Marvel: The Enlightened One#151+152: The Andromeda Cloth as a Necklace, The Ancient One's Early Payment

Hawk cut straight to the chase!

No beating around the bush, no cryptic word games. There was no need.

Straight to business. He didn't even bother explaining what he wanted the Time Stone for.

Again—no point.

From the moment the Ancient One had addressed him as "Phoenix" when he'd first arrived, to her casual remark that she didn't need to worry about Blackheart creating a new Hell because Hawk had already handled it—

The message was clear.

She'd already used the Time Stone. Probably multiple times. And judging by how comfortable she was with it, she had no problem doing so.

So, Hawk was betting that even if he didn't spell it out, the Ancient One already knew what he needed the stone for.

She probably already knew what promise he'd make to get it.

Hawk kept his gaze steady, his thoughts racing as he waited for her answer.

After a moment, The Ancient One's expression remained calm. She looked at him, then gave a slow nod.

"Yes."

Hawk's face lit up. But before he could thank her—

"Not yet."

His smile faltered. "Why not?"

"The alcohol hasn't fully left your system. If you use the stone now, it'll backfire."

The Ancient One lifted her teacup, her tone as serene as ever. "Besides, Kamar-Taj in winter is quite beautiful. You should take some time to see it."

Hawk processed her words, then nodded. He didn't argue. He just lifted his own cup and drained it in one smooth motion.

Gwen, sitting beside him, followed his lead and did the same.

A little while later, Hawk stood, offering Gwen his hand. Together, they left the hall.

....

The view that greeted them was breathtaking.

The monastery was a fusion of Tibetan, Nepalese, and Eastern temple architecture—ancient, sturdy, and vibrant in equal measure.

Everywhere Hawk looked, he saw towering snow-capped peaks, as if the entire complex had been woven seamlessly into the Himalayas themselves.

The air was thin and biting, but Gwen—who hadn't exactly dressed for high-altitude winter—didn't feel cold at all. The tea, apparently, had taken care of that.

She blinked, then her attention shifted to a courtyard not far away.

A training ground, paved with smooth stone.

A group of apprentices in deep brown robes stood in neat rows, guided by a Master in rough yellow fabric. They were practicing one of Kamar-Taj's foundational spells—the sling ring portal.

As a dozen hands began tracing circles in the air, sparks of golden light burst to life at their fingertips, connecting into rings of fire. The synchronized display was mesmerizing.

Gwen stared, transfixed. Then she turned to Hawk.

"Hawk?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know magic?"

"Nope."

Hawk shook his head, then smiled at the curiosity written all over her face. "I'm a brawler. Fists and physics."

That was the heart of being a Saint.

A warrior. A fighter. The whole philosophy was built on gladiatorial combat—raw, brutal, hand-to-hand.

Magic?

When he could throw a punch that weighed ten thousand tons and moved faster than light, what kind of mage can stand up to that?

He caught her expression and chuckled. "Why? Thinking about learning?"

Gwen shook her head, her gaze drifting back to the apprentices. After a moment, she looked at him again.

"Could I?"

"Uh..." Hawk raised an eyebrow. Then it clicked. He let out a short laugh. "If you did, you'd basically be handing yourself over as a hostage."

Gwen blinked.

Hawk took her hand and started walking, heading toward a stone staircase that wound up toward the mountain peaks. As they climbed, he gave her the rundown on how supernatural power actually worked in this universe.

The short version:

Normal people can't gain extraordinary abilities through effort alone.

That was why the saying existed—The poor get mutated, the rich build suits, and the gods inherit their power.

Take magic.

You think you can just pick up a spellbook and teach yourself?

Not a chance.

First question: where's the energy coming from?

The answer: extradimensional entities.

Like the Ancient One.

She was a genius—no question. But the reason she could cast spells was because she'd made a pact with the Vishanti. She drew power from them.

Dark magic worked the same way.

Sorcerers made deals with beings like Dormammu or Chthon, borrowing their energy in exchange for... well, usually their souls.

Even witches followed the same rules.

Take Carrie.

She'd awakened her magic on her own—that part was true.

But she could only do it because she carried the bloodline of the Salem witches. That was why the Hell Witch had told him to just find Carrie a teacher who knew the basics. Once her power stabilized, she'd automatically tap into the Salem Dimension and gain access to its knowledge and magic.

Even demons operated on the same principle.

