#thera.writes

The smell of paper.

Aleksander walked through the rows of bookshelves, his eyes skimming the spines of the books, searching for the one he wanted. He continued down the row, almost reaching the end, when he stops and his eyes settle on the sight of you, reading on a small couch tucked into a dark corner of the room.

What impeccable timing he had, he thinks as his thoughts shift from the book he was looking for to the woman who’s been plaguing his thoughts as of late. Just in time to get answers to his questions.

After being in Ryevost for a week, his presence was required in Kribirsk, overseeing the status of the troops there. But no night passed when he wasn’t thinking about you, in particular. Aleksander’s eyes zoom in on the book you were reading.

History of Ravka. How unexpected. His gardener was such an avid reader.

A strange feeling stirred within him the longer he stared at you. He’s seen you before, he just doesn’t know where. He glances around the room, checking if anyone else is around to see the two of you. When he’s certain that no one is there to witness, he slowly moves closer to you, coming to stand a few feet away from the couch.

You noticed eyes studying from near the shelves even without looking. But ever since you became employed in the Little Palace, you had grown accustomed to a certain Shadow Summoner’s presence. Slowly, you turn your head to the right side of the sofas to see him.

“Moi soverenyi.” You bow your head as you stand.

“Hello, Wanda," he greets, his voice low and almost teasing. Funnily enough, he finds his gardener not in the garden, but the library this time.

"I find myself surprised. I thought you prefer being in the garden." His tone was light and nearly sarcastic. Was he in a good mood today?

“It’s a Friday, sir. My day off." You smiled a little.

"So it is,” Kirigan muttered, his gaze going back to studying your features, his eyes roaming over your face once again. Now, to the important topic. "Wanda—you and the children… Henrik, Dmitri, and Katyusha…”

You perked up at their names. “Yes, sir?”

“Where are you from again?”

You nearly, very nearly answered Sokovia. Thankfully, you did not. But something in you grew agitated as the Darkling stepped closer, awaiting your response.

“We came from a small town near Tsibeya. Korsov. Barely even in the maps,” you reply smoothly, fingers grazing the rough pages of the history tome you were devouring earlier. "Not exactly the nicest place to live in."

“Ah… Korsov. Indeed, quite a small town near Tsibeya, hm?” General Kirigan hummed, his eyes flitting to your hand. “But Tsibeya is so dangerously close to the Fjerdan border, don’t you agree?”

At his words, you start to have a bad feeling. He appeared to be implying something. “... Yes, it is, moi soverenyi,” you agree.

“And you did not encounter one single drüskelle in the many days you trekked from here to the Little Palace?” The Black General finally drops what he’s been intending to ask for a month now, his endlessly dark gaze piercing through your soul.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. If you thought he was onto you before, this was the confirmation.

Before you could respond, he continued, slowly circling you. Like how predators did to their prey. “Drüskelle are very unjust in their ways of imprisoning and killing Grisha, did you know that?” He added, a faint smirk on his face.

The smug bastard knew he caught you in his trap.

“Fortunately enough, sir, we encountered no drüskelle on our journey.” Your voice was cool and calculated as you watched him stop circling you. Kirigan raised a brow.

“Aside from drüskelle, Tsibeya is also notorious for its bandits, thieves, traffickers in its vast forest. There are many threats—excluding the temperatures and animals,” he pointed out, sounding amused. “Are you sure? When almost always, my soldiers would encounter one or more of these during their assignments there?”

Shit.

You retained your composure as you answered, “None, General. I’m forever grateful to the Saints above that we were blessed with smooth travels that time.”

“The Saints?” The Darkling mused, flipping a page on the book you were reading. The next page revealed an illustration of the Unsea. There was a glimmer in his eye as he looked at it. “That’s quite strange, Miss Maximoff.”

“Sir…?”

“Because I seem to vividly recall young Dmitri gushing over how you singlehandedly took down a drüskelle in your journey. Henrik also spoke of how you bribed two Grisha slavers to be on their way.” He turned back to you expectantly. "But you'd made them close their eyes."

No use hiding now.

A spike of cold ran down your spine. You weren’t sure if the children sold you out or not—it was unlikely since the General had Heartrenders for torture and interrogation and also, they were innocent kids! Children who either feared or idolized the Darkling. Probably both. You could not blame two boys and a little girl if they talked.

Either way, the man in front of you knew about what happened in your journey to the Little Palace. More or less.

You were just getting more and more interesting, weren’t you?

Aleksander sees your demeanor shift into something icier. Guarded. Quite different from the quiet gardener who diligently tended to her plants or the affectionate adopted mother who gives out sweets to her children. Different from the woman who smiled at him while wittily matching his banter.

It was the look of someone who most definitely was dangerous.

“Are you going to keep your general waiting?" Kirigan drawled.

And to think this had been the man you shared your grief to just over a month ago.

“What matters is that the children are here in your palace. Safe and sound and with their people, sir,” you countered, standing your ground fearlessly.

The Black General had absolutely no idea who he was messing with right now.

“I do not tolerate lies, Miss Maximoff,” he spoke slowly—ominously, his features hardening. You watch as the flames in the lamps nearby flicker and vanish completely as shadows engulf the space around you.

Much to his surprise, you didn’t so much as react at the sight.

“I doubt drüskelle or anybody else with ill intentions would just let 3 little children and a young woman escape without any trouble,” Kirigan challenged, stepping closer until he was merely an arm’s length away from you. “So, how did a helpless otkazat’sya gardener with no combat experience like you do it, hm?”

“...”

He scoffs. “Are you truly going to make me drag it out of you, Wanda?”

Menacingly, you tilt your head at him as you dauntlessly meet his gaze above you. 

The Black General suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, something that rarely occurred in his immortal life.

Who were you, really?

You open your mouth to speak when—

CREAK!

The heavy wooden library doors loudly open, his most trusted right-hand man walking in. The shadows around you quickly vanish and the lamps flicker back on. A little irritated, he turns around.

“... What is it, Ivan?” He kept his voice reserved, hiding his displeasure at the interruption. He had been so close. So damn close.

“General, the Durasts have completed the new sandskiff prototype at Kribirsk. It is ready to be launched as soon as possible,” Ivan reports, his gaze momentarily shifting to you before returning to Kirigan. “Will you be accompanying us there once more, sir?

You await his response, but you can’t help but let the tiniest hint of a smile appear on your lips. Saved by the bell. His eyes flickered down, brow slightly twitching. He sends you a glare which clearly meant that your conversation was not at all over.

Your seemingly innocent smile grows wider as you bowed. “Moi soverenyi.”

Who was so smug now?

Holding back a snarl, he swivels on his feet, fists clenched. “Come,” he sharply ordered his Heartrender, quickly leaving the library.

You pick up the book you had previously been reading, examining the illustration of the Fold on the page. When you turned to the next page, there was a drawing of a heavily cloaked figure surrounded by shadows.

The Black Heretic.

You had only seen one other likeness of the man—at an almost abandoned wishing fountain not too far from the Little Palace. An engraving depicting the reign of King Anastas, the creation of the Fold, and the prophesied Sun Summoner to solve their problem.

As you reach out—fingers tracing the drawing of the Black Heretic curiously—the memory of your silhouette in the Book of the Damned suddenly coursed through your mind, Agatha’s voice echoed in your ears.

“You’re supposed to be a myth! A being capable of spontaneous creation!”

“This is Chaos Magic, Wanda. And that makes you… the Scarlet Witch.”

“Harbinger of Chaos!”

The sculpture of you in the now-destroyed Darkhold Castle flashed before your eyes.

“The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven, no need for incantation.”

“Your power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It is your destiny to destroy the world.”

Quickly retracting your hand from the Black Heretic’s drawing, a deep frown marred your face. What was that just now? You return the history book to the shelf, disturbed.

What was crucial was that General Kirigan did not successfully interrogate you. Yet. Never, you pray. Hopefully, he’ll be off for a long time in Kribirsk for a very important Second Army job or whatever Ravkan military business he needed to do.

You could hide. Yeah, that would be the best option.

ᱬᗢᱬ

For once, it seems like the heavens did heed your wishes. Because apparently, they had found the infamous Sun Summoner during their last trip to Kribirsk. Not without casualties, though. There was reportedly a drüskelle attack on their way back home aside from the volcra that had attacked the passengers of the sandskiff.

From the gardens of the Little Palace, you briefly catch sight of General Kirigan on his black stallion, a woman riding on the saddle in front of him. As the Shadow Summoner helps his newfound Sun Summoner down the horse, ushering her into a secluded entrance in the palace, he stopped in his tracks, looking behind him with narrowed eyes.

Aleksander swore he felt someone watching them. 

But there was nobody except the oprichniki guarding the way in. 

Without another thought, he followed the Sun Summoner inside. Fortunately, the new presence of the Sun Summoner—Alina Starkov—takes up the majority of his time for the coming days, especially after she was successfully presented to the Lantsov monarchs in the Grand Palace.

She will change the world, General Kirigan reportedly announced to everyone present. And the Fold can be destroyed with enough training. Somehow, it made you pity the poor girl thrown into this prophecy.

A great myth turned out to be a girl who was still finding her way in the world. How familiar.

Speaking of the Grand Palace, the head servant handed you a letter of some sort. A job offer. It seemed like Queen Tatiana was quite enamored with the new, blooming flower beds in the Little Palace. The ones which you’d mainly worked hard on earlier this year, aside from the fruits, vegetables, and herbs you helped grow.

As you walk through the paths of the garden, reading and debating over the contents of the royal letter, someone nearly hurls past you, making you drop the letter.

“... Miss Alina Starkov,” you acknowledged with a bow of my head as you gratefully accept the letter. “It should be me who’s apologizing. I was reading while walking.” You smiled warmly at the younger woman.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going!” A girl’s voice cries out as she picks up the paper from the ground. The only thing you could see was her blue, Etherealki kefta until she hands it to you.

Oh.

“Please, you… really don’t need to bow… ma’am…” she trails off anxiously, averting her gaze. She seemed to also be cradling her sore arm. Ah. You’ve never met the old woman, but you heard from Henrik and Dmitri that Baghra was notoriously strict and kind of scary whenever Grisha trained under her.

For a moment, you wondered why it was not General Kirigan who was training Alina.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, Miss Starkov, I’ll stop.”

“T-Thank you.” She stared at the bed of moonflowers nearby. “It’s beautiful here. I haven’t been to this part of the palace before. All the flowers… the vegetables... the colors and the scents… it seems so unreal."

You chuckled. “It’s all very much real, thanks.”

“Oh! You're the palace gardener,” she realized. “The flowers are gorgeous! You must have magical hands, ma'am.”

Funny. The General said the exact same thing just months ago.

“Just one of the few gardeners here, Miss Starkov. I’m assigned to the very tedious sections to maintain, but I'm glad you’re pleased. Perhaps one day, you can help me give the plants more sunlight with your powers during the winter,” you lightly suggested. At your words, she grows hesitant—her voice full of doubts.

“That is, if I can,” she mumbled, making you give her a sympathetic look. A young girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. She reminded you of yourself when you were young—long, long ago.

ᱬᗢᱬ

Aleksander is laser-focused on Alina for a long while, working to gain her trust and persuade her to join his cause—to use her powers for Ravka. All the while, he barely has time to think about the other matters, including his unfinished conversation with you. Plus, every time he managed to get a glimpse of you, you just seemed to get away and escape.

His frustration slowly builds. He can’t help but wonder what was going through your mind—you truly were hiding something from him. And despite his busy schedule with the Sun Summoner, the General can’t shake the feeling that the conversation you both left unfinished is important. He quietly resolves to talk to you to clear things up as it was nagging the hell out of him.

It was an unwelcome distraction from his goals with Alina. Alina was supposed to be the priority now.

Unfortunately for him, for some reason, you were incredibly good at evading his presence. The situation becomes more and more of a challenge. He almost orders Ivan to retrieve you himself and throw you into his office (or the underground cells) for interrogation. Almost. But he was not that desperate. Yet.

ᱬᗢᱬ

“Is she here?” Aleksander asks two of the oprichniki, who were standing guard over Alina at the entrance of the private palace gardens. They nod as he hops off his horse.

“Good. Keep an eye on her wherever she goes,” he ordered before walking deeper into the gardens. Then, he pauses, a delighted look on his ageless features.

Look what we have here… he thinks as he finds you and Alina interacting. 

Aleksander stands back for a moment, hiding within the shadows, watching the two of you talk and smiling together. He overhears part of your discussion, and a part of him is taken aback by the genuine care and reassurance you offer to the young Sun Summoner.

It seems like your kindness did not only extend to the three Grisha children you’d somehow brought into his palace.

“I don’t believe that it's power that's your problem, Miss Starkov,” he hears you welcomingly tell Alina as she walks beside you. “It must be knowledge. Knowledge can be gained, in time.”

“You really think so, Wanda?”

One dark brow of his elevates. Hmm, first name basis already with one another? How quaint.

You smiled at her. “I'm certain you will be a wonderful Sun Summoner. And, although I’m no Grisha like you, you are in good hands. With Baghra and… the General, too…” you trailed off.

Aleksander’s eyes widen slightly at your words to Alina. He's a bit surprised by your confidence in his teachings, but he’s even more pleased to hear it.

"Indeed, the knowledge and guidance I can provide will help you, Miss Starkov."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

The corners of his lips curved into a slight smile as he approached. Alina gasps in surprise, while you instantly freeze as your head almost snaps to the sound of the voice behind you. Kirigan’s gaze flicks back to Alina for a moment as she clears her throat, before looking back at you. He tilts his head slightly, studying your expression.

Alina looks back and forth between you and General Kirigan, clearing her throat as she senses some tension between you and the man who’d appeared out of nowhere.

Returning to your senses, you bow as he walks closer to you two. “General Kirigan.” Slowly, you back away from them. “My apologies, sir. You and Miss Starkov must have important matters to discuss. Excuse me—

"No, you stay.” 

The Black General raises a gloved hand, immediately stopping you from leaving. When he speaks, there is a firm command to his tone. You halt.

You briefly wondered what chaos would ensue if you simply just used your magic now to vanish into thin air.

"You may go, Alina.” He said to the Sun Summoner before turning to you. “I’d like to have a word with you about the… flowers, Miss Maximoff.” The younger girl nods slowly, eyes flitting between both of you briefly, before leaving—the oprichniki following her.

Aleksander waits until Alina leaves, before returning his full attention to you. The look in his eyes is intense and serious. He’s been trying to catch you for quite a while now, and he’s not letting you leave that easily.

“Moi soverenyi.” Your voice was… just civil. Polite. Not as cordial and friendly as when he last met you. Or whenever you would have nice chats in the garden.

He takes another step towards you, and in the fading light of the garden, he seems imposing with his height and black kefta. "You’ve been avoiding me, little gardener,” he grunts lowly. Your brow twitched slightly at his words.

“You wished to speak about the blooming flower beds, sir?” you asked in a faux clueless tone, fully aware that it was not what this conversation was about.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Wanda,” he warns. “Such an elusive mouse you are… hiding around in my palace.”

“I was not avoiding you, sir,” you placidly justified yourself, not at all scared to look him straight in the eye. “You appeared to be quite preoccupied with the Sun Summoner's arrival.”

"—It's hard to fool me, Miss Maximoff.” His voice was silky, mocking you gently. "But weeks and weeks of evasion from me was quite impressive, I’ll have to admit. Makes me wonder why you’re so adept at it."

“...”

The Shadow Summoner can’t help but feel a sort of satisfaction at your silence, as if he’s won an unspoken game. He watches you for a moment before he speaks again, his voice smooth.

"Tell me," he mutters. "Did you really think I’d forget about that unfinished conversation we had in the library?"

You blink almost innocently. “Everything’s just been so hectic with Miss Starkov’s arrival, sir,” you say, hands clasped behind your back. “I can’t quite recall. My sincerest apologies.”

The man scoffed at your feigned ignorance.

“You may forget, but I never forget, little mouse.” Those abysmal eyes locked on yours. He reaches out and takes a stray lock of your hair, running it between his fingers slowly. You stiffened—the leather of his horse riding gloves almost touching your face.

“I normally dislike repeating myself, but I’ll spare you some kindness, so let me rephrase.” Kirigan retracts his hand, leaning over you. "You took down a drüskelle and escaped Grisha traffickers. How?"

“Again, does it matter how? The children are safe in the Little Palace.” Your same response in the library weeks ago. The Black General is not satisfied with your vague answer and his hand moves from to your chin, tilting it up slightly so you’re looking directly at him.

"I want to know." There was a not so subtle hint of force in his calm tone. Despite being so close to you that he could count your eyelashes, his gaze is intense and unyielding, trying to dig beneath your surface.

“... Fine. With my hands,” you hissed out. That wasn’t a lie… exactly. You used your hands to add some energy as you punched the drüskelle, which knocked the holy soldier unconscious before the children could see anything.

The General’s expression remains serious as he listens to your brief response.

"For the drüskelle… hmm... and the Grisha slavers? What did you do?” he murmured, pushing you for a more detailed reply.

“I bribed them,” you say. Just like what the kids believed; you gave them gold and silver. If mind manipulation counted as bribing.

The Black General was in disbelief. He seems annoyed by your refusal to share any details, and his fingers close around your chin more, holding it in place so you can’t look away from his intense gaze.

“Liar.” He was nearly eye-to-eye with you as he leaned down. "Do you truly expect me to believe that you escaped the attacks of drüskelle and Grisha dealers with just your hands and a bribe?" he asks, fully skeptical of your claim and demanding a better answer from you.

“And if that is what happened?”

“Then you must be Grisha. Or an assassin, maybe, if you used your… hands to defend yourself and survived those trained, armed fighters,” he sneers. “You keep lying to me, little mouse. It makes me have second thoughts. You say you’re not Grisha. When were you tested?”

You stare at him passively, unanswering as your jaw clenched.

“Well?” he asked, waiting expectantly.

Before he could react, you grabbed your soil knife from the satchel you carried around to work in the garden.

And consequently slice your palm open.

“!?”

Kirigan’s eyes widened, completely dumbfounded at what you’d just done. You stare at your bleeding palm, rivulets of crimson dripping down your wrist and forearm, droplets pitter-pattering the pavers.

Then, you raise your palm to face him. 

“Not. Grisha.” That’s all you whisper, hauntingly unfazed. It was true. No sunlight. No shadow. No elements or whatever manifestations of the Small Science at all.

“...”

Much to your shock, he closes the space between you and retrieves a black handkerchief from within the inner pockets of his kefta, taking your bloodied hand and applying pressure on the lacerated flesh with a surprising gentleness.

“I will fetch a Healer—”

“No,” you stubbornly refused, making his brows furrow.

“... No?” he echoed.

You withdraw your hand from his leather-clad one, pressing the cloth yourself. Your tone was frigid, just as it had become ever since he began questioning you. “It’s just a cut. I’m sure your Healers have more important soldiers to attend to,” you snapped, stepping farther away from the General.

Silence engulfs both of you as the afternoon light morphed into the evening.

“... I have a theory,” he says suddenly. His brows are still furrowed slightly, deep in contemplation as he gazes at your injured hand. "You’re not a Grisha. You’ve proven this yourself. But... what if you have powers, nonetheless? Or abilities? Skills?"

He studies you carefully, looking for any reaction to his theory. But you carefully school your face into neutrality.

“Otkazat'sya can't have powers.”

"You’re not telling me the whole truth again," he muttered, the hint of a smile on his lips. "I can sense when you're lying, little mouse."

Kirigan quirked a brow, not buying your reaction. "True," he conceded. "But perhaps... not all otkazat'sya are as powerless as they seem."

He knows you too well, by now. All those visits in the garden, those talks with you...

The Darkling steps closer, eyes never leaving yours. "After all, you have managed to slip past my notice for weeks. Even when I actively sought you out."

"..."

It makes you want to punch his pretty face.

He knows he’s caught you in another lie—and he’s enjoying watching you try to deny it despite your failed attempts.

"Admit it. You’re not an ordinary otkazat’sya, are you?”

“But I am," you insisted.

“No ordinary otkazat’sya would slice their hand that deep without so much as wincing,” he opposed. “If you were any other person, I’d throw you to my Heartenders for questioning. Maybe you are an assassin, if not Grisha.”

“And why haven’t you, General?”

“Because, my little gardener, you could always tell me the truth,” he says, his tone slightly mocking again. It’s clear that he can sense your internal struggle and is simply waiting for you to crack. “This bothersome cat and mouse game of yours will soon be over.”

“And even if there is something special with me, will you use me the same as you're using Miss Starkov, General?” You look up at him in challenge. This time, it was you who strode closer to him.

The smirk on his face is replaced by a glower.

He grunts, insulted. "What makes you think I’m using Miss Starkov?"

“She is young. Barely past nineteen. Innocent. Easily manipulated. And you are a much more powerful older man. The complete opposite, moi soverenyi.”

The title escapes your lips with suspicion.

"Love?" the Darkling scoffed, unamused and slightly insulted your insinuation that he’s taking advantage of a young and inexperienced Grisha girl. "I have no time for such frivolous emotions. I serve Ravka and my Grisha, my duty alone."

Then, you huffed in disbelief. “Unless... those looks and interactions you give her are true love, feelings that have blossomed from you two being so alike. Two sides of the same coin. Light and dark. Sun and shadow.” You tilt your head at him, pressing the handkerchief tighter against your palm. The cut still bled and soaked the fabric.

Black as it was, it almost seemed scarlet now.

“I’m not blind, General Kirigan.”

But were your words false? Or was he hurt because it was true?

"What you call manipulation, I call training. Helping to shape and control a powerful Grisha. To make her a Saint, a savior of Ravka. And Alina...” he murmured, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder—a warning. “Alina is special. She is all that matters now. She is the future. She is the one.”

"..."

The General quirks a brow at your noncommittal response. "No arguments? No retorts?"

“You will hurt her if you do not stop,” you advised him.

He lets out a low, mocking scoff. "Since when do you care about her heart? You just met her."

“General, she is good. Pure. Bright and determined, but so young, unsure of her place in the world—”

“I do not wish to speak of Alina right now.” He returns to the previous topic, the shadows growing ever more prominent as the sun sets. “The matter at hand is you. But you haven’t been cooperating with me and don’t seem to plan on doing so.”

He removes his hand from your shoulder, dusting off imaginary dirt from his kefta.

"Hence, I shall ask the children myself. Surely, even if their eyes were covered, one of them took a peek. I will have Ivan deal with them—”

Seething from anger, you almost growl. “You will do no such thing.”

What if you just used your magic again to put this bastard in his place? That would teach him. Still, you were not that reckless. No.

Kirigan doesn’t like you speaking to him in such a hostile manner, but at the same time… he loves it. He can’t help but feel a slight thrill as he looks at the protective fire in your eyes.

He’s got you where he wants now.

"Watch your tongue, Miss Maximoff. You’re speaking to your general.”

“I'm not one of your soldiers,” you sharply rebutt.

The Shadow Summoner pauses for a moment, his eyes narrowing at your tone. You’re right—you’re not one of his soldiers. You don’t wear a kefta, you’re not trained and raised in the Second Army, like so many of the Grisha in the Little Palace. He should be annoyed or irritated by your defiant tone, but he can’t help but feel intrigued, his interest in you ever growing.

"No, you’re certainly not. But you’re employed in the Little Palace. My palace," he replied, his tone holding a hint of wry amusement. "I will summon the children to my office. Or would you prefer the dungeons? With a bit of prying and prodding, I'm sure one of them will squeal—"

“Don't you dare.” 

And for the briefest moment, the Darkling swore he saw your irises flash a glowing crimson as you seize his hand with your bloodied one.

