the survivors.
Here, James Rhodes stumbled forwards, and felt his armour turn to dust the instant before he did. Here, Pepper Potts stared in horror at a TV screen, an aerial view of the battle in Wakanda showing her an army of alien monsters half-fading before she saw her own hand start to fade away. Here, Bruce Banner heard a growl of rage deep in the depths of his psyche as something in him felt him be stolen away by something no strength could resist.
And across the galaxy, unaware of all of this, Tony held a boy in his arms.
“Mr Stark. I don’t feel so good.”
Days later, and Tony was back on Earth. A glowing stranger had pulled his ship through whole star systems, and dropped him in the Avengers’ Compound, leaving him too weak to stand, resting in a bed with an IV drip in his arm.
Reports were still flooding in from all around the world. Death, destruction, chaos, tragedy, indiscriminate and random and heartless, with names fed into a constantly growing list.
Not up to lifting a tablet, he had a helmet on the table to his side, the eyes lit up and a gentle Irish voice coming out from it.
“Dead.”
FRIDAY could scour the internet and the yet-to-be coordinated databases faster than any human could. Even if he had the strength to type, he’d probably have asked her aid anyway.
“Dead.”
Days without food, and barely any water, took a toll on anyone. Someone whose body felt bruised all-over as it was from a clash with Thanos, doubly so.
“Dead. Sorry boss.”
“I don’t need sorrys,” Tony snapped. He closed his eyes, head falling back on his pillow. “Sorry. Sorry, just- Happy?”
The helmet whirred.
“Dead.”
Tony didn’t move for a long few seconds.
“We could stop,” FRIDAY said. “We don’t need to do all the names now.”
“Don’t,” Tony said. “I need to know. Please. Harley?”
The helmet whirred. He could guess the answer.
Half the world was gone. A little over half of his social circle had been part of that – statistical fluctuations, he could justify it all numerically. Living with it was a little harder. A few interns, a few staff were around – he’d given them their own days off. Everyone had tragedies to deal with.
Which left him sat in his lab. At some point it had gotten dark; the holographic screen flickered vaguely in front of him.
“Mr Stark.”
It wasn’t real. Tony buried his head in his hands.
“There’s more magic in the world than Mr Strange’s. Mr Stark please, look at me. I don’t know how long I can do this.”
He couldn’t keep looking away; he opened his eyes, looking between them. There was a silhouette at the far side of his lab, a far-too youthful face over tattered clothes.
“There’s something stronger than the Stones. It’s sealed away, hard to get at, but Strange, he says you can do it. If you can hear me. Help us, please – death, by the stones, it’s… not the same. It’s not right. But this power source, if you can use it, if you can break the seal, you can save all of us. You can save me.”
Tony stared.
“Peter,” Tony said. His voice came out as a croak.
“I can’t stay,” Peter said. “We’re all here – Pepper too, Strange just thought I could be transmitted better. We need your help to break the seal. Do it, please, save us – find the magic. Find Ta Lo.”
Peter faded. Hollowly, Tony stared across the empty lab.
There were circles under his eyes, and he hadn’t shaved for a while, but for the first time in a long, long time, his expression set. For the first time in weeks, he found himself with a real purpose.
Slowly, Tony pushed himself to his feet.
“FRIDAY,” he said. “Research time. What’s Ta Lo?”
There were a wealth of Iron Man suits stored away, projects made out of boredom and fear alike, plenty of old suits made for all manner of eventualities.
Tony made himself another. He poured his pain, his anger, his desperation, his guilt onto the forge and planned it out, circuit by circuit - at the same time, FRIDAY scoured every database and server she could get access to, searching for one specific name.
“There’s not much,” she said. “References in email chatter way back in the 90s, but whatever info they had, it’s hard copies.”
“Where?” Tony said, staring across the lab at a shadow.
“Some old friends.”
Files opened up above the table in front of him, slides projected into the air. He still flinched slightly at the symbol depicting ten rings.
“Oh, you mean old friends,” Tony said.
His eyes unfocused; behind the hologram, Peter still stood there, watching him. Tony balled his hands into fists.
“Thank you, Mr Stark,” Peter said. “I knew you could do it.”
“Not failing you again,” Tony muttered. “Not failing anyone.”
“Boss?” FRIDAY said.
Tony shook his head, trying to clear it; when he opened his eyed, it was just him in the room. Thoughtful, he let his fingers dance over the display.
The Ten Rings had referenced Ta Lo at some point in the past – the fragments they’d uncovered suggested they wanted to find it. That was good. He could piggyback off of whatever they knew and take a shortcut.
Wherever it was, whatever it was, he had to find it.
Honestly, he’d half-thought he’d just gone mad. But no, he was sure he’d never heard the name before, and here it was; this was positive proof that whatever he saw was real. Ta Lo existed. Some magical land, with a seal keeping back the power to restore half the universe.
The power to restore the people he so desperately missed. It was almost poetic that it needed him to go back to where all this began.
“Boss,” FRIDAY said. “Captain Rogers is at the door. Again.”
“Tell him I’m out,” Tony said.
“I don’t think he’s going to keep buying that excuse,” FRIDAY said.
“I don’t have time,” Tony said. “Every day they’re not here… Tell him I’m not in, you’re smart, you can figure something out.”
“I’m sure he wants to help,” FRIDAY said.
“His kind of help won’t change anything,” Tony said. “This will.”
He flicked through the display. The Ten Rings, small time terrorist group; formerly wide-ranging, then a shadow of what they were, abducting him for money in an attempt to gain some influence again. Nowadays, they probably weren’t up to much.
Tony extended a hand: a bracelet shot onto his wrist. This had been his latest addition. Nanotech suits were practical, endlessly versatile and efficient, but when they took too much damage, they stopped being able to repair themselves.
He hadn’t thought that would be a problem. Then Thanos had come.
These were boosters; more tech to pour into the suit, on top of slightly improved designs, meaning he could go for a lot longer, replenish more and create more. That wasn’t something he was going to let happen again.
He twitched his hand, and the armour flickered between gauntlets, one sleek and golden, and one a bulky red akin to the one the Hulkbuster suit had. Perfect.
Nothing was going to come between him and saving everyone.
On the other side of the world, there was a cave in a mountain. A pseudo-home had been carved out there, tents and curtain-dividers around crates of weaponry, a handful of people wandering around amongst them.
One of them heard a faint whistling. None of them saw it coming it time, until a giant of red and gold, several times larger than any person, landed with a crash; the ground trembled, and it strode forwards, unconcerned with any of the people in its way.
The stone lip of the cave roof chipped as it brushed past it; the titan’s height reduced slightly, but it kept walking, not even turning to dismissively flick a repulsor blast at someone shooting at it.
It strode inside. When it reached a storage bay, stacked with books and texts, blueprints and maps and contacts, the metal giant stood at the door of the room while someone stepped out and walked around inside.
A few minutes later and the giant left, crashing up through the cave roof and letting rubble fall all around him, barely sparing a look for the dozens of people behind him.
