chapter 28

Chapter 28: Sparks in the Dark

"Sometimes, you have to build your own miracle. And sometimes, it lands with wings."

The cave stank of heat and oil.

Smoke curled like exhausted breath from the brazier Tony Stark had rigged out of salvaged fuel drums. Sparks danced upward, vanishing into the shadows. The walls, chipped and sweat-stained, closed in like a tomb built by cheap concrete and bad karma. Every surface pulsed with heat, the metallic tang of iron mingling with soot and desperation.

He wiped a slick of grime from his brow with his sleeve, then tightened the bolt on the last joint of the suit's right leg. It clicked into place with a satisfying thunk.

"You're ugly," he told the armor, his voice rasping in the stifling air. "But if you punch through the front gate, I swear I'll kiss you on the mouth."

From across the workbench, Yinsen snorted.

"That's disturbing," he muttered without looking up, fingers still finessing wiring inside the power core housing.

Tony reached for his drink. It was water, warm and tasting faintly of rust, but it would do.

"Welcome to my coping mechanism," he said. "Sarcasm, engineering, and emotional detachment. We all need hobbies."

Yinsen rolled his eyes. "I was told you were a genius."

"And yet here we are," Tony said, gesturing around the damp stone prison. "Turns out genius isn't bulletproof. Who knew?"

The suit loomed between them like a steel demon. It had no grace, no elegance—just raw defiance hammered together by a man who refused to die quietly.

Tony stepped closer and knelt, checking the arc reactor. The miniature sun in his chest pulsed in response. Blue light flickered over his face, reflecting in the brass rivets and greasy bolts.

"We're ready," he murmured.

Yinsen hesitated. "Are you sure this will work?"

Tony didn't answer immediately. He stood, reached for the helmet, and stared into its blank eye slits.

"It has to," he said.

He turned to hand Yinsen a final wrench when the world changed.

There was no warning.

Just a sound—deep, guttural, and wrong. A thunderclap bent inward. The air trembled.

And then the light came.

A circle of violet fire exploded into being beneath the armor. Sand swirled upward like reverse rain. Symbols—ancient, alive—etched themselves into the rock. The ground beneath Tony glowed like a god's operating system.

He dropped the helmet with a clatter and instinctively stepped back, shielding his eyes.

"Oh no," he muttered.

Yinsen stared at the runes, stunned. "What… is this?"

"That," Tony said grimly, "is not physics. And I know exactly whose fault it is."

Wind whipped through the chamber. Sparks scattered from torches and spiraled inward toward the center of the glowing glyph.

The magic circle pulsed.

Then—

He stepped out.

Hair the color of moonlight kissed with frost. Silver-blue. Eyes like polished mirrors reflecting too many stars. Tall, slender, draped in black and violet. His long coat whipped in the summoned wind, and behind him—

Wings.

Not feathery, not angelic—these were sleek and sharp, gleaming like obsidian blades rimmed in blue flame. A dragon's wings, folded with the slow grace of something ancient and deeply unimpressed.

Velmir Elvaris had arrived.

Tony exhaled, half a laugh, half exasperation.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Wings? Really?"

Velmir tilted his head and offered a soft smile—just enough smugness to be punchable, just enough fondness to be real.

"I see you've been redecorating," Velmir said, stepping off the circle, boots echoing softly on stone. "Grim. Rust-chic."

Tony crossed his arms. "You hijacked my dramatic escape plan with a goddamn lightshow."

"You're welcome."

Yinsen looked between them, utterly baffled.

Tony gestured lazily. "Yinsen, meet Velmir Elvaris. Part-time dragon, full-time menace. Velmir, this is Yinsen. Heart of gold. No time for nonsense."

Velmir gave a shallow bow. "An honor."

Yinsen blinked. "You're… not human."

"Debatable," Velmir replied.

Tony sighed and picked up the helmet from the floor. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Malibu, sipping tea and micromanaging board meetings?"

"I traced your arc reactor's signal after SHIELD sat on their hands," Velmir said. "The second your vitals dipped last week, I tagged your rough location. When the chatter came through—hostile cell, Middle East, Stark kidnapped—I made a few calls."

"And cast a few spells," Tony muttered.

"Wouldn't have had to if you didn't build bombs for a living."