The handkerchief falls to the ground. Aleksander feels your grasp on his hand, your fingers curling firmly around his wrist as you speak—so tight you might break bones. He can practically feel the heat radiating from you, your rage almost palpable. He’s never seen you so… volatile. So furious. 

It’s a side of you he’s never seen before.

He wants to see more of it.

Yet, the red was gone as soon as it appeared, making him doubt his own eyes. You let go of his wrist and distance yourself immediately, taking a deep breath, closing your eyes to calm yourself. You turned around, pacing on the garden path.

The Black General studies you silently, watching you closely as you try to rein in your anger. What did he just see?

“I... overstepped. Forgive me, moi soverenyi,” you whispered. Your eyes were normal again, as if nothing ever happened.

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, before finally speaking.

"Indeed, you did." His tone returned to its usual calm and cool state. The man doesn’t seem particularly upset about your outburst, in fact, he almost looks… impressed?

"Whatever punishment you wish to—" Kirigan doesn't care about that right now, interrupting you.

"What was that, Wanda?”

“... What was what?” You were genuinely confused.

“Your eyes. Just now.” He steps closer, the darkness growing around both of you. “For a second, I swear—”

He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination.

Upon his words, you realized you’d slipped.

"—They were red, Wanda. I think they were." He frowns, retracting his first sentence. "No. They were. My eyes do not fail me."

"..."

“This—This was a mistake,” you suddenly whisper, eyes shutting tight. The shadows around you vanish as Kirigan’s brows creased in confusion at your words. “No, no—I should have just left them here... I should’ve left long ago…”

It was as of someone submerged you in ice, a pit hollowing your stomach.

He’d seen a glimpse of it. Your powers. All because you couldn’t keep your emotions in check.

“Wanda—?”

“I never should have come here.” Your voice breaks, panicked as you endlessly whisper to yourself. “I never should have. I'm not even supposed to be here. It’s all my fault… this is all my fault.”

You’ve put the children at more danger because you remained here in the Little Palace. Why did you have to meddle? You were a danger to anyone and everyone around you. No matter what you did. No matter how good you tried to be. You should have stayed alone in your little cabin in Tsibeya, waiting to die.

Gritting your teeth, you pick up the bloodied handkerchief on the ground and hand it to Kirigan, who was growinf increasingly concerned by your spiraling behavior.

“Your hand—”

“I don’t need it anymore.” Your voice was hoarse with emotion.

“What—”

Indeed, when he looked at your bloodied hand… there was no cut at all. No blood on your palm or any that he’s seen dripping to your wrist and arm. Even the droplets on the ground were gone. His eyes widen as he looks at the handkerchief. Fresh and clean. It had been soaked with blood just seconds ago. So was the hand you gripped in anger.

His head snaps towards you.

Teary-eyed, lips wobbling, hands trembling as you gazed at him, face illuminated by the lamps by the garden path.

“I only wanted to make sure they were safe,” you choked out, shaking your head. “Visit them every few weeks or so while… while…”

Aleksander realizes he may have screwed up as he watches your wrecked state before him.

“—While I just nurture something instead of ruining it all the time.” You tearily glance at the majestic flower beds you’d created. The food you grew from the soil. The fruit of your hard work. Real. No witchcraft at all. 

Was it worth it, though?

You clench your trembling hands, glaring at the Shadow Summoner. “You truly wish to know what happened with the drüskelle and the slavers? Fine! I'l tell you all about it!”

You were hysteric, laughing and crying. Mad and resigned. The General was silent. Frozen. 

“Yes! Yes, I do have certain powers, General Kirigan. A helpless otkazat'sya gardener like me posseses powers beyond your wildest imagination. Powers that not only topple empires, but worlds. Powers I never wanted and powers I never wished to use again,” you screeched, no longer caring about hiding secrets. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

He swallowed, seeing the crazed look in your eyes.

Wiping your tears, you give him a hopeless smile, eyes glowing red. This time, it wasn’t a mere flash. Your eyes were glowing.

“You want the truth? I’m a witch! A real, living, breathing evil witch." You raised your arms up in surrender. "I use magic. No, no. Not the Small Sciences! No! That so-called little thing you and your Grisha label as merzost? An abomination? I could eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still have seconds. There you go.” You lowered your arms, fists clenching. “And if I were any madder than I was now, I would have killed you right then and there when you threatened to interrogate the children.”

Vividly, just as the sun set and let the darkness surround you.

“But do you know why I didn't? I can’t. I don't want to. Because that would add one more person’s blood to the countless souls I’ve killed over so many millennia… the thousands I've tortured with my pain." You thread your fingers through your hair.

Witch. Magic. Countless killed. Millennia.

Your jaw clenched at your own words. The red vanished from your eyes as you tiredly mutter to yourself, scoffing, "Perhaps I truly am meant to be alone. It is my curse. I was wrong to believe that I could stay with the children and watch over them here. Damn it all."

Aleksander doesn’t know how to react to your revelation. He only knows that he hates what you just said. However, as he removes his leather gloves—reaching out for you as he slowly steps forward.

You frowned, initially backing away. “What... What are you doing?! Don't—”

His bare hand cups your cheek. His thumbs—calloused, yet so warm—grazed your cheeks to wipe your tears. Your eyes flutter closed at the sensation as you let your guard down.

It felt nice.

However, when your eyes close and his touch warms your tear-stricken skin, you see it. Hear it.

All of it.

A snowy land. A frozen lake.

"I'm a human amplifier."

"I'm sorry! I need your bones!"

"If she wears my bones then you won't be able to push her or her sister around anymore!"

"You must fight. Fight!"

Water. So much water. Drowning.

The Cut. Blood. Fire.

“Aleksander!”

A woman restrained and stabbed. A man falling to his knees before vengefully killing royal soldiers with shadows. Journals. Morozova’s journals. Merzost. The creation of the Fold. 

"What did you do?"

“I made something.”

The volcra. The screams.

“Aleksander is the Black Heretic.”

The night of the Winter Fete. The Grand Palace. Crows. Alina Starkov. Malyen Oretsev. Two children running in a field. The Stag. The Darkling’s true plans. 

“Fine. Make me your villain.”

The expansion of the Fold.

“You cannot claim what was not given to you.”

Nichevo'ya. Scars. The fall of Ravka from the inside out.

So much death. So much screaming.

There came another Lantsov prince. A ship. The Sea Whip. The Firebird. The death of Mal.

The obliteration of the Fold. The sun vanishing. Sand… so much sand… ash. Fire.

All of it, in just a split second.

“Without me, know that they will come for you.”

“Let them come.”

“Alina… you make sure… there is nothing left of me… please…”

A thornwood tree.

Screaming. More and more screaming.

The making at the heart of the world.

"My name is Aleksander Morozova, but I have had a hundred names and I have committed a thousand crimes. I am not sorry. I do not repent! All I did, I did for Ravka!"

Make it stop. 

Make it stop!

“No!” you screamed, unconsciously pushing the Black General away—sobbing harder and falling to your knees, clutching your throbbing head and covering your ringing ears, overwhelmed by the barrage of voices and images flashing through your mind. "It hurts... it hurts!"

Then, as you open your eyes, your heart sinks.

Although it was evening—no one else around, the palace garden around you fell dead—flowers wilted, trees black and leafless, not a single form of life present. The lights of the lamps had been snuffed out.

Black and corrupted like your fake apple orchard when you read the Darkhold.

And you hear someone wheezing from beside you.

Your eyes widened—the General's shadows had tried to protect him, but red wisps of energy coiled around his neck as he struggled to breathe, on his knees.

“No! Stop! Stop, I’m sorry!” you cry out, standing and making the wisps vanish.

You covered your mouth, feeling revolted at what you’d just done. It was Westview all over again. General Kirigan—no, Aleksander Morozova stares up at you—coughing—both of you reeling from shock.

He was speechless, as well.

“Oh, God—what have I done... I’m sorry… I’m—” you hiccuped, voice breaking as your eyes flitted between him and the dead garden. The ruthless, terrorizing Darkling himself seemed horrified at you. That spoke volumes in itself. “I’ll… I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Hands glowing with the mix of red and black mist of your Chaos Magic, you painstakingly revert the garden to how it used to be… before you accidentally killed it. Like nothing ever happened, just like how the cut on your palm mysteriously vanished.

The Black Heretic couldn't believe his own eyes. His little gardener was... something else entirely.

Not Grisha. Not a Shadow Summoner. Not a Sun Summoner. No. You were something far beyond that.

“Wanda—” Aleksander finally says, pulling himself up, approaching you cautiously.

“Don’t.” You shake your head fervently, voice barely a whisper. He stops that instant. “Don’t… Don’t come any closer. Please. I might hurt you again. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I’m not a monster.”

Your words broke Aleksander’s heart.

He’s heard them before from his own lips.

You swallowed, staggering from the visions you saw. A premonition. Just like when you read Ultron’s consciousness so many years ago.

“I looked into your head and saw annihilation,” you remembered yourself saying to the love of your life, when he was no more than an hour old.

“Look again,” Vision replied.

Your chest heaves with the effort you need to breathe. You had to get out of here now.

But you had one wish. Just one.

“General, please... please—all I ask of you is that you make sure they’re safe,” you begged the Darkling, lips wobbling. He immediately understands.

Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik.

“You have kept them safe, Wanda. All this time,” Aleksander whispered, tone pleading. He had fucked up. "I understand now. How you protected them. Why you protected them yourself. You do not need to go—"

You shake your head in disagreement, sadly smiling. 

"There is no place for me here, General. Not anywhere." Another salty tear trails down your cheekbone, your voice shaky. "Not with anyone. Not for me."

"There is no safe place. There is no haven." Baghra's words momentarily echo through Aleksander's head from when he was thirteen. His heart thumps faster and faster when he realizes he can't change your mind. "Not for us."

"Wanda, wait—"

In a blink of an eye, you were gone. 

You exhaled shakily.

"Goodbye, General Kirigan."

The only thing left of you—on the ground—were your satchel of worn-out gardening tools and a white envelope. Frowning, he picks it up. A job offer from the Grand Palace to be one of the gardeners there. He crumples it in his hand, fist clenching the fancy sheet.

Wispy, crimson streaks… magic...

Aleksander stares at the garden, in disbelief of what just happened and how you did it. Crickets sounded out from the bushes. It wasn't an illusion, then. He had just seen you destroy and repair an entire garden within seconds. A Durast could do that, too, but not at such a ginormous scale and certainly not as quickly or finely. Down to the crown molding, it looked real.

It was real.

He touches his throat, remembering the crushing feeling of those wispy, crimson streaks in the air constricting his airway. Almost like a Heartrender, yet oh so different.

Aleksander then realizes why you’ve been so familiar to him all this time.

You were the woman who had been haunting his dreams not so long ago.

Yet, you did not seem to know it at all.

And now, he had driven you away because of his greed. He feels the bile creep up his throat.

That night, as he returns to his room in a daze, his strange dreams of the faceless woman with powers return.

Only this time, you weren't faceless anymore.

to be continued.

So he finds out but kinda regrets it! I wanna make this man grovel soon, hehehehe. I honestly also love how I was able to mix some of the show's, book's, and Wanda's iconic lines from her MCU movies here in this chapter. 💖

Anyways, reblogs are super super appreciated as well as comments and hearts! I love getting feedback from any of my readers! 🥺

(Sidenote: So... okay. I'm deciding to write this and make it a formal fanfic—as per previous post one and post two—because I seriously cannot sleep with the overwhelming inspiration I'm getting from shipping these two characters. Aleksander and Wanda are practically the same person in different fonts. They both did shitty, selfish things but I need to give them a happy ending. Together. Somehow. And hate it or love it, I firmly believe this idea should be shared to the world. If you know my other JJK fic, you'll know Wanda is an obsession of mine. Also, also, also! Please bear with me if updates are scarce. I'm juggling my academic review, work, another unfinished fic, and my daily fangirling. 🥹)

1. once upon a dream

Aleksander had dreams of you long before he even knew you. Maybe it was the stress of this neverending war. Either way, you weren't real anyway... were you?

(3.9k words)

2. coincidence

The Black General finds himself magnetized by the seemingly inconspicuous gardener in the Little Palace. He gets to know you, contemplating life. Just when he thought you were just a strangely wise, young otkazat'sya woman, he finds out why exactly you decided to work in the Little Palace.

(2.5k words)

3. reflection

You are confronted by a certain Shadow Summoner about your motives in bringing the kids to the Little Palace. He realizes that you've loved and lost so deeply, eerily the same as he had. Perhaps that's the reason why he was so drawn to you; he could see his reflection in your eyes. But the more answers the Darkling got, the more questions he had. Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was a patient and persistent man who would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

(4.8k words)

4. haunted

You were no powerless otkazat’sya, Aleksander finds out the hard way. He’s pushed you too far, and he’s left to deal with the aftermath of the new knowledge he half-regrets he gained. On the other hand, you see something bad about this new world that wished you had never seen.

(6.0k words)

5. ?

(tba)

... more chapters?

Synopsis:

"No more magic." You swore to yourself after the madness that you'd spiraled into; the chaos you'd wrecked upon the Multiverse under the influence of the Darkhold. Now, you had destroyed the Darkhold in every universe.

The last universe that had a Darkhold? Safe. Book of the Damned, gone. It was a land with no heroes, gods, or sorcerers... just... normal people and... Grisha? Either way, it was time for your atonement. Your repentance for your mortal sins.

But when you save and bring three orphaned Grisha children to the Little Palace, working as an otkazat'sya gardener to secretly keep an eye on them, it turns out that a certain Shadow Summoner begins to have his eye on you, instead.

Dreams.

He's been having some very strange dreams lately. There was always a woman whose face he could never see. Aleksander had started seeing her in his dreams about a year ago.

It had all been so blurry at first, but he could recall a figure in what seemed to be like a cage encased in clear glass. Most definitely not your usual dungeons or prisons. Her back was turned to where he was, but her hands were covered in unworldly, crimson... vapor... or whatever it was.

It was unlike anything he's ever seen before.

The woman had been using the red mist to lift wooden blocks into the air. It was otherworldly. Vaguely, he also heard whispers of men with foreign accents speaking, as if he were beside them yet not.

"The dead will be buried so deep their ghosts won't be able to find them."

"And the survivors?"

"The twins." The voice sounded gleeful. Proud. "Sooner or later they will meet the twins."

"It's not a world of spies anymore. Not even a world of heroes. This is the age of miracles, doctor."

Aleksander did not understand the context of these scenes at all. However, he listened intently, watching the faceless woman make wooden blocks hover in the air.

"And there is nothing more horrifying... than a miracle."

Snap!

That was his first dream about her.

He woke up with a start after that, not feeling like himself the whole day. As if he were in some sort of daze.

The next dream came again weeks later. The Darkling could never see the woman's face. It was starting to become frustrating. This time, he heard screaming in his dreams. Crying. Devastation. All he saw that night was that familiar burst of crimson energy which had obliterated everything in its surroundings. He could hear the reverberating and clanging of steel, like a Durast twisting raw material into something. Or soldiers at war whose swords clashed against one another.

The woman was kneeling at the center of some sort of dilapidated chapel, clutching her heart as she sobbed frenziedly. Then, he woke up again. This time, he felt a bottomless emptiness within him that lasted until the next evening.

A numb sort of pain.

"Strange dreams," Aleksander thinks again, but still, thinks nothing of it. Perhaps it was his imagination running wild lately due to the stress of the war. The dreams would come and go. Sometimes, there was nothing. Other times, it was the usual nightmares of his... eventful past. Occasionally, the faceless woman would be there in his dreams.

More than once, he wondered if he was being haunted by a restless spirit. He considered having his quarters checked by a spiritual expert.

On the first day snow fell that year, the Shadow Summoner sees her in his dreams again. Not crying. Just... sitting in a bedroom, silent and pondering. He wished to move closer to see her face, but was firmly planted still where he was in the corner of the room, only able to watch her. One moment later, she was sitting in what seemed like a metal cell, straitjacketed, unmoving. The more he had these dreams of her, the more curious Aleksander grew about what the woman looked like. These were supposed to be only dreams, yet, it was always her.

Were these truly just dreams?

Eventually, the dreams become nightmares. Not his typical nightmares, either.

He was starting to hear whispers of what nearly seemed like Old Ravkan, but not. When he did see the front of her face, it was faceless. He saw that same woman surrounded by mirrors and sharp glass, with more blood, death, and gore. Screams of a hundred tortured souls. Fire burning. The smell of ash. The cracking and snapping of bones.

The last that he saw of her at night was in what seemed like a strange, old tomb atop a towering, freezing mountain.

Aleksander briefly saw, carved onto giant walls, a stone statue of a woman—a goddess, maybe—with a pointed crown. Seconds later, he saw that very tomb crushed into an avalanche. A blizzard. So much snow.

That night, the Black Heretic woke up cold and freezing despite the fireplace burning strong.

Was he ill? After centuries of being the Black Heretic? Was this perhaps a long-term side effect of merzost?

After that, the dreams and nightmares of the unknown woman stopped completely. And he'd nearly forgotten about it all, shelving it into the back of his mind where it would likely disappear. Tired from reading another list of his newly-deceased soldiers up in Ulensk, the man decided to take a stroll in the gardens of his Little Palace.

ᱬᗢᱬ

"No more magic."

That was what you had sworn to yourself after the millennia you had spent searching for and destroying every copy of the Darkhold in the Multiverse. It was an incredibly wearisome task to track them all down, but you despised yourself for falling for the temptations of the Book of the Damned.

What have you done?

"I should have stayed dead in the Snap," you chuckle humorlessly. Maybe you would have been happier. But from experience, being snapped was no afterlife. You did not see them. Your parents, Pietro, Vision, Billy, and Tommy. You could only remember the fresh, hot rage you felt at Vision's murder just for the Snap. There was no peace.

Not a day passes when you don't ask yourself the question, plagued by the guilt of your sins to the Multiverse. To those people. Ultimately, you accepted the fact that as the Scarlet Witch, you were maybe meant to be alone. Fated for eternal solitude until Death finally decides it is time to end your life again.

The wicked, after all, die alone. Or so they say.

Not for you, maybe.

The final world that had a Darkhold was... quite interesting, to say the least. It was not as advanced as your world, Earth-616, but not too primitive, either. It could be likened to perhaps the 19th to the 20th century in your original planet—with all its horses, carriages, wooden ships, and steam trains. The Industrial Era, you described when you initially arrived. Good enough to survive for, hopefully, the few remaining years of your life. At least it wasn't a world full of cavemen and mammoths.

What was interesting, however, was the specific land you found yourself in. Ravka.

It was something out of Czarist Russia just from the name itself, long before the Soviet Union was formed. Its multiversal equivalent in this world, probably. It led you to thoughts of your late best friend and mentor, Natasha Romanoff... then the World Wars... then Steve Rogers... SHIELD... which led you to spiral into quite unpleasant memories of experiments with HYDRA and consequently, Ultron and Sokovia. Lagos. Westview. Kamar-Taj. Earth-838, the Illuminati, Billy and Tommy—

You stopped that sickening train of thought quickly.

Still, you found it half-amusing and half-disappointing that even universes away, war and politics were unavoidable. Ravka appeared to not be on very good terms with its northern and southern neighbors, Fjerda and Shu Han, respectively. The Shu reminded you of China and Mongolia. You wondered if they had Khans there, too. Fjerda, on the other hand, reminded you of Thor, Valkyrie, and a certain God of Mischief you'd grown acquainted with.

One of the biggest reasons why Ravka was at war with Fjerda and Shu Han? People called Grisha, you quickly learned. Kind of like the Enhanced or the Mutants, in your world and other worlds. It was just that they could mainly be divided into different orders and classifications and were usually found serving the Second Army.

Either way, it did not make much of a difference to you. You had met a living tree and a talking raccoon in the fight against Thanos so... yes, not the strangest thing you'd seen in the universe. You didn't really care, but you did feel some empathy for the Grisha oppressed by the otkazat'sya. Ordinary humans versus the supposed "different" race.

You knew all too well what it felt like to be different in a world full of regular people.

Unfortunately, Ravka itself was also at civil war between its East and West sides because of a border literally made of darkness. The Shadow Fold, supposedly created four hundred years ago by a crazy Shadow Summoner titled the Black Heretic. Many prayed for a mythical Sun Summoner to come save them from their plights.

You internally scoffed. You yourself were a myth, the presaged Harbinger of Chaos. The Scarlet Witch, destined to rule or annihilate the cosmos. Maybe you already ruined it. You just hoped that if the Sun Summoner were real, they would be a true saint and do their "destined" good deed.

And a small part of you hoped that they, too, would either escape or fulfill their prophecy. Maybe live a happy life, unlike you did. No one ever thinks that myths and legends could be living, breathing, feeling people, too.

ᱬᗢᱬ

Cut off from your thoughts by two young boys bumping into you, the basket of apples you were holding tumbled to the ground. You were about to scold them when you saw the sorry state they were in.

One of the boys was holding a toddler. A toddler. Maybe even slightly younger. All three of them dressed in rags, covered in soot and dirt. Thin and malnourished, nearly shivering from the autumn cold.

Your heart almost broke when you saw the small, blonde girl in their arms try to reach out for the fallen apples on the ground.

"Sorry, lady!" The boys shout, turning on their heels to keep running.

"Wait!" You yell after them. "Do you want an apple?!"

That made the boys stop in their tracks. You pick up the apples and carefully place them back in the woven basket you were carrying. They seemed apprehensive on trusting you, so it was you who decided to make the first move.

"Here. Have the entire basket. You kids need it more than I do."

One of the boys, a pale boy with bright blue eyes and curly black hair past his shoulders, hesitantly reaches out to take the basket you were offering. "Thank you... lady..." he mumbles. The other boy holding the girl—looking nearly the opposite of his friend—reassured the fussy toddler in his arms. This boy was tanner, looking as if his hair were kissed by fire itself; eyes the shade of a vibrant forest.

"What are your names?" you gently asked. They share a look, silently communicating, then nod.

"... Henrik," the blue-eyed boy answers quietly, inspecting the basket of apples, still torn on thinking if this was a trick or a rare act of kindness. He seemed more conservative than his friend, who answered in a louder voice.

"I'm Dmitri, lady!" He was more eager to talk after realizing you were no threat to them. He gestures to the tiny girl in his arms, no older than two. "And this is baby Katyusha."

Your lips pursed seeing the sleepy toddler carried around by her brother (?). You looked around. It was getting dark. "Where are your homes? Your parents? It's late for children like you to be out in the evening."

"It's just us, lady," Henrik answered quietly, as if it were normal to not have an adult accompanying them.

You frowned deeper. "Why were you guys running?"

At my question, the boys grow concerned. "Because..." Dmitri begins, before Henrik shushes him.

"Dmitri, no."

You shook your head reassuringly.

"No, it's okay. What is it?" You tried to encourage.

"The three of us... we are..." He swallowed. "Grisha..." Dmitri whispers the last word like it were taboo, green eyes filled with guilt and fear. Your eyes widened. Including the toddler they were holding? "The townspeople aren't exactly welcoming to our kind, lady. Except you. Weirdly enough."

Henrik, the introverted one with icy eyes, sighs. "I'm a Tidemaker. I think that's what it's called. Dmitri here can control some fire, so Inferni, if I'm right. Maybe that's why his hair is that red..."

Dmitri snorts. "Whatever."

You almost stammer as you ask, "And Katyusha there?"

"... We think she's a Heartrender. When... she gets angry or hungry or fussy... sometimes, we feel like we can't breathe, whenever she holds us," Henrik explains, gazing at the tiny little girl, who looked ever innocent and adorable, yet so pitiful.

"... And your parents?" you ask carefully. You prayed to the gods, the saints, and the fates that these children had grown-ups to look after them. Unlikely, though, based on how they looked right now.