One watched him go, and pushed his way through the fallen stone with one hand of flesh, and one arm that had been replaced by a blade, until he saw the room that it had been looking at. And, face grim, Razor Fist turned and walked away.
Anyone, pushed to extremes, might end up doing things they ought to regret. While Tony Stark pores over the fragments he found, and a hero starts to fall, in another city entirely a villain is given the chance to rise.
Razor Fist pounded on the door. He’d caught the first flight he could, and spent most of it sleepless, still bruised from pulling comrades out of the wreckage. It was a long way to San Francisco.
The door opened; a second later, the occupant seeing Razor Fist, the door shut.
He continued to knock, half-slumping against it. Eventually it opened, and stayed open, and he collapsed, exhausted, on the floor.
The apartment’s occupant was, at first glance, unremarkable. He was middle-aged, dark-haired, wearing a light, short-sleeved button-up shirt. His forearms were bare, and his eyes surprisingly soft.
“Mattias. I told you, I’ve left that behind,” Wenwu said.
“Please,” he said. “You’re the only person I could find. The Ten Rings are finished, but I thought you’d want to know…”
His voice trailed off. After a moment, and a lot of thought, Wenwu reluctantly stepped back; Mattias managed to pull himself back up to his feet. He stepped out of his shoes and walked inside, falling down onto the sofa.
The apartment was as unremarkable as its owner. There were a few old portraits, wall-hangings, the kinds of decorations that seemed more at home in the living-place of someone decades older. There were a handful of chairs, a TV, a table, and an electric fireplace.
Above it, on the mantlepiece, was a small wooden carving of a dragon, and four photos. The first photo was of a woman. The second was of the same woman, alongside Wenwu and two children, a boy and a girl.
The third was much more recent: Wenwu, sat on a chair, and a man and a woman close beside one another not so far away. They seemed much more comfortable with one another, than with Wenwu, though Wenwu was smiling enough just being there.
The fourth was the simplest of all. It was the man from the other photo, younger, smiling widely at the camera. A pendant was draped around the photo, a silver chain ending in a green ellipse.
Wenwu paused as he passed that photo. His gaze lingered on it, and then he moved past, expression hardening.
“Now is not a good time,” he said.
“I know,” Mattias said. “You told me never to contact you again, after… I remember. But you needed to-”
“I want to know nothing more about the Ten Rings,” Wenwu said. “My return was… a moment of weakness, for which I have more than paid the price. I want to rebuild what I had with my family, not get involved in more violence.”
“It’s about your old research,” Mattias said.
“You kept that?” Wenwu said.
“I always thought you’d want it again,” Mattias said. He hesitated. “Everything you found out about Ta Lo, and how to get there. Tony Stark has it.”
Wenwu looked Mattias in the eyes for a second, and then cracked into a smile, genuinely laughing. He shook his head.
“I’ll buy you a dinner, for old time’s sake,” Wenwu said. “But I don’t want you staying here. An Avenger is no threat. A hero knowing where they are isn’t a bad thing.”
“He wasn’t acting much like an Avenger when he burned his way through our hideout,” Mattias said. “He barely said a word. He seemed… obsessive.”
“Enough,” Wenwu said. “I’m not getting back into that life because you had a bad experience with an Avenger. Stay for a meal, then I want you to go.”
“But-”
“Enough, Mattias,” Wenwu said, a note of firmness in his voice that was so very familiar.
Wisely, Mattias fell silent.
Papers had been photocopied, maps stretched out, and FRIDAY was running comparisons to all known geographic features, past and present, to try and find the best matches.
Tony was grimacing, lost in overly poetic descriptions. There was meant to be some kind of barrier to entry, some kind of hurdle to climb; otherwise, the rest was clear enough. A magical village hidden in another dimension.
No crazier than a purple alien with magic rocks. And besides, it wasn’t like he had anything else to do with his time.
On instinct, he looked up; he was still alone. He hadn’t seen Peter in a while, and that just made him work all the faster, almost feverishly.
He wanted to save him. He wanted to hear Pepper’s voice again, to bicker with Rhodey, to see Happy. He wanted so much.
“Captain Rogers is at the door,” FRIDAY said.
“You know what to do,” Tony said.
That distracted him. Tony scowled, shaking it off, and starting again, re-arranging the holograms with small twitches of his fingers. There had to be something here to narrow it down.
“Captain Rogers is still at the door boss,” FRIDAY said.
“I went to Wakanda,” Tony said.
“He’s asking how long it would take for you to replace the front door if he broke it down,” FRIDAY said. “He sounds concerned.”
Tony sighed. He stepped back from the desk, blinking a few times, and rubbing his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d moved back. Weary, annoyed, Tony left his lab and climbed the stairs.
Steve Rogers was on the other side of a glass door. At some point he’d found the time to shave; he was wearing black, an almost out-of-place, formal suit straining against his chest. He stood there, polite yet implacable.
Not going anywhere. Blinking a few more times to try and refocus on something other than old journals, Tony went over and opened the door.
“Hello Tony,” Steve said.
There was silence.
“Back from Wakanda already?” Steve said.
“They have really fast planes,” Tony said. “What do you want?”
“It’s been a month, Tony,” Steve said.
Tony said nothing.
“There have been funerals,” Steve said. “Memorials. Daily, for people to get closure. Have you heard about-”
“How can you just do that?” Tony interrupted.
“Do what?” Steve said.
“Act like it’s done,” Tony said. “What’s the point in mourning them when it isn’t over?”
Steve’s expression creased. Tony flinched.
“We found Thanos,” Steve said. “I told you. He destroyed the stones.”
“That doesn’t mean we give up,” Tony said. “There have got to be other relics in the universe, things powerful enough to undo it.”
“It’s not giving up,” Steve said. “We’re searching, I promise you – Carol’s out in the universe right now, covering more ground than we can here. But you can’t just plan for it to be undone. You need to live your life in the meantime.”
“I am,” Tony said. He gestured around him: “Welcome to my life. I’m the guy that tries to help, rather than vanishing for two years.”
“Tony…” Steve said. “I know things aren’t great between us, and I know some of that’s my fault, but I do care. I promise.”
“If you cared, you would be doing something about it,” Tony snapped. “Not going around to funerals like it’s over. They’re not dead, they’re not gone unless we let them be.”
He knew how Steve was looking at him, and he hated it.
A ghost told him of a magical village: he knew how it sounded, even after everything they’d been through. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen Peter, and hadn’t found traces of a real Ta Lo matching the description.
So he kept it to himself, and refused to budge an inch.
“What happens if you can’t find anything?” Steve said, quietly. “If there is no magic answer? They’d want you to live your life, Tony, not lock yourself away like this.”
“Well they aren’t here, are they?”
“It isn’t betraying their memory to have a life outside of them,” Steve said. “If you need to have hope, do – if you need to search for some way to undo all this, I’ll be at your side, but you need to do other things. This isn’t healthy. Believe me, I’ve lost people-”
“You’ve lost soldiers,” Tony said bitterly. “They weren’t soldiers. They weren’t meant to be involved. He was a kid. Pepper was halfway across the world. They were all the people we fight to stop being involved in all of this. We were the armour that was meant to protect them, and we couldn’t, and billions died, and you want to just move on from that? No, Steve, we don’t deserve that.”
