Curiosity Killed the Cat...

The astral plane shimmered and shifted around Stephen as he traveled, his spectral form moving swiftly through dimensions and distances. It didn't take long to reach his destination—an ornate building that stood like a sentinel of power and mystery amidst the chaotic energy of New York City. The New York Sanctum.

Stephen hovered for a moment outside its grand doors, his translucent form flickering faintly in the dim light of the astral plane. He hesitated, unsure if he'd be allowed entry. This wasn't his Sanctum, not his universe. The titles he'd once held, the responsibilities he'd carried—none of it belonged here.

And yet, as he drifted forward, the heavy doors creaked open of their own accord, a low rumble echoing through the halls. The Sanctum welcomed him.

Stephen's astral projection materialized fully inside the Sanctum's grand foyer, his eyes sweeping over the familiar yet subtly altered architecture. "Still the same… and yet not," he murmured to himself. He didn't know if the Sanctum recognized the echoes of the Sorcerer Supreme within him or if the Ancient One of this universe had granted him silent permission to enter. Either way, he didn't care.

He was a man with a mission.

His spectral feet barely made a sound as he moved deeper into the Sanctum, his path guided by an unspoken pull. The magical wards and protective barriers that usually guarded the Sanctum's treasures didn't react to him, allowing him to pass without resistance. It felt strange, being in a place so familiar yet belonging to a reality so alien to him.

Soon, he found himself in the artifact room, where relics of incredible power were stored and safeguarded. The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, casting faint shadows across the walls. His sharp eyes scanned the room until a faint but distinct noise caught his attention.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

A rhythmic pounding echoed from deeper within the room, growing louder with each step he took. It wasn't mechanical, nor did it sound like an alarm. It was something… alive.

Stephen quickened his pace, his astral form gliding silently across the floor. He turned a corner, following the sound, until he reached a glass display case set against the wall. Inside it, suspended in pristine condition, was something he hadn't dared to hope for.

The Cloak of Levitation.

It was just as he remembered it: rich crimson fabric with intricate golden trim, its folds draped in a way that suggested both elegance and power. And it wasn't still.

The cloak was pounding against the glass, its corners curling and uncurling as though it were a living thing trying to escape. Each motion was purposeful, almost frantic, as it struck the case again and again.

Stephen froze, his breath catching in his throat as he watched. "It remembers me," he whispered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

As if sensing his presence, the cloak stopped mid-motion, its fabric settling for a brief moment before it turned—if such a thing was possible—toward him. It hovered slightly in place, as though studying him, and then launched itself at the glass with renewed vigor, its movements more desperate than before.

Stephen stepped closer, his hands trembling faintly as he reached out to touch the case. The cloak's reaction only grew stronger, the fabric fluttering wildly as it banged against the glass, trying to get to him.

"I'm here," Stephen said softly, his voice steadying as he pressed a hand against the glass. "It's me. I'm still… me."

The cloak stilled again, its folds rippling faintly as though it were listening. For a moment, the room was silent, save for the faint hum of magic in the air. Then, slowly, the cloak floated upward, pressing itself against the glass directly opposite Stephen's hand.

A wave of emotion surged through him—relief, hope, and an overwhelming sense of familiarity. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until this very moment. The cloak was more than an artifact. It was a friend, a partner, a piece of himself that he thought he'd lost forever.

"I'm going to get you out of there," Stephen said, his voice firm now. He stepped back, his hands weaving through the air in a series of precise, deliberate gestures. The golden light in the room seemed to dim slightly as his magic surged, a soft hum resonating through the air as he focused on dispelling the protective wards around the case.

The glass shimmered, then cracked, and with a faint burst of light, the barrier dissolved.

The cloak wasted no time. It shot out of the case like a freed bird, its fabric swirling in the air before it wrapped itself around Stephen's astral form. The sensation was immediate—a warmth, a connection that transcended words. The cloak settled across his shoulders, its movements almost hesitant, as though testing if he was still the same man it had once known.

Stephen raised a hand, brushing it lightly over the fabric. "It's me," he said again, his voice quieter now. "I'm still here."

The cloak tightened slightly around him, a gesture that felt like an embrace. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Stephen allowed himself to smile.

Stephen lingered in the artifact room for a few moments longer, letting the cloak adjust to him as he adjusted to it. He couldn't help but marvel at how natural it felt, as though no time had passed at all.

But he couldn't shake the faint ache in his chest. This wasn't his cloak—not entirely. It belonged to this universe, just as this Sanctum did. And yet, it had chosen him again, bridging the gap between two worlds in a way he hadn't thought possible.

"I don't know how this will work," he murmured, his fingers brushing the golden trim. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

The cloak responded with a faint flutter, its fabric brushing against his arm like a reassuring pat.

With a deep breath, Stephen turned and began to make his way out of the Sanctum, the cloak trailing behind him in a graceful sweep. He had what he came for, but he also had something more—a renewed sense of purpose.

For the first time since arriving in this universe, he didn't feel quite so alone.

.