Tony froze.

Velmir's tone had barely shifted. No blame. Just a fact laid bare.

For a beat, the cave was quiet.

Tony looked away.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" he said finally, voice low. "They used my own tech against me."

"And you're about to make that right," Velmir said gently. "You built your first miracle in a box of hell. Now you're going to walk out wearing it."

Tony stared at the suit.

Then back at Velmir.

"You sure you didn't come to rescue me just to flex the wings?"

"Fifty-fifty."

A slow grin spread across Tony's face. That spark returned—the reckless one, the one Velmir remembered from their first meeting.

"You came all this way," Tony said, tightening the helmet under his arm. "You want to ride shotgun, dragon boy?"

Velmir arched an eyebrow. "That depends. Does the suit come with seat warmers?"

"It comes with flamethrowers."

"Even better."

Yinsen cleared his throat.

"We need to move," he said. "Guards will hear the glyph. Whatever that was."

Tony slid on the helmet. The HUD flickered to life. Systems online.

He looked to Velmir, who had begun weaving a shield rune into his palm, glowing like violet glass.

"You ready to punch our way out?" Tony asked.

Velmir gave a small smirk. "Let's give them something they'll never believe."

Together, they turned toward the door.

Iron, magic, and vengeance walking side by side.

And somewhere beyond the cave walls, destiny waited.

Waiting for sparks to become fire.

✅ End of

Chapter 28: Sparks in the Dark

"Sometimes, you have to build your own miracle. And sometimes, it lands with wings."

The cave stank of heat and oil.

Smoke curled like exhausted breath from the brazier Tony Stark had rigged out of salvaged fuel drums. Sparks danced upward, vanishing into the shadows. The walls, chipped and sweat-stained, closed in like a tomb built by cheap concrete and bad karma. Every surface pulsed with heat, the metallic tang of iron mingling with soot and desperation.

He wiped a slick of grime from his brow with his sleeve, then tightened the bolt on the last joint of the suit's right leg. It clicked into place with a satisfying thunk.

"You're ugly," he told the armor, his voice rasping in the stifling air. "But if you punch through the front gate, I swear I'll kiss you on the mouth."

From across the workbench, Yinsen snorted.

"That's disturbing," he muttered without looking up, fingers still finessing wiring inside the power core housing.

Tony reached for his drink. It was water, warm and tasting faintly of rust, but it would do.

"Welcome to my coping mechanism," he said. "Sarcasm, engineering, and emotional detachment. We all need hobbies."

Yinsen rolled his eyes. "I was told you were a genius."

"And yet here we are," Tony said, gesturing around the damp stone prison. "Turns out genius isn't bulletproof. Who knew?"

The suit loomed between them like a steel demon. It had no grace, no elegance—just raw defiance hammered together by a man who refused to die quietly.

Tony stepped closer and knelt, checking the arc reactor. The miniature sun in his chest pulsed in response. Blue light flickered over his face, reflecting in the brass rivets and greasy bolts.

"We're ready," he murmured.

Yinsen hesitated. "Are you sure this will work?"

Tony didn't answer immediately. He stood, reached for the helmet, and stared into its blank eye slits.

"It has to," he said.

He turned to hand Yinsen a final wrench when the world changed.

There was no warning.

Just a sound—deep, guttural, and wrong. A thunderclap bent inward. The air trembled.

And then the light came.

A circle of violet fire exploded into being beneath the armor. Sand swirled upward like reverse rain. Symbols—ancient, alive—etched themselves into the rock. The ground beneath Tony glowed like a god's operating system.

He dropped the helmet with a clatter and instinctively stepped back, shielding his eyes.

"Oh no," he muttered.

Yinsen stared at the runes, stunned. "What… is this?"

"That," Tony said grimly, "is not physics. And I know exactly whose fault it is."

Wind whipped through the chamber. Sparks scattered from torches and spiraled inward toward the center of the glowing glyph.

The magic circle pulsed.

Then—

He stepped out.

Hair the color of moonlight kissed with frost. Silver-blue. Eyes like polished mirrors reflecting too many stars. Tall, slender, draped in black and violet. His long coat whipped in the summoned wind, and behind him—

Wings.