“If you were gone, and they were here, is that what you’d want them to say?” Steve said.
“If they were here, we wouldn’t be having this discussion, and the world would be a better place,” Tony said. “I failed, they didn’t. Now are you going to keep getting in the way or are you going to leave?”
Steve was quiet for a second; Tony shifted his arm, signalling, and a suit rose up out from the floor.
It wasn’t meant as a threat, more as punctuation, but it was effective nonetheless. While his suits were ultimately stored as nanotech, he liked to work on the assembled form, making sure that each piece worked and that it knew the patterns he’d programmed in.
While he searched for his destination, he had to keep his hands busy.
The armour was taller, bulkier, armed more like Rhodey’s had been than his own. Whatever it took, Tony told himself; he didn’t know what to expect from Ta Lo, but the place was sealed off, hard to get into, he doubted they’d be welcoming.
“Tony,” Steve said, softly. “What’s that suit for?”
“Someone has to keep the world safer,” Tony said. “Again, get out my way.”
Steve eyed him for a moment, and he could just feel Steve measuring him up, trying to gauge how much was grief and how much was something else. Honestly, even Tony couldn’t say.
Whatever he saw, though, made him take a step back. He nodded kindly.
“There are services at seven, one and eight,” Steve said. “You can sit somewhere alone if you have to. You aren’t alone.”
Tony’s lips quirked up sardonically at that.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Steve said.
“I’ll be out the country,” Tony said.
“I’ll still be here,” Steve said. “For as long as you need.”
“I don’t need you,” Tony said.
“I know,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t be your first choice, I understand. Still, I will be here for you.”
Tony watched him leave, and without a pause turned back to work on the suit, and on seeking out Ta Lo.
Mattias had put the idea in his head. It was his fault.
But Wenwu found himself paying more attention to the news than usual – Tony Stark hadn’t been seen for weeks. It was gaining headlines more because he was hardly known for being a recluse. He’d toned it down since his earlier days, but he was never this quiet for this long.
Mattias had said he’d been colder when dismantling the Ten Rings and taking his old research on Ta Lo. That could have meant anything, but paired with those stories, it was playing on Wenwu’s mind.
Grief could do terrible things to a man. He knew that himself; when he’d lost Ying Li, he’d spiralled, fallen back into his worst habits. He’d blamed himself for her death, and wanted to lash out at anyone responsible.
It had lasted five years; he’d sent his son to deliver the killing blow, to finally avenge Shang-Chi’s mother and his wife, and Shang-Chi hadn’t come back. When Xialing fled as well, he’d had to look in the mirror and ask himself what he was doing.
Ying Li had loved him so much that she’d left her home for him, and he’d loved her so much that he’d left behind the Ten Rings. And when he’d lost her, not only had he gone back, but he’d dragged their children into it.
He’d have done anything to hear her voice again, but in lieu of that, he had just his memories of her.
A year later and Xu Wenwu, the Warrior-King, Master Khan, the Mandarin, showed up in San Francisco with a suitcase full of memories and trinkets, and nothing else.
It had been a while before either of them would talk to him; it had been a while before they really believed he meant them no harm, and that he had no desire to bring them back. The Ten Rings was finished, and the loftiest title he wanted was that of father.
San Francisco had become his home, close to Shang-Chi, and a slow effort to repair what they had. Xialing visited, if more rarely – he’d been to Macau a few times, but he felt it wiser that his permanent home not be so near her club and its patrons.
She was in San Francisco now, though. Wenwu’s attention drifted to his mantlepiece, and the photo of his son.
In a spare room, at the bottom of a box of detritus, was a long, wooden, oblong case. It was old and sturdy, and locked securely. He did his best to not think about the contents.
Wenwu looked back at the screen – there was a story about a new Iron Man armour seen near Stark’s residence. Something big; something made for war.
Grief could make people do terrible things. Trying not to think about that box, Wenwu reached for his phone.
“Xialing? Can we meet?”
The café was a quiet place, with outdoor tables. The city still felt painfully quiet. Half the population was gone, and the other half found itself with very little to talk about. Cafes normally jam-packed were almost empty, and the streets were full of parked cars that would never be picked up.
Wenwu sat at one table patiently. It was strange; giving up the rings, giving up immortality, felt like it ought to have made him frantic, hurriedly trying to cram something into every waking second. A life that had once been measured in centuries now likely wouldn’t stretch to a half-century more.
Instead, he was content to wait as the Sun continued its steady path along the sky.
“Father.”
Xialing sat stiffly on the opposite side of the table; he smiled warmly, and she returned an unblinking glare. They still weren’t there yet – understandable, though he wasn’t able to fully suppress the gladness he felt at just talking to her.
“Xialing,” he said, speaking Mandarin like her. “I’m glad you came.”
She said nothing. Wenwu nodded, taking it as an answer; Xialing had never been the most vocal of people, so he’d had to learn to interpret each look.
“Do you remember your mother’s old stories?” Wenwu said. “All those tales of Ta Lo.”
“Dragons and phoenixes and qilin,” Xialing said.
“They’re all true,” Wenwu said. “Or so I believe – I never saw the place myself, I never got any further than the gateway, but I saw enough to make me believe in the impossible.”
“You want to talk about dragons,” Xialing said flatly.
“I want to talk about Ta Lo,” Wenwu said. He hesitated. “I don’t have much left of your mother.”
“That’s your fault,” Xialing said.
“I know,” Wenwu said. “But Ta Lo is… like a piece of her. I want it to be preserved; the idea that it might be in danger is not something I’m happy about.”
Xialing raised an eyebrow.
“Tony Stark is looking for Ta Lo,” Wenwu said. “I do not know why, but his intentions do not seem peaceful. Perhaps it is nothing, but if it is a problem and I stood by, I could not forgive myself, and I have done quite enough unforgiveable things for one lifetime.”
“That’s why I’m here?” Xialing said.
“The pendant your mother gave you,” Wenwu said. “With Shang-Chi’s, it will show a way through the forest. She told me it was her way back. I want to warn them.”
“Typical,” Xialing said.
She paused. As ever, she was already wearing her pendant; she lifted it up over her head, then stopped with the chain bunched up in her hand.
“What will you do with it?” she said.
“Go to China,” Wenwu said. “I know the forest that leads to Ta Lo, I just need a route through.”
“Is that it?” Xialing said.
Wenwu paused for a moment. His eyes lingered on the pendant, resting in her hand, on the table.
“Say what you mean, Xialing,” Wenwu said, his voice slightly more staccato.
“I’m not in San Francisco for you,” Xialing said.
Wenwu closed his eyes, nodding once, accepting. And there was the elephant in the room.
Seemingly out of nowhere, half the planet’s population had turned to dust. Most of the names were known: one of the names was Xu Shang-Chi.