Dmitri shook his head, "My mom worked at a brothel but died from tuberculosis. I lived on the streets after that, Miss. Got kicked out by the mistress there. And Henrik was left on somebody's doorstep long ago but ended up in the orphanage. And Katyusha... we found her in a garbage can when both of us went scavenging in the dumpsters. The three of us used to live together in a hut east of the chapel but... um, the storm last week..." He trailed off.

Three young Grisha orphans.

But it was too late. You already saw yourself in them.

No family. No shelter. No food.

You stared at the three of them, voices inside you urging you to be on your way and avoid getting attached to these orphans. To avoid getting attached to people ever again.

It was like you and Pietro, once upon a time, long ago.

Sighing, you hold out your arms. You knew you might regret this in the future.

"Give me the little girl. And you boys, follow me," you instruct. They give you questioning looks.

"Huh?"

"You're all coming home with me. To bathe and eat and sleep without fear of being hunted down," you disclose, waiting for Dmitri to hand over Katyusha. The boy was too thin to be carrying around the toddler. "I live in the forest."

"We don't know you, lady," Henrik protests warily, but grips the basket of apples you'd given earlier even tighter. "What if you trick us? Or hurt us? Or worse?"

"... My name is Wanda. Wanda Maximoff." You hum, smiling genuinely at them. "Now you know me. And from now on, I promise to protect you. You can eat the apples while we walk."

"..."

ᱬᗢᱬ

"It's not poisoned, don't worry." You took a bite out of one, then tossed it to Dmitri. "See?"

The redhead immediately took a bite of said apple; the first good thing he's eaten in days.

And the rest was history.

Not long after, you had, in fact, confirmed with your very eyes that the three orphans you'd taken in were Grisha. Undeniably so. Dmitri, the eight-year-old ginger, was an Inferni—true to his appearance and loud personality. Henrik, the introverted seven-year-old with jet black curls and icy blue eyes, was a Tidemaker—as he mentioned before.

You wondered what age their abilities began to manifest.

Lastly, two-year-old Katyusha was indeed a... well, baby Heartrender. You learned that the hard way when you tried to leave her alone for a minute to get her some warm milk in the kitchen. The air was knocked out of your lungs for a few brief seconds as she wailed from separation anxiety, gripping your arm like a lifeline.

It nearly shocked you that at such an age, she could do such feats just by touching you.

A year into sheltering and caring for these children as if they were your own, you came to the painful decision that it would be best if they were not with you—AKA former multiversal threat and retired but still dangerous witch living as a hermit in the frosty woods of Tsibeya.

Which was near Chernast.

And also the Fjerdan border.

That meant a significantly high possibility of drüskelle sighting or finding the kids, even if you did last use your magic just to make sure your little cabin would be safe and sound and completely undetectable to any intruders.

Die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. Were you even ever a hero in the first place?

The children deserved a better future than staying with someone like you—a Darkhold-reading creature of evil who nearly stole a teenage girl's multiverse-traveling powers and also possessed her alternate self's body to replace her as a mom to her kids—amongst other heinous crimes.

Plus, you had no idea how Grisha powers really worked.

And as much as you wanted to just fly the kids off to their best chance at a good future in Ravka... or maybe use a teleportation spell, you'd strictly sworn off your Chaos Magic for a good while now. You also didn't want to have to manipulate the memories of the three kids—especially little Katyusha—into making them believe in a fake journey and forgetting you entirely.

So, a good old-fashioned trip to the Little Palace it was.

ᱬᗢᱬ

The trip went well. Sort of. After a few days of painstakingly traveling on foot, you'd finally arrived in Os Alta in one piece.

And so did Dmitri, Henrik, and Katyusha. But there was a slight issue.

"I still can't believe you knocked out that drüskelle by yourself, Aunt Wanda!" Dmitri continues to gush excitedly—as he had for days now ever since the encounter with a lone drüskelle who tried to attack all of you. And yes, since last year, the boys had taken to referring to you as Aunt Wanda.

Which was better, somehow. You don't think you'd be able to handle being referred to as... well... that word after what happened with Billy and Tommy.

The problem was little Katyusha who practically imprinted on you as her mother. Her first words—quite late at the age of two—were mama. Directed to you. No one knew that you cried that night in your room.

"You did not even see me do anything, Dmitri. Didn't I tell you to close your eyes?" you sighed, adjusting the sleeping Katyusha in your arms.

"I swear I closed them! But one moment, he was coming towards us then the next, thud! When I opened my eyes, he's on the ground in front of you? How'd you do it, Aunty?!" he excitedly squeals.

"Just a very well-timed punch," you reply carefully. A well-timed punch that may or may not have been enhanced with your psionic energy. It still irked you that you had to use your... abilities again. Even if it was not your Chaos Magic.

Still, you would never hesitate to protect this trio. Not after the year you'd grown to love them.

This time, it was soft-spoken Henrik who asked, "What about those two Grisha slavers who tried taking us away in the middle of the night? How did you make them leave?"

Okay. Perhaps the trip didn't go that smoothly. And that did not pair well with young children who were at the age of being extremely curious about everything in the world.

"Bribed them with some money," you lied. More like using your telepathic powers to manipulate their minds into leaving your traveling group alone.

"... You didn't need to give them your gold and silver for us, Aunt Wanda," Henrik murmurs guiltily. Your steps stopped. Frowning as you crouch down to the boys' level, you ensured Katyusha's head was still supported while you spoke.

"Hey. Boys, listen to me." You wait until they make eye contact. "When I first took you in, I promised that I would protect you. And I would do everything in my power to do that, okay?"

"Aunty, I'm not sure I want to go to the Little Palace anymore," Henrik shares regretfully. Behind him, Dmitri goes quiet, too, having second thoughts as well.

Your brows furrowed as you smile sadly. "But you must. You will be with your kin. The Grisha there can teach you to grow and hone your powers. I cannot as I am only otkazat'sya." You cup their cheeks tendely. "Your future lies in the Little Palace." You then gazed fondly at the sleeping child in your arms. "Your sister's future lies there, too. And I cannot be there to watch over you three anymore. You two must be there for each other and for her."

Henrik and Dmitri share a look as you urge them to continue walking. Just a couple more minutes and you would arrive at the gates of the Little Palace. When you were near, that's when you stop.

"Remember what we talked about during the trip? What you have to do when you get to the gates?" You remind them.

The boys nod. You slowly unwrap the cloth on your torso which was carrying tiny, two-year-old Katyusha. Henrik takes her. She momentarily fusses in her sleep, making all of you freeze, but her breathing steadies.

"Tell the oprichniki at the gates that we are Grisha seeking refuge in the Little Palace. Orphans from a small town nearby Tsibeya," Dmitri repeats the script you guys practiced while traveling.

"And say that we went along with a traveling hunting group until we got to Os Alta, before we journeyed to the Little Palace alone," Henrik adds.

You smile at them, embracing them all tightly. "Good, good. Now off you go. Before it gets dark."

"Will you visit us?" Dmitri asks eagerly. You hum in thought.

"Perhaps. I'll try, you two. But it could be years until I see you all again. You might be all grown up the next time we see each other," you answer him honestly. You weren't sure if the Little Palace allowed visitors to the Grisha kids like it was a daycare.

They nod, disappointed and teary-eyed, but slowly go. You stand up from where you were crouched, a familiar feeling of these children slipping through your fingers, too. The same way your twin sons did, once.

Then, Henrik paused, turning around. "Aunty?" he calls.

"Yes, Henrik?" You tilt your head curiously.

"Thank you for being our mom!" the usually quiet boy shouts, warming your heart. It has only been a year since you took them off the streets and adopted them, but you were already attached.

Too attached.

Which never ended well for you or the other person, based on experience.

You watch them, heart clenching, as they run to the path leading to the gates of the Little Palace. Then, you lurk for a few more minutes to ensure that they really do manage to enter the Little Palace.

When the oprichniki allow them in, a Grisha appearing and escorting Henrik, Dmitri, and little Katyusha, you breathe a sigh of relief. You were about to leave when—

"What do you mean he quit to become a gardener at the Grand Palace?!" a voice yells from a nearby corner.

"The Queen liked his flower arrangements and offered a larger pay!" another countered defensively. "Hell, I'd take up the offer, too!"

You pause, head turning to listen in more on the conversation.

"He's one of the only gardeners at the Little Palace who could do his job right, dammit! We barely have gardeners anymore!"

Looks like an interesting job opening.

It was a bad idea. A terrible idea, even. You should just go back to your cabin in the woods, living the remainder of your life in solitude. The children would be fine in the Little Palace, amongst their other fellow Grisha.

That was what the rational side of you said. But you always did have a tendency to be swept away by your emotions.

Survival rates also weren't that pleasant when Grisha children would be obligated to serve in the Second Army.

Listening to the arguing men, perhaps this is where your green thumb could step in.

You really should have listened to your instincts.

Just three months later, you start to feel a set of curious eyes watching you as you crouched and plucked stubborn, overgrown weeds from the dirt.

Your insides were on overdrive, sending off alarm bells. You worked in the secluded portions of the Little Palace garden, the ones harder to maintain daily, so no one usually came where you were assigned. Pausing, you slowly turn around to see obsidian eyes—so, so dark you couldn't distinguish the pupil from the iris, akin to a bottomless pit of starless night.

And you freeze.

The Black General of Ravka was right behind you.

Snapping out of your stupor, you hastily stand and deeply bow.

"Moi soverenyi," you address him politely, avoiding his eyes. Of all people—of all Grisha to notice you—it was the infamous Shadow Summoner himself.

General Kirigan of the Second Army.

You've only heard stories about him since you arrived in this world. Ruthless. Powerful. A Shadow Summoner. The strongest Grisha currently alive. Descendant of the Black Heretic. And you never even thought you'd be speaking to him face-to-face ever.

"Huh. I was not made aware we had a new gardener," he muses out loud, examining you from head-to-toe, dressed in light garbs similar to the other servants, only modified for greater mobility for your line of work.

Why would you?

You weren't even from this world.

You seemed awfully familiar to him. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

Meanwhile, you tried your best to seem like any other unassuming otkazat'sya servant. It was tempting to just read his thoughts given how he was scrutinizing you but no, you resisted.

"What's your name, girl?" General Kirigan asks. And you inwardly cuss—so much for a low profile—yet your face was perfectly neutral.

"Wanda, sir."

"Surname?" He raises one fine brow.

"... Maximoff, sir."

"Wanda Maximoff." He combines the two names. The dark-haired man stares longer. It took all your willpower not to squirm and be suspicious. Then, he nods and continues on his way.

The moment he was out of sight, you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You were the all-powerful Scarlet Witch. Or, rather, formerly the Scarlet Witch.

So why did this man unnerve you the way he did just now?

next chapter

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The fallen leaves had a crisp crunch to them today.

As you go about your duties in the garden, you hear familiar footsteps approaching. When you looked up, you saw the Darkling making his way towards you, his ever regal air present.

“Good morning, moi soverenyi,” you greet, placing the packet of seedlings down on the grass as you bow your head, gloved hands covered in soil. Moonflowers, he noticed the labels on them. So you did take his suggestion into consideration.

You blinked, slowly standing straight. He seemed much more serious today. Not that he wasn’t, usually, but you felt a… change in his approach to you. General Kirigan glanced around the garden, his expression almost cautious for a moment. Then, he motioned for you to join him as he strides towards a more secluded corner of the garden; an area that's shielded from view by a large flower bed. He stops beside a stone bench beneath a willow tree, motioning for you to sit. Once you're seated on the stone bench, he remains standing for a moment, his back to you as if he's contemplating something. Then, he turned and took a seat beside you.

He stopped a few paces away from you, his gaze fixed—the sharpness in them never fading. “A word, Miss Maximoff?”

It was quite tempting to read his mind right now since he seemed to be thinking so hard.

The General glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his gaze almost contemplative as he seemed to consider his words. The silence stretched on for a few moments, the only sounds coming from the garden around you—birds chirping, a light breeze rustling the aging leaves in the trees.

“I heard something about you, Miss Maximoff,” he revealed. Your eyes widen slightly, somewhat alarmed. What did he say?

“Pardon me, General?” You very nearly stammered. Kirigan looked at you with probing eyes, his gaze meeting yours directly.

“You were not entirely truthful about why you became a gardener here in my palace.” He regarded you with a knowing look.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I follow, sir—”

“Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik. Familiar names?”

The color almost drained from your face. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. There's a hint of curiosity in his expression, almost as if he's trying to decipher something about you.

“... No, moi soverenyi,” you lied. But for the most powerful witch in existence, you were quite awful at it.

“Is that so?” He hummed, sounding in disbelief. “But I heard from the boys themselves you actually brought them to the Little Palace. Not a traveling hunting group, as indicated in their papers. And sweet Katyusha appears to miss her… mama.”

You closed your eyes, calming your beating heart. Did he talk to the kids himself? Were they questioned? Shit. It would be very hard for anyone to lie to the Black General, more so children under ten! Kirigan watched you intently, his eyes studying your features.

“I’m sorry, General—” He held a hand up to cut you off.

“None of that. My only question is why?” He asks suddenly, his voice low. “Why did you do that? Help not one, not two, but three young Grisha orphans?”

You frowned at his incredulous tone. It was terrible that it was a world where acts of kindness to Grisha were so unbelievable. “They deserve to be cared for properly as Grisha, sir. They were extremely young when they exhibited their abilities, especially Katyusha as a Heartrender.”

The General nodded slowly, processing what you've said. His gaze was mixed with something that almost looked like... respect? He's silent for a moment, seemingly contemplating his next words. “And... how did you know they were Grisha, at such a young age? Usually, the Grisha testers—amplifiers are needed.”

“I took them under my care for a year, sir. After I removed them from the streets. And with how… powerful they seemed to be at their age, it was a bit... er, obvious,” you muttered. The Shadow Summoner raises an eyebrow at your response.

“Obvious?” There was pure disbelief in his voice.

“With Katyusha's temper tantrums added to her separation anxiety when she was so young… and her being Heartrender... you can imagine. Like, trying to leave her just to get something from the other room would lead to me being momentarily rid of the breath in my lungs.” You sighed, rubbing your face. “The boys were already using their powers by the time I took them in, sir. Probably because they often had to be on the run to survive. They learned in their own way, somehow. Not the proper way like in your Grisha school—I suppose. But they survived because of it."

The Black General frowned. He knew exactly what that felt like, centuries ago. He hated the fact that even until now, with Grisha of the new generation, it was still the same problem.

You looked at him, swallowing a little nervously. “General Kirigan, I... will confess. I did apply for the gardener position here at the Little Palace to… mainly to see them every once in a while. If there is a punishment for this, I am more than willing to—”

He shakes his head, stopping you. “You care about them. All three of these children."

The Darkling observed as you get a little riled up. “And... you, Miss Maximoff... are not Grisha, are you?”

“Of course! They are still children, Grisha or not,” you interjected. He senses the protectiveness in your voice. The passion in your eyes.

It seemed as if you were willing to die just for these children, he noted. That was rare to find in someone who was not like them.

“They deserve to have a chance at a good life! Not out on the streets, cold and starving, running from people who know nothing."

You shook your head. That was one truth you did not need to change, thankfully.

“Your care for them is quite remarkable, Miss Maximoff. Especially since you're not Grisha,” he remarks curiously.

“My care for them should not be remarkable. It is human decency,” you huff indignantly. A spark appeared in his dark eyes at the sight. “I did not want them to be persecuted by the villagers who don't know any better... just because they are Grisha. That's why I brought them here. Some people are just… heartless.” You exhale, recalling the state the kids were when you initially found them.

The General tilted his head slightly, watching you silently. There's that curiosity again in his gaze, as if he's contemplating something, trying to figure out something... you.

Kirigan nodded, fingers tracing the smooth stone of the bench you two were sitting on. “Many Grisha are feared and hunted, even as children. They are perceived as... unnatural. Monstrous.” His eyes darkened momentarily, unpleasant memories running through his mind. “It was noble for an otkazat'sya like you to personally bring them to the Little Palace.”

You shook your head. "Moi soverenyi, again, it is simply basic human decency. All I wanted was for them to live a better life."

“You’re not like other otkazat'sya, are you, Miss Maximoff?" At his words, you do your best not to freeze like a deer in headlights.

“What do you mean, sir?” Your voice was measured. Controlled. Neutral. The lying was never the easy part of all your secrets, huh?

Kirigan leaned closer to you now, his gaze focused intently on your face. He's studying your features as if he's searching for something. “I've met many otkazat'sya in my life. But... you're different. There's something about you. Something I can't quite place."

Mother of all saints, he was onto you. Though, he did not know much about it yet, thankfully. Still, you weren’t doing anything illegal in Ravka. So why was it so disconcerting?

He tilted his head. There was something about you that seemed so very familiar. “Miss Maximoff, have… we met before?”

That made you pause. No. Never, as far as you could recall. You shake your head. “Not that I remember, General.”

“Well, Miss Maximoff, do you disagree with my observation? Do you not believe there is something different about you?” You honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

“I don’t know, sir...”

He looks at you, his gaze steady; intense. There’s a look in his eyes that seems almost... expectant. It’s as if he’s waiting for another answer. Or an explanation. What could you say?

“I can easily have you taken away for questioning if you’re lying, you know,” he prodded, his voice casual; a hint of humor in his tone. “I could also have you executed, if you like. Possibly for insubordination.” It was as if he were discussing the weather and not the idea of ordering someone’s death.

“... You could, yes,” you murmured calmly. Too calmly.

“But it seems like you’re not afraid of death, Miss Maximoff.” Kirigan was impressed. Perhaps he should retrieve Ivan or Fedyor to see if you were truly unafraid as you appeared to be. Another reason why you seemed to be such an intriguing otkazat’sya.

At his remark, you chuckled. The Darkling looks at you, his gaze now more intrigued than before. There’s a hint of fascination in his eyes, as if he’s trying to figure out what makes you fearless in the face of mortality. “How peculiar. Why not?”

“I guess you could say it's an old friend,” you replied vaguely. His expression turns slightly puzzled at your response.

“An old… friend?” he mutters. You nod.

“Explain.” A deep frown had curved his lips down. He did not understand.

“Is that an order, moi soverenyi?”

“Hmm... death is…” You look up at the fluffy clouds in the sky, trying to word your response. Kirigan looks at you, his gaze intent, listening closely as he awaits your response. “... Like a friend, always there. Always waiting... patient, silent. It bides its time until it’s your time.”

He looks at you, his gaze unwavering. “No. It’s not an order. It’s a… request, Wanda.” His voice was slightly softer than before.

And it was the first time he used your first name.

He was silent, considering your words.

As you fiddled with your fingers, you added quietly, “When you've lost enough people in your life, you'll realize that... death may not be something to fear. It's almost... peaceful, the finality of it. That all of the suffering and pain is gone."

Unbeknownst to you, the words struck a chord in the Black Heretic himself. There’s something in your words that resonates with him.

“You have a unique understanding of death, Wanda,” he mused.

“Do I, moi soverenyi?”

“You do. Most people fear death, but you seem accepting of it. You talk as if it’s a comfort to you.”

“And if it is?”

Kirigan watched you closely, noticing the tiny smile on your lips as you gazed downwards at the grass at your feet. There’s a moment of silence as he studies your expression, trying to understand the depth of your acceptance of death.

“Powerful Grisha age slower... don't they, sir?” you asked suddenly.

“Yes, that’s correct,” he confirmed. “Powerful Grisha live longer than ordinary humans. But why do you ask?”

“You're perhaps the most powerful one right now. So it stands to reason that you must be much older than you look, General.” You pointed out, an inquisitive look in your eyes.

The Darkling looks at you, a hint of surprise crossing his face at your observation. He grew a bit more guarded, and there’s a hint of something else now in his eyes—a slight wariness at the thought that you’ve managed to deduce something about him.

“You have a keen eye,” he said curtly.

“Just been reading at the library,” you murmured, before adding. “When the Apparat is not around. Although servants aren’t prohibited to go there—as far as I can recall from the rules—I prefer to read in peace.”

Kirigan looks at you, an almost amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. From your answer, it sounds like you’ve just been casually reading about Grisha and their powers. “You’ve been studying Grisha in the library?”

“I wanted to know more. Especially for Katyusha, Dmitri, and Henrik,” you shared genuinely. “To understand who and what they are even more. What I can do to perhaps support them in the way that I can. Learning."

At your answer, the Darkling feels a strange tug on his heart… and his lips.

“If you're older than you look because of your powers... I'm sure you have some thoughts regarding death as well.” You rest your elbows on your knees, leaning forward as you sit on the bench. “Perhaps you disagree with me. About it being an old friend.”

The dark-haired general doesn’t respond immediately, but something in his eyes suggests you may have hit a nerve. His expression remains solemn and contemplative for a moment before he speaks again. 

“I don’t disagree,” he mutters, his voice soft but slightly distant. “But death… is not something I have accepted.”

Wistfulness washed over his stony facade, as if he was contemplating something far beyond the conversation you’re having now. “I am not immune to death, even as a powerful Shadow Summoner. It is inevitable, unfortunately. But... I do not accept it so easily. I am not yet ready to embrace the finality of it all.”

“I can understand why,” you whisper, meeting his eyes for a moment. He appears surprised, his eyes searching your face for a moment, as if he’s trying to see something deeper within you. There’s a touch of vulnerability in his gaze now; a glimmer of what he’s keeping hidden.

“What makes you say that?” he clarifies hesitantly. You tilt your head at him. Even without you reading his mind, you were certain about his motives. It was clear from everything that you’ve read about the current history of Grisha and Ravka and the Black General.

“You are the Black General. An infamous Shadow Summoner. The leader of all Grisha. I figure that you dislike the finality of death because there is still much you wish to do... to accomplish,” you remarked after a few seconds of scanning his features. “And I have a feeling it's for your people, the Grisha. Or for Ravka…”

General Kirigan looks at you, faint astonishment and... could that be admiration in his eyes? He seems almost taken aback by your astute observation. 

Little did you know how accurate your words were.

For a moment, he stands in silence, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he responds, his voice soft.

“You are too perceptive, Wanda.” He muttered, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Too good at reading people.”

You could read minds, too, but you haven’t done that since you sent those Grisha slavers away from you and the children months ago. The General did not need to know that, though. Not ever, you hope.

You laugh softly as the two of you sit on the stone bench in the garden, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves and plants, leaving a fragrant, fresh scent in the air.

“My apologies, then, moi soverenyi.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you, shaking his head with a slight smile. “In this palace full of fools, it’s refreshing to talk to someone with a modicum of sense.”

“You shouldn’t call your people fools, sir.” A small giggle escaped your lips. He finds himself drawn to the sound.

General Kirigan looks at you, an amused expression on his face at your playful scolding. He pretends to be affronted by your comment but there’s mischief in his eyes.

“Am I not allowed to criticize my own Grisha?” he hummed, a hint of a smile on his lips.

You smiled at him. It made your usually gloomy demeanor brighten the same way it did when he spotted you with those Grisha children days ago.

He likes seeing you smile, he finds.

“Well, I'm an otkazat'sya. I don't think I have a valid opinion on that.” You gazed at the nearby flower bed.

He shakes his head slightly, a soft breath of amusement leaving his lips.

“Ah, but your opinion is welcome nonetheless,” he muttered, his voice a touch fond. You returned the tiny smile he shows, before he asks. "Why... may I ask, have you accepted the finality of death?"

You somber down at his words, the smile fading. “I do not have many goals or aspirations left in life, sir. I guess the only one I have now is seeing Katyusha, Henrik, and Dmitri happy and thriving as growing Grisha."

He examined you, his expression becoming more serious as he noticed the subdued tone in your voice. The hint of a smile on his face slowly fades away, and he gazed at you, his eyes gently studying your features.

“Your only aspiration is seeing the children thrive as Grisha?” Was there concern in his voice? Maybe you imagined it. You nodded.

