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# **The Forbidden Spell**
In Manhattan, New York, an ancient building resembling an old church stood silently in the empty streets. The night was quiet, undisturbed by the usual chaos of the city.
Through the dim glow of streetlights, faint flashes of white light flickered behind the circular stained-glass windows. A figure erged like a ghost, his form shimring with an ethereal glow—intangible, like an astral projection.
"I wonder if Doctor Strange is still around."
The intruder, Finn, drifted forward in his spirit state—a manifestation resembling a soul, yet capable of condensing into solid form. His gaze swept across the ancient structure, its eerie stillness giving it an almost sacred presence.
Few knew that this so-called church was, in fact, the **New York Sanctum Sanctorum**—one of the three sanctuaries established by Kamar-Taj to protect Earth from dinsional threats.
These sanctuaries, located in **New York, London, and Hong Kong**, were strategically positioned to form a powerful magical barrier. Any being attempting to breach reality—whether from the Dark Dinsion, the Nightmare Realm, or even **phisto's Hell**—would first have to overco the wards of the Sanctum Sanctorum.
Each sanctuary was overseen by a Master of the Mystic Arts, a guardian dedicated to ensuring its safety.
Currently, the New York Sanctum was under the watch of Doctor Stephen Strange, the Sorcerer Supre, who had assud the role following the Ancient One's passing. Before Strange, Wong had been its caretaker—a role reversal that had not changed their friendship.
"I rember the forbidden texts were recorded on the ancient wall in the lower levels..."
Finn murmured as he scanned the bookshelves. He casually flipped through a few tos, noting their contents.
These were Kamar-Taj's archives, collections of spells gathered from across the world over millennia. Most contained standard magical knowledge, while the truly dangerous grimoires—the ones with ancient, forbidden knowledge—were locked away deep within the Kamar-Taj library itself.
For Finn, these lesser spells were of little interest.
Then, footsteps echoed from the stone stairway. A distinct voice, tinged with a refined British accent, followed.
"Who's there? Wong?"
A familiar figure clad in the **Cloak of Levitation** stepped into view—Doctor Strange.
His piercing gaze swept across the room, but there was no one in sight. Suspicion flickered in his eyes. He strode forward, only to walk directly through Finn's spirit form.
"...No one?"
Strange frowned. The Cloak of Levitation fluttered away from his shoulders, drifting around the room as if searching for a presence. Finding nothing, it returned to him.
"Must be my imagination."
Shaking his head, Strange grabbed a book from a nearby table. His expression betrayed exhaustion as he muttered, **"Winter magic? Interesting..."** before making his way downstairs.
Finn, watching from the shadows, smirked.
"He didn't sense at all... Looks like the Spiritual Projection Technique worked perfectly."
This technique, which he had personally developed, allowed him to shift between physical and ethereal states. When fully intangible, he beca almost undetectable—not even energy-based magic could perceive his presence unless cast by soone **far superior** to him.
Of course, against beings like The Living Tribunal or the One Above All, it would be aningless.
As Strange descended into the basent, a young apprentice cleaning nearby called out.
"Master Strange, it's late. Shouldn't you get so rest?"
Strange, without looking up, replied, "Prepare the lower chamber. If Wong or Master Sterling arrive, send them down."
The apprentice nodded.
Finn's smirk widened.
"So, he's heading to the basent? Perfect timing."
The **Sanctum Sanctorum's lower chamber** housed so of its most dangerous artifacts and spells. Even with his abilities, Finn couldn't simply teleport inside—the **Ancient One** had woven powerful wards into its foundation.
It was one of the strongest **nexus points of cosmic energy** on Earth, serving as a vital focal point for the magical defenses of reality.
But with Strange himself leading the way, the path was clear.
The corridor leading down was lined with **ever-burning mystic torches**, their flickering light casting eerie shadows on the stone walls.
At the bottom lay a vast, dieval-style chamber. The **ancient architecture**, though partially collapsed, bore traces of arcane engravings—runes older than recorded history.
Finn recognized this place instantly.
In another universe, this had been where **Doctor Octopus, the Green Goblin, and others from across the multiverse** had been imprisoned when reality itself began to fracture.
Strange walked toward a table piled with **arcane relics and stone tablets**, muttering to himself as he rummaged through them.
"Where did I put that stone...?"
A mont later, his eyes lit up.
"Found it."
He lifted a weathered slab of ancient stone, inscribed with a **forbidden incantation**. The runes shimred faintly, their power barely contained.
"I hope Peter Parker doesn't co looking for ."
Finn's eyes narrowed.
"So this is where he prepared the **mory-Wiping Spell**..."
This was the spell Strange had used to erase **the world's mory of Spider-Man's identity**—a spell so potent that it could warp reality itself.
But Finn noticed sothing strange.
"If the goal was just to erase knowledge of Peter's identity... why not erase the world's mory of Mysterio instead?"
Instead, Strange had chosen a more unstable, chaotic thod—one that had ultimately backfired, leading to the collapse of the multiverse's barriers.
Shaking his head, Finn placed a hand on the enchanted stone. His fingertips glowed faintly, tracing the intricate runes.
He absorbed the spell.
With his deep understanding of magic, deciphering any spell in existence was effortless.
But this spell... was sothing else entirely.
It wasn't just a mory erasure spell—it was an incantation woven directly into the fundantal fabric of reality. A **cosmic-level alteration** spell, sothing that not even the Ancient One had ever dared to use.
This was true forbidden magic.
And now, it was his.
Taking a deep breath, Finn extended his arms. Golden light surged from his hands, ancient runes materializing in the air around him. The chamber trembled as reality itself reacted to the spell's activation.
Just then—
Footsteps echoed from the upper corridor.
More voices followed.
"Strange, you cannotuse that spell!"
The deep, commanding voice belonged to Wong. His tone carried urgency and barely restrained anger.
"That spell is forbidden for a reason! Its instability could cause unpredictable distortions in reality!"
Following him was Master Sterling, an elder sorcerer of Kamar-Taj, his face lined with worry.
"I'm not using it—" Strange started, but then froze.
The basent was glowing with golden energy.
"...Wait a minute."
His eyes locked onto the distorted space, the warping reality, and at its center—
Finn.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Sterling didn't hesitate. His hand flashed, summoning the **Sword of Vishanti**, its golden edge blazing as he **lunged forward**.
"Stop!" Strange shouted.
Too late.
Sterling's blade slashed through the formation—
And the magic **exploded**.
A shockwave of golden energy **ripped through the chamber**, distorting everything. The runes shattered, the spell fractured—
And reality itself **began to unravel**.
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