Wenwu had his pendant, and hadn’t let it out of his sight; it was a reminder of two people that he’d lost, now. Part of him raged at the universe for that. He’d wasted so much time, and had Shang-Chi taken out of his life when he’d tried to mend their connection.
Another part of him was so very, very tired of rage.
Xialing and Shang-Chi’s connection had been strained as well, and she’d kept her independence, founding her club while Wenwu sought them out. Still, he’d done what he could to get the two of them talking again, and their disagreements were nothing next to what he’d done.
But she was here for him, to pay her respects and to see him remembered. She did speak with Wenwu on occasion, but it was always as though they were strangers.
“I know,” Wenwu said.
“You trained him,” Xialing said. “You move to San Francisco, for him. I’m your second choice, until you need this.”
“No,” Wenwu said.
Xialing continued to stare at him. In a way, that was gratifying; Shang-Chi had been afraid of him, and had taken time to get over that. If Xialing had ever been intimidated by him, she’d never shown it.
“It was never my intention,” Wenwu amended. “Your mother… She was always a better parent than I. I learned from her, and without her, I am… less. I have not been the best father.”
“You were no kind of father, after she died,” Xialing said.
Silent, Wenwu nodded. Xialing’s expression shifted only slightly.
“I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Out of the question,” Wenwu said. “I’m doing this for your mother’s memory. If I were to risk you for that-”
“The pendant doesn’t leave my side,” Xialing said. “I go, or you don’t.”
Wenwu looked back at her. He supposed it probably wouldn’t flatter her to know that she looked so much like she had as a girl, with that expression on her face. She was always so strong-willed.
She could have gotten that from either of her parents. Almost sadly, Wenwu smiled.
“I won’t argue,” Wenwu said.
“Good,” Xialing said.
He withdrew Shang-Chi’s pendant from his pocket, letting the weight of it fall from his hand, and putting it down beside Xialing’s. Identical in every way.
He’d lost a wife and a son. Losing a memory of his wife, losing a reminder, or losing a daughter, all of them were unbearable thoughts.
“Please Mr Stark. Whatever the gauntlet did, where it sent us… This place isn’t natural. We need you.”
“Hold on, kid,” Tony said.
A slight twitch made the shape of his suit shift, diminishing and drawing inwards until there was less bulk and less weaponry on display. His arms and legs were sleek gold, the chest-plate a bright red, with the light of the arc reactor still bright in the middle: he launched himself up in the air.
Below him, a bamboo forest stretched out as far as the eye out see. Channels were running through it, ever-shifting clearings moving along some unseen grid almost at random, lines and right angles forming as quickly as they faded.
“I think I’m close,” Tony said.
All the stories said that Ta Lo was guarded. A magical forest, enchanted to keep out any trespassers; then again, much of the stories of that enchantment dated back to the time of people riding around on horses.
How well it would fare against Iron Man, he wasn’t sure. Keeping high over the top of the trees, Tony flew on, mapping out the dense forest with each line he flew.
The entrance couldn’t hide from him forever. Almost on instinct, he shot down a blast from one gauntlet; a tree splintered and fell, and was swallowed up by the shifting corridors of bamboo.
Somewhere in there was Ta Lo; somewhere in there was the seal he had to break.
Steve wasn’t going to listen, nor were the others; they’d tell him he had to move on, but he knew he couldn’t. All the people he’d normally have confided in, normally have tried to work with, were gone.
Right now, the only person Tony had was himself: so that would have to do.
He flew on, and the green stretched out ahead of him, a vast forest concealing who-knew what. It would take time to search. Still, he had nothing but time.
Nothing was more important than this.
There wasn’t much in the car. There was an atlas, to be sure, and a couple of coats on the back seat. Laying atop them was a rope dart, a length of rope with a weight on one end and a chain on the other, that Xialing had brought. At the back, under the coats, was a long wooden box.
And in the front Wenwu was driving, while Xialing looked out the window at the vast expanse of the forest.
“It isn’t far,” Wenwu said.
Xialing made a vague noise of acknowledgement. The trees rustled. They stretched up as high as they could see, and turned to impenetrable blackness it seemed after just a couple of steps into the forest.
The map would be right, Wenwu told himself. Ying Li’s last gift to him.
“Thank you,” Xialing said, suddenly.
“For?” he said.
“Bringing me,” Xialing said. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I’d rather you were safe,” Wenwu said. “But I won’t ruin any chance of knowing you. I trust you can handle yourself.”
He caught a glimpse of her smirk reflected in the window.
“When you’ve lived as long as I have,” Wenwu said, “You learn to hold on to the people that stay with you when things are bad. If you’ll still have me, you’ll always be welcome.”
Xialing shifted, expression shifting; still, she didn’t respond with some harsh word. That, Wenwu supposed, was progress. More, perhaps, than he deserved.
She pulled out her phone. He caught a glimpse of shaky cam footage played on video, Stark sighted flying over an unexplored forest. No one seemed to have any idea what he was doing.
No one else, anyway. He wanted so much to believe that this was nothing, but to see someone aggressively cutting his way through those trees, it stirred memories Wenwu would rather forget.
Hopefully this wouldn’t end in a violence. A flicker of trepidation on his face, he glanced back at the back seat.
Then he looked at the map stuck to the car’s dashboard, and swerved off the road.
“Here,” Wenwu said.
When a passageway opened, he accelerated, and mentally counted off each step of the journey. Bamboo trees closed up the way behind them, until nothing but sturdy shoots and hungry darkness surrounded them.
Xialing shifted in her seat. Her hands dug into the leather, her eyes carefully assessing the constantly shifting trees around them.
Wenwu turned a hard right, keeping track of the route in his head. All around them was rustling and churning, each vast shoot trembling, poised to close in around them.
“Not my first time,” Wenwu said. “It’s alright.”
Xialing said nothing – her grip on the chair lightened, somewhat.
A minute later and the car turned into a clearing. He braked quickly, blinking a few times in unexpected light; after the dense foliage of the journey, brightness and openness was all the more jarring.
Wenwu stopped, just to stare. The spring had been etched in his memories for a long, long time.
Rays of sunlight fell upon a trickling brook, shallow, crystal-clear water pooling and reflecting the trees all around them. Somehow, in that pond, the bamboo seemed so much less threatening.
And past it all was a tree that, in a stray breeze, saw blossoms flutter across the clearing.
Beside him, Xialing stared, just as rapt.
“We’re here,” Wenwu said.
He took a deep breath, surprised to find his hands shaking – and then, steeling himself, he drove on.
To the spring, and to a waterfall that fed it, and to a world where everything seemed to twist and shift outside the car. Rather than water simply cascading onto the car and being done with it, the water hung in the air, droplets forming indescribable patterns all around them.
For a moment, they weren’t in any kind of clearing. There was just the water, and just the magic, the thrum in the air that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
And then there was a thud as the car wheels hit solid ground, and Wenwu completed the mission he’d started decades before as he entered the dimension of Ta Lo.
“I always knew it would be beautiful,” Wenwu said softly.
There was a sun high in the sky, brighter than where they’d come from, and nature all around them, a wealth of trees of far more colours than just green. And peering out from the woods and rocks all around them, creatures he could only name a handful of.
