Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

The dream of conquering death was older than civilization itself.

Ancient Egyptians preserved their pharaohs as mummies, believing that one day their kings would return from the underworld to rule again.

For thousands of years, humanity searched for resurrection through mysticism, divine miracles, and arcane rituals.

Then science rose to prominence, and those ancient beliefs were dismissed as superstition.

Now, however, Nick Fury lived in a world where science had produced flying aircraft carriers, alien technology, and super soldiers.

Magic had also proven itself undeniably real.

So if anyone could answer questions about returning the dead to life, it would be Evenson.

At least, as far as Fury knew.

Evenson was the only genuine mage he’d ever met, which automatically made him the closest thing to an authority.

The irony, of course, was that he was asking the wrong kind of spellcaster.

A necromancer?

Absolutely.

A warlock with extensive knowledge of fel magic and the dark arts?

Not necessarily.

Evenson’s expertise lay elsewhere.

Which was why his answer caught Fury completely off guard.

"We don’t."

"...That’s it?" Fury blinked.

"What else were you expecting?"

Evenson spread his hands before a look of realization crossed his face.

"Did you think I’d start lecturing you about how resurrection defies heaven, violates nature, and should never be attempted?"

"Or perhaps congratulate you for overcoming death?"

He shook his head.

"No."

"Life and death are simply part of the world’s rules."

"If something is governed by rules, then it can be understood."

"And if it can be understood..."

"It can be mastered."

"And once it’s mastered, using it is only natural."

Fury felt something tighten in his chest.

To him, conquering death sounded like one of the greatest breakthroughs imaginable.

To Evenson...

It apparently ranked somewhere between learning to ride a bicycle and boiling water.

There was something uniquely infuriating about someone treating the impossible as perfectly ordinary.

Then Evenson twisted the knife.

"Life and death are laws," he said calmly.

"And every law can be mastered."

Fury took several slow breaths before speaking again.

"...The way you’re talking..."

"You already know magic like that."

"I do."

Evenson answered without hesitation.

"I know spells capable of returning the dead."

Fury stroked his chin.

"Then it looks like I’ve found you another job."

A cold smile appeared on Evenson’s face.

"Before I answer..."

"Tell me something."

"The person you want to resurrect..."

"Are they your enemy?"

"Someone you hate?"

"No."

"They’re one of my agents."

"A subordinate."

Evenson studied him carefully.

"Do you see that subordinate as a disposable tool?"

"Or as a friend?"

Fury frowned.

"Why does that matter?"

"The answer determines whether I’d help."

Evenson’s voice turned icy.

"If they’re an enemy..."

"Or merely a tool..."

"I can bring them back."

"But if they’re your friend..."

"I won’t."

Fury stared at him.

For a brief moment he seriously wondered if he’d somehow offended Evenson without realizing it.

"You’ll resurrect my enemies..."

"...but refuse to resurrect my friends?"

"What kind of logic is that?"

Evenson sighed.

"Let’s stop dancing around it."

"You want me to resurrect Coulson."

Fury remained silent for several seconds before giving a slow nod.

Phil Coulson had been more than his most capable agent.

He’d been a trusted friend.

His death was a devastating loss to SHIELD and to Fury personally.

Years ago, there would have been nothing to do except fold the flag over his coffin and move on.

Now there might be another option.

Why wouldn’t he at least try?

"I won’t resurrect him."

Evenson’s answer was immediate.

Firm.

Absolute.

Fury’s expression darkened.

"Why?"

For an instant, an absurd thought crossed his mind.

Did Coulson somehow make an enemy out of Evenson?

"Don’t misunderstand."

Evenson caught the look immediately.

"I respected Coulson."

"We got along well."

"That’s exactly why I refuse."

A flicker of frustration crossed his face.

He still hadn’t figured out why the Soul Stone had failed to activate when it mattered.

If it had worked properly, none of this conversation would even be necessary.

Fury narrowed his eye.

"If you’re refusing because you care about him..."

"...then whatever resurrection spell you know must have a serious flaw."

"It does."

Evenson nodded.

"The magic I know falls under necromancy."

"It isn’t a miracle."

"It’s a curse."

"A curse?"

"If I cast it on Coulson..."

"He would stand up again."

"He could speak."

"He could think."

"He’d behave almost exactly like any living person."

"In some ways, he’d even become physically stronger than before."

Fury listened without interrupting.

"But..."

Evenson closed his eyes briefly.

"He wouldn’t truly be alive."

"He’d be an undead."

"A walking corpse."

"He would lose every ordinary human sensation."

"Food would taste like dirt."

"Wine would become flavorless."

"And..."

He coughed lightly.

"...certain pleasures of being alive would no longer function."

"But he would still feel hunger."

"Constantly."

"No amount of food or drink would ever satisfy it."

"He’d also have to spend regular time preserved in formaldehyde."

"Otherwise, his body would slowly decay."

Evenson’s smile turned unsettling.

"And even after the flesh rotted away..."

"Even if nothing remained except a skeleton..."

"My magic would still keep him moving."

Fury felt a chill creep down his spine.

Evenson’s voice remained calm.

"Tell me."

"Is that life?"

"Or is it a curse?"

"He would exist in endless suffering."

"Eventually..."

"The pain would twist his mind."

"He’d come to hate the one who resurrected him."

"And before long..."

"He’d hate every living person he saw."

Fury slowly tilted his head.

The image alone was horrifying.

Yes, part of him had hoped Coulson could return and continue serving SHIELD.

But not like that.

Watching his own body decay while remaining fully conscious...

That kind of existence could drive even the kindest man into becoming a monster consumed by bitterness.

Evenson stood.

"So if you’re determined to bring Coulson back..."

"You’ll have to find another method."

"I’ll offer advice if you run into problems."

"But don’t expect me to perform the ritual myself."

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