“You... don’t have aspirations of your own?”

“... No. Not anymore, at least,” you whispered.

“Then…” You focused on your dirty garden gloves. “I'm more than content to be with my old friend.”

He studies your face, as if he’s trying to see the depths of your soul. “If you have no aspirations, then you have nothing to live for,” he commented solemnly. “But... the children will grow up. They will be grown Grisha, capable of taking care of themselves someday. What then?”

Death, he remembers. And the relentless Darkling didn’t realize that a part of his cold, broken heart could still break. He searches your face for any sign of jest or insincerity. When he finds none, something strange passes through his eyes—something he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself.

“You... you would truly accept death so easily?”

This time, the smile you gave was nothing near joyful.

He shook his head. “You are strange, Miss Maximoff.”

Silence grows between you two for a minute. Then, he breaks it.

“You said you’ve lost enough people in your life… who, if it’s alright for me to ask?”

Everyone, you think. But one person always stood out. Vision. “... My late husband. Amongst… many other people.”

He can sense the pain and sorrow in your words, and he gives a soft, quiet hum in response.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was low and gentle as he offered his condolences.

At his words, you smile a bit. Genuinely. “Thank you, moi soverenyi.” You scoff a little, amused. “You're... actually the first person to say that.”

The General’s eyes widened.

“Am I really?” Disbelief coated his voice. “No one else has said it to you?”

“I grieved his death alone,” you whisper. “I did not exactly have a... body… to bury. So there was no funeral.” Realizing the weight of your own words, memories of creating the Hex to cope with your loss ran through your mind.

You don’t notice him staring at your forlorn expression, mirrored in his face. His heart seems to tighten at the thought of you having mourned your husband alone, with no one to comfort or reassure you.

“You... you mourned his death alone. No one was there to comfort or reassure you during those dark times?” Kirigan was stunned. You inhaled sharply.

“... No.”

Unbeknownst to you, he knows exactly what it's like to grieve alone.

Only the rustling of leaves and chirping of birds could be heard in the garden.

Unable to help himself, he finally speaks up in a low voice. “You did not deserve that.”

Your head snaps to him, a questioning look in your glassy eyes. Both of you make eye contact for what seems like forever as you await his next words.

“You… you did not deserve to go through such grief, alone. No one should have to endure that burden alone,” Kirigan murmured.

It was quiet once more. For a minute.

General Kirigan waited for you patiently, not interrupting what you wanted—needed to say out loud.

Then, you smiles sadly, fingers fidgeting as you let your walls down to the only person who listened, for the first time in decades.

“I was ten when my parents died. But I had my twin brother, Pietro…” The mention of the name on your lips stings your eyes. It seemed almost so foreign now. “We were practically inseparable after… the incident.” The bombings of Sokovia which left you and so many orphaned.

Which left you and Pietro—starving and terrified—stuck under the rubble, waiting to die or be rescued.

“And when Pietro died…" Your voice hitched. "It was like this wave washing over me again and again. Knocking me down. When I try to stand up… it just comes for me again." Unconsciously, your hand comes up to rest on your chest, where your heart was. "I… thought I was drowning every time I breathed.”

Kirigan watches, jaw clenched at how you described your grief.

"I thought, then, what did I have to live for? My entire family was gone and I wasn't even twenty yet." You paused, a melancholic smile appearing on your face. “But my husband was there to comfort me. Not yet as my love, but as a loyal friend."

His features softened as he sees the sadness in your smile. “Your brother was there when your parents passed... and your husband, even before you loved him, was there after your brother was gone,” he echoed.

“But when my husband passed…” You chuckled humorlessly. "... That was it."

“Where were your friends?”

You shook your head. “It's complicated. It was a tough time for my... friends, too.” The Blip reunited many loved ones. Good for them, you thought. “I cannot blame them for not being there.”

“Not even one of them?”

You pondered sadly. “Natasha would have been there, I think. If...”

The Darkling has a questioning look on his face at the new name. “Natasha.”

“A mentor of mine. Also my best friend. She was like a sister to me, especially after Pietro died." You smiled fondly, then shook your head. “But she died around the same time as my husband, too.” On Vormir for the Soul Stone to revive the snapped other half of your universe.

The Soul Stone for your best friend and the Mind Stone for the love of your life.

General Kirigan was left speechless. How many people you loved did you exactly lose? You seemed so young. But it was as if you could more than fully grasp the depth of solitude he had experienced. And he was centuries old.

The Black Heretic himself.

“Did you have any children with your husband, if I may ask?”

“Twin boys, just like my brother and I. Billy and Tommy.” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you remembered them. Kirigan takes in your smile at the mention of your twin sons. He listened quietly as you whisper their names, as if you've thought about them for a long, long time.

Suddenly, you shook your head and stand, finding the conversation a bit too much. You stand from the bench. “I—I’m sorry, General. This must all be too overly personal. I'm oversharing—”

He shook his head, motioning for you to sit back down on the stone bench beside him. “No, no. It’s fine. And besides, you look like you need someone to talk to, Wanda.”

“...”

And should that be the General and the head of the palace you were currently working in? It was quite embarrassing, now, that you were venting out to this man.

Sighing, you sat, chuckling. “... You must be wondering where they are if I'm here living at the Little Palace, spending all my days gardening.”

His brows raised, but he had a feeling he knew the answer to that question, too.

“You don’t have to tiptoe around it. My boys are… in a better place now,” you murmured. "I'm just grateful I got the chance to even have them in the first place. And even see their first milestones in life."

The man senses the heaviness of your words; the weight of your grief. Obsidian eyes swirled with emotion—he knew your pain in a way that few can understand.

“Is that why you're so resigned to death, should it come?” Kirigan asked quietly, his tone low and gentle. "Have you been alone for so long, Wanda?"

You gave him a sad smile. “Perhaps it is simply my fate.”

The Darkling himself had mixed feelings about fate. He was old, so very old, and yet, a part of him still held onto the hope that maybe the Sun Summoner—his balance and other half—was true. But this fate of eternal solitude that you spoke of… he did not want to believe it at all.

“And yet, despite all that you have lost, you still chose to care for and bring those three children here to the Little Palace,” Kirigan noted.

You look down on your hands. “They were never mine, General."

Many people told you the same thing with Vision, Billy, and Tommy. Not yours. Not real.

He can tell that he's just on the cusp of understanding something about you, a hidden depth to your character. There's a strange pull to you, some indefinable quality that's drawing him to you more and more.

“You're stronger than some Grisha I know,” he says, true admiration in his voice. "You’ve endured solitude, grief, and loss more than once, and yet you continue to live, to breathe… to love.”

You meet his gaze. It feels like you were being beckoned by the intensity of his inky eyes. He could feel the same, too, mesmerized by your own.

But before you could respond, you two hear the crunching of grass and rocks, someone approaching you. Quickly, you stand from where you were seated beside the General, placing a more respectable distance between you both right as one of his oprichniki comes into view.

General Kirigan turns to look at the approaching guard, a slight frown on his face. He eyes the soldier that has come to see him, a slight annoyance evident in his gaze. As soon as you move away from him, and he notices the distance you've put between you and him, his frown deepens even more and a flicker of something almost… possessive passes through his eyes.

“What is it?” His eyes narrowed.

The oprichniki spoke, bowing. "Moi soverenyi, your carriage to Ryevost is ready.”

He nodded, sighing exasperatedly at the soldier's words. He glances at you for a moment, then back at the soldier.

“Very well, I’ll be there in a moment. Go wait at the gates,” Kirigan commands. The soldier bows once more and quickly turns and leaves, leaving you and the General alone once again.

“... Thank you, General. For listening,” you say before he could leave. Said man looks at you, the frown on his face slowly fading. He studies you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your face. It’s clear that he’s still somewhat annoyed by the soldier interrupting your time together, but he tries to hide it from you.

“My apologies, but duty calls." There’s a hint of something… almost satisfied in his gaze, as if he’s pleased by the realization that you’re not such strangers anymore.

His gardener was even more of a fascinating person beneath all the layers.

“Safe travels, moi soverenyi.” You bow. You don’t see the slight smile curving his lips upward as you do.

“Until we meet again, Wanda.”

ᱬᗢᱬ

As the General rides in his carriage to Ryevost, his thoughts continue to circle back to you. He thinks about every little thing you said, everything you did, every expression on your face and movement of your body. He’s unable to shake you from his thoughts, running his fingers idly across the top of the leather seat of the carriage.

What an enigma.

An otkazat’sya woman who willingly brought three Grisha orphans to the Little Palace out of her own volition? And even applying as a gardener to covertly watch over them?

You must be truly dedicated to those kids.

His brows furrowed as he remembers once more that when those two boys—Henrik and Dmitri—had admitted that you were the one to personally escort them. Alone. You guys did not accompany a traveling hunting group, as they initially mentioned all those months ago.

“Fedyor, those three children I spoke to earlier this week,” he starts, turning to the man inside the coach with him. The Heartrender listened attentively.

“Ah, the boys who are so attached to little Katyusha?” Fedyor smiled. He’s met the very young girl before, amazed that her being a Heartrender manifested at such an age.

“Where did they say they traveled from again?” the General asked.

“Hmmm… I believe it was a little town somewhere near Tsibeya, sir. Korsov? They traveled on foot for days to get to the Little Palace,” the Heartrender replied, unaware of the General's growing concern. “Brave little ones, aren't they?"

Aleksander’s eyes turn to the view outside his carriage, thinking deeply.

Tsibeya was so close to the Fjerdan border. And you were out there alone. In the cold. With three Grisha children. The boys didn’t mention either if there was anyone else accompanying your group in your journey into Os Alta. Only that the traveling hunting group was a lie.

It would have been immensely unlikely for your small group to have survived had you encountered a drüskelle in your trip. Moreover, it should have been likelier that you and the children would have encountered one whilst traversing Tsibeya.

A few months ago, too, Fjerda had sent a fresh batch of drüskelle past the Ravkan borders. He remembers it quite clearly, given the number of casualties in his northern regiments during that time.

The timeline wasn't making sense.

The children were not clearly Grisha yet without their keftas and all, he supposes, but the drüskelle still could have attacked any Ravkan—Grisha or not. He’d also seen that Henrik and Dmitri were already somewhat well-versed with their powers so young. If a drüskelle, say, saw a young Inferni lighting a fire to keep his group warm in the cold…

Something was not adding up.

Plus, there were a couple of units of Grisha assigned in those areas. Surely, your group could have passed any of them. You could have chosen to hand over the kids to them, too—it would have been safer if they were protected by the Second Army soldiers, right? The children would have had Grisha escorts bringing them to the Little Palace.

But no, his mysterious little gardener did it all by herself. 

And not a single hair was harmed on the children’s heads even after such a long, dangerous journey.

He scoffs to himself. They were even more unharmed than the armed, trained soldiers he sends to the north.

The more he knew about you, the more questions Aleksander was having. But he had to be patient. This conversation would have to wait until after his stay in Ryevost.

Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was an incredibly patient man with centuries of experience.

He would get his answers from you soon enough.

next chapter

Reblogs, comments, and interactions are welcome here! 💖🙏

What do you think about Sasha here getting even more sus of you, hmm? Will Scarlet Witch-in-hiding be able to hide from the Darkling? 🤭

He’s here again.

For the past couple of weeks, you observed that the General appeared to be taking a lot more strolls in the palace gardens—if he was not preoccupied with his paperwork, training, missions, the Second Army, and whatever the King asked of him. Most of the time, he would simply pass by.

But today, he appeared to be in a peculiarly talkative mood as he examines the bushes you were pruning—even approaching you to speak.

“In the span of only a couple of months, you’ve turned this neglected section of the palace gardens into perhaps the most pristine one out of all of them, Miss Maximoff,” the Darkling began. You turn around, bowing as he approaches you.

“Moi soverenyi."

“The former gardeners tend to stay away from this area given how stubborn the weeds are and how dead the soil here seems to be,” Kirigan pointed out. “Yet, look at them now. Perfectly manicured. You must have magical hands.”

Hah! If only he knew. Not that you used magic anymore, though. This was pure hard work and talent. Your pride.

“I'm glad you are pleased, General,” you reply politely, not meeting his eyes out of respect. You were absolutely not expecting to get compliments from the feared General of the Second Army. Hell, you didn’t think he would talk to you again after he had asked your name.

The General tilts his head to the side, crossing his arms as he continues to regard you. There’s a hint of a frown on his face.

“You have a talent for avoiding attention, it seems. That could be useful,” he mutters, making your brows furrow. What was he implying? “Tell me, why is someone like you working as a mere gardener?”

You blink, somewhat baffled by his strange question. “Because... I like gardening, sir?"

The man lets out a small scoff, as if your answer is somehow preposterous to him. He takes another step forward, his presence even more intense than before. “That’s it? You garden because you like gardening? No other reason?”

“Well... I get to watch the plants grow day by day, to nurture them, and care for them. It's rewarding.” You murmur, glancing at one of the blooming rose bushes. “And it's peaceful. No one bothers me, and it's not as tedious as the maids' work, always running around inside…”

And you get to watch over your little Grisha trio without raising suspicion, you mentally add.

Kirigan follows your gaze, taking in the sight of the roses and other plants, before returning his gaze back to you. “Mhm. And a gardener’s wages and quarters are good enough for you, I trust?”

“It is enough to keep me living, sir, so I must be grateful,” you answered, still wondering why on earth he kept talking to you. Was he suspicious of you? Oh no. Or you were overthinking it.

The General nods, but you can tell he’s still trying to figure out the mystery that is you. “No family? No husband or children?”

You pause, brow furrowed. That was a bit too personal but you shake your head.

“No?” He raises an interested eyebrow as he watches you closely. With each piece of information, he only seems to grow more intrigued with you. “I see.”

Kirigan studies you for a moment longer, the wheels in his mind clearly turning, but just when you think he’s done with the questions, he suddenly asks another. “You’ve lived here at the Little Palace for a couple of months now, correct?” You nod in response. “And you’ve spent that entire time here in the gardens…”

The General lets out a thoughtful hum before continuing. “Surely you’ve observed many things during your time here, have you not?”

You were really, really wondering if he was suspicious of you considering how much of a conversationalist he was being right now. “I... guess so, sir.”

A sly smirk slowly crawls across the General’s face, and you can sense a subtle shift in his demeanour. He takes another step toward you, his voice tinged with barely-concealed curiosity. “Tell me, what do you think of us Grisha?”

Was that a trick question? Was he cornering you?

You pause. “Uh... you are... special people, sir?” That sounded a bit dumb. But it was short and vague enough so that he doesn’t think you’re racist to them. You didn't care if someone was otkazat'sya, Grisha, or whatever race there was! Kirigan is silent for a moment. He shakes his head faintly, but you can still see the hint of a smirk on his face.

“Special?” He repeats, clearly expecting something different. "How?"

“Well, humans with special... abilities. But still like any other human, nevertheless,” you elaborate. You racked your brain for an answer which hopefully would not offend the man. The General lets out a small scoff, but it lacks any real malice. He regards you with a look that’s almost appraising in nature.

“Special abilities... so, you have no disdain or fear of us?”

You frown, turning your focus to the plants. “People... fear what they do not understand, General. Some just cannot fathom some differences between humans. But... no, sir, I do not hold disdain or fear Grisha.” You gaze back at him sincerely.

Kirigan’s gaze is fixed on you as you speak, taking in every word you say with great interest. There’s something about your simple logic that seems to catch his attention. Not many thought the same way you did, unfortunately. His eyes wander over your features, as if trying to decipher some hidden secret that you’re keeping. However, there’s no hint of anger or irritation in his stare—only intense curiosity and a subtle hint of… something you could not understand.

Finally, he speaks, his voice soft yet with an edge of command to it.

“Come walk with me.”

You tilted your head, but comply. He seemed like someone who disliked repeating himself, after all, from what you’ve heard from the other servants. You silently followed him as he walks through the Little Palace gardens, keeping a respectable distance. Even from behind, General Kirigan’s strides were confident and purposeful. Imposing, with his height.

“You seem quite comfortable in my presence,” he remarked casually, breaking the silence.

“I didn’t say that was a bad thing, did I?”

“Oh. Forgive me, General.” You weren't exactly that comfortable with his presence, but compared to the other servants, perhaps you were. Or maybe because you weren't really terrified of the man before you. The Shadow Summoner lets out a small huff, amused by your response. He shook his head faintly as he threw a sidelong glance at you.

“Ah…” you muttered, purposely not making eye contact. What exactly did this guy want from you?

The General smirked as he watched you out of the corner of his eye. There’s something about your reactions that seems to fascinate him further, and he begins to ask another question as you continue walking through the gardens.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

“Er, is… that… wrong of me, sir?” you clarified. It was kind of hard for someone like you—a witch who’s seen thousands of universes, scouring time and space itself to destroy the Books of the Damned—to be afraid, nowadays. Those books contained stuff from the most terrorizing nightmares.

He lets out a small huff of laughter, a slight smirk on his face. “No, not wrong. Just unusual. Most otkazat’sya are terrified of me, if not outright hostile due to some perceived slight or threat. And yet, here you are.” He gazes at you from head to toe. “Quiet, reserved, diligent, and respectful, but completely unafraid. That’s rare from the otkazat’sya, even my Grisha.”

Maybe you should have acted more meek and terrified as the new palace gardener.

The General continues to regard you in silence for a moment longer, a subtle hint of something that looks like… curiosity in his gaze. There’s a strange mixture of intensity and fascination in his eyes. “Indulge me, Miss Maximoff,” he murmurs as he stops at a small fountain. “Is there anything you fear?”

Another strange question from the general to a gardener. Still, you mull it over seriously.

General Kirigan waits patiently, watching you carefully as you think. There’s a hint of anticipation in his expression, as if your answer is something he’s been dying to know.

“... Grief, sir,” you finally reply, a misty look in your eyes. He raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that answer. He tilts his head to the side, his gaze fixated on you.

“Grief?” He echoes, surprise lacing his voice. “That’s what you fear most?”

“The ultimate price for love,” you murmur, staring into your reflection in the water. You remember the words of the love of your life. Vision was too human for someone who was not. “Because what is grief, if not love persevering?”

A muscle twitches in the General’s jaw as you speak. His own eyes—for the slightest second—become glassy, as if your words touched some hidden nerve. Momentarily, the memory of a certain Healer being stabbed to death came to mind. But his expression quickly returns to its usual cool and collected demeanor.

“... A fair fear,” he acknowledges, his voice low and contemplative. Kirigan continues to walk beside you, his gaze occasionally flitting over to your face as if he was trying to figure out how genuine your responses were.

“And what about pain?” He suddenly asks, a hint of something like a challenge in his voice. “Most people fear pain.”

“... Enough pain makes you numb, General,” you counter quietly, lightly dipping your fingers into the fountain waters. They rippled, breaking the perfect liquid mirror.

He grows silent, pondering your answers. You see him peer into the water from beside you. “Have you ever been in love?”

What a question from the Darkling himself.

“... Once, sir.” And saints, did you pay the ultimate price for it.

The General raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your answer. He continues walking, his gaze still fixed on you. “Just once?”

You nod resolutely. “My greatest, and I believe, my last love.”

Kirigan says nothing for a few moments, his gaze fixed on you like a hawk.

“And what happened?”

“He died,” you answer tersely. His expression is unreadable as he listens to you. His jaw clenches faintly, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes—pity, perhaps—but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“And you haven’t loved since?” He asks, his tone almost soft in comparison to his usual authoritative demeanour. You nearly forgot you were talking to the most terrifying man in all of Ravka.

“... I don't think I can.” You chuckled tiredly.

The Shadow Summoner raises an eyebrow at your admission, and there’s a hint of surprise in his expression. He seems to be studying you intently, as if trying to understand you better. His voice is quiet as he responds.

“Why not?”

“Probably can't handle the grief if I lost someone I loved all over again. I do not wish to feel that much grief ever again,” you admitted. You were now quite aware of your horrible coping mechanisms; the constant self-deception and spiral into madness you often fell into. Can you ever escape them? You don't know.

He nodded slowly, a hint of understanding in his gaze. “But you truly don’t think you can ever love again, Miss Maximoff?”

“No.”

Kirigan’s gaze is fixed on you as he continues to walk again. There’s a frown on his face, as if your words have stirred something in him that he can’t quite identify. He’s silent for a few more moments before he comments.

But that was a lie.

You already did love again when you arrived into their world. Henrik, Dmitri, and Katyusha were living proof of that. They would have likely died from either starvation, the cold, illness, or Grisha hunters had you not intervened.

“That’s quite lonely, isn’t it?” He touched one of the white rose bushes, mindful of the thorns.

You chuckled again. “Sometimes solitude is the easier option, General.”

There’s a tinge of understanding—and maybe his own loneliness—that makes it clear he knows what you're talking about. After a minute of walking in silence, you decide to share your thoughts to the man. You might be overstepping, but it was a change of topic you needed.

“You told me earlier that I have a… talent for avoiding attention, sir,” you start. “Perhaps I simply prefer to watch than act.”

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seems like he's not going to respond, but then he lets out a small huff, almost as if he finds the truth in your observation amusing.

“You must be quite observant, then, hm?” he mutters.

“There is much one can see when on the sidelines,” you answered, frowning as you spot a relatively large snail on a leaf. At the sight of the pest, he lets out a soft huff—almost a chuckle, but it’s hard to tell for sure. He took a step closer to you, his eyes following yours to the plant and the snail on it.

“Ah, so you notice everything?” he asked, his tone a little more teasing now.

“I'm just the gardener. Hardly everything, sir.” You excused yourself, quietly retrieving the snail and placing it into a glass jar you procured from your pockets.

The Black General watched in silence as you handle the snail, his expression a mix of intrigue and amusement. He gazed at the wiggling snail in the jar.

“... Do you often keep a jar at the ready? Expecting to find a snail?”

“Or some ravenous caterpillars munching on my hard work,” you snorted. Kirigan lets out a real chuckle this time at your answer. There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he glances at the jar in your hand.

“Can’t have those pests ruining your precious plants, can we, Miss Maximoff?”

You raised a brow, a tiny grin on your face—the first he’s seen. “Technically, you're the head of the Little Palace and this is your garden. So it's your plants, not mine, General.”

He glanced at you, amused. He lets out another soft huff, his gaze flickering from you to the plants around you. Alas, you reached the end of your walk in the palace garden.

“I hope the garden's state of being was to your liking, sir.” You bowed your head.

He nodded, his expression now more aloof. “It’s up to my standards, yes. You’ve done well.” The Shadow Summoner says this almost distractedly, as if the status of the garden is not his primary concern at the moment. His eyes are still fixed on you, his gaze sharp and perceptive as he studies your features.

“... Is there anything I may assist you with, moi soverenyi?”

General Kirigan hesitated for a moment, considering your question. His gaze shifted from you to the garden around him, almost as if he’s thinking of an excuse to keep you here a little longer. But then, he seems to decide against it, and the expression on his face becomes impassive.

“No.” His voice was measured. But then, he added, “You may just want to consider planting moonflowers."

You think over his suggestion, then give a small smile. “Very well, sir. I'll see to it.”

And then, without another word, he turns and strides away, disappearing into the Little Palace corridors.

ᱬᗢᱬ

You don't notice—a mere week later—that by chance, the Black General had been near the Little Palace lake when you were secretly visiting Henrik, Dmitri, and Katyusha at the Grisha children's school. At first, he was wondering why there were kids were sneaking away somewhere from the supervision of their teachers.

Now, he understood.

You may be very talented at gardening, but it wasn't the main reason why you were even at the Little Palace, Kirigan realized. Not even close.

When he spots you handing them candies from the kitchens, laughing as they embraced you, kissing their foreheads so tenderly—he hummed, extremely pleased with himself that he decided to visit the summoners' pavilion and the lake this afternoon for some fresh air.