He drove slowly, stopping when a taller qilin passed by in front of the car. It looked in to him as if judging him, but moved past nonetheless.
“Mom left this?” Xialing said.
Wenwu faltered, and said nothing. Slowly, they made their way forwards, past shishi and jiuweihu, firebirds spiralling overhead. In the distance stood a village.
He’d wanted this more than anything. He felt an echo of that old passion, just at breathing this air, but tried to focus on the joy; to think he’d once have seen this place as nothing more than a vehicle to fleeting power.
Ying Li might have walked this very path daily, might have run her hand down the fur of that creature, or that one. She’d told him things of this world – sights he’d thought would be forbidden to him.
But he was here, and he could feel her in every stone and blade of grass.
“Father?” Xialing said.
They’d been seen. Wenwu stopped the car, parking, and quickly hid his face to wipe his eye. Slowly, so as to not seem a threat, he opened the door.
There was already a line of people poised with bows and staves, each sharp gleaming with an unearthly fire.
“You are not welcome here!” one barked.
An arrow whistled through the door of his car like it was made of paper. Well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that. At least they’d been polite enough to warn him.
“I mean you no harm!” Wenwu shouted.
He stuck his arms out the door, partly to show that he lacked the rings, and partly as a gesture to show that he was harmless. Steeling himself, he stepped outside, feeling Xialing try to grab him and hold him in the car.
Well, it wasn’t like the windscreen would protect them against whatever those arrows were. Still, he felt his heart race. He didn’t normally face down armed foes without his rings.
No. No, that wasn’t what he wanted.
“I will leave if you wish it,” Wenwu said. “I will not trespass upon your hospitality – I know who I was. I am just here to warn you.”
“The only threat to Ta Lo is you.”
“There is another who searches,” Wenwu said. “I do not know how much you watch our world. He is driven, and he flies over the forest to find a way through. If he does, he seems… obsessed.”
Wenwu paused.
“The last thing I want is for my wife’s home to be destroyed,” Wenwu said. “I have said what I came to say. Be prepared.”
He stood still for a moment, standing down the dozen or so strangers. Bows twitched. Countless eyes were fixed upon his position.
The other car door opened; Xialing stepped out, and the guards of Ta Lo shifted attention, all on edge.
“Don’t shoot!” Wenwu said. “She’s Xu Xialing, Ying Li’s daughter. She deserves to be here, even if I do not.”
“It’s not up to you to say that,” the man said.
“Guang Bo!”
Another woman stepped through the ranks, and Wenwu froze where he stood. She looked like Ying Li – far from identical, but there was a distinct resemblance that he couldn’t help but react to.
Ying Li had spoken of her sister, Ying Nan, on occasion. He never thought he’d meet her.
“You were told not to come here,” Nan said.
“I kept to your judgement for many years,” Wenwu said. “It was only concern that saw me break it. I will leave again, if you will allow it.”
“Do you have the rings?” Nan said.
“In the car,” Wenwu said. “I would not leave them unguarded.”
There was a pause; Guang Bo gestured, and two of Ta Lo’s guards hurried closer. From the fields around them, the unarmed denizens of Ta Lo watched.
“We will watch over them,” Nan said.
“I understand,” Wenwu said.
Still, she only relaxed when those two guards hurried back, holding the box between them. Then and only then did she smile, looking at Xialing.
And, quietly, Wenwu moved back.
The village was beautiful. He could hear the water on the far side, and could see fields of crops and flowers stretching out around them. The buildings were old, but sturdy, a bright gold and etched with fine detail.
He stayed away. It didn’t feel right to go any closer. He could feel their stares on him, regardless.
Nan walked over and sat close beside him.
“You aren’t what I expected,” she said.
“I aren’t what I expected to be either,” Wenwu said.
“Life has that effect,” Nan said. “Xialing told me. I’m sorry for what happened to your son.”
“And I your sister,” Wenwu said.
Nan inclined her head. She stared at him; it was hard to say how much was wariness, and how much was curiosity.
“You’re concerned about this Stark?” Nan said.
“Grief can make people do foolish things,” Wenwu said. “I think he perhaps has good intentions, but foolish goals.”
“That may be more true than you know,” Nan said. She paused. “Xialing tells me a tragedy affected your universe. We had a tragedy, in our past – a creature we call the Dweller-in-Darkness threatened ruin, before the Great Protector sealed it away.”
“I have heard of the Protector,” Wenwu said. “Not the Dweller.”
“It isn’t a pleasant story,” Nan said. “It has lured people here for centuries, promising them their greatest desires – if this Stark lost anyone to your tragedy, I fear he might be manipulated to its ends.”
That, perhaps, explained his sudden obsession with this place. Wenwu nodded, brow furrowed.
“We thank you for the warning,” Nan said.
“I had to do something,” Wenwu said.
“And now you sit here,” Nan said. “Is this what you imagined, all those years ago when you tried to breach our borders?”
“I wouldn’t have appreciated this place then,” Wenwu said.
“Perhaps,” Nan said.
“All I wanted was power,” Wenwu said. “I don’t know how she saw past all that.”
“And now?”
“Now? I want to sit back and watch the lake,” Wenwu said. “I want to know my daughter. I won’t be able to make up for what I’ve done, but if I can leave some good memories then I’ll be content.”
Nan looked at him for a moment more. He shifted, looking past her; her face still made him uncomfortable. Then she extended a hand.
“Come with me,” she said.
Mystified, he nevertheless obliged, taking her hand. He tensed slightly when she led him to the village, but he stayed close to her and no one bothered them before the occasional sharp look.
He glimpsed Xialing through the buildings, whirling her rope dart around her head under the guidance of an elder. He couldn’t keep a proud smile off his face; he wasn’t sure if she saw him.
Ying Nan led him inside.
The air in the room felt thick. He breathed it in, the scent of candles and ink, the bright daylight suddenly lost to him. The walls were covered in small things, sketched portraits and offerings, written characters, hung flowers – and, where Nan was standing, a portrait of Ying Li.
They weren’t alone; others were in the room, at other memorials, but for that moment there might as well have been no one else in the world but him and that portrait.
“Ever since we heard, we’ve kept her with us,” Nan said.
He almost didn’t notice the familiar wooden box, placed below her portrait. As offerings went, it seemed oddly fitting: those rings were what brought them together, in a way. It was better she have them than him.
But his eyes stayed on the portrait. He felt Nan take note of that.
“Thank you,” Wenwu said, his voice hoarse.
“We remember,” Nan said, again. “I’m glad you do as well.”
Tony landed in a shallow spring, stretching his neck. The search had been exhausting, but the forest hadn’t been able to keep him out when he came from above.
“Unknown energy readings detected,” FRIDAY said.
That was promising. Read-outs were projected into his view, readings overlaying the spring. He focused on them: the tree was not a tree, it was a flickering bar chart, and the water was not water, it was a waveform.
The readings led him to the waterfall; he took a step closer, moving slowly, the suit reconfiguring itself around him to offer more protection and firepower. He was almost twice his usual height when he made it under the cascade.
