Sorcerer in the Marvel Universe

"All right. Time to open your meridians, shatter your spiritual channels, and pass on my life’s work."

Evenson’s hands moved rapidly across Danny’s back, tapping here and there with exaggerated solemnity. Anyone watching would have thought he’d just wandered out of some ancient mountain temple to pass his ultimate technique on to the chosen protagonist.

"Done!"

Evenson grabbed Danny by the head, pried his mouth open, and pushed him forward.

Johnny Blaze watched the unconscious boy getting closer and closer. A muscle twitched violently in his face.

In the end, he shut his eyes, puckered his lips, and resigned himself to the situation.

"Actually..."

At the last moment, Evenson changed his mind and pulled Danny back.

The man was nearly forty. If he had to kiss a young kid to complete the transfer, well, Johnny could probably survive the embarrassment.

But Danny was fourteen.

Fourteen.

The kid was a minor. If he ever found out what had happened, the psychological damage could be catastrophic.

Evenson was nothing if not committed to protecting the next generation.

So, rather than ruin the boy’s first kiss forever, he came up with another method.

"Johnny, lie down."

Johnny obediently stretched out on the floor and opened his mouth.

Evenson grabbed Danny by both ankles, lifted him upside down, and held the boy’s head over Johnny’s face.

Then he started swinging him up and down.

"That’s it!"

Evenson suddenly shouted.

He drove a knee into Danny’s stomach.

The unconscious boy’s body reacted instinctively.

His mouth flew open.

A torrent of hellfire erupted from his throat, tangled with blazing chains.

Johnny, who had been lying underneath with his mouth open, received the entire blast.

What the hell?

He swallowed.

Why does this fire taste like garlic and scrambled eggs?

The transfer was complete.

Evenson immediately handed Danny back to Nadya.

Johnny, meanwhile, staggered upright with black smoke pouring from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. He clutched his head with one hand while the other flailed wildly.

Apparently, he hadn’t exaggerated.

Becoming the Ghost Rider really did hurt like hell.

Then the flames around him exploded skyward.

The Ghost Rider had returned.

He stared blankly at his own hands before slowly looking around at the people surrounding him.

It was daytime.

The Ghost Rider rarely had any reason to emerge before sunset.

"Hrrrgh..."

A low growl rumbled from his skeletal throat.

His burning gaze swept across the room.

Most of the people caught under that gaze instinctively took a step backward.

Then the Ghost Rider stopped.

His head snapped toward the Ancient One.

"You..."

He stared directly at her.

The Ancient One didn’t flinch.

The Ghost Rider could sense something deeply dark within her. Something that proved she had embraced corruption.

She was certainly no innocent.

And yet...

He couldn’t condemn her.

Everything she had done seemed to carry no guilt at all. Whatever darkness dwelled within her, she had never wielded it with malicious intent.

The Ghost Rider slowly lowered the hand he’d pointed at her.

"You’re glaring light into my eyes!"

Naturally, this had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t see through her.

It was the bald head.

Obviously.

The Ancient One’s shiny scalp was reflecting his own flames directly back at him and messing with his vision.

And somehow, it kept reflecting.

Fortunately, the Ancient One was old and patient.

Otherwise, she might have demonstrated that a bald head could do more than reflect light.

It could also deliver a devastating critical hit.

"We’re wasting time."

Evenson walked over and grabbed Locke.

The old demon immediately struggled, waving his arms desperately.

Unfortunately, his strength had already been exhausted, and he hadn’t recovered yet. His mortal body had also lost an alarming amount of blood after both legs were severed. He was barely clinging to life.

His resistance was pathetic.

"Open the gates of Hell," Evenson ordered. "I’m sending him down."

The Ghost Rider glared at Evenson.

For a moment, it looked as though he might refuse.

Then he reluctantly nodded.

Sending demons back to Hell was, after all, one of his favorite occupations.

The Ghost Rider raised a hand.

A fiery chain suddenly streaked down from the sky, twisting and writhing through the air before dropping into his grasp.

It looked like an infernal version of a celestial ribbon.

He slowly swung the chain in his hand.

Flames scattered from it, sparks dancing through the air.

Then those scattered sparks began gathering together.

They condensed into a circular doorway.

Beyond it lay Hell.

Blackened earth stretched into the distance, crowded with countless souls twisting and writhing against one another. Rivers of molten rock occasionally erupted from below, splashing over them in waves of fire.

Evenson stared through the portal.

"No wonder nobody wants to go to Hell."

He wrinkled his nose.

"Not exactly a vacation destination."

Then he paused.

"Hm?"

His brow furrowed.

Something had caught his attention.

Deep within the distant landscape, in one obscure corner of Hell, a pillar of pitch-black light seemed to rise endlessly into the sky.

Evenson stared at it for several seconds.