The fates were on his side today.

Aleksander was going to have to look into the history of those three Grisha children and how on earth his gardener knew them so closely.

next chapter

Suddenly, a roar resounded from behind them. Their heads snapped to the direction of the sound, where they found... a ribbon-like monster chasing a young girl wearing a denim jacket and... Dr. Strange in a ponytail?

Just like before, when they were watching and then got sucked into the TV (particularly into the last two episodes of WandaVision), everything felt real. Like a 3D—no, a 4D film. Maybe 6D, even. Yet it was only a glimpse into the past, thus they were still physically unaffected by the events despite them being able to feel and experience it realistically with their five senses.

It was different from the holograms they watched with Loki and Dr. Strange with Spiderman—other pivotal events of your universe that didn't include you.

"Strange looks... strange... doesn't he?" Geto blinked, confused as the duo got closer to their point of view. The Ribboned Creature was destroying everything in its path as it attempted to attack weird-looking Strange and the girl with him. The two individuals being chased went through them like they were ghosts, and so did the angry Ribboned Creature.

"And who's the new kid?" Toji raised one fine, curious eyebrow. The others shrugged.

"Dunno, Toji-san," Yuuji replied. "But that ribbon monster seems to want to get her."

"We should probably follow them," Nanami logically suggested as the Ribboned Creature, Strange-with-a-ponytail, and New Girl got farther away in the distance.

The other seven males nodded, running after the monster and the duo it was chasing (albeit, with some difficulty due to the lack of gravity, the floating debris, and the mess of space-time in the Gap Junction). They jumped and ran, momentarily stopping when Ponytail Strange and New Girl stopped.

"Hey, are they speaking Spanish?" Yuuji asked out loud, overhearing the conversation between them. Choso, beside him, had question marks all over his head.

"... What is... Spanish...?" the cursed spirit thought to himself quietly.

"Uh-huh," Megumi muttered to Yuuji, looking back-and-forth warily between the relentless Ribboned Creature and its victims.

"Well, anyone of you know what they're talking about!?" Toji huffed out, crossing his arms. "'Cause I don't."

"Hehe. Sorry. The only Spanish I know are pick-up lines for the ladies!" Gojo nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head. Geto mimicked the exact same action with a guilty look and a grin.

"... Yeaaaaaah, uhhhh, I didn't really listen during second-year Spanish class with Yaga either. Oops," the long-haired male admitted.

Megumi and Yuuji sighed loudly at that. Best friends, indeed. Gojo and Geto were probably slacking off together that time in their highschool days.

Eventually, all heads turned towards the only reliable person in the room (... or space, since they weren't exactly in a room).

A vein popped on Nanami's temple as all eyes slowly turned to him hopefully (Gojo's and Yuuji's eyes were practically sparkling). The blonde exhaled loudly in exasperation as he pinched the bridge of his nose, "You expect me to know Spanish?"

"We knooooow you do, Nanaaaamin," Gojo stated in a sing-song voice.

Another vein popped up on the blonde's temple. "Stop calling me that."

"You know, you were the only one who got perfect marks under Yaga's Spanish class when you were in second year," Geto chuckled, feeling nostalgic for a second. "You were a damn miracle. That man couldn't teach Spanish for his life."

Relenting, he sighed, "... Fine. I'll translate."

Ah, Nanami Kento. Always so reliable and competent. "Thank you, Nanamin!" Yuuji danced around beside him.

Boom!

They watched (while simultaneously continuing to run and follow the duo) as Ponytail Strange's powers glowed an icy blue as he fired shots at the Ribboned Creature.

"Weren't his powers, like, orange...? Or am I colorblind now?" Gojo yelled, beginning to doubt his Six Eyes after everything he's seen about your Multiverse.

"This guy must be like those other versions of Spiderman. Like that Sivan—Syra—the hell was her name again... the other self that Loki smooched..." Toji muttered to himself.

"Sylvie. The blonde female variant of that Loki guy," Megumi finished for him. "You're getting old with all those memory lapses, old man." Toji rolled his eyes at his son, pinching the boy's ear as they ran.

"So this Ponytail Strange is a variant of the Dr. Strange we've seen before?" Yuuji tilted his head in question.

"Probably," Geto and Gojo chorused.

"What are they saying now?" Choso curiously asked as Ponytail Strange and New Girl conversed in rapid-fire Spanish. Ponytail Strange pointed at something far ahead.

"He's saying that it's that book that will kill the monster," Kento translated from Spanish to Japanese for the other men. Multilingual King.

"Book?" the others questioned.

"The Book of Vishanti!" New Girl shouted, as if answering the spectators watching them, when she recognized the mystical item from afar.

"Jump!" Ponytail Strange shouted as they encountered a gap in the floating concrete. With that, the eight jujutsu sorcerers also jumped high, too, roughly landing on the sloped piece of floating concrete. "Hold on!" Ponytail Strange told his female companion.

"Shit, this feels like a fight but we're not technically a part of it?" Geto muttered to himself as he slid and landed on solid ground. Ponytail Strange and New Girl did the same, too. Unfortunately, seconds after, the Ribboned Creature caught up to them, roaring in anger as it pierced the new Strange's thigh with its sharpened ribbons. Ponytail Strange was able to encapsulate it and restrict it with some concrete and magic, yet only for mere moments as his injury spread further through his leg.

"Sheesh. That looks nasty," Gojo cringed, taking a glimpse of the Sorcerer Supreme's wound.

"Real nasty," Yuuji followed with a disgusted face. "Must hurt a lot. Poor guy."

Megumi's eyes were stuck to the Ribboned Creature. "It's gonna get out," he mumbled, a foreboding feeling running through his veins. "They can't win this, can they?"

"... Unlikely," Nanami answered back, not very optimistic. Just as he said that, Ponytail Strange yelped out. His wound was getting infected by dark magic.

"It's too strong! I can't hold it!" Strange yelled, shaking as he attempted to keep the monster in the magical circular cage he made. All of them gazed in horror as the monster began breaking its way out.

As he came to this realization, Sorcerer Supreme Strange slowly turned to the new girl—whose name was America Chavez. The gazes of the eight jujutsu sorcerers watching them skimmed over to America, too.

"What's this dude planning?" Toji raised a brow.

"... I don't think it's gonna be anything good," Choso's lips pursed. Indeed, the Cursed Spirit was right.

"I'm so sorry," Sorcerer Supreme Strange began, hesitant. "But this is the only way." With that, the man began extracting the young girl's power for himself. The jujutsu sorcerers were surprised.

"Oh no, why... why would he..." Yuuji felt sympathetic for the girl. She looked to be just around his age. Maybe even younger. Megumi felt the same, too.

"Wh—What are you doing!?" America shrieked as she was lifted up into the air. Slowly, her powers were siphoned out of her.

"I can't let that thing take your power. You can't control it," Stephen told her, trembling as he took the girl's abilities while simultaneously holding the monster back. "But I can."

"But we're friends!" America cried out. "You're killing me!"

"I know." Stephen shut his eyes tight. "But in the grand calculus of the Multiverse, your sacrifice is worth more than your—"

Stab!

One of the creature's ribbons went through Ponytail Strange's heart.

"Damn," Toji commented, arms crossed. "I guess he kind of deserves that, though?"

Ponytail Strange fell to the ground, almosr lifeless. America, now free, set her eyes on the Book of Vishanti. She quickly ran towards it, hopping over multiple pieces of floating debris to get to her destination. Behind her, the jujutsu sorcerers followed. Right before she could obtain it, however, the Ribboned Creature got a hold of her four limbs. The jujutsu sorcerers stopped in their tracks.

"Crap," Yuuji's eyes looked frantically around them. "Is there really nothing we can do to help her!?" Beside him, Megumi was thinking the same, but didn't let his nervousness surface visibly to his face.

Nanami shook his head, "... Unfortunately, no. Like everything we've witnessed, this is the past, remember?"

"It's already happened and we can do nothing to stop it," Geto added. Before he could say anything else, the creature roared, scaring America. Out of instinct, her powers activated. Eyes glowing bright blue, a star-shaped portal appeared around her, acting like a vaccuum—sucking everything around them into it. With his dying breath and remaining magic, Ponytail Strange sent out four spinning blasts to cut away America's restrictions. America (and the monster) were thrown into the portal. Ponytail Strange was sucked into it, too.

And as much as they hated it and tried to avoid it, the jujutsu sorcerers watching were thrown into the portal as well—spinning and spinning as they fell.

"Oh shiiiiiiii—" Gojo shouted, voice echoing through the portal.

Before they knew it, they all awoke on the floor of... a bedroom in the New York Sanctum? And they were in a pile on the ground, too (with Toji, unfortunately, on the very bottom with Gojo being on the top, squishing everyone else in-between).

A tick mark appeared on Toji's jaw at the weight on his back, "Get. Off. Now." The men scrambled to their feet. Then they heard wheezing and huffing from the bed in the room. Their eyes widened.

"Whoa. That's the Strange we know... right?" Megumi pointed out. His eye then twitched as he turned away. "He sleeps naked?"

"Who doesn't?" Gojo, Geto, and Toji chorused.

"... I did not need those images in my head," Nanami rubbed his temples, disgusted at the visuals involuntarily implanted into his brain.

"Perhaps he just does not sleep with a shirt on," Choso offered, head tilted. "But were we... watching his dream?"

"Uh-huh, looks like it," Yuuji deduced. He then whistled. "You know, I never realized Dr. Strange was that fit and built." The pink-haired boy glanced at his teacher. "He could give you a run for your money with those biceps, Gojo-sensei."

The Strongest looked offended. "I look much better than this guy, excuse you!"

"Heh. Dunno, Satoru. With those grey streaks in his hair and that awesome beard? Kinda gives me silver fox vibes," Suguru teased his best friend.

"Have you seen my hair!? It's all practically white—" Gojo protested, running his hands through his hair wildly. "I am the epitome of a silver fox!"

"Nah, without a good beard, you're not," Toji scoffed in the corner. Suddenly, a mouth popped out on Yuuji's cheek as they all watched Strange grab his broken watch and get dressed for a wedding.

"Where the hell is Granny." It was a statement, not a question from the King of Curses.

"Dunno. We haven't really seen mom since... that scene of her in her isolated cabin in the woods..." Yuuji frowned. "I wonder how she's doing here in her past. And in the real world. I've almost forgotten what she was doing since we last saw her in our world."

"Getting groceries," his older brother reminded him.

"In the middle of an incoming snowstorm," Kento sighed out heavily.

It was silent as they waited for Strange do to whatever he needed to do. The Master of the Mystic Arts walked for a few blocks, constantly fidgeting with his cufflinks. It was only when they were inside the chapel, familiar names scrawled on a fancy calligraphy canvas outside the large wooden doors of the entrance, that they realized what exactly Strange was there for.

"Oh my god, is he attending his ex-girlfriend's wedding!?" Gojo exclaimed dramatically.

"Well, this ought to be a sight," the Zenin clan deserter snorted. "What was that woman's name again?"

"Christine...?" Megumi answered his dad, unsure. "Forgot her last name though."

"Oof, this is gonna be awkward," Geto cringed beside his best friend. "Brilliant neurosurgeon and awesome superhero but doesn't get a love life."

"He did have to make sacrifices for his... lifestyle," Nanami quietly commented. Of course, as a jujutsu sorcerer, he could relate. At the blonde's remark, everyone else—at least, the adults of the group—sobered. The life of a jujutsu sorcerer was not forgiving. Time would be spent either fighting, recovering, teaching, exorcising, and the like. Romance? You were lucky if you had a partner that knew, believed, and accepted the life of having a jujutsu sorcerer as their lover. You were even luckier if you were able to sustain a long-term relationship, get married, have kids, and grow old.

Normally, that was not in the books of being a jujutsu sorcerer. Death rates and chances of injury were always high. It was always a gamble as you could die at any moment.

They watched the entire wedding silently.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

"Look. Truly, I'm just glad that you're happy," Stephen finished, congratulating Christine on her wedding day.

"I am. I really, really am," Christine brightly smiled at him, looking angelic in her simple yet classic, white wedding dress.

"Good," Stepehen nodded, doing his best to hold back his own tears. Right person, wrong time, indeed. Perhaps in another life... in another universe, it would have worked out between them.

"Are you?" Christine asked.

"I'm happy."

"Good. You deserve it."

With that, Christine left Stephen to his own devices.

"... What a load of bullshit." It was Toji who spoke and it was the first time any of them spoke since the wedding proper an hour earlier. His arms were, again, folded against his chest.

"Tell me about it," Geto snorted. "Clearly, he is not happy."

"He's heartbroken as hell. Anyone can see that," Gojo snickered.

Before more jabs at the ex-neurosurgeon could be made, screams and crashes were suddenly heard from outside the building they were in. Strange, plus the jujutsu sorcerers, ran out to the open balcony on... whatever floor they were... to see cars and street poles being thrown everywhere by... whatever invisible threat there was.

"Finally, some action," Sukuna popped up on Yuuji's cheek once more as Strange flew down. The rest of them jumped down the building, too. Thankfully, despite not having their cursed energy, they landed without a hitch.

"Yo... isn't that the girl from Strange's dream earlier?" Yuuji pointed out as Strange used a spell to make the invisible monster... well, visible.

"It was invisible to the naked eye...?" Choso thought out loud. "A cursed spirit?"

"Perhaps," Nanami observed. It was a huge, slimy, tentacled monster bigger than any cursed spirit he's ever encountered, though (well, maybe except for that one giant cursed spirit Aoi Todo fought during the Night Parade of Demons). It had one big eye, too, scanning its surroundings for its target. The girl.

America Chavez.

Strange—and Wong, later on—finished off the monster by stabbing out its single, huge eyeball from on top of one of New York's buildings.

"Giant monsters, I can clearly handle," Strange stared at Chavez closely. "But what bothers me is that last night, you were in my dream."

"That... wasn't a dream," America explained. "It was another universe."

The eight jujutsu sorcerers spectating stilled at her answer. They followed Wong, Strange, and America into a nearby pizza place, wanting to hear more of this girl's explanation.

Stephen huffed, tired of all the questions being directed to him and the lack of answers he was getting. "Now why was that octopus trying to eat you?"

"That thing was trying to kidnap me," America cut in. At their questioning looks, she let out a deep exhale. "It's like a henchman who works for a demon. All we knew is that they wanted to take my power for themselves."

"What power?" Strange's brows furrowed.

America paused, "I can... travel the Multiverse."

"Prove it," Strange challenged.

"That's neat," Geto nodded to himself. All of a sudden, the scene shifted to all of them being on a rooftop. America, Wong, and Strange knelt down, with America uncovering a dead body.

Strange's dead body. Or at least, the variant of him who was Sorcerer Supreme and had a ponytail. The one who died before their very eyes.

"It wasn't a dream," Wong breathed out in shock at seeing the decaying corpse. "That means..."

"Dreams are windows into the lives of our multiversal selves," Strange concluded, wide-eyed.

"Holy shit," Gojo blinked at the declaration. "Does that... apply to our universe, too?"

"... Maybe. Probably?" Geto's eyes were wide, as well. "But that's... it's outrageous. Crazy."

"That was his theory," America gestured to the dead Ponytail Strange.

"So that recurring nightmare where I'm running naked from a clown..." Wong trailed off.

America shrugged, "Somewhere out there, it's real."

"That's sick," Yuuji gaped, both awed and terrified. "I had a dream I got married to Jennifer Lawrence on a beach a few years ago. Megan Thee Stallion was the Maid of Honor! That's true in another universe?" He ran a hand down his face. "Man, that me is living the life, sheesh!"

The rest of them were speechless.

"There could be more creatures coming after her," Wong whispered to Strange.

"The power is dangerous enough in the hands of a kid," Strange replied in a hushed tone. "Imagine if a real threat acquired it."

At their words, the young girl with them became nervous, beginning to back away. Noticing this, Wong assured her. "It occurs to me, young one, that we don't know your name."

"... America Chavez," she answered reluctantly.

"Miss Chavez, will you come with us to Kamar-Taj? You'll be safe there," Wong formally offered as the reigning Sorcerer Supreme.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched as Strange buried the dead Strange with a ponytail... under a bunch of rocks and bricks on the rooftop apartment.

"Won't that, like, smell?" Megumi's face was contorted in disgust.

"Or attract some cursed spirits or something...?" Yuuji scratched his head. "But then again, they don't have cursed spirits in their world..."

"They have terrifying monsters which could be considered as curses, though," Toji remarked. "A ribboned monster? An octopus with one giant eyeball? Hm."

"The creature that killed him," Wong asked, referring to Strange's alternate self. "Did it have the same markings as the octopus?"

"Runes," Stephen stated. At the familiar term, the jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up.

"Like what Mom and Agatha used?" Yuuji clarified to the other older men, who all nodded.

At Strange's reply, Wong exhaled. "This isn't sorcery."

Stephen's eyes widened slightly in realization. "It's witchcraft."

"Do we know anyone who's faced such a thing?" Wong inquired to his friend.

Stephen paused. One familiar person came to his mind. One he'd fought alongside long ago in the battle against Thanos along with other notable superheroes. "... I think I might."

The jujutsu sorcerers stilled. It was so very faint, but they swore they heard a chime mimicking the theme song of WandaVision in their minds.

Right as Strange finished saying his sentence, they felt the scene before them shift. Suddenly, they saw a familiar-looking woman whose back was turned to them. She was softly humming a song, mixing up ingredients in the metal bowl with a large, wooden spoon.

"Mom...?" Yuuji gasped out first.

You turned around with a smile as you grabbed some baking soda from a nearby cabinet, but did not hear them. You were dressed in a simple outfit—a plain, long-sleeved white top, some faded jeans, and a navy blue cardigan with some flour smudges here and there.

"Y/N..." the older jujutsu sorcerers (ahem, Geto, Gojo, Nanami, Toji, and Choso) breathed out, as if in relief at finally seeing you once more.

"Finally!" Sukuna exclaimed loudly, making Yuuji wince at the volume of his voice. "It's been too damn long!"

You looked you, but...

"She looks a bit different, don't ya think?" Gojo tilted his head, rubbing his chin as he tried to pinpoint what exactly was different.

"Maybe it's the hair color?" Geto pointed out.

"... Happier." It was Nanami who spoke out loud. All eyes glanced at the ex-salaryman. "She's happier. You can see it in her eyes."

They, again, grew silent as they watched you smoothly glide around the kitchen with experienced movements—similar to how you would in their world. In the bakery-café you owned.

"You're right," Toji hmphed. "I wonder why."

They got their answer in the form of two young boys running into the kitchen and dipping their hands in the chocolate mixture you were stirring.

"Chocolate!" Billy yelled happily.

"Hey! What did I say?" you teasingly scolded.

Tommy pouted, "But we couldn't wait."

You raised a playful brow at your children, "Buuuut, what did I say?" At your reply, your twins rebelliously ate the chocolate mix that they managed to sneak on their fingers. Your eyes widened as you laughed, "Oh?" With a loving pinch of their naughty faces, you ushered your kids to the sink. "Go wash your hands!"

"Aren't those two... dead?" Choso asked out loud, referring to Billy and Tommy.

"Supposedly," Nanami answered him. He looked around closely. "And supposedly, this place is gone. Vision Residence disappeared when the Hex disappeared."

They all blinked.

"You're right, Nanamin!" Yuuji blinked. "Whoa, you're so observant!"

"It's part of my job. And my Cursed Technique," Nanami bluntly replied, adjusting his glasses (just like any cool and badass anime character).

"But he's right... this is the Vision Residence... exactly like it, except for a few extra knick-knacks here and there," Geto murmured, touching the kitchen counter.

The scene before them slowly changed to night time, with the twins dressed in their pajamas and getting into bed. It was an extremely familiar scene, making them feel déjà vu as they watched it.

"A family is forever," you spoke to Billy and Tommy gently. "We could never truly leave each other even if we tried." You stroked their heads.

"Hasn't this happened already?" Yuuji scratched his head in confusion, hearing the dialogue and your conversation with your kids. "Like, in WandaVision? I feel like I've watched this already in the finale."

"Hm," Gojo hummed, his head tilted as he watched you tuck the boys in snugly. "Except that Y/N's in her single mom era here. For some reason."

"Where the hell is that robot?" Sukuna asked, very loudly.

"No idea," Choso answered his fellow curse being.

You sweetly give your children a goodnight kiss on their foreheads, whispering, "Love you." They giggled at the sensation, making you smile. The sorcerers smiled, too, seeing you happy. You were about to say something else when the scene cut abruptly. So abruptly.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

Your eyes snapped open, the smile on your face slowly fading as you realized that it was just a dream. Again. The jujutsu sorcerers, too, realized that you had been dreaming. You slowly sat up from your bed, the silence in your new home almost deafening except for the soft chirping of birds outside. In your bedroom, you were alone. Somehow, despite the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains on your windows, the air was chillier. The colors around them seemed a little greyer... duller than it was in that vibrant, joyful dream. You tightened your flannel robe along your torso, adjusting a stray strand of your hair behind your ears.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Oh, you were still alive. And awake. You placed a hand over your beating heart, exhaling.

The jujutsu sorcerers realized that this woman—the lonely woman who woke up from the dream and not the happy mother in that dream—was you. The one they knew. The version that they had watched over the past couple of... hours? Days? Weeks? How long has it been? They didn't know.

"Mom..." Yuuji sadly whispered. "So it wasn't real? Mom was just dreaming about Billy and Tommy?"

"So it seems," Megumi replied, feeling pity for you (for what probably felt like the hundredth time). You didn't deserve this pain at all. "It's never gotten easier for Y/N-san, huh?"

Now, they were transported to a lovely apple orchard, with countless, fragrant trees spaced out almost evenly. Not so far away was the new humble home you'd made for yourself after self-isolating, with a dozen or so sheep running past the jujutsu sorcerers.

"Sheep...?" Gojo blinked, seeing you quietly herd them away to some wooden fences. "Neat... I guess? Didn't think she'd be the type who's into sheperding."

"She's taken up gardening, too. So this is where it began," Toji observed as you diligently snipped away at some overgrown tree branches. He and the others were aware that gardening was one of your hobbies (and why Charmed Coffee & Confectionaries had such a gorgeous display of healthy plants all over the area and outside the shop—heck, the mini-garden you had on the rooftop of your building was a tourist spot itself; Geto could recall Mimiko and Nanako taking a lot of selfies there during that time they first came looking for him after you saved him).

"Apples?" You—and the jujutsu sorcerers—turned around at hearing Strange's voice. Hands in his tailored trouser pockets and a friendly smile on his handsome face, he almost looked like he was about to ask you for a date at the park in this very place.

"... Eventually," you replied, straightening yourself. The jujutsu sorcerers watched as you handed him the small branch you'd snipped off. He sniffed it, nodding and impressed.

"It smells—" He began, only for you to subtly cut in.

"Sweet?"

"I was gonna say real," Stephen chuckled. Your lips curved at his remark as you took the branch from him and tossed it away to the pile of branches on a picket box on the grass.

"Oh, it's all very real. Thanks." Then your smile disappeared, replaced by a sad and remorseful look. "I knew sooner or later you'd show up, wanting to talk about..." You paused. "Westview." It was a word you hadn't said in so long. The spectators also felt like it's been forever since then after they'd seen the other things that happened in your universe—Loki, Spiderman, and more. You breathed out deeply, pocketing your hands in your jacket. "I made mistakes. And people were hurt—"

"But you put things right in the end, and that was never in doubt," he assured. "I'm not here to talk about Westview," Strange informed you. This alarmed some of the jujutsu sorcerers.