And he couldn’t help but grin when he emerged, not in a forest clearing, but in a whole new world.
It was real – it really was. Ta Lo, a land with magic sealed away. If he’d ever doubted, if he’d ever been able to afford to doubt, that was all wiped away now.
A small, curious ball of fur tottered closer to him. Tony looked down half-incredulously; it looked more like a walking cushion, with a pair of small wings and no face or features to speak of.
“Shoo,” he said.
The fluffball bumped its head into his foot. He made a slight motion to push it back; it squeaked up at him.
“Kinda in the middle of something here little guy,” Tony said. “Don’t have the time for this.”
He slowly dragged the heavy, armoured foot forwards, the scraping sound making the creature skitter off over the rocks. Grimly pleased, Tony moved forwards further.
He could fly, with all the extra weight added, but it was far too sluggish inefficient to do so. For the time being, for safety’s sake, he was stuck on the ground; it was easy enough to change that. Nanotech suits were meant to be adaptable.
Still, he didn’t know what Ta Lo had to offer, beyond stories of guardians. As it was, he was poised to fight even if they had a Hulk of their own.
Repulsor jets in his boots clicked, rotating ninety degrees; they fired, and pushed him forwards, leaving deep trails in the dirt. He noted tyre tracks under his path; that seemed more overtly technological than a lot of this world would have suggested.
It wasn’t far before he saw the village, and a small legion lined up to guard it. Some held staffs, others bows; unarmed civilians huddled in the village behind them.
At first glance, they didn’t seem like a threat; they had fashion sense, but they appeared limited and primitive, and he’d have called them no threat at all if not for the whirring wheel in his visor under ‘spectroscopic analysis.’ Whatever material capped their weapons and was threaded through their clothes was something he had no record of.
Concerning, but not surprising.
“You won’t find what you’re looking for here,” a woman said.
“My mistake, must have come through the wrong magic forest portal, you know how many there are,” Tony said.
“Whatever it’s promised you is a lie,” she said.
“Panned out pretty well so far,” Tony said. “Now are you going to get out of my way?”
A man shouted something in Mandarin; he recognised a few words, but FRIDAY politely translated for him: “You are not welcome here!”
“Someone tell him I get that a lot,” Tony said.
The man – one of the warriors, bearded and dressed in red like the rest – shouted something else. At the way those armed shifted, raising bows or staffs, Tony didn’t wait for the translation.
He lifted his hands, ready to defend himself, when the first arrow flew. His armour oozed, an automatic defence mechanism to prevent anything getting through; the arrowhead pierced the metal, only to be pushed out by a bulbous pustule of red that ballooned and cushioned the impact, until the arrow fell to the forest floor and the gap in Tony’s armour sealed up.
Tony swore; okay, their weapons could penetrate his armour, that was never good. Quickly, he blasted forwards, making a few of the guardians scatter and pushing himself back.
He’d admit, bows weren’t a weapon he went up against often. The same was true for staves; as someone leapt closer, riding atop a lion-thing, a solution to both quickly occurred to Tony.
“Reduce,” he muttered. “FRIDAY, calculate the max altitude those bows can reach.”
The bulk of the armour vanished, leaving the more slender, classical suit behind; Tony ducked under the swing of the staff, fired a repulsor-blast for good measure, and then used his feet and hands alike to rapidly shoot himself up into the air.
Even the thinner armour was able to repel an arrow, stray smears of nanotech guard falling from him as he flew.
“Piercing power sufficiently reduced at this altitude,” FRIDAY chimed in; a gravity-slowed arrow chipped the front of his armour as if on cue, not triggering the same safeguard.
Tony smiled.
“Scan for any anomalous readings, see if we can find this seal,” Tony said.
“Everything’s anomalous, boss,” FRIDAY said.
“Ignore baseline weirdness,” Tony said. “I’ll try to make it easier for you.”
Searching was never going to be easy with strangers shooting at him; he fired a repulsor down, the ground exploded where he aimed. The suit out-ranged bows, easy.
His display chirped; it hadn’t found his target, but FRIDAY had evidently spotted something she thought he wanted to know. With one eye, he followed her display, zooming in on a glimpse of the village – a weapon store room.
Well that was a good target. Tony fired another pulse down, then darted quickly overhead, shooting repulsor blasts before firing a more conventional armament down to that building in the village. The harder it was for them to re-arm or reload, the easier time he’d have.
There didn’t seem to be many archers left; he’d prioritised them. Risking it, he dipped down lower, running a quick circle of the village to see if anything looked suitably magical.
Something caught in his leg. He hissed, kicking as the suit expelled it, turning to see someone holding some kind of rope-weapon. Unlike most of the guardians, she wore white: Tony turned, lifting a hand, poised to fire.
The battle had begun. Wenwu had offered his services; Guang Bo had turned him down, and told him to keep away. There had been no official exile from Ta Lo, but he knew his presence was at best tolerated.
He understood, at least. Tony Stark was one man. Well-armed, yes, and a foe unlike those they were used to facing, but one man. There was little in the way of combat that he could offer.
Well, not anymore.
He knelt at Ying Li’s memorial. This place, at least, he wanted to see kept safe.
Letting the sound of the scuffle outside fade, he quietly lit a candle, and looked at the portrait.
Would they have ever been welcome here? It was hard not to wonder that; he had not been allowed here, not back then. Even when he’d relinquished the rings, they hadn’t trusted him, or been afraid that he’d draw his enemies to them.
That, he could, sadly, understand. Ying Li had paid the price, and if he could find the path to Ta Lo, others could. He’d just have tempted more people to strike, or given the Dweller more people to manipulate.
Something exploded. Wenwu inclined his head for a moment, politely, before turning away. He stepped past the ornate doors to look at the fray.
Stark had flown over the top of the village; he’d shot at one of the buildings, and at first glance his armour barely seemed damaged by the conflict. That wasn’t good.
Something struck the suit; Wenwu shifted his gaze to see Xialing, whirling her rope dart with impressive ease. Something in him froze as Tony turned his attention to you.
He’d never fully shaken one of the habits of longevity; sometimes a year seemed like it passed in the blink of an eye. Weeks and months could pass, and it could still feel like just days. Time passed so strangely.
But even with that, there were times when a second seemed to take forever, where time slowed to a crawl, and there was time for countless thoughts to cross Wenwu’s mind.
The first, was that Tony was an Avenger, was that he’d been on the front line of the battle against Thanos, whoever that was, and that some creature of evil had promised him anything he could have wanted to break through Ta Lo’s defences. He was practiced, powerful, and driven.
The second was that he was a split-second away from looking at Xialing, and that suit of his seemed to have near-endless capabilities.
The third was that there were reasons Wenwu was not in this fight. Even if he was unwelcome, he wasn’t sure he’d have wanted to join. Violence was meant to be behind him. Some habits were so hard to break, and if he fell back into old patterns, he’d fail Ying Li again.
The fourth thought to cross his mind was an image, the memory of that box kept beside Ying Li’s memorial.