But whether it was mages, witches, or warlocks—the one thing they all had in common was this:

Their power didn't come from talent.

Talent determined your ceiling. But what made you supernatural in the first place was selling your soul to whatever dimension was willing to supply the juice.

"So..."

Hawk, still walking beside Gwen on the stone path, finished his explanation and looked at her with a faint smile.

"Now you see why I said if you learned magic, you’d just be handing them a hostage to use against me?"

Sure, the Vishanti seemed friendly enough right now.

But nothing lasted forever. The future was unpredictable.

Better safe than sorry.

His sister had died in the crossfire and ended up trapped in Hell, on the verge of becoming Mephisto's leverage against him.

He wasn't about to let the same thing happen to his fiancée.

Gwen listened to his explanation, her expression shifting as the pieces fell into place. She nodded slowly.

Then—

She stopped walking.

Something had just occurred to her. She turned to face him.

"Hawk... what about you? Which dimension did you sell your soul to?"

As she asked, she remembered the spectral phoenix she'd seen materialize behind him more than once. Her eyes widened slightly.

"Is there a... Phoenix Dimension?"

"Haha!" Hawk froze for a second, then burst out laughing. When he'd composed himself, he looked at her, his expression turning serious.

"I don't borrow power from anyone. I am the power. And eventually, people will be borrowing from me."

Forty-seven Bronze Saints.

Twenty-four Silver.

The twelve Zodiacs of Gold.

And the hundred and eight Specters of the Underworld.

Hawk's mind churned through the numbers, imagining the sheer scale of energy he'd one day be channeling outward. He shook his head, then met Gwen's gaze again.

"A lot of people. And actually—you already have some of my power."

Gwen blinked. "I do? Since when?"

"Since Christmas."

Hawk's eyes dropped to the pendant hanging around her neck—the one she'd been wearing as a necklace ever since he'd given it to her.

Gwen followed his gaze. She reached up, pulling the chain out from under her collar.

The pendant gleamed in the light.

At first glance, it looked pink. But on closer inspection, it was a deep, vivid crimson—intricate and beautiful, shaped like a miniature suit of armor.

The Andromeda Cloth.

Hawk had forged it from the same batch of materials he'd used to make his backup Phoenix Armor.

His Sixth Sense Cosmo had evolved beyond the Fifth. And with the Reality Stone amplifying his power, he now had the ability to ignite the remaining forty-seven Bronze constellations.

In simple terms—

Once his Phoenix parallel universe fully manifested in reality, anyone else who practiced the way of Cosmo would draw their power from him, not from some distant constellation.

He wasn't planning on doing that. At least, not anytime soon.

But that didn't stop him from forging a Saint Armor and giving it to Gwen as a gift.

Because Gwen was family.

She wasn't a Saint. She couldn't fight. But with the Andromeda Cloth infused with a fragment of his Phoenix Heart, the armor would activate automatically if she was ever in danger, shielding her from harm.

Like this—

Hawk's thought rippled outward.

WHOOSH!

The pendant around Gwen's neck suddenly lifted, floating in the air before her. It began to expand, growing larger and larger until—

SNAP!

The Andromeda constellation blazed to life behind it, a shimmering nebula of stars.

The armor disintegrated into countless fragments.

Piece by piece, they began to move.

Starlit plates.

Elegant bracers.

Flowing chains.

The disassembled components of the Andromeda Cloth, bathed in the soft glow of the constellation, began their dance.

First came the signature circular lock, arcing gracefully through the air before settling at Gwen's slender waist. Then the chains—gleaming, cold, and impossibly light—unfurled like living things, coiling around her arms from wrist to shoulder, each link clicking into place with a sound like distant chimes.

The shoulder guards followed, descending like folded wings, perfectly contoured to her frame.

And finally, the helmet.

Ornate and regal, with abstract feathers of pure starlight adorning each side, it lowered gently over her head. The faceplate unfurled like a veil of crystallized stardust, protective yet elegant, leaving her eyes—bright, green, and wide with shock—clearly visible.

As the helmet clicked into place, a wave of icy-blue energy—the symbol of Andromeda—erupted from her, a formless shockwave that sent a stray lock of her hair fluttering across her forehead.

Gwen stood frozen, speechless.

Hawk looked at his fiancée, now clad in the full Andromeda Cloth, and his expression softened into something warm and tender.