"Hey. Wait, wait. Hold up." Geto crossed his arms, glowering at the Master of the Mystic Arts. "You mean to tell me this guy knew about Y/N and what happened to Westview? And didn't bother to show up or do anything about it? Like, help her? Against that nosy Salem witch with the crazy get-up?"

"Same thoughts," Gojo huffed. "The nerve of this guy! The audacity!"

"Then what are you here for?" you inquired, appearing confused.

"We need your help," Stephen quickly answered. You gave it a few moments of thought, walking to make your decision. Strange followed behind you, hands pocketed from the air, as well.

"Oh, so now he asks for her help?" Gojo and Geto chorused, rolling their eyes in annoyance with Strange.

"... No one was there for her when she needed them the most," Choso quietly added.

"Yeah," Yuuji frowned in disapproval.

"With what?" you finally responded, strolling along your orchard with Strange beside you.

"What do know about the Multiverse?"

Your eyes slightly widened as you shared to Stephen what you knew, "The Multiverse... Viz had his theories." Ah, finally a mention of your late synthezoid husband. "He believed it was real. And dangerous."

"Well, he was right about both," Strange disclosed. "We found a girl who can somehow travel across it. But she's being pursued."

Your head turned to him seriously, worriedly, "Pursued by who?"

"Some kind of demon. One that covets her power for itself," Strange answered in a grave tone. "We've taken her to Kamar-Taj, and we've got our defenses. But we could use an Avenger."

Avenger. Huh. That was a title you weren't called ever since... what, the Lagos Incident? The fight against Thanos? Both good and bad memories were associated with it. "There are other Avengers," you reminded him, raising a skeptical brow.

"Yeah, but given the choice of the archer with the mohawk and several bug-themed crime fighters..." You chuckled, amused at his joke. "Or, one of the most powerful magic-wielders on the planet, it's an easy call. Come to Kamar-Taj." His eyes gave such a pleading look. Strange then smirked, "We'll get you back on the lunchbox."

"He's using aaaaaall his mystical silver fox charms to sway her, isn't he?" Gojo pouted, like a child stomping his feet because his mother didn't give him candy.

"You forget that he was a very respected genius neurosurgeon who was probably extremely wealthy and, for the record, attractive," Nanami deadpanned, also inwardly irked at the fact that Strange knew about Westview all along. "I get the feel that this perhaps isn't the first time he's persuading a woman to get what he wants from her. He's got an ego that rivals Stark."

"Not gonna lie, used to do that to women, too," Toji commented, making Megumi quietly groan.

However, it was your next remark that made all of them—except Yuuji, who didn't catch on, at first—that made them freeze in their tracks.

"What if you brought America here?"

The jujutsu sorcerers saw that Strange had noticed your words, too. He was almost rendered speechless. But he played along with it, "... Here?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "I know what's it's like... to be on your own... hunted for abilities you never wanted," you suggested, continuing to stride forward. You really did relate to the girl. The question was...

"How does she know so much about... America?" Megumi's eyes were wide. The rest of the guys had the same expression. Their hearts pumped blood faster through their bodies, adrenaline rushing in their veins.

They couldn't believe it. No. It wasn't possible.

"She could have just read his mind... right?" Gojo murmured, refusing to believe it. "... Right?"

"But she said she put the magic behind her already," Nanami cut in, hazel eyes narrowing at you as you didn't face them or Strange. He continued to reason out, "And I'm pretty sure the Master of the Mystic Arts wouldn't appreciate anyone prodding around his mind and reading it. It's likely he has defenses for that in place."

Toji, Geto, Choso, and Sukuna (the only deranged one who was getting excited about the whole ordeal) chose to be silent, just watching.

"What? Huh? What's happening?" Yuuji's gaze frantically moved from person to person. He didn't understand. But the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers had no words to say as they stared at the scene unfolding before them. "What's wrong?"

Strange stopped walking.

"I can protect her," you promised, only to notice that Strange was no longer beside you and that he had the most disappointed and regretful expression on his face.

Ah, you realized.

You made a slip of the tongue. Oh well. At least you tried. It would've been too easy if Strange was just able to hand you America right then and there. The predator got too excited there, losing the chance to seize their prey in a one-shot kill. Now, the thrilling chase was just starting.

"... You never told me her name, did y—"

"—No."

"Mm."

His voice was far colder now, and he answered instantaneously. Harshly. "No, I didn't." He was about to leave, only for you to speak again, back turned towards him (and the viewers). Antsy and nervous, the jujutsu sorcerers waited for what was going to happen next.

There was an ominous feeling in their gut, something they usually felt when they were dealing with extremely difficult cursed spirits or powerful enemies. The fact that you were the reason why they were feeling like this was... unnerving.

They didn't realize that unintentionally, they were holding their breaths.

"You know, the Hex was the easy part," you divulged quietly, slowly lifting your right hand from your pocket. "The lying... not so much."

With a small wave of your hand, the peaceful illusion of the apple orchard dissolved as the reddish-black fog of your Chaos Magic seeped through your fingertips once more, revealing a desolate wasteland with lifeless trees and scarlet skies. No traces of life were present—not one sheep, not one bird, not even a single ant was alive. In just a blink of an eye, everything down to the molecular level had been altered.

Then, Stephen Strange and the jujutsu sorcerers turned around to see you. Their gaze moved from head to toe, your once-regal and superhero-like Scarlet Witch robes visibly darkened—now a gradient alternating from black to red—and corroded... corrupted, glass-like cracks on the tight bodice originating from where your heart was located, like a metaphor for all the heartbreak you'd been through in this lifetime. Your tiara, too, looked different from the last time they saw it—its two tips pointier and its composition much more hollow. Your half-arm gloves from before had turned into full-on, darkened sleeves which extended to your fingers, which they noted had been stained an inky black. Just like Agatha's before.

The Darkhold floating beside you explained everything.

Even the way you physically appeared had changed. Your hair was longer than when they last saw you, your eyes and cheekbones sharper, lips and lids painted darker, and even the way you held yourself in poise and manner oozed confidence.

You looked downright evil, yet also hypnotizingly and irresistibly a hundred times more attractive.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Sukuna suddenly cackled, ogling you shamelessly through eyes and a mouth on Yuuji's cheek. On the other hand, Yuuji had the opposite reaction, his face the epitome of horrified and betrayed.

"N-No... it can't be," the pink-haired boy stammered in realization. "Mom's... the demon chasing America? She's the one w-who... killed that other Strange?"

"Yuuji," Nanami placed a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "... Don't... overthink it. Remember, this already happened in the past." However, the blonde was unable to take his gaze off of you. Like the others, his eyes were trained on you. Even he couldn't believe what was happening.

"The Darkhold," Strange's eyes widened at seeing the book.

"You're familiar with the Darkhold?" you asked curiously.

"I know it's the Book of the Damned," Strange coldly replied. "And that it corrupts everything and everyone that it touches." He gestured with his head to your surroundings. Your territory and domain. "I wonder what it's done to you."

"The Darkhold only showed me the truth," you countered as if nothing was wrong. "Everything that I lost can be mine again." You sounded like you truly believed what you were saying.

"What do you want with America?" Stephen's brows furrowed. "What do you want with the Multiverse?"

"I'm going to leave this reality... and go to one where I can be with my children," you announced calmly.

"Wanda, your children aren't real!" Strange attempted to convince you but to no avail. "You created them using magic."

"... That was a fucking awesome way to say it," Toji scoffed sarcastically, still stunned at what was occuring. "Like she's gonna change her mind at this point."

You knowingly and coyly smiled at him, intentionally twisting his words, a sly glint in your eye, "That's what every mother does."

Were they frightened or aroused hearing and seeing you act like such an enchantress? They had no idea.

"By magic, does she mean that episode in WandaVision with the bed and her and Vision having s—" Gojo began, only to be interrupted by his best friend.

"Yes. Yes, she does, Satoru," Geto sighed out. But he wouldn't lie, he could see himself in this darker side of you. It was jarring him. The déjà vu was real.

You clasped your hands together, beginning to circle Strange, "If you knew there was a universe where you were happy, wouldn't you want to go there?" You stared up at him, almost tempting him. But Strange was a man of steel will.

"I am happy," he said, making you raise a fine brow in bemusement. Strange was a man of steel will, but like in Toji's words, he often said a load of bullshit. Obvious lies, duh.

"I know better than most what self-deception looks like," you hummed playfully, aware that he was lying to not only you, but himself. The way you were looking at him had Strange sweating and nervous (so were the jujutsu sorcerers who had a big fat crush on you).

"... Honestly, I would've folded if she looked at me like that," Satoru tilted his head towards you as he addressed his fellow sorcerers. "And I'd instantly marry her. We'd be a hot couple, eh?"

"No thanks," the others replied, instantly shutting him down. Yuuji was a bit kinder, though, but still savage.

"I really admire you, sensei, but I don't want you to be my stepdad," the pink-haired boy awkwardly grinned out, scratching his head.

"I'd be the awesomest stepdad, excuse you!" Gojo cried out, only for Strange to speak again.

"Wanda, what you're doing is a flagrant violation of every natural law and if you take that child's power, she won't survive!" Strange nearly shouted to you in anger.

Instantly, the smile on your face vanished. "I don't relish hurting anyone, Stephen." Then suddenly, you shrugged. "But she's not a child!" you scoffed without a care in the world, both eyebrows high on your forehead as you gave your excuses to Strange. "She's a supernatural being! Such raw power could wreak havoc on this and other worlds! Her sacrifice would be for the... better good." You shrugged offhandedly.

Your words made the jujutsu sorcerers somewhat... sick. They realized that they'd heard this conversation before, with Stark and Cap after the Lagos Incident and during the Sokovia Accords dispute all those years ago. And in America's place, it was you, instead.

To Cap, you were a kid.

To Stark, you were a so-called weapon of mass destruction.

Maybe Iron Man had a point. Not a hundred percent on the dot and definitely not in how he chose to go about it—confining you and putting you in solitary internment—but he knew what you were capable of.

You were dangerous.

And he was absolutely right.

"Well, you can kiss the lunchbox goodbye because that's exactly the kind of justification our enemies use!" Strange argued, making you inwardly snort. Intimidatingly, you stepped closer to him, staring him straight in the eye—daring him to make the first move.

"Is it the one that you used? When you gave Thanos the Time Stone?" you calmly yet bitterly challenged back at his remark. You knew that he knew what he did to you. What he did to Vision. The memory was painfully fresh in your mind, Thanos ripping out the Mind Stone from the head of the person you loved the most after he used the Time Stone to easily reverse your sacrifice.

"Oh shit," Geto muttered, shocked. "Didn't expect that from her."

Clearly, Strange's face showed his guilt, "... That was a war. And I did what I had to do."

You were not convinced by his reasoning. Actually, you were unimpressed. "You break the rules and become the hero," you mocked, knowing about what happened with him and Spiderman, erasing memories and all with the Runes of Kof-Kol he was told not to use. You were merely rubbing salt in the wound; he was oh-so self-righteous wasn't he? "I do it and I become the enemy. That doesn't seem fair."

"Mom's... she's... she's gone psycho," Yuuji whispered, wide-eyed at your attitude and demeanor. "But... Dr. Strange did break a hella lot of rules... especially with erasing people's memories of Peter Parker... but Mom..." Yuuji's eyes became downcast. "I never thought she'd say something like that."

The others looked at the boy with pity. After all, he had always seen you as his strong, powerful, yet kind mother. For that image of you to be crushed... it must have definitely hurt a lot.

"What happens now?"

"Return to Kamar-Taj and prepare to hand over America Chavez by sundown. Peacefully," you stated your terms firmly. You then gave him a tiny smile. It didn't give them any reassurance, though. This smile of yours was darkly mischievous and triumphant, not the smile they loved to see. "After that, you will never see me again." You turned to leave, using your magic to store the Darkhold safely away from view, only for Strange to speak again.

"And if we don't?"

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at him one more time. "Then it won't be Wanda who comes for her. It will be the Scarlet Witch." It was not a threat. It was a promise.

"Hohoho, this is getting interesting," Sukuna almost giggled. Giggled. Out of excitement. If the King of Curses was this happy, it was an omen that bad things were to come.

ᗢ▪︎ᗢ

The scene morphed to all of them being in Kamar-Taj, with Wong—the current presiding Sorcerer Supreme—pacing the room quickly as an urgent meeting was held between various master sorcerers.

"The Scarlet Witch..." Wong murmured to himself anxiously, before declaring to the others. "The Scarlet Witch is a being of unfathomable magic. She can rewrite reality as she chooses, and is prophesized to either rule or annihilate the cosmos."

"Wait, what?" Yuuji exclaimed.

"Rule or annihilate, hm?" Sukuna chuckled darkly. "Interesting. Very interesting. More... more! I want to see mo—" Itadori slapped the noisy mouth on his cheek.

"Now is not the freaking time, Sukuna!" he huffed.

"Then what Agatha said before was true," Nanami pointed out, tense. "That her power exceeds the Sorcerer Supreme and that—"

"—It's her destiny to destroy the world," Toji finished grimly. "Well, goddamn."

"Suspend all teaching at once!" Wong ordered. "Kamar-Taj must now become a fortress!"

The jujutsu sorcerers then watched in surprise as the entirety of the temple and its dozens of residents swiftly prepared for battle, gathering weapons and artillery, even summoning the masters from the other two sanctums of the world: Hong Kong and London.

"... That's... an entire army," Megumi spoke out, breathless.

"Isn't an army of fifty or more wizards, like, too much for one person?" Choso wondered, scratching his head. "Overkill, that's the word, right?"

"We've seen what she did to Hayward's soldiers before," Toji reminded the other man. His green eyes narrowed, though. "But they are sorcerers, too, so we could give 'em some credit, at least. Maybe Strange can talk his way outta this and Y/N will agree. Maybe. And that Chavez girl will be fine."

Gojo rubbed his face with his hand tiredly, "God, you know what? This is reminding me of that time when your smartass declared war on all of us, trying to get Yuuta for Rika." The silver-haired sorcerer glared at his best friend, who only scowled at the memory of the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. Geto didn't verbally reply, inwardly still trying to... not be so hateful of... monkeys... damn, he really should stop calling non-sorcerers monkeys.

When all preparations and precautions had been made, the small army of Eldritch magic sorcerers the stood guard on Kamar-Taj. No space was left unprotected outside. The jujutsu sorcerers were also waiting for your appearance.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock!

Exactly at sunset, just as you had vowed, dark, billowing clouds appeared from the distance, slowly engulfing the entirety of Kamar-Taj and hushing the surroundings into silence. It was as if the sun had been dimmed and the area had been separated from the rest of the world. It was eerily silent, yet it felt like they were hearing ghostly whispers around them, too.

Yuuji shivered, even in his hoodie. "This is... kinda creepy."

"Reminds me of Coppola's film when Dracula signaled his arrival to London in a ship," Nanami murmured, eyes scanning the clouds to check for any sign of you. The others were doing the same, too.

"You mean the one with Winona Ryder? You always did like her in highschool, you emo," Gojo turned to him, momentarily distracted by his remark. Nanami only quietly sighed, mentally calming himself down and choosing to ignore the older man.

Suddenly, a red light appeared from the foggy clouds, making way to show you floating. Waiting. But surely you didn't think they'd so easily hand over America, right?

"Choose you words wisely," Wong whispered to Strange. "The fate of the Multiverse might depend on it."

Strange, beside him, felt like his shoulders became a ton heavier. "Right." He nodded. "But no pressure, right?" Wong only gave a nod.

As Stephen used the Cloak of Levitation to move towards you, the jujutsu sorcerers felt a pull to him, too. Soon enough, they found themselves floating nearby you and Strange in the sky, too. For Gojo, it wasn't weird since it felt similar to when he used his Infinity. For the others? It was startling to be in the air.

"Bruh, I'm flying?" Yuuji was in awe, then he grew solemn again, seeing your serious face. "This would've been fun if Mom was... Mom."

"All this for a child you met yesterday?" you thundered, glaring at Stephen.

"Wanda, you are justifiably angry," Strange began, trying to calm you. "You had to make terrible sacrifices—"

"I blew a hole through the head of the man I loved," you sharply interrupted, a hint of your past pains showing through. Your tone nearly made the jujutsu sorcerers wince as the image of your crying visage destroying the Mind Stone reappeared in their heads. "And it meant... nothing. Do not speak to me of sacrifice, Stephen Strange," you criticized spitefully. Then, your gaze grew softer as you moved towards Strange, leaning... closer, closer, and closer, until you both were face-to-face like that time in the apple orchard.

It was a fuming Satoru who immediately made a childish comment. "Are they gonna kiss or something? Why's she standing—er, floating so close to him!?"

"Shhh," Geto elbowed him. "Just listen, Satoru." But even the long-haired man (and a few others) was a teeny bit envious of how comfortable you seemed being so close to the Master of the Mystic Arts. That tiny green monster of jealousy in them grew even more when your gaze at Strange became tempting. Seductive, almost. Just like how Agatha had attempted to entice you to voluntarily surrender to her your powers back in Westview.

"If you give me the girl," you purred to Strange much like a beguiling siren would. The man visibly became much more still as he retained his composure. Whatever the Darkhold had done to you, your entire being and behavior were the epitome of alluring and captivating. Right before their very eyes, you were literally bewitching a man (... or six men, specifically, whose Adam's apples were bobbing as they swallowed at the sight of you). "I'll send you to a world where you can be with Christine," you offered, knowing exactly which buttons to press.

"... She's giving iconic Disney villains a run for their money," Gojo cleared his throat, pulling his collar and trying to cool himself down. "Or better yet, Satan himself, making deals like this and everything."

"Intelligent and beautiful, yet also powerful and manipulative," Geto thought to himself, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to distract himself from the memory of you being so... villainous and obsessed with your motives. The passion you exhibited was quite exhilarating, especially to that side of him who used to want to change the world. Perhaps you two weren't that different, after all. Was he terrified of you? Yes, quite. Was he also attracted? Very much, yes. As strange a combination that was. (Ryomen Sukuna, inside Yuuji, was fully embracing that feeling the five other grown jujutsu sorcerers were silently experiencing).

"... Kinda hot, can't lie," Toji hummed out making Megumi beside him cringe.

"Ew, Dad," the younger Fushiguro almost gagged.

Strange did not falter, though, declaring, "The full might of Kamar-Taj stands against you. Do not dare to enter these sacred grounds!" The jujutsu sorcerers had to give it to Dr. Strange, mentally applauding them for being able to resist you. If it were them in his place... well, that would be another story.

"Defensive positions!" the Sorcerer Supreme had commanded to his army from below.

At his defiant words, your shortened temper flared. "You have no idea just how reasonable I've been," you gritted out, all traces of your enchanting persona gone.

Stephen scoffed, retorting, "Book of the Damned, calling yourself a witch, conjuring up creatures to abduct a kid, I don't exactly call that being reasonable!"

"Sending those creatures after her instead of myself was mercy," you reproached, the glowing red balls of energy keeping you in flight flashing brighter with your aggravation. "And in spite of your... hypocrisies and insults," you condemned him harshly. "I have begged you to safely... Get. Out. Of. My. Way." Strange had a bad feeling about where this was about to go.

He definitely did not choose his words wisely, did he?

Geto was really getting déjà vu of himself at hearing you. Sukuna was even more thrilled. Toji, honestly, was impressed. Gojo was just stunned. Nanami and Choso, too, were simply speechless. Megumi and Yuuji only looked horrified. This was the same woman that gave them free food and dessert in her cute little shop? The same woman who would draw cute squiggles and chibi characters on cookies? The same woman who would patch them up when they were wounded? The same woman who gave almost all of them a second chance at life?

They couldn't believe it.

You continued your monologue, anger simmering as your voice turned lower in volume," You have exhausted my patience. But I do hope you understand that even now, what's about to happen...." You gave Strange a hateful, you-made-me-do-this-stare. "This is me being... reasonable."

Your words sent chills down their spines.

With that, you fired a blast of Chaos Magic at him, only for it to be blocked by a now-visible protective magic barrier spanning the area of Kamar-Taj. As Strange flew back down, the jujutsu sorcerers landed on solid ground once more. They stared back up at you outside the barrier.

And even in the distance, they saw that you had become very, very, very pissed off. Seething through your teeth.

"Uh-oh," Gojo exhaled out anxiously as he stared up into the sky. "She's angry."

"No shit, Sherlock," Geto scoffed beside him. "She's fucking livid." Despite not being in the actual battle itself, they could practically feel everything else, including the terror in their hearts as you charged towards Kamar-Taj once more, blasting the shield in different areas with multiple hexes simultaneously (something new they had noticed).

"Reinforce the shield!" Wong yelled out. Even as more sorcerers came to strengthen the barrier, the jujutsu sorcerers could still feel the quaking of the fortress at your blasts. The impacts had grown to be that powerful.

"Whoa, whoa," Yuuji balanced himself with the help of Nanami. The foundation of the building continued to shake.

Realizing that physical attacks were useless, you stopped, instead changing your strategy. Strange immediately noticed this as he saw you scanning the army of sorcerers.

"She's trying to get into their heads," Stephen told Wong, who grumbled.

"Sorcerers, fortify your minds!" he shouted. Honestly, the jujutsu sorcerers felt like they were also being reminded, too. They were getting a bit too distracted by your... change in demeanor. Still, you continued to look for an unfortunate victim. Surely, there had to be one newbie, right?

And you were right.

There was one, indeed, still so apprehensive and vulnerable. There he was. And he knew you were looking at him. You were locking eyes with your helpless target.

Bullseye.

Wide-eyed, the jujutsu sorcerers watched as your astral form appeared right behind one of the younger sorcerers, like the Devil tempting to consume the Forbidden Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. Your physical body, effortlessly awake, floated outside the shield, smirking wide. You astral form only had to whisper one thing for everything to crumble down into pieces.

"Run."

Goosebumps arose on their skins as your prey grew rattled, sprinting away in fear and creating a hole sufficient enough for you to breach in. He had bumped into multiple other sorcerers on the way, too, further weakening the shield. That was when you started channeling more of your Chaos Magic to create another blast.

"Oh fuck, should we run, too?" Gojo asked, yet his legs were already beginning to move. After all, he didn't have his Infinity or his Limitless with him. Right now. And even if this was the past, this was literally, like, a 6D experience.

The blast you shot hit the ground beside them before they could react, knocking them off their feet like the many Eldritch magic sorcerers nearby.

"Oh shit, shit, shit! Get up, Satoru!" Geto grabbed his best friend's shirt as he himself got up from the ground. Toji had Megumi tossed over his shoulder, with Choso doing the same for Yuuji (who had somehow lost his left shoe). Nanami was holding said missing left shoe as he urged the others to run behind Strange near the entrance of Kamar-Taj.

Their reflexes and battle instinct from all their years living in the world of jujutsu had kicked in. But this time, the enemy was you. At least, it felt like it. When they were all near Strange, they took a glimpse of you.

Mercilessly shooting down sorcerers as you charged towards Kamar-Taj, swatting them away like flies with your psionic energy, toppling structures and towers, tossing stone and huge debris everywhere—all while simultaneously defending yourself with an energy shield. You were multitasking offense and defense like it was nothing, reducing Kamar-Taj to ruins in no less than five minutes since the shield was down.

It was chaos.

"Magic on autopilot," Yuuji's eyes were wide.

Right at the entrance, their memory of you as they ran with Wong and Strange was you landing down onto the ground, creating a pulsating wave of energy that decimated any remaining survivors. There was one—screaming and bawling as he crawled on the ground. Without even batting an eye, you waved your hand—literally erasing him from existence with Chaos Magic.

"Holy crap," Yuuji was terrorized. Utterly terrorized. "Did she just... delete that guy out of existence...?"

