Dreamily, with blood dripping and slowly drying on the polished finish of his armor, Iron Man followed Wanda through the hall a few steps behind with the suit working the body inside. Still, working their way up stairs was excruciating and Tony really didn't think he should have been doing any cardio with a heart held together with spit and glue. It was only Wanda's collapse that tugged him out of his half-lidded haze and he bent after her, hands hovering just over her shoulder and waist but not daring to touch her yet, flinching away anxiously at her tone and her. The blood was already flaking off like a crust of earth at every joint that he bent, leaving a fine dust where he stood when Iron Man finally lowered enough to scoop his arms around her and didn't bother to ask any questions, just repeated, "We're close." It was neutral, which was a step up from Wanda's anguish, when it should have been relieved. "It's not far," Iron Man tried instead, this time to insist she submit to the carriage in his arms despite the layer of dirt for the last leg of the climb.
There was light at the top of the stairs, which didn't feel as welcoming as it could have. The last time they had made their way to the light they just fell back down here, worse off than before. But there was no chanting, and nothing moved in this room-- and it was a room, properly to scale to fit inside the pyramid they may or may not have still been in. More intimate, then, than the Judgement, but lavish; here silks hung from the ceiling and wrapped around inviting cushions, low tables were hidden under exquisite abundance of food between columns painted with gold and bubbling fountains of clear water. And on the far side of the room, a bed, oh god, the most divine thing Tony had seen all day. What he thought must have been a day, anyway. It felt like a week, and it was going to get longer because he knew better than to trust anything he was seeing even though he wanted to, so deeply, without any overwhelming distaste for the consequence. It was all so cruelly beautiful. So what if he laid down and never got up again? So what.
So he never went home again, and he never said goodbye to Pepper, and he never saw Steve again. Steve wouldn't have even considered stopping. Tony took a deep breath, sharp pain in his chest, closed his eyes and said, "I hate magic."