Not feathery, not angelic—these were sleek and sharp, gleaming like obsidian blades rimmed in blue flame. A dragon's wings, folded with the slow grace of something ancient and deeply unimpressed.

Velmir Elvaris had arrived.

Tony exhaled, half a laugh, half exasperation.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Wings? Really?"

Velmir tilted his head and offered a soft smile—just enough smugness to be punchable, just enough fondness to be real.

"I see you've been redecorating," Velmir said, stepping off the circle, boots echoing softly on stone. "Grim. Rust-chic."

Tony crossed his arms. "You hijacked my dramatic escape plan with a goddamn lightshow."

"You're welcome."

Yinsen looked between them, utterly baffled.

Tony gestured lazily. "Yinsen, meet Velmir Elvaris. Part-time dragon, full-time menace. Velmir, this is Yinsen. Heart of gold. No time for nonsense."

Velmir gave a shallow bow. "An honor."

Yinsen blinked. "You're… not human."

"Debatable," Velmir replied.

Tony sighed and picked up the helmet from the floor. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Malibu, sipping tea and micromanaging board meetings?"

"I traced your arc reactor's signal after SHIELD sat on their hands," Velmir said. "The second your vitals dipped last week, I tagged your rough location. When the chatter came through—hostile cell, Middle East, Stark kidnapped—I made a few calls."

"And cast a few spells," Tony muttered.

"Wouldn't have had to if you didn't build bombs for a living."

Tony froze.

Velmir's tone had barely shifted. No blame. Just a fact laid bare.

For a beat, the cave was quiet.

Tony looked away.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" he said finally, voice low. "They used my own tech against me."

"And you're about to make that right," Velmir said gently. "You built your first miracle in a box of hell. Now you're going to walk out wearing it."

Tony stared at the suit.

Then back at Velmir.

"You sure you didn't come to rescue me just to flex the wings?"

"Fifty-fifty."

A slow grin spread across Tony's face. That spark returned—the reckless one, the one Velmir remembered from their first meeting.

"You came all this way," Tony said, tightening the helmet under his arm. "You want to ride shotgun, dragon boy?"

Velmir arched an eyebrow. "That depends. Does the suit come with seat warmers?"

"It comes with flamethrowers."

"Even better."

Yinsen cleared his throat.

"We need to move," he said. "Guards will hear the glyph. Whatever that was."

Tony slid on the helmet. The HUD flickered to life. Systems online.

He looked to Velmir, who had begun weaving a shield rune into his palm, glowing like violet glass.

"You ready to punch our way out?" Tony asked.

Velmir gave a small smirk. "Let's give them something they'll never believe."

Together, they turned toward the door.

Iron, magic, and vengeance walking side by side.

And somewhere beyond the cave walls, destiny waited.

Waiting for sparks to become fire.

✅ End of Chapter 28: Sparks in the Dark

Chapter 28: Sparks in the Dark

"Sometimes, you have to build your own miracle. And sometimes, it lands with wings."

The cave stank of heat and oil.

Smoke curled like exhausted breath from the brazier Tony Stark had rigged out of salvaged fuel drums. Sparks danced upward, vanishing into the shadows. The walls, chipped and sweat-stained, closed in like a tomb built by cheap concrete and bad karma. Every surface pulsed with heat, the metallic tang of iron mingling with soot and desperation.

He wiped a slick of grime from his brow with his sleeve, then tightened the bolt on the last joint of the suit's right leg. It clicked into place with a satisfying thunk.

"You're ugly," he told the armor, his voice rasping in the stifling air. "But if you punch through the front gate, I swear I'll kiss you on the mouth."

From across the workbench, Yinsen snorted.

"That's disturbing," he muttered without looking up, fingers still finessing wiring inside the power core housing.

Tony reached for his drink. It was water, warm and tasting faintly of rust, but it would do.

"Welcome to my coping mechanism," he said. "Sarcasm, engineering, and emotional detachment. We all need hobbies."

Yinsen rolled his eyes. "I was told you were a genius."

"And yet here we are," Tony said, gesturing around the damp stone prison. "Turns out genius isn't bulletproof. Who knew?"

The suit loomed between them like a steel demon. It had no grace, no elegance—just raw defiance hammered together by a man who refused to die quietly.

