Sorcerer Supreme might have been one of the few titles to matter in Strange's world. It came as a result of a specific compact with the Vishanti, which, for Strange, came up with a host of benefits. Responsibilities, too ("with great power..." he could hear Peter's voice in his head), but specifically the ability to appropriate power from three cosmic entities. Good times.
"Interesting." The way he said it, maybe not so much. A blast of hot wind hit him in the face and sand whipped up all around him. "Not at all what I imagined, but, I suppose that's part of the point."
Before he proceeded any further, something had to be done about the heat. It wasn't like anything he had experienced on Earth, and Stephen had lived through New York City summers for decades. No, this dry heat was a different kind of hell. He stretched out his hands in front of him and drew runes for water, air, and earth. West, East, and North respectively. The South quadrant of the circle remained blank, creating an inverted crescent. Pressing his hands into the glowing sigil, Stephen rapidly rotated it so that the crescent curved downward and South pointed up.
"Powers of water, wind, and earth, change the fire back to its birth. Raise this spell to shield the flame from the power that I have tamed. By the Fires of Faltine!"
The sigil shattered with the spell's completion, and already Strange could start to feel the heat around him being siphoned off by the invocation of the Faltine. Not his favorite to use, but if you were looking to transmogrify one type of energy into another, it did the trick.
"Come now, Constantine. Where did that sense of adventure go? Do you see anything? A settlement? All I see is sand. Maybe we should head for the top of that dune for a better vantage point?"