The low hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin as Tony, Rhodey, and Yinsen sat in a semi-comfortable silence. Stephen's feline form remained curled up on the seat, utterly still, his breathing slow and steady. Tony had made a few sarcastic comments about needing to "upgrade the cat," but even he had grown quieter, his curiosity piqued as they waited for Stephen's return.

Suddenly, the air in the cabin shimmered, and the sound of faint rustling fabric caught their attention.

"What the—" Rhodey leaned forward, his brow furrowing as a flash of deep crimson passed through the air.

The shimmer intensified, and then, with a faint ripple, a glowing portal appeared just a few feet from Stephen's sleeping form. It hovered in midair, its edges swirling with golden light, revealing a glimpse of what lay beyond.

Tony tilted his head, squinting at the scene on the other side. "Is that… an old library?"

Sure enough, the portal opened into what looked like a grand, ancient room filled with towering shelves of books. The warm glow of candlelight illuminated the space, and for a moment, the group could see the faint outline of Stephen's astral form standing amidst the shelves, a crimson shape fluttering around him.

Before they could say anything, the crimson figure passed through the portal and into the plane's cabin.

The Cloak of Levitation swept into the room with an air of regal authority, its movements smooth and deliberate as it floated gracefully above the floor. The rich red fabric shimmered faintly in the cabin's light, the golden trim catching the faintest hint of a sparkle.

Tony blinked, sitting up straighter as the cloak drifted toward Stephen's sleeping form. "Okay. That's cool."

Rhodey, on the other hand, rubbed his temples. "That's too much. We're seriously dealing with a flying cape now?"

Yinsen smiled, his expression warm as he watched the cloak hover protectively over Stephen. "It's remarkable," he said softly. "You can feel the connection."

The cloak seemed to pause for a moment, its fabric rippling slightly as though waiting. Then, it folded itself neatly on the seat beside Stephen's body, its movements almost... affectionate.

A faint glow surrounded Stephen's still form, and a moment later, his eyes fluttered open. He sat up slowly, his feline shape shimmering with golden light as it transformed. In an instant, the black cat was gone, replaced by Stephen's human form.

He looked down at the cloak, his blue eyes softening as a small smile tugged at his lips. "You found me," he murmured, his voice filled with quiet emotion.

The cloak responded by fluttering slightly, brushing against his arm as if to greet him.

Stephen reached out, running his fingers along the golden trim with a touch of reverence. "It's good to see you again."

Tony was the first to break the silence, his grin widening as he gestured at the cloak. "Okay, I take it back. I don't just want to see a demonstration—I want one of those."

Stephen shot him a flat look, his hand still resting on the cloak. "It's not for sale, Stark."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony said, waving a hand dismissively. "But seriously, it's red. That's perfect. Very heroic. You should've led with this—it screams 'leading man.'"

Stephen sighed, though the faintest hint of a smirk crossed his face. "Noted."

Rhodey, on the other hand, was still trying to process everything. "So let me get this straight," he said, pointing at the cloak. "That thing is alive? And it just… does whatever it wants?"

Stephen tilted his head, considering the question. "It has a will of its own," he said. "But it's loyal. Protective. And far more resourceful than most people I've met."

Rhodey snorted. "Great. A magical flying cape with a personality. Just what we needed."

Yinsen, meanwhile, smiled warmly as he watched the interaction between Stephen and the cloak. "I'm happy for you," he said sincerely. "It's clear this means a great deal to you."

Stephen turned to Yinsen, his expression softening further. "It does," he admitted quietly. "More than I can explain."

The cloak, as if sensing the attention, fluttered slightly before draping itself over Stephen's shoulders. It settled there like it belonged, the fabric adjusting itself neatly as though it had been waiting for this moment all along.

Tony clapped his hands together, his grin still firmly in place. "Okay, now we're talking. Add a little wind machine, some dramatic lighting, and you're ready for the cover of Hero Monthly."

Stephen gave him a withering look. "You're insufferable."

"And yet," Tony said, leaning back with a smug expression, "here you are. With a flying cape."

The banter faded as Stephen adjusted the cloak, his fingers brushing over the fabric one last time before letting his hands fall to his sides. For a moment, he simply stood there, his posture tall and his expression unreadable.

"I wasn't sure if it would remember me," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a faint note of vulnerability. "I thought… things might be different."

Yinsen tilted his head, his kind smile unwavering. "Sometimes, even when things change, the bonds we've made remain. It seems this cloak knew exactly who you were, Stephen."

The cloak fluttered slightly, as if agreeing, and Stephen allowed himself a small, genuine smile. "Maybe so."

Tony, never one to let a moment of sincerity linger too long, raised his glass in a mock toast. "To magical cloaks and their emotionally complicated owners."

Stephen sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. "You're impossible, Stark."

"Yeah, but you keep me around," Tony quipped.

The group settled into an easy quiet after that, the cloak draped elegantly over Stephen's shoulders as he sat down. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of completeness—a connection to his past, even in this unfamiliar world.

He didn't know what the future held, but with the cloak by his side, he felt ready to face it.