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Gwen’s mouth hung slightly open.

The effect wore off quickly, though. She looked down, taking in the armor that now encased her.

The Andromeda Cloth shimmered, its signature ice-blue light flickering in rhythm with the nebula that seemed to pulse from within the metal itself.

Gwen reached out, her fingertips brushing the surface.

The moment she made contact, a wave of sensation washed over her—cold metal, yes, but also something deeper. A sense of recognition. Of connection.

She flexed her arm experimentally. The chains hanging from the waist lock chimed softly, a delicate, crystalline sound that seemed almost alive.

As the links swayed, her emerald eyes—visible through the elegant faceplate—reflected the nebula's light, making it seem as though entire galaxies swirled within them.

She glanced up at Hawk, who stood watching her with a smile so warm it could melt snow.

Her lips curved into a mischievous grin.

A second later—

"Nebula Chain!"

With a playful shout, the chains coiled around her body sprang to life. They obeyed the singular directive Hawk had embedded within the Cloth: Protect Gwen.

The chains shot upward, and promptly wrapped themselves around Hawk.

Loop after loop, binding him tight.

Hawk looked down at the chains now restraining him, then back up at Gwen, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"Gwen. I didn't give you this gift so you could tie me up."

Gwen's grin widened. She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hey, I thought you were into this sort of thing."

Hawk's eye twitched.

Women don't need a manual to unlock their inner freak. Marriage just flips the switch.

Gwen was no exception.

With a thought, Hawk dismissed the armor.

SNAP!

The Andromeda Cloth disassembled, the chains retracting as the fragments reformed mid-air into the pendant. A flash of ice-blue light, and the necklace settled gently back around Gwen's neck.

Gwen looked down at it, then back up at him, pouting slightly.

"Hey. I wasn't done playing with it."

Hawk smiled. "It's not a toy. It's for protection. And it's got limited energy. I don't want you burning through it all now and having nothing left when you actually need it."

Gwen tilted her head. "Can't you just... recharge it?"

"I could. But the materials aren't ideal."

Again—Vibranium absorbed energy but couldn't store it.

The Andromeda Cloth, as it stood, could only protect Gwen twice. She'd just used up one activation.

But that was fine.

Once she'd exhausted both charges, he'd just melt it down and reforge it.

Gwen listened to his explanation, her expression softening. She looked down at the pendant, her thumb brushing over its surface. A sweet smile touched her lips.

She looked back up at him.

"Hawk."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you. I love this gift."

"You're welcome."

Hawk met her gaze—those gentle green eyes that seemed to see straight through him—and his smile deepened.

Then he gestured toward the mountain path ahead.

"Come on. We came all this way. Don't you want to take some pictures?"

Gwen nodded, brightening immediately. Then she paused, glancing at him with a hopeful expression.

"Can I put the armor on for a photo?"

"No. Reforging it is a pain."

Gwen's face fell. Then, a beat later, she shot him a look.

"This is your fault."

"..."

Hawk blinked.

'Wait, what?'

One second she's thanking him, the next she's blaming?

'Women.'

'Trying to understand them is like trying to find a needle at the bottom of the ocean.'

Still—

The disappointment didn't last.

Within ten seconds, Gwen was completely absorbed in the breathtaking mountain scenery, her camera out, her mood restored. She spent the rest of the day exploring every snow-covered ridge and peak surrounding Kamar-Taj, leaving her footprints across half the Himalayas.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, they finally made their way back to the monastery.

....

As they walked along the covered corridor, watching the apprentices still practicing their sling ring portals in the courtyard, a figure approached.

A stocky, serious-looking Asian man with a no-nonsense expression.

Wong.

The librarian of Kamar-Taj.

He stopped in front of them, his tone formal but polite.

"Mr. Phoenix. Mrs. Phoenix. Dinner is ready. The Sorcerer Supreme requests your presence."

Hawk hadn't said anything yet, but Gwen—hearing the way Wong had addressed her—responded immediately, her face lighting up.

"Oh! Thank you so much."

She was clearly delighted by the title.

She looked at Wong with genuine curiosity. "And you are...?"

Wong's expression didn't change. "Wong."

Gwen smiled warmly. "Thank you, Wong. We really appreciate it."

Wong gave a curt nod, then seemed to remember something. He reached into his robes and pulled out a slip of paper, handing it to Gwen.