The fifth thought was very simple. Not her. I can’t lose her too.
Tony turned, and lifted his gauntlet to fire. It might have been meant to kill, it might just have been meant to hurt or knock aside; the effect was the same. A metal ring rocketed through the air and knocked his arm aside, sending Tony spinning on the spot.
And the ring returned to Wenwu’s arms. They shone – and they shone with a gleaming, orange light.
That was new. It felt different – he felt different, the familiar weight of the rings on his arms suddenly not familiar at all.
He remembered when he first met Ying Li, how she’d co-opted the rings from him and made them shine with a light far friendlier than the harsh, electric blue they usually were when he held them.
His gaze, for a moment, drifted back into the shrine. He met the portrait’s eyes for a moment and then, clenching his hands into fists, strode out of cover. Xialing swung her rope again; Stark ducked to the side, turning his attention to Wenwu for a moment. He shifted angle, raising himself higher again: Wenwu punched forwards with both hands.
The rings shot forwards. The twin strands met behind Tony’s back, a current of energy completing and chaining them together, golden orange burning bright, and Wenwu pulled. The rings returned to his wrists, and Tony came crashing down to the ground, slowing only from a last-minute burst from his gauntlets.
“You don’t have to do this,” Wenwu said.
“Yes. I do,” Tony said.
He straightened; a gun formed out of his shoulder, and Wenwu quickly raised his arm, the rings moving in a neat arc, the energy between them absorbing the blast. The light thrummed.
Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Tony shot up into the air, that time knowing to dodge when Wenwu threw the rings up after him.
Grimacing, Wenwu crouched, hurrying to Xialing’s side; he blindly stuck his arm out behind him to catch the rings as they returned.
“Are you hurt?” Wenwu said.
“I’m fine,” Xialing said, gritting her teeth. “After him.”
Wenwu nodded; he looked up to the sky, to see Tony shooting off somewhere. Looking around once, briefly, to survey what remained of Ta Lo’s defenders, he ran forwards and used the rings to leap across the once-still lake.
Magic rings. Great. FRIDAY’s analysis of the situation was quickly becoming little but question marks, though he made do.
Something she had noticed, though, was the lack of graves. These people hadn’t been hit by the snap. Something in Tony burned at that. All of this, all the pain, and secreted away in this dimension, they’d been exempt.
Tony kicked up, putting more distance between himself and the stranger; they were the threat, but he didn’t care about the people. He just cared about finding the seal, and dealing with anyone who was in his way or who was making it harder to search.
“There’s something in the mountain, boss,” FRIDAY said.
Tony came to a stop in the sky; at an alert, he pushed himself backward, five rings shooting up past his head before shooting back down. Quickly, he span, and spotted the mentioned mountain; through the HUD, it was wreathed in an odd aura.
FRIDAY automatically zoomed in for him, showing him an odd wall set into the side: that didn’t look like stone.
“Got it,” Tony said. He paused. “Hold on Peter. Pepper.”
He shifted, and kicked his foot-repulsors into overdrive, shooting over there as quickly as he could. He landed, suit already morphing into its bulkier, heavier form.
It looked more like scale than any natural rock – he supposed that was fitting for some mystical village. Something was definitely locked away back there; his display was reading all manner of emanations.
He blasted once with his hand, just to see what happened. It didn’t make a dent.
“Almost there Mr Stark. You can save us.”
He heard Peter’s voice. He wasn’t sure where from, but he focused, letting FRIDAY scan to see if she could find any weaker points. When that failed, he planted his feet into the ground, the nanotech manifesting a spike to dig into the stone, keeping himself in place.
“Okay, unibeam and lasers, concentrate on one spot,” Tony said. “Let’s see what this can handle.”
The suit hummed, power diverting from unnecessary systems, drones projected behind him as the chest-piece brightened. The HUD ran calculations, targeting reticule picking a spot on the barrier.
“Tony. Please.”
Pepper’s voice. It was the first time he’d heard her; he smiled, and closed his eyes, bracing himself for any blowback.
Finally. This wouldn’t be for nothing.
“FRIDAY,” he began.
Ten rings hit him in the back, and even the mass of the armour faltered under the force. The helmet turned around him, projecting a display of the same man as before approaching, the rings returning to his wrists as he landed neatly on the rocky outcropping.
Just the two of them. And he was so close; Tony scowled.
“FRIDAY. Retract spikes,” Tony said; the feet of the armour were freed up, and he moved a step, turning around. “Let’s finish this.”
“What do you think you can do here?!” Wenwu shouted.
He sidestepped a repulsor blast, countered with five rings, and used the other five to shield the next shot.
“I can bring them back,” Tony said. “Just because you weren’t affected doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. Billions died. Just let me save them!”
Wenwu flung six rings out behind him, launching himself closer to Tony with two on each wrist; he ducked under a swinging arm, and shot both pairs of rings forward, knotting them around the headpiece to pull it back, as the six other rings returned to strike the armour’s chest.
“Save them?” Wenwu said. “Is that what you think that will do?”
Something grew out the back of the nanotech suit, zapping Wenwu; he grimaced, stumbling backwards, and Tony shot backwards. He was halfway to ramming Wenwu into the cliff wall when Wenwu slipped down and between his legs.
“Pretty spry for an old guy aren’t you?” Tony muttered. “You’re clearly sealing something away here.”
“Something evil,” Wenwu said. He got to his feet, adopting a more prepared stance.
“Because I’m going to trust the words of some guy with ten rings,” Tony said. “Don’t think I haven’t spotted the symbolism. We go way back.”
“That was… a mistake,” Wenwu said.
“You’re telling me,” Tony said. “Let me show you how much of one.”
Tony fired; Wenwu raised the rings as a shield, only for the ground by his feet to explode, making him lose his balance. The rings continued on their chaotic arc, the energy shield unimpeded as Wenwu threw them forwards again – while he was recovering, he could destabilise Tony.
The rings clattered against already-reforming nanotech, and only slowed the massive armour for a second. Repulsors set into the back fired; the towering thing, twice as high as Wenwu, shot towards him with enough force to send him off the mountain.
Before Tony could, Wenwu lifted the rings up and threw them at Tony, the pushback enough for Wenwu to launch himself away. Golden-orange light sparked wildly.
“I know grief,” Wenwu said. “I understand pain. But you can’t give in to that part of yourself, no matter what. I know.”
“You don’t know anything,” Tony said, breathing heavily. “Did you lose anyone, in this place?”
“I’m not from Ta Lo,” Wenwu said. He faltered. “I lost a son.”
Tony paused for a second, re-orienting the suit. His voice set.
“Yeah,” Tony said. “I know how that feels.”
The suit shot forwards again, shifting forms to something smaller and sleeker to evade the rings; Wenwu barely had time to adjust to the smaller target before it was big again, and a punch was coming right for him.
Only a last-minute shield by throwing the rings at one another kept him from feeling the full force of a Hulkbuster. He pulled the energy-threads, holding the rings in a lattice in front of himself, before flinging them forwards at Tony.