The others were stunned, as well. But Sukuna? Sukuna was having the time of his life watching you being so cruel and heartless. They didn't even bother telling him off as he openly roared with laughter. It seemed fitting that the King of Curses would laugh so jubilantly, with several fires raging around them, burning bodies into ash and crisp, nothing but sheer blood and destruction at the hands of the Scarlet Witch.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THIS IS IT! THIS IS WHAT I WANTED! THE STENCH OF BLOOD! DEATH! RAGE! FEAR!" Sukuna nearly split his sides in delight. "THE SCARLET WITCH SHALL BE MINE! MINE, MINE, MINE!"

However, much to your surprise, ten Masters of the Mystic Arts bravely... or foolishly... appeared before you through their signature yellow-orange ring portals, poised with their swords; ready to fight. Ah, yes. These were probably the best of the best they had aside from Stephen Strange.

But their best would never be a match for you.

"You dare go against me, sorcerers?" you declared in a booming voice, one fine brow raised and one hand glowing red.

Already highly perturbed at the slaughter you had just executed, the other jujutsu sorcerers could say nothing. As you spoke to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, it felt like you were addressing them, too.

What had become of the sweet woman they knew?

"You are a threat to this world, Scarlet Witch," one of the Masters answered spitefully. "Therefore, we must eliminate you!"

For a few seconds, you were silent. They—including the jujutsu sorcerers—anticipated your reply. Suddenly, you chuckled. Darkly. With it, a matching smirk.

"You are more than welcome to try." It wasn't a threat. It was a taunt. A promise, even.

With that, the Masters of the Mystic Arts charged at you with their swords and magic, only for you to forcefully toss them into the air and slam their bodies into the broken ground. This time, instead of using pure magic to kill them, you even incorporated your magic into skillful hand-to-hand combat, something they hadn't fully seen since what, that time you fought Proxima Midnight in Scotland?

In even more shock and horror, the jujutsu sorcerers watched you move swiftly and fiercely, slicing the Masters with their own swords. With one, you even mind-controlled to slice his own head with his own weapon. The red psionics wrapped around the decapitated body—with you using it as a shield against the other Masters. It was an... effective technique, as grotesque as it was. The corpse had two swords in its abdomen, puppeteering it to kill the other Masters even as it was spurting out fresh blood from its severed neck. As you discarded the body, you expertly dodged and evaded the other Masters charging towards you, snapping their necks or manipulating their bodies to destroy one another.

"Holy mother of..." Gojo gulped, flinching as you crushed a man's skull with your magic. The blood splattered on your face, yet you were unfazed. Behind you, the last Master attempted to inflict some damage, only for him to die the most gruesome death of them all with Chaos Magic as you snapped your gaze to him.

Bones and limbs twisted and broken, screaming in agony, until he was nothing but a mangled mess that exploded into nothing but blood.

"Shit, that's..." Geto's eyes were wide open. Now he was really wondering what would have happened if you got involved with the jujutsu world before Yuuji came along. If you... no, if the Scarlet Witch interfered when he was alive... with you siding with Yuuta and Rika, the Queen of Curses...

He would have been fucked. Kenjaku wouldn't have even had the chance to steal his body because after all this, he realized that you could just delete him out of existence. On a whim. That was how great your power was and you weren't even a jujutsu sorcerer.

You were so unassuming and "normal" on the outside that he would have deemed you a monkey. He would've deemed you a scum of the earth... if he had met you before you met him in that fateful day in your shop. And he would've been so stupid because of that because even without cursed energy, you possessed and mastered something that the Multiverse itself was in danger from.

Chaos Magic.

Yeah. It dawned onto Geto that he would have been really doomed.

And despite all of Masters you sent to their deaths, you looked remorseless. Your eyes lacked the soul and warmth and shine that the jujutsu sorcerers adored. Instead, you were a mindless killing machine with only one mission in mind: to make your children yours again.

"Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful," Sukuna nearly purred and groaned as you mindlessly magicked away the blood splatters on your face. "Fit to be my queen, to rule the world alongside me..."

The others couldn't look more disturbed at what you had just done. Was this how... bad the Darkhold's influence on you was?

As if nothing had happened, you stepped towards the main entrance of Kamar-Taj, using the witch's eye to locate your target. America Chavez. The jujutsu sorcerers momentarily found themselves with the girl, and with her, they could hear unearthly whispers—in Sokovian—as you taunted her. Scaring her. You knew exactly where she was. And you were going to get her.

Hide-and-seek was over. It was time for the chase.

Then your intimidation tactics abruptly stopped as you opened your eyes, and the jujutsu sorcerers were now darting their gaze between you and Strange. You gave them man an unamused look, questioning him silently. Daring him.

"You want the girl, you'll have to go through me," he boldly declared.

You accepted his challenge. "Fine."

What you didn't expect was for you to be lured into a trap. Right as you stepped on a button on the floor, your surroundings morphed into kaleidoscopes and countless distorted reflections of space. The jujutsu sorcerers had also become trapped with you, watching as you stared at the infinite reflections of yourself in the Mirror Dimension.

".... Why is a creepy lullaby playing in the background?" Yuuji frowned. "Horror vibes."

"Yo, this is... well, this is reminding me of my time in the Prison Realm," Gojo gasped out. "But this is pretty spacious, isn't it? Prison Realm's pretty cramped."

All of a sudden, gigantic glass spikes shot out from around you, making you raise your arms to instinctively cover your body. Around them, too, but it was nowhere near the size of the shards trapping you.

"Shit, that scared me," Gojo exhaled, a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "And I stand corrected. It's very cramped in here now."

"And sharp," Geto added. "Watch out."

"Ya know, I'm kinda torn between rooting for Strange or Y/N," Toji commented, crossing his arms as he exaimined the glass. "Maybe I'm biased."

"All of us are," Choso pointed out. "It's Y/N, after all. And mind you, a lot of us aren't blameless either." By that, he was referring to himself, Toji, Geto, and Sukuna, specifically. "Technically, aren't we all killers here?"

"... He's got a point," Nanami replied coolly. "None of us are blameless." With that, it was silent amongst them, with only your slightly labored breathing to be heard as you tried to figure out how to get out.

You attempted to break free by firing a bolt of energy at the glass, only for it to continuously ricochet and nearly hit you. Changing your strategy, they watched as you stared at the broken reflection of your face and reached in-between.

Escaping just needed a bit of creativity and imagination.

And, of course, magic.

The scene cut to Strange trying to teleport America with a Sling Ring, only for it to break off and vanish into thin air. The jujutsu sorcerers flinched as they felt an unseen malevolent presence appear in the room, slamming doors shut like a vengeful spirit out for blood. Then suddenly, the guards protecting America were dragged down into puddles of water by a pair of very familiar arms.

"... The fuck?" Toji blinked, baffled.

"Reflections," Strange deduced, warning Wong and Chavez. "She's using the reflections! Cover them!"

The trio proceeded to grab blankets and cloths from around them, quickly covering puddles that remained from an earlier rain last night.

"Makes sense," Geto murmured, deep in thought. "Like in our world, reflections... or mirrors... can be portals to other dimensions. To domains."

They watched as America was about to cover another tiny puddle of water, but as she stared at it too long, an eye appeared.

"Ahhhhhhh!" America and Yuuji screamed at the same time.

Then, a bent arm with crooked, broken fingers suddenly shot out from behind her, like a zombie who had risen from the dead and from its rotten grave underground. This time, it wasn't only America and Yuuji who had screamed (or at the very least, yelped).

You emerged from the golden gong like something out of The Ring, indisputably twisted and deformed, skin split open in multiple places, limbs and neck snapped the wrong directions, and crawling on-fours and on your back as your disfigured bones popped back into place through the Chaos Magic running through your veins like blood.

It was at that very moment that the several jujutsu sorcerers present realized that the Scarlet Witch was a thousand times more terrorizing than any cursed spirit that they would ever face in their lifetime.

"Oh my God!" Yuuji exclaimed. "Ohhhhhhh my God!"

"The fuck is that?" Sukuna and Toji chorused out, watching your body be literally put back together again hideously.

"... I think... I think I'm gonna be sick," a pale, severely-disturbed Megumi unwillingly blurted out as he retched.

"That is... I have no words," Gojo stuttered. Was he disgusted at seeing the insides of your body all jagged up from breaking the shards of the Mirror Dimension? Was he terrified at seeing you come out of the gong like you were that girl from The Grudge? Was he shocked at seeing you reassemble your entire body so repulsively? Yes, yes, and yes. All of them were.

"Never really liked Pennywise anyway," Geto mumbled. He would definitely not be able to erase that image from his head. And he's seen his fair share of revolting curses. "What the actual fuck did Y/N just do to herself?"

"Well shit," Toji was unable to remove his eyes from you as you regenerated. He didn't exactly know what to feel.

The rest were too stunned to speak.

"You gave all those lives just to keep my from my children," you mocked Dr. Strange, walking towards him and his allies like you didn't just break all the bones in your body and fix it. You would've preferred to emerge out of one of the puddles so that you wouldn't come out so distorted, but they'd covered them all or weren't big enough for you to get out. So, the gong was the only option you had—even with how imperfect its reflection was.

"You took those lives!" Stephen yelled back, protectively putting America behind him. "You cannot be allowed to cross into the Multiverse."

"I'm not a monster, Stephen," you defended yourself.

"... Uh, wouldn't be so sure about that," Gojo scratched his head at your remark.

"I'm a mother," you added, stopping a few meters in front of America, Wong, and Stephen.

"Wanda, you have no children!" Strange argued, frustrated by your useless quest for your kids. "They don't exist!"

"Oh, but they do. In every other universe," you enunciated firmly. "I know they do. Because I dream of them. Every. Night." With that, you made a series of hypnotizing hand motions that summoned the Darkhold in front of you. From the Book of the Damned emerged a red mist of your Chaos Magic, and it showed everyone the multiple universes—countless—all containing you and your happy, peaceful family. "I dream of my boys," you whispered, eyes glazing with tears as you watched them grow up with you. "Of our... life together."

The jujutsu sorcerers gazed sadly, suddenly feeling sorry for you as they saw all the other universes that had you and your loved ones as a complete family. The highlights of the alternate universes were mostly Billy and Tommy.

In one universe, they saw you holding the newborn twins in your arms, singing softly a Sokovian lullaby as you rocked them to sleep. In another universe, they saw you clapping happily as you taught the twins how to walk, with them taking their wobbly first steps towards you. There was even another universe where you were simply helping the preschool-aged kids do some arts-and-crafts activities. There was one when they were in the last age they remembered, still kids, almost teens, but you three were running in the field and playing catch with them. In another, you were with the older, teenaged twins as they embraced you, telling you they loved you.

It felt like watching WandaVision all over again, but this time, a version of if it had kept playing until you and Vision grew old with Billy and Tommy. They also noted that in these alternate universes, sometimes Vision was there, sometimes other men were the twins' father, or you were a single mom. Either way, the you of every other universe was far more content and happy with her life. None of them had hurt and experienced so much pain that they were forged into the Scarlet Witch.

None of them. Only you. And God, wasn't that unfair?

"Mom..." Yuuji whispered, seeing tears form in your eyes. "So, all the other variants of her except... her... are happy?"

"Fate really is cruel, huh?" Geto remarked with a tone of pity for you. He frowned.

"If we were in her place, wouldn't we go crazy, too?" Toji muttered. He knew he would go crazy if he found out that in all the infinite universes, it was only in his universe that his life sucked before his first wife saved him and made him truly happy. What if... in other lives, he got to grow old with the love of his life?

Choso silently agreed. What if it was only in his universe that his brothers met their end? That he wouldn't be able to be with them? He'd be pissed, too. But that was a what-if he would never be able to answer.

Nanami was thinking how it would be if he found out that it was only himself that lost Haibara. What if all the other Nanami in other universes had a different destiny? What if Haibara survived? What if... what if...

"Every night, the same dream," you breathed. Then, right as you shut the Darkhold, a single tear dropped down you cheek. It was dark again, with no glowing red magic to illuminate the room. "And every morning, the same... nightmare."

America's eyes showed sympathy; she knew what it felt like to yearn for her family. Her mothers, specifically. Even Strange felt pity for you after seeing what you had just shown him. It truly was unfair. And he felt like he needed to apologize for you for his insensitive comment about you having no children because, it turns out, you did. Just not in this universe. But that didn't change the massacre you had just committed minutes ago. "... What if you reach them? What happens to the other you? What happens to their mother?" he asked, an ominous feeling in his gut for your answer.

Your expression darkened. Slowly, a miniscule yet sinister smirk curved your lip up, only implying one thing. Immediately, they knew your answer through your silence.

The next few minutes were but a blur, with a short-lived fight between you and Wong. The jujutsu sorcerers watched, once more in horror, as you restricted America and began siphoning her powers from her. In her fear, portals to the Multiverse were involuntarily opened.

Strange, in an attempt to save Chavez, flew towards her. You shot a single blast at him to deter him, however, something else happened.

He aimed wrong, still dragging America with him, but this time, into the multiple portals across the Multiverse.

And this time, the jujutsu sorcerers had been dragged along with them.

"Ooooohhhhh, shiiiiii—" Gojo's, Toji's, Geto's, and Yuuji's voices echoed as they got the full experience of travelling the Multiverse. From Kamar-Taj, they were literally flying into worlds with the Living Tribunal, outer space, an icy planet, quantum particles, an underwater space, a world where Stark Technology was prominent, hell itself, a jungle full of dinosaurs, a planet ruled by bees, a place where everything was cartoons and comics, another dimension where they were literally turned into blocks, then another were they became splashes of color, then a world where HYDRA succeeded, and a whole lot more they couldn't process in a blink of an eye because suddenly, they were on a rooftop in a random universe where a lot of things seemed more advanced in New York.

While Strange and Chavez conversed, the others were not too happy.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit." Geto held his aching, spinning head. The others also landed face first into the floor.

"We just travelled the Multiverse," Gojo gawked, then pointed to himself in realization, bewildered and shaken to the core. "I just travelled the Multiverse. Oh God, that felt like being in my own Infinite Void but worse somehow. Much worse."

"Ow," Choso groaned, rubbing the bump on his head (he had been protecting Yuuji's head, in turn, preventing him from holding his own head from the impact).

A grimacing Toji had done the same for Megumi's head, but his son was already in a corner puking his guts out in whatever pail he could find, just like Strange who was also retching from the motion sickness. Nanami, whose glasses were still miraculously on his face, was patting Megumi's back. Still, Kento himself seemed as if he was in a daze after the entire ordeal.

Yuuji was laid flat on the ground, eyes staring into the sky tiredly. "... I wanna go home really bad," he mumbled, dizzy from Multiverse hopping. "I want Mom back. The nice one. The one that gives me rice bowls and dessert out of nowhere and hugs me. I don't wanna be in her past. I just want the present... her. I don't care. I just want my mom."

"Me, too, kiddo," Satoru pulled him up, frowning. "Oi! Megumi-chan! You good? We gotta follow the girl and Strange!"

Nanami offered Megumi a yellow-and-black-dotted handkerchief from his pocket, which the spiky-haired boy gratefully accepted to wipe his mouth. "Y-Yeah. I'm good. I think. Blegh," he cringed at the taste of acid and vomit in his mouth.

The jujutsu sorcerers tagged along with Strange and America as they searched for the variant of Dr. Strange who guarded this universe's New York Sanctum, stopping by for some stolen pizza balls, crossing the road on a red light (also weird for the jujutsu sorcerers), and stumbling upon a Memory Lane free trial—which felt really meta with how they were practically experiencing your Memory Lane—only for all of them to stop in front of a huge statue made in memory of that universe's Dr. Strange. America asked the question they all had in their heads.

"If other you's dead, who's master of the Sanctum?"

With the way things were going, it appeared that the Karl Mordo of this universe was about to fight them, only for him to introduce himself and laugh, hugging Strange. "My brother! Come in! And tell me about your universe!"

Stunned, Strange awkwardly laughed, ushering America to follow the man into the Sanctum. After some quick pleasantries, Strange got straight to the point, mentioning you as they discussed current events through tea. Instantly, the jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up.

"Our Wanda has the ability to conjure demons and monsters to attack America in other universes," Strange warned Mordo.

"So she has the Darkhold?" Mordo inquired, slightly leaning towards Stephen in question.

"You know of the Darkhold?" Strange asked.

"Oh yes. We have a Darkhold in this universe, too. I guard it here in this Sanctum," Mordo disclosed. "We would never risk a weapon that dangerous falling into the wrong hands."

"Damn right," Strange muttered.

"But if your Darkhold is anything like ours, I'm afraid she can do far worse than just summon monsters to come after you here," Mordo advised.

"Far worse? Hasn't she done the worst already in Kamar-Taj?" Nanami wondered out loud, the chilling memory of you crawling out of that gong sending shivers down his spine, like insects crawling on his skin. It was... extremely... disturbing.

"Who knows? If Y/N did some IT and The Grudge kind of shit, maybe she's gonna go The Exorcist this time. Or The Conjuring," Toji huffed out. "Maybe even Final Destination or something."

Funnily enough, the infamous Sorcerer Killer had no idea how right he was with his offhanded comment.

"What do you mean?" America nervously asked.

"There is a... spell contained within those pages," Mordo revealed in a hushed tone. "Corrosive to the soul. A desecration of reality itself." Whether it was for effect or if it was forbidden to speak about, the multiple candles in the room were suddenly blown out by a wind that came out of nowhere.

"Uh-oh..." Yuuji's eyes darted around. "I've got a bad, bad feeling about this."

"Dreamwalking," Mordo spoke out. "A dreamwalking sorcerer projects their own consciousness from their universe into another, possessing the body of an alternate self."

The jujutsu sorcerers froze at his statement. Gojo spoke out first, pointing at his ear with a befuddled expression, "Wait, wait, did I just hear this guy right? Possessing the body of an alternate self?"

"Dreamwalking...?" Geto quietly repeated to himself in shock. Nanami, who was beside Toji, sighed out.

"Turns out you were pretty accurate with your prediction," the blonde spoke to the ex-assassin, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

Mordo continued, "They may puppeteer this unholy doppelganger and pursue their enemies from afar."

"That's scary," Yuuji exhaled, running a hand through his pink locks. "So what, Mom's really gonna go even batshit crazier?"

"Sounds like it," Choso answered back, listening intently.

"The possession is not a permanent link between realities. But in the fleeting time they dreamwalk, they can do irreparable damage to the universe they invade," Mordo divulged. "So it may not be a demon you face. It may be the Scarlet Witch."

"Why didn't she do that in the first place?" America asked, confused.

"Because that was her being reasonable," Stephen replied tensely, turning to Mordo as your warnings echoed in his ear. "What do you know about the Book of Vishanti?"

"The Darkhold's antithesis?" Mordo seemed unsurprised and calm. "It can give a sorcerer whatever power they need to vanquish their enemy."

"I need your help to get me to it," Strange requested, only to start feeling queasy. Very, very queasy. His brows furrowed as his vision spun, blurring.

Meanwhile, the jujutsu sorcerers grew bewildered as the scene in front of them began flickering back and forth. Now, they were seeing you restrain Wong with your magic in bits and pieces. Yet, at the same time, they were seeing America and Strange, as well.

"I'm sorry, Stephen." Mordo stood up, walking towards the staggering Strange, "But I hope you, of all people, understand that it is not Wanda Maximoff who threatens our reality. It's the two of you."

"Oh, God," Chavez whispered, losing consciousness.

"What was in that tea?" Strange stumbled, falling to the floor and dropping his teacup. "You son of a—" He tried standing up, but to no avail, seeing the teapot on the floor which glowed green. "The Sands of Nisanti..." he realized. No wonder he was so drowsy.

"What's happening? We didn't even have any of his tea!" Yuuji exclaimed, the scene still flickering between you with an unconscious Wong in Kamar-Taj and Strange with Chavez in the unknown universe.

"Please don't let us be thrown in the Multiverse again," Megumi prayed to whatever gods were there, knowing he might puke again. "Please, please, please."

"I'm only acting as you would," Mordo said, leaving. Strange closed his eyes, whispering one last thing.

"She's coming."

Before they knew it, the flitting scene fully morphed to you in Kamar-Taj, standing in the middle of multiple, brightly-lit candles forming a circle. You were performing some sort of witchy ritual, your hands gracefully executing a series of hand gestures which brought forth the Book of the Damned. Your hands glowed the misty, reddish-black fog of your Chaos Magic. All of them were mesmerized—like they were in a trance—as they observed such a... blaphemous ceremony.

"Hmm. This is quite entertaining," Sukuna finally spoke out once more, chuckling to himself as he watched you cross your legs, floating in mid-air with you eyes closed and your blackened fingers resting on your lap.

"Oh God, she really is a witch," Geto breathed out at the sight.

Countless glowing balls of reddish-black energy materialized behind you, connecting you to the entire Multiverse as you searched your variants one by one, trying to see which matched America's whereabouts. When you finally found it, you projected your soul to your target variant, traversing the Multiverse. The jujutsu sorcerers, too, watched with their very eyes as your soul traveled the neuron-like network of universes. They were transported inside the house—the Vision Residence—of your variant, arriving with a faint, echoing scream in the background. Now, they were right behind your variant, who was cleaning up for the night.

"Boys, it's time for bed," the variant of you reminded her kids as she took away the dishes.

"Can we have a little more ice cream? Please, please, please?" the twins begged. "A little more, please?" Alternate you shook her head.

"Hey, don't make Mom out to be the bad guy," other you gently chastised, making them pout.

"Awww, okay, Mom." Thankfully, Billy and Tommy were easily distracted by a game, allowing you to clean up in peace.

Or so you thought.

Alternate you stopped in her tracks around the same time the jujutsu sorcerers' heads snapped towards the empty staircase in her residence. It felt like somebody was watching them. Her. As jujutsu sorcerers and trained killers, they knew better than to underestimate the invisible.

"... Y/N is here, isn't she?" Nanami murmured, eyes trained on the staircase. Nothing appeared to there, but the air... it was unsettling. Like a silent monster hiding under the bed. Or in the closet.

"Even without my Six Eyes, she is seriously giving off crazy cursed spirit behavior," Gojo muttered with a shiver, then turned to one of the men with him. "No offense, Choso."

The cursed spirit just blinked at him, then shrugged wordlessly, as if telling the other man, "None taken."

They observed as alternate you mulled over the sudden, nerve-wracking atmosphere. She knew something was wrong. There was an unseen, foreboding presence with her. She hasn't used her powers in a while, yet even then, something primal in her was telling her she was being watched. Deciding not to think much of it—perhaps it was just an owl outside—she hesitantly stepped towards the kitchen.

As she did it, the sound of crickets outside faded away. The warm lights in the room started flickering strangely.

On. Off. On. Off.

She took a glance at her kids, who seemed to be unaware of what was happening. Dread filled her entire being. Was she going insane? Was she seeing things? As she headed to the sink, the lampshade installed above the dining table began swinging wildly by itself as it kept flickering on and off, its creaks and screeches amplified like nails on a chalkboard. Its angry flickers were making other you feel quite lightheaded, too.

Creaaaaaaaak!

Behind her, the jujutsu sorcerers were seeing and feeling—experiencing the whole thing—unable to describe what they were going through. What alternate you was going through.

When she turned to the other direction to try and ground herself, she saw herself in her own picture frame move. No, it didn't just move. Its head turned and the smile on its face vanished as it glared directly at her.

"What... the fuck...?" Toji said what everyone was thinking, bewildered.

"I've seen a hella lot of cursed spirits but this is just plain creepy," Gojo muttered, feeling cold.

"Damn right," Geto replied, covering his ears in irritation at the scratching sound of the lampshade creaking. "Ugh. That makes me want to claw my ears out."

Breathe. Breathe.

Alternate you was starting to hyperventilate in panic, a random burst of wind making Billy's and Tommy's bowls fall... sideways? Not vertically to the ground due to normal gravity, but horizontally to the counter, defying the laws of physics. She was hearing haunting, evanescent whispers in Sokovian, too.