Tony stepped closer and knelt, checking the arc reactor. The miniature sun in his chest pulsed in response. Blue light flickered over his face, reflecting in the brass rivets and greasy bolts.

"We're ready," he murmured.

Yinsen hesitated. "Are you sure this will work?"

Tony didn't answer immediately. He stood, reached for the helmet, and stared into its blank eye slits.

"It has to," he said.

He turned to hand Yinsen a final wrench when the world changed.

There was no warning.

Just a sound—deep, guttural, and wrong. A thunderclap bent inward. The air trembled.

And then the light came.

A circle of violet fire exploded into being beneath the armor. Sand swirled upward like reverse rain. Symbols—ancient, alive—etched themselves into the rock. The ground beneath Tony glowed like a god's operating system.

He dropped the helmet with a clatter and instinctively stepped back, shielding his eyes.

"Oh no," he muttered.

Yinsen stared at the runes, stunned. "What… is this?"

"That," Tony said grimly, "is not physics. And I know exactly whose fault it is."

Wind whipped through the chamber. Sparks scattered from torches and spiraled inward toward the center of the glowing glyph.

The magic circle pulsed.

Then—

He stepped out.

Hair the color of moonlight kissed with frost. Silver-blue. Eyes like polished mirrors reflecting too many stars. Tall, slender, draped in black and violet. His long coat whipped in the summoned wind, and behind him—

Wings.

Not feathery, not angelic—these were sleek and sharp, gleaming like obsidian blades rimmed in blue flame. A dragon's wings, folded with the slow grace of something ancient and deeply unimpressed.

Velmir Elvaris had arrived.

Tony exhaled, half a laugh, half exasperation.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Wings? Really?"

Velmir tilted his head and offered a soft smile—just enough smugness to be punchable, just enough fondness to be real.

"I see you've been redecorating," Velmir said, stepping off the circle, boots echoing softly on stone. "Grim. Rust-chic."

Tony crossed his arms. "You hijacked my dramatic escape plan with a goddamn lightshow."

"You're welcome."

Yinsen looked between them, utterly baffled.

Tony gestured lazily. "Yinsen, meet Velmir Elvaris. Part-time dragon, full-time menace. Velmir, this is Yinsen. Heart of gold. No time for nonsense."

Velmir gave a shallow bow. "An honor."

Yinsen blinked. "You're… not human."

"Debatable," Velmir replied.

Tony sighed and picked up the helmet from the floor. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Malibu, sipping tea and micromanaging board meetings?"

"I traced your arc reactor's signal after SHIELD sat on their hands," Velmir said. "The second your vitals dipped last week, I tagged your rough location. When the chatter came through—hostile cell, Middle East, Stark kidnapped—I made a few calls."

"And cast a few spells," Tony muttered.

"Wouldn't have had to if you didn't build bombs for a living."

Tony froze.

Velmir's tone had barely shifted. No blame. Just a fact laid bare.

For a beat, the cave was quiet.

Tony looked away.

"That's what this is about, isn't it?" he said finally, voice low. "They used my own tech against me."

"And you're about to make that right," Velmir said gently. "You built your first miracle in a box of hell. Now you're going to walk out wearing it."

Tony stared at the suit.

Then back at Velmir.

"You sure you didn't come to rescue me just to flex the wings?"

"Fifty-fifty."

A slow grin spread across Tony's face. That spark returned—the reckless one, the one Velmir remembered from their first meeting.

"You came all this way," Tony said, tightening the helmet under his arm. "You want to ride shotgun, dragon boy?"

Velmir arched an eyebrow. "That depends. Does the suit come with seat warmers?"

"It comes with flamethrowers."

"Even better."

Yinsen cleared his throat.

"We need to move," he said. "Guards will hear the glyph. Whatever that was."

Tony slid on the helmet. The HUD flickered to life. Systems online.

He looked to Velmir, who had begun weaving a shield rune into his palm, glowing like violet glass.

"You ready to punch our way out?" Tony asked.

Velmir gave a small smirk. "Let's give them something they'll never believe."

Together, they turned toward the door.

Iron, magic, and vengeance walking side by side.

And somewhere beyond the cave walls, destiny waited.

Waiting for sparks to become fire.

✅ End of Chapter 28: Sparks in the Dark