"So," Evenson said with a sly grin, "since you can actually see the book... interested in opening it?"
May hesitated.
The offer tempted her far more than she cared to admit.
Only minutes earlier, she and Coulson, two of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best field agents, had been rendered completely helpless by a single spoken word.
One word.
That was all it had taken.
For someone whose career revolved around life-and-death missions, power like that was almost impossible to ignore.
According to Evenson, the requirements to even approach magic were impossibly strict.
Yet somehow...
She qualified.
A saying her grandparents had taught her surfaced unbidden.
When Heaven offers you an opportunity, refusing it invites regret.
She opened her mouth to accept.
Before she could speak, Coulson caught her wrist.
"No."
She looked at him.
"You don’t have authorization."
His tone was calm but firm.
"This isn’t about curiosity. Contact with unknown supernatural phenomena requires clearance. Even attempting this would violate protocol."
May frowned.
"I might actually be able to learn magic."
"If I can master abilities like his, S.H.I.E.L.D. needs them."
"The Director would approve."
Coulson couldn’t deny the possibility.
He knew Nick Fury well enough.
Fury believed peace belonged to whoever carried the biggest stick.
Enhanced individuals were appearing more frequently every year. Every one of them represented a potential crisis. Conventional agents often paid for those crises in blood.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. could cultivate agents capable of matching superhuman threats...
It would change everything.
Perhaps mutant abilities deserved an answer of their own.
Magic against powers.
After a long silence, Coulson slowly released her wrist.
He wouldn’t stop her.
Before May could reach for the book, however, Evenson shook his head.
"No."
"You don’t qualify."
Her expression froze.
"What?"
"Why not?"
Anger flashed across her face.
Being told she lacked the discipline to continue was one thing.
Being declared fundamentally unworthy was another.
"I can see the book."
"I’ve already proven I have the talent."
"It proves your mind is strong enough to perceive it," Evenson replied evenly.
"It does not prove you’re qualified to learn from it."
"How would you know unless I tried?"
"I intend to."
Her voice carried the stubborn certainty of someone accustomed to forcing impossible situations to yield.
Evenson folded his hands beneath his chin.
"A truly qualified candidate wouldn’t have spent several minutes staring at the cover."
He quietly ignored the embarrassing memory that his own first instinct, years ago, had been to prick his finger and see if the mysterious tome required a blood-binding ritual.
Some memories deserved burial.
"And besides..."
He studied her carefully.
"Haven’t you noticed something strange about yourself?"
May blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"When you walked into this shop, you didn’t believe magic existed."
"Now you’re willing to violate S.H.I.E.L.D. regulations for the chance to obtain it."
"You’ve gone from skeptic to obsessive in less than half an hour."
"...Obsessive?"
The word struck harder than she expected.
She replayed the conversation.
Before entering the shop, she had already decided this would probably be her final field assignment. She intended to transfer to desk duty afterward.
Yet the moment she’d seen the book...
Nothing had seemed more important than claiming its power.
She had even begun rationalizing breaking protocol.
That wasn’t like her.
Not at all.
"You possess unusually strong mental strength," Evenson said.
"Strong enough to perceive the book."
"But that also means you were susceptible to its temptation."
"It awakened your hunger for power."
"And you lack the one quality every true Warlock absolutely must possess."
He paused.
"Restraint."
Many people, especially the mages of Dalaran, believed becoming a Warlock required only greed, ambition, and questionable morals.
They were wrong.
No discipline demanded greater self-control.
Fel magic was vastly more violent than ordinary elemental spells.
Shadow magic twisted the mind in ways Arcane scholars rarely understood.
And commanding demons was infinitely more dangerous than summoning a water elemental.
Every spell invited disaster.
Every bargain carried a price.
Without restraint, a Warlock would eventually stop wielding power...
...and begin serving it.
Some sought strength beyond what they could control.
Most died.
Others survived in body alone, becoming vessels for the forces they had tried to command.
They might become terrifyingly powerful.
But they were no longer themselves.
"A Warlock survives by mastering temptation," Evenson said quietly.
"Power isn’t the reward for self-control."
"It is self-control."
"If you cannot command yourself, you will never command anything else."
Silence settled over the room.
May finally spoke.
"...If I’d opened the book..."
"...what would’ve happened?"
"You would’ve stared."
"Nothing more."
"You’d pour every ounce of attention into its pages."
"No one around you would notice."
"Even standing directly beside you, people would unconsciously overlook what you were doing."
"You’d keep reading..."
"...until you starved to death."
"And throughout all of it..."
"You wouldn’t understand a single word."
"You wouldn’t learn a single spell."
He smiled faintly.
"Still..."
"That’s considerably better than being flayed alive."
May gave him a flat look.
"I suppose that’s comforting."
Her sarcasm landed exactly where intended.
Then her expression grew serious again.
"How long will the book keep affecting me?"
"It won’t."
Evenson shook his head.
"It tested you."
"You failed."
"You didn’t pay the price because you never truly crossed the threshold."
"But it won’t offer a second invitation."
"You’ll never perceive it the same way again."
That much, at least, was true.
The Complete Warlock Spell Compendium wasn’t dangerous in the grotesque ways he’d invented.
Its danger was subtler.
The formulas, exercises, and diagrams weren’t merely information.
They carried the logic and intent of the mind that had created them.
A qualified reader gradually synchronized with that way of thinking, solving each exercise until understanding became instinct.
Someone without the necessary talent experienced something entirely different.
The symbols became endlessly fascinating.
Impossible to comprehend.
Impossible to abandon.
The book consumed their attention while revealing nothing.
Eventually, once it judged them unsuitable, it simply disappeared from their perception forever.
No blood ritual would change that.
No determination would overcome it.
Talent was talent.
Without it, the door simply remained closed.
May released a slow breath.
"...Good."
"I don’t think I ever want to see that thing again."
"I believe," Coulson said, breaking the silence, "we’ve reached our final question."
He adjusted his tie with practiced composure, though inwardly he felt as if his understanding of reality had been dismantled piece by piece over the last hour.
The sooner this interview ended...
The sooner he could begin figuring out how to explain any of it to Director Fury.
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