Tony stumbled, but righted himself. He was learning – whatever AI was in his suit was getting smarter every second they fought, getting better at anticipating and countering the rings. He needed to end this fast.
The ten rings slipped back onto his wrists.
“If I believed this was any kind of a chance, believe me, I would be fighting beside you,” Wenwu shouted, voice hoarse. “This isn’t what you want it to be.”
“It is,” Tony said. Then, almost inaudibly, he murmured: “It has to be.”
A nanotech drone emerged behind Tony’s back; Wenwu’s eyes focused on it, and his gaze narrowed. He ducked sideways, then threw the rings out like a whip, leaving sparks of energy in the air before sending up dust and shattered stone.
No sooner had the rings returned to him, then did he shoot them out behind him, the sheer force rocketing him forwards.
All Tony could see was dust – the HUD flickered over to show heat signatures, but could only make out the after-image of the rings’ sweep. He lifted a hand to fire forwards blindly.
In mid-air, Wenwu threw one ring sideways to alter his trajectory. Almost as soon as the rings were back on his arms, he pressed his fists together, sliding all of them onto the one wrist.
He emerged from the dust cloud beside Tony, narrowly avoiding a shot, and landed with a ten-ring punch to the side of the suit’s head; the hulkbuster helmet crumpled, and the rings pulsed, scoring the nanotech’s attempt to reform.
Tony fell; Wenwu fell atop him, a flash of an orange shockwave hitting the both of them.
“Whatever’s behind there,” Tony murmured. “It’s better. It has to be better.”
The arc reactor cracked to another strike. Wenwu pushed himself away, letting the rings fall from his wrists as he did, and the nanotech around Tony faded away to nothing. He landed with a thump on the stone.
The light from the rings began to dim. With a mixed heart, divided in all sorts of ways, Wenwu watched as the orange flickered out.
“I’m sorry,” Wenwu said.
“I just want them back,” Tony said. “Please. Can’t you hear them?”
“This isn’t the way,” Wenwu said.
“What else is there?” Tony said.
He rolled over. Without the suit’s aid, it was a clear strain; the battle had taken its toll. He grunted, and slowly pulled himself towards the sealed wall.
He punched with an empty fist, yowled, and punched again.
“They’re only gone when you forget who you were when you were with them,” Wenwu said.
Tony slumped.
“I wanted to save them,” Tony said.
“I know,” Wenwu said.
Wenwu stepped closer. He sat, leaving the dull metal of the rings discarded on the floor. Sometimes he was glad to not wear them.
Tony, meanwhile, was now clutching his arc reactor in his hands as though he could squeeze it back into life. The glass stayed unlit and cracked.
“Don’t be ruled by grief,” Wenwu said.
Tony closed his eyes. Wenwu sat down, just next to him.
“Tell me about them,” Wenwu said.
Tony stirred.
“The people you lost,” Wenwu said. “Let me help carry their memory for you – I can’t take away the pain, but I can share it. Who were they? What were they like? How did they make you feel?”
The silence dragged on. Tony pushed himself up, managing to sit with his back propped up against the scale-wall. He looked at Wenwu, half-disbelieving that they’d gone from brawling to so casually talking; Wenwu looked back with nothing but openness and sympathy on his face.
He was hardly one to judge anyone. Whatever Tony had done, whatever he would have done, Wenwu had done worse once upon a time.
Tony slumped back, eyes closed, bruises starting to flower on his skin.
Then, slowly, he started to speak.
There were a lot of injured. Stretchers had been laid out in an impromptu hospice, though bandaging and bedrest was most of what was prescribed.
No one had died. That was maybe the only reason the elders had agreed to let Tony heal before sending him off. He was some distance from the main village.
Wenwu, surprisingly, was not; Guang Bo still regarded him warily, but greeted him with a curt nod when he went to check on the state of things.
He’d put the rings back in their box- he’d meant to leave it at the shrine, but someone had delivered the box back to him, despite his protests. For now, he left the rings safe inside.
“We saved her home,” Xialing said.
“We did,” Wenwu said.
They were sat by the lake, looking out over it. The mountain seemed slightly more foreboding now.
“I’m… glad,” Xialing said slowly.
Wenwu nodded; he smiled. He looked a little out-of-place; even Xialing had adopted some of the dragon-scale clothing of the natives, while he remained in a button-up shirt.
His gaze drifted. Eventually, taking a breath, he focused back on her.
“I haven’t been a good father,” Wenwu said. “I know that. I can’t promise I’m going to be perfect, but I wanted to say, I know how hard it must have been for you to give me another chance.”
Xialing said nothing; her expression slipped just slightly, still facing the water.
“Thank you,” he said.
Silence again. Resigned to it, and accepting, Wenwu turned again also. The water was surprisingly clear.
“I wanted to hate you,” Xialing said eventually. “I don’t think I do, now.”
And that was all. Still, Wenwu smiled.
“I wish Shang-Chi could have seen this place,” Xialing said.
“He’s with us,” Wenwu said. “I’m sure. He’s seeing it with us right now.”
A hundun, one of the small, faceless balls of fur, wandered up beside them. Absently, Wenwu stroked it, sitting in silence behind his daughter.
“The Mandarin? Really?”
“I don’t use that name,” Wenwu said.
“Still. I met an actor who played you,” Tony said.
“I heard,” Wenwu said. He paused. “I saw one of his plays. He wasn’t bad.”
The day had come to leave. Now that Tony lacked the suit, Wenwu helped him walk to their car. He guided him to the back seat, where he sat, slumped, breathing heavily.
Xialing had said her goodbyes. She was never one to take long; now Wenwu walked around to the front of the car, preparing to drive off. Nan neared.
“I cannot promise that you will be welcomed back, should you return,” she said. “But I can ensure that you will never be turned away.”
“Thank you,” Wenwu said.
He paused, taking a deep breath, and a last look around the magical village.
“I don’t know if or when that will be,” Wenwu said. “But I am glad.”
“Farewell, Xu Wenwu.”
He entered his car, and slowly drove over the uneven ground and grass, back the way he’d come. The village lined up to watch him depart.
The rings were in the trunk, Xialing was in the passenger seat beside him, and Tony Stark was sans armour in the back. The Dweller was still secured, and Ta Lo stood, poised to rebuild.
Tony had offered to help, with that – they’d turned down his technology without a second thought.
“Where are we taking him?” Xialing said, gesturing back.
“I don’t know,” Wenwu said. “Stark. Where do you want to go?”
He was silent. The car trundled on, passing through the cave-portal and coming out of a waterfall, droplets running down the windows.
“I don’t know,” Tony said eventually.
“Do you have anyone?” Wenwu said.
“No. No one,” Tony said.
He paused, then closed his eyes, head resting against the seatbelt.
“Steve,” Tony said. “But I don’t know. Things aren’t great. I don’t know if he’d even talk to me – no, I know, he would, that’s who he is, but I don’t know if I could talk to him.”
Xialing glanced across to her side.
“Try,” she said.
Wenwu glanced back. He smiled warmly.
“Try,” he echoed. “You might surprise yourself.”