"What’s wrong?"

Melinda noticed his sudden silence.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Nothing."

Evenson tilted his head.

"Probably just my imagination."

He tossed Locke through the portal.

The old demon vanished into Hell.

The gateway immediately closed.

"Aaah!"

The Ghost Rider suddenly threw both arms toward the sky and let out a thunderous cry.

Evenson stared at him.

What’s he doing now?

Does throwing a demon back into Hell get him this excited? Is he about to start singing?

The flames covering the Ghost Rider’s body gradually faded.

His skeletal form returned to flesh.

Johnny Blaze stood where the Ghost Rider had been.

Mostly.

His right hand was still skeletal, but the flames burning around it were no longer the crimson fire of Hell.

They were blue.

"I can feel it..."

Johnny’s expression was almost ecstatic.

"The angel Moru told me about."

The Ancient One, whose knowledge of supernatural history far exceeded that of everyone else present, slowly explained.

"According to legend, the original Ghost Rider was an angel created by God to protect humanity."

"But after coming to Earth, he witnessed humanity’s selfishness, greed, and ignorance."

"His anger consumed him."

"His desire to protect humanity gradually became an obsession with judging sinners."

"Eventually, Mephisto tempted him and dragged him into Hell."

The Ancient One smiled faintly.

"Yet, after a thousand years, he has finally found redemption."

Her gaze shifted toward Evenson.

"You knew this would happen, didn’t you?"

"That’s why you arranged for Johnny to make that sacrifice."

Evenson nodded solemnly.

"Yes."

I didn’t know a damn thing.

But his expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

"Self-sacrifice is a necessary step toward redemption. I’ve always emphasized that."

"I really have to thank you this time."

Johnny stepped in front of Evenson.

He knew better than anyone what had changed.

The flames no longer burned.

They were warm.

Comforting.

The power of the Rider was no longer a curse.

It was a blessing.

The Ghost Rider was gone.

What remained was a holy rider.

Unfortunately, Johnny’s newfound enlightenment lasted approximately three seconds before his ego returned.

"But I should warn you about something."

He grinned.

"I’m not the same person anymore."

Johnny lifted his blue-flaming hand.

"I don’t have to be afraid of you now."

"Hmph."

Evenson had been perfectly prepared to accept Johnny’s gratitude with the dignified bearing of a wise elder before giving him a few words of profound advice.

That plan lasted until Johnny’s final sentence.

His expression immediately turned cold.

Advice became a lesson.

Evenson grabbed Johnny’s blue-flaming hand.

Fel energy surged through his palm.

The blue, holy flames instantly turned green.

Evenson released him.

"Looks like it’s the same either way."

Cute.

You changed the color of your flames and suddenly think you’re invincible?

Even servants of the Titans can be corrupted by fel energy. You really think changing your skin makes you special?

"I wouldn’t be so optimistic if I were you."

Evenson withdrew his hand.

"Don’t forget how this angel became the Spirit of Vengeance in the first place."

"Humanity is gray. There is no such thing as a world of pure good."

"As time passes, you’ll continue to witness sin. You’ll continue to feel anger. Eventually, you’ll start wanting to judge those people."

His gaze hardened.

"And the Hellfire will begin to return."

Johnny’s smile disappeared.

"Once you’ve fallen before, falling a second time becomes much easier."

Johnny stared at the blue flames around his hand.

"I..."

His voice trembled.

"What am I supposed to do?"

He had finally escaped the curse.

He couldn’t bear the thought of becoming the same thing again.

Evenson folded his arms.

"I have an idea."

He gave Johnny a mysterious smile.

"Consider it payment for helping us today."

"Falling isn’t something that happens in an instant. It’s a process."

"And every process has warning signs."

"When you feel anger building inside you, when you develop that burning desire to punish sinners, you’ll know the Hellfire is beginning to return."

"At that point, pass it on."

Johnny blinked.

"Pass it on?"

"Just as you expelled the fel energy I forced into your body, transfer the returning Hellfire into someone else."

Evenson shrugged.

"Do that, and you can remain the Holy Spirit Rider."

Johnny hesitated.

"Wouldn’t that just curse someone else?"

He was clearly tempted by the idea, but the thought of deliberately inflicting the curse on another person bothered him.

"There are plenty of people in this world willing to do anything for revenge."

Evenson curled his lip.

"If you’re willing to give them the curse, they’ll fight each other to get it."

He pointed at Johnny.

"As for deciding who’s suitable..."

"Let the Rider judge them."

Johnny considered it.

Then he nodded.

If one person wanted to give the curse away and another willingly accepted it, what was there to feel guilty about?

Melinda, however, looked deeply troubled.

She was already beginning to think it might be time to draft an international treaty banning the spread of Ghost Rider curses.

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