Gwen took it, glancing down at the letters printed on it: Shamballa.

She blinked. "This is..."

"The WiFi password for Kamar-Taj."

"The WiFi... password."

Gwen, who had just been mentally running through a dozen mystical interpretations of the word, stared at him.

Then she let out a soft laugh.

"Right. Of course. Thank you."

Wong's lips twitched in what might have been the ghost of a smile. Then his expression returned to its usual stoicism, and he turned to lead the way.

Gwen, walking behind him, pulled out her phone and connected to the network. She glanced at Hawk, whispering.

"I thought this was a magic monastery."

Hawk shrugged. "Even sorcerers need to keep up with the times."

The Ancient One wasn't some hidebound traditionalist. The fact that she was willing to draw power from the Dark Dimension was proof enough of that.

....

After dinner, Wong escorted them to their guest quarters.

He pushed open the door.

Inside was a room that wouldn't have looked out of place in a five-star hotel.

A modern bed. A sleek, contemporary bathroom. Everything perfectly designed for comfort.

Once again, the aesthetic clash between the monastery's ancient exterior and its decidedly modern interior was almost absurd.

But Gwen had stopped being surprised.

She walked to the window, gazing out at the moonlit peaks in the distance, and pulled out her phone to snap another photo.

When she turned around, she found Hawk watching her with a faint smile.

She grinned. "Shower and bed?"

Hawk: "..."

....

The next morning.

Hawk glanced at Gwen, still fast asleep. Last night, she'd been as fierce as a tiger. This morning, she was as peaceful as a kitten.

He smiled, leaned down, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Then he got dressed and, guided by one of the apprentices, made his way to the library.

Wong was already waiting at the entrance.

Hawk nodded in greeting.

"Morning, Wong."

"Good morning."

Wong pushed the doors open. "The Sorcerer Supreme is inside."

Hawk thanked him and stepped through.

....

The library was vast—far larger than the exterior of the building suggested.

All around him, bookshelves drifted through the air like fish in an ocean, each one laden with ancient tomes. They moved with a life of their own, gliding silently through the impossible space.

Hawk watched as one of the floating shelves drifted toward him. He reached out—

WHOOSH!

The shelf recoiled like a startled animal and darted away.

"Those books were written or collected by generations of Masters of the Mystic Arts. They're bound to the Vishanti. Since you're not one of us, they won't let you read them."

“That’s a shame.”

Hawk watched the bookshelf flee, then spotted the Ancient One standing nearby in her white robes. He walked over. "Can I borrow the Time Stone now?”

The Ancient One just smiled, said nothing, and turned to lead the way.

Hawk followed without a word.

They walked in silence until the Ancient One raised her hand. The space before them rippled, fracturing like shattered glass. A doorway opened.

Beyond it was a chamber built entirely of stone.

At the far end of the room, carved into the wall, were three massive stone heads.

The Vishanti.

Omnipotent Oshtur. All-Seeing Agamotto. Ancient Hoggoth.

Below the carvings, resting on a stone pedestal, was a relic that defied gravity itself.

The Eye of Agamotto.

Hovering. Waiting.

Hawk's gaze lingered on it.

'So that's why she didn't bring me here yesterday. She was wearing it. Had to put it back first.'

The Ancient One stepped onto the platform. Her hands moved in a series of precise gestures, and slowly, the Eye began to open.

As the relic's shell peeled back, a brilliant green light spilled out, flooding the chamber.

And there, at its heart, was the Time Stone.

The gem that controlled the flow of time itself. Past, future, acceleration, deceleration, stasis, loops—every aspect of temporal manipulation lay within its emerald glow.

The Ancient One then levitated the fully opened Eye of Agamotto and sent it floating toward Hawk.

Hawk reached out and grasped it. The weight settled into his palm. He stared at it for a moment, then looked up at the Ancient One.

"Can I ask... what promise did I make?"

The Ancient One's expression remained calm, though a flicker of curiosity touched her eyes.

"What did you plan to offer me, in exchange for this?"

Hawk smiled. "I have an idea. but I can’t deliver on it right now."

The Ancient One's gaze didn't waver.

"It's fine."

Hawk blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I've already collected."

"What?" Hawk's confusion deepened.

The next second, the Ancient One, standing on the pedestal, raised her hand, her fingers forming the shape of a flower as a slow, knowing smile spread across her face.

Hawk’s pupils contracted violently.