Stephen appreciated a variety of thaumaturgical techniques, not just his own sorcery. Agatha Harkness's witchcraft was patently different, as was Brother Voodoo's houngan vodoun, but both were equally effected. Constantine's charms might be described as Low Magic, gutter magic by academic magicians, but Stephen was no fool; its appearance did not cloud his judgment to its effectiveness.
If the compass points due north, what matters its design? Indeed, Ancient One. Double apt in this case.
"Just so," he replied, eyeing where the charm directed. The sand was difficult to move in, like trudging across an impossibly deep beach. Surely the people here had designed some kind of footwear to stay on top of it, something like snowshoes. Strange directed the Cloak of Levitation to lift him a few inches off the ground (if ground were indeed the right term for it) and carry him forward. He floated to the high ground of a raised dune and looked out, shielding his eyes from the glaring sun.
"Looks like some kind of city. The technology outside of it...like floating hovercraft cruisers. I don't think we're on Earth."
Looking over his shoulder toward John, he asked, "Should I bring us outside or would you prefer to travel on foot for a more innocuous approach?"
If it was just himself, he would have teleported a few yards out of the city limits.