All of which she understood fully.

As her vision began to tilt, she ran towards the sink to hold herself—to stabilize herself before she fell. However, her eyes caught movement on one of the dirty plates beside the sink. The peas on Tommy's used plate were rolling around on their own, sounding awfully like hard mables on stone.

Rrrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrr. Rrrrrrrrr.

Her head whipped to the right, hearing... ocean waves? In the unfinished cup of tea, she was seeing... roaring tides crashing against each other? Terror froze the blood in her veins.

Shhhhhhhhh. Shhhhhhhh. Shhhhhh.

Something was very wrong.

When she lifted her head, instead of seeing her normal reflection, she was met with you—her evil, deranged doppelganger. Your glowing, scarlet irises stared daggers into her entire being. Not even giving her another second to react, you entered her body—stealing its place and locking her soul away. She struggled against the invasion of her own body, writhing and screaming, eyes widened and limbs taut, but you were the stronger soul.

You'll take her place from inside her.

The jujutsu sorcerers could only watch in muted horror as the depraved, demonic-like spiritual possession took place. Finishing up the possession, your eyes glowed a brighter red before dimming back to its regular shade. You let out a small breath of relief, subtly wiggling your shoulders—as if testing out your new body. Strangely enough, it felt comfortable. Snug and fit—except for the wails of your alternate self in her own mind.

You'd shut her up soon enough.

Suddenly, your eyes met theirs for the first time, making the spectators watching the whole scene visibly flinch and hold their breaths unconsciously. A tiny smirk appeared on your lips as you turned away.

"Oh?" Sukuna, as a mouth on his vessel's face, sounded out in interest. He was the only one finding a sick sense of enjoyment in all of this.

"Did... Did she just... see us?" Yuuji cowered in fear, hiding behind Nanami and Choso. The other men couldn't answer him, also stunned.

"This... is very different... from her interview from that one Modern Family-themed WandaVision episode..." Gojo swallowed, traumatized at you breaking the fourth wall of whatever spell or illusion they were thrown into.

They may exorcise cursed spirits for a living, but the Scarlet Witch introduced to them a sense of dread that was unmatched. You were the stuff nightmares were made out of.

"Mom?"

You halted in your steps, hearing the two voices you've longed to hear for so long. But now was not the time. You couldn't face them now, could you? You had to look for America first. Still, your heart couldn't resist. "... Yes, sweetheart?" you shakily replied, unable to keep the emotion out of your voice. Suddenly, the fear in the jujutsu sorcerers' hearts turned into pity. In this moment, they suddenly wanted to give their condolences to you, now fully knowing how much you'd lost.

You were going to meet your children once again.

"Where are you going?"

Your heart clenched. "Just... to take out the trash," you lied, stammering. However, as they rushed and urge you to come to them, saying they'd show you something. You slowly turned on your heels as the boys asked you to hurry up, your eyes welling with tears as you finally saw them again.

Billy and Tommy.

Your twins. Your babies. The two beings whom you loved more than life itself aside from your late husband. The very beings which were perfectly half you and half the love of your life.

The began arguing on who would start, only for you to cut in, voice trembling with emotion, "Why... don't you both... start... it... whatever it is... together?"

"Okay!" your kids chirped, counting down.

"I wonder what they're gonna do," Yuuji asked, only to sweatdrop at what happened next.

"We like ice cream, like every child should!" the twins sang, off-key. You didn't mind (but some of the jujutsu sorcerers did). "And if you give us ice cream, we promise to be good!"

"Ugh," Sukuna and Toji groaned simultaneously in irritation.

"Definitely not singers," Gojo snorted, trying to push the horrifying memory of you possessing your alternate self into the back of his mind, only for Geto to elbow him.

"I think it's cute, so don't be rude," his best friend chided, his soft dad side coming out. "Mimiko and Nanako did something similar when they wanted candy."

"... Mom's crying," Yuuji suddenly pointed out sadly. Tears were flowing down your cheeks as you cupped the twins' faces gently, like you were touching them as newborns again.

Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to stay here with them. Just for a little while. You'd give them ice cream and talk with them. Yeah. That seemed like a good plan. Everything else could wait.

Then, the scene changed once more as they were brought back to the original universe you were in, where your original body was floating in the middle of the circle of candles. They saw Wong's limbs restrained by your magic. However, one of the survivors, Sara, came up to him.

"You're alive," Wong breathed out. Sara nodded solemnly.

"Yes. But so many others were lost," Sara murmured regretfully. Wong then turned to your dreamwalking, vulnerable form.

"Set me free. I need to destroy the book," he stated, only for the woman beside him to shake her head, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek.

"No. It cannot be you." With that, Sara took out a dagger from her robes, tackling the Darkhold and stabbing it.

"Sara! No!" Wong cried out.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched, for the nth time, in horror as destroying the Darkhold burned Sara into ash, a sole tear the only evidence of her life. From the other universe, the scene before them flickered once more, between your possessed alternate self and your dreamwalking state. With the Darkhold destroyed, the connection severed and the spell reversed.

Flicker.

You roughly fell to the floor, dropping the porcelain plates and utensils you were going to use for Billy's and Tommy's ice cream. At the same time, they saw your once-dreamwalking body get blasted down to the ground in your original universe.

Flicker.

Hearing the crash from the kitchen, the twins came running to you. "Mom!"

Flicker.

"What happened!?"

Flicker.

Still, they saw you frantically get up, kneeling in front of the twins, flickering from one universe to another and attempting to sustain the possession... trying to stay with your boys.

Flicker. Flicker.

"Are you okay!?" they asked worriedly, helping you get up.

Flicker... Flicker... Flicker... Nothing.

"Billy... Tommy..." you panted, their concerned faces disappearing from your field of vision as you unwillingly returned back to your original universe.

"Y/N..." the sorcerers murmured, again sympathetic of your situation, no matter how twisted and fucked up it was. In a frenzy, you scampered towards the remains of the Darkhold, whimpering at its sorry state.

"No, no, no, no," you whispered miserably, holding the book up. It was gone. Dismayed, your lips wobbled as you became hopeless. The jujutsu sorcerers thought that this would be it. Your corruption would stop. The ink on your fingers grew fainter already, only tinges and traces of it left.

Suddenly, you glowered darkly.

And they stilled in fear once again as you slowly swivelled around to Wong. Before they could react, you had already thrown him to the ruins of Kamar-Taj, striding menacingly towards him.

"I need the Darkhold's spells," you demanded impatiently, playing no games and getting straight to the point. "You are the Sorcerer Supreme. Tell me what you know!"

"You'll have to kill me first, witch," Wong spat out spitefully.

Your eyes narrowed as his defiance, something Sukuna was very much liking. He chuckled once more before Yuuji slapped a hand over him again. The others were watching the scene anxiously, not knowing what you'd do next (because honestly, you were being unbelievably unpredictable in this obsessed state of yours). "Not you," you spoke out, raising one hand. "Them."

From behind Wong, four survivors were swept into the air, your Chaos Magic physically tormenting them and twisting their bodies painfully. Even their cries and wails of pain weren't enough to deter you. You would get what you want. No matter what it takes. You didn't care.

"Wanda, stop!" Wong pleaded, unable to see his students tortured. You didn't stop, cracking and popping your fingers even more to strengthen the pain they were feeling. "Wanda, please!"

"Goddamn, she's crueler here than with Kenjaku," Toji stated. He wouldn't be messing with you anytime soon after this. Not that he would. Ever.

"The Darkhold's clouded her reason so much," Nanami frowned. This wasn't you. You were taking out your pain and rage on these innocent wizards.

"... The Darkhold was a copy!" Wong relented. Instantly, with a wave of your hand, the torture and screams stopped.

"A copy?"

"Legend speaks of a mountain with the wretched spells you seek carved into its walls," Wong shut his eyes. He shouldn't he telling you this, but he had to. The guilt of so many lives lost were already weighing down on him. "It's there the Darkhold was transcribed. Mount Wundagore."

You paused. It was a vaguely familiar place to you. It was near Sokovia, and briefly, you could remember old folktales and legends there from your childhood. "Mount Wundagore?" you repeated to confirm.

"No one has survived the journey," Wong disclosed as you set the four survivors down—astonishingly, in a gentler manner—to the ground. But, from one of the corpses, you used your magic to throw an extra Sling Ring to Wong.

Mount Wundagore was your next destination.

"Perhaps we will be the exception," you stated darkly, accent thicker as you set your goal to the mountain.

Suddenly, the jujutsu sorcerers were teleported to where Strange and America were contained in an advanced research facility. They met 838-Christine... who consequently told Strange that he was 616-Strange... which led to them to wonder.

"What number is our universe?" Choso questioned out loud.

"I wonder that, too..." Yuuji eeplied, scratching his head. "All this Multiverse stuff is making my head hurt."

"Someone from my universe wants that girl," Strange warned 838-Christine, who refused to let him and America go. "And she's going to rip this place apart atom-by-atom until she gets what she wants."

"... That's one way to describe Y/N," Toji shrugged, turning to Yuuji... or the curse inside him. "She did beat ya up in your domain that time ya ripped Itadori's heart, didn't ya?"

"Tch!" Sukuna snarled, but didn't deny it. The other sorcerers and Yuuji himself were surprised, not knowing about the event.

"She beat Sukuna up in his domain?" Gojo questioned, hearing the juicy gossip. "Heeeey, when did that happen?"

"Sometime after ya told her that Sukuna ripped this kid's heart before he got resurrected," Toji shared, smirking at the memory, glancing at Geto and Choso. "Ya two weren't there yet, so it was just the two of us. But I'll tell ya what, seeing an old woman in a dark room with glowing red eyes and floating knives is something ya wouldn't wanna see. No wonder she came back in a good mood after beating the shit outta ya."

"She did not beat shit outta me, bastard!" Sukuna protested, growling. He refused to be humiliated by a man who didn't even use jujutsu!

Funnily enough, after everything that's happened, they could vividly imagine what Toji was describing.

They heard Strange continue talking, "So I don't care if you're from the Avengers or SHIELD—"

"We're neither," a voice interrupted from behind Christine. It was 838-Mordo, with...

"Are those a bunch of Ultron bots behind him?" Nanami recognized. "Like those Stark created when we saw the younger Y/N and Pietro."

"Seems like it," Megumi agreed.

"Well, what then? HYDRA?" Strange shouted. That was a word the jujutsu sorcerers hadn't heard since what? Civil War? WandaVision? They were getting really familiar with the history of your universe... or Earth-616, specifically.

"The Illuminati will see you now," Mordo announced.

"The Illumi-what-y?" Strange (and hilariously, Gojo and Yuuji) said out loud in confusion.

Before more explanations could be made, they were suddenly on top of a freezing, snowy mountain. Unfortunately for them, despite the upcoming snowstorm—actually, beknownst to them, ongoing snowstorm—in their world, they had removed their jackets, coats, scarves, and layers back in your home. Now, they were left helpless to the powers of nature, the icyness nipping at their skin.

"W-W-W-Where a-are w-we?" Yuuji chattered, hands by his shoulders. The other sorcerers were chattering, too, in the middle of the frosty temperature.

"I-I-I t-t-think this i-is M-Mount W-Wundag-gore?" Gojo replied, unsure and shaking. "F-Fuck, i-it's f-f-freezing o-out h-h-here!"

"W-W-We r-r-really sh-shouldn't h-have re-removed o-o-o-our c-c-c-coats," Geto sputtered, visible puffs of air coming from his mouth. No matter what they did, the strong winds were throwing snow in their faces.

That was when a golden-orange portal appeared before them, with you and Wong emerging from it, trekking the mountain shortly. When you arrived, you squinted, spotting a structure hidden by the fog up ahead. God, it was cold.

"You couldn't portal us up there!?" you exclaimed, skin flushing from how frosty it was. Still, the jujutsu sorcerers were surprised by the fact that your teeth weren't chattering like theirs.

"My magic can only take us so far," Wong huffed. "Masters of the Mystic Arts weren't meant to tread upon the forbidden grounds of Wundagore." You had no idea if he was just stalling or telling the truth, but you made up your mind. With a determined gaze, you used your magic to fly to the entrance of ruined castle, dragging Wong (and the jujutsu sorcerers) behind you.

"Aaaaaaand, we're flying again," Megumi muttered to himself, not looking at the steep height below them.

"Weeeee!" Gojo exclaimed. Damn. He really missed flying with his powers, too.

"That's one huge-ass castle," Toji commented as they flew closer to the decrepit stronghold.

"Seriously giving me Coppola's Dracula vibes," Geto remarked, staring up at the impressively foreboding Darkhold Castle.

You landed on the entrance of the former fortress, examining the many broken stone pillars and dust and snow that had accumulated.

"Eons ago, the first demon, Chthon, carved his Dark Magic into this tomb," Wong explained, swallowing nervously. You (and the jujutsu sorcerers) stared at the Satanic inscriptions glowing red on the walls—very similar to your Chaos Magic, which you were currently using as an alternative torch.

Crack!

You lightly gasped in surprise. Their heads quickly snapped behind them, seeing some rocks fall down from above. Nothing was there. False alarm. You all continued to roam the area as Wong spoke.

"There's no telling what soulless monstrosities lie within." He was looking up at a dark, hooded skeleton which had its arms and talons crossed like a mummy. Using your magic, you lit up four large cauldrons, which surrounded what appeared to be a...

"Is that... a sacrificial altar?" Geto asked out loud. "Whoa. Damn." Even his former cult didn't have anything as nefarious as that.

All of a sudden, roars resounded from behind them. From the shadows emerged monstrous, red-eyed, demonic creatures, the Knights of Wundagore. Prepared to defend yourselves, you flew on top of the altar for battle whereas Wong's Eldritch magic circles appeared on his hands.

"The fuck are those things?" Toji asked.

"No idea," the others chorused.

That was when each of the knights formed their claws into fists, resting it on their chests as they respectfully knelt down before you—pledging their allegiance to the prophesized Scarlet Witch.

"They've been waiting for me," you exhaled out, stunned.

"Look," Nanami pointed behind you in awe. The jujustu sorcerers turned around. At the same time, you did, too. And you came to a startling realization.

The chapter devoted to you in the Darkhold was real. The prophecy of the Scarlet Witch. There was a magnificent statue... of you. Old and ancient, but true. Made by worshippers of the Elder God, Chthon.

"This isn't a tomb," you concluded, chin raised higher this time at the demons kneeling in front of you. "It's a throne."

"... A throne?" Sukuna intoned, mind clouded with hunger and passion. Second by second, he was getting even antsier to meet you again. To claim you as his. For you to become his Queen. After a thousand years, he's finally found someone worthy enough to become his partner.

You.

But he knew he had competition. The five other men with him, although he saw them as insignificant sow, held affections for you as well. Gojo Satoru. Nanami Kento. Fushiguro Toji. Geto Suguru. Kamo Choso.

Ryomen Sukuna was eager to win among all of them.

The scene changed from the Darkhold Castle back to where Strange was. He was being escorted by Ultron sentient bots to in front of what looked to be a council.

838-Mordo decreed, "Stephen Strange. You are now called before the Illuminati. I, Baron Karl Mordo, the Sorcerer Supreme, do hereby—"

"Wait, wait. Karl?" Stephen laughed at his enemy, only for a vibranium shield to be thrown beside him. It boomeranged back to a woman. A very, very familiar looking woman. Peggy Carter?

"Isn't that Cap's ex?" Gojo whispered to the others. "Why's she Captain America?"

"She did sound pretty badass when Cap talked about her with Mom back then," Yuuji said, remembering the events right after the Lagos Incident.

"Captain Carter. The First Avenger," Mordo introduced.

"Blackagar Boltagon. Keeper of the Terrigen Mists. The Inhuman King."

"Blackagar Boltagard?" Strange repeated as a jab. "Hidigy hidithere!"

"Pshh. What is this, Game of Thrones?" Geto snickered. Even he found it amusing.

"Captain Marvel. Defender of the Cosmos." Instead of it being Carol Danvers, it was Maria Rambeau, Monica's mother.

"And the smartest man alive, Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four," Mordo finished.

"Fantastic Four?" Strange was incredulous. "Didn't you guys chart in the sixties?"

"... Wasn't that the Beatles?" Megumi thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, is this a joke to you?" Maria asked, insulted.

"Well, there's a guy over there with a fork on his head," Strange pointedly looked at Black Bolt. "So, yeah, a little bit." Said man raised a finger over his lips, signalling Stephen to basically zip his mouth.

"Be grateful Black Bolt doesn't engage you in conversation," Peggy advised.

"Why, does he have bad breath?" Strange taunted.

"Huh. Sounds like something you and I would say," Gojo turned to Geto, who was impressed with Strange.

"Definitely. How... strange," Geto replied, making himself and Gojo laugh at their own jokes.

"You two are corny as hell," Toji shook his head. But he wouldn't lie. If he were in Strange's position, he'd say the same things, too. Heck, he used to do that with the Zenin Clan elders when he was younger.

They all listened as Reed explained to Strange the dangers of him in the Multiverse, telling him what incursions were and what their consequences were. Strange, however, had another priority.

"If it's incursions you're worried about, do you seriously think I'm a bigger threat than the Scarlet Witch?!" Strange asked quizzically, trying to convince them of the threat you posed.

"Oh, we can handle your little witch if she decides to dreamwalk," Maria arrogantly countered.

Gojo clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "Wouldn't be so sure about that, Captain Marvel."

"No. No, you cannot," Strange responded. "Not unless you give me the Book of Vishanti."

However, the members of the Illuminati disclosed that it wasn't the Scarlet Witch who was the greatest threat to their reality—or so they thought. That was when a man in a fancy wheelchair entered the room.

"Our final member. Professor Charles Xavier. One of the greatest telepaths alive."

Then, they were in the Darkhold Castle again. You were looking at a statue of a boy, touching it nostalgically. Somehow, it looked like one of your boys. Billy. But older.

"All these scene changes are seriously making me nauseous," Megumi quietly complained. He still hadn't recovered from being thrown across the Multiverse.

"You're wondering what happens now," you addressed Wong.

"No. That, I've already accepted," the Sorcerer Supreme replied. "But I do wonder, when you could force America to send you to any universe you want, why take her power for your own? You know it will kill her."

"For Billy and Tommy. To protect them," you instantly answered, as if it were that simple. You walked towards them. "In the infinite Multiverse, there's a cure for every illness. A solution to every problem," you justified. "I won't lose them again."

"The Darkhold's really clouded her reason," Nanami sighed. "There's no turning back."

"Why's Mom so... good in our world, then?" Yuuji inquired, not understanding.

"I don't know. But more things will happen for sure," Kento replied.

"Try as you might, Wanda, you cannot control everything!" Wong stated. Despite what you've done, perhaps there was a way for you to still see reason. To realize what you were doing was wrong.

"But I can!" you shot back, gesturing to the castle. "Look around you! It's carved. In stone. I was meant to rule everything." You eyed the grandiose statue that imitated your likeness. You were praised and adored even before you were born into this world.

"... Rule everything, huh?" Geto mumbled. "Interesting, indeed." He recalled wanting to do that once by eliminating all the monke—non-sorcerers.

"We can rule everything together," Sukuna cut in. Everyone else rolled their eyes.

"Not gonna happen, sicko," Gojo answered back, making the King of Curses scoff at him.

You shook your head dejectedly, "But that's not what I want. I just want my boys."

"At the cost of a child's life!?" Wong argued, voice raising. "Is there no peace in knowing that even though you can't be with the ones you love, there are worlds where you are together?!"

His remark hit the jujutsu sorcerers right on the nail. After all, in their field, they'd lost so many. But it was comforting to think that maybe in another universe, they were alive and well. You, however, grew enraged at his remark.

"Is that not enough!?" he shouted.

You lifted your hand and raised him in the air, whispering angrily, "No." You then proceeded to throw him off the castle without a second thought, startling the sorcerers.

You were gonna do it your way.

"Oh shit," Toji, Geto, and Gojo cussed.

"She threw him off," Choso gawped.

The next thing they knew, you were repeating the dreamwalking ritual once more and commencing the spell. This time, you had four loyal Knights of Wundagore to stand guard around you should something happen.

Now they were back in Earth-838's Vision Residence. They watched in terror as you possessed you other self again. You kissed your sleeping twins' foreheads and this time, you wasted no time, using your powers to fly off to where America Chavez was.

Meanwhile, Strange and the Illuminati were still speaking. Xavier showed Strange, and consequently the jujutsu sorcerers with them, a memory of 838-Strange's fate. They were on planet Titan, Thanos's home planet and where the original battle also took place in Universe-616. However, this time, a dead Thanos was in the corner, his own sword through his chest. Kneeling before the Illuminati was a repetant 838-Strange, his fingers stained black with the repeated use of the Darkhold.

"I shall miss you, my friend," Xavier bid him goodbye goodheartedly.

838-Strange nodded, forlorn yet ultimately accepting his fate. "... I'm ready."

It was how he died that surprised the jujutsu sorcerers.

A regretful-looking Black Bolt stepped forward, saying two words which eliminated Strange on the spot, "... I'm sorry." It echoed and echoed until the man was gone.

"Cursed Speech?" Megumi said out loud, stunned. "Like Inumaki-senpai?"

Gojo had already removed his blindfold, studying closely how 838-Strange had just... disintegrated. He shook his head at Megumi's comment, "It's similar to Toge-kun's ability, but also very different. Both are extremely powerful in their own rights, but Toge-kun's Cursed Speech... it also relies on the ability to command. This guy?" He pointed a thumb at Black Bolt. "This guy's voice is just plain destruction no matter what he says, it seems."

"Yeah. Even making a sound or grunting looks dangerous," Geto scrutinized, his eyes squinting.

"Thankfully, Inumaki-senpai can still speak in sushi ingredients, at least," Yuuji realized.

That was when multiple alarms began blaring outside. Loudly.

"The building's been breached," Reed stated the obvious, making Strange roll his eyes. All this useless talk made them lose precious time.

Now? You were coming.

"No shit, genius," the former neurosurgeon replied snarkily.

"Uh-oh," Yuuji felt shivers creep up his spine. "Mom... she must be here already."

"Status report on sentries!" Peggy ordered. Before them, several holograms displayed security footage at multiple angles of you, in your other self's body, breaking into the secure headquarters—practically multitasking with how many Ultron bots you were fighting and destroying in all directions. Oil covered you from head to toe, looking an awful lot like blood at first sight. The fact that it was only oil splattered across your face and clothes didn't make you any less terrifying.

"Stop where you are! Stop where you—"

Crash!

The Ultron bot was smashed.

"That is... wow," Gojo blinked, blindfold permanently removed and hanging on his neck now. He was gonna enjoy the feeling of not having oversensitive eyes since he didn't have his powers in this... memory realm of yours. "That is absolutely fucking terrifying and giving me Carrie vibes."

"Uh-huh. She's got Dracula, The Grudge, The Possession, and Carrie crossed off her list," Toji snorted, muscular arms crossed against his built chest. "Up next is what, Final Destination? The Conjuring? Evil Dead? I bet ya five thousand yen it's one of those and that a whole buncha' people are gonna die."

"... I bet you fifteen thousand yen it's all of those." It was Nanami, surprisingly, who made the remark. Everyone stared at the blonde ex-salaryman in shock. A huge grin appeared on the Sorcerer Killer's lips.

"Heh," Toji smirked. "Deal."

Gambling was always one of his vices no matter how unlucky he was.

Again, the jujutsu sorcerers got a good look at how well you actually incorporated physical combat with your magic. Hell, you even destroyed multiple bots in one go. Their last sight of you on footage was you with your arm outstretched with psionics, staring warningly into the eyes of an Ultron bot before crushing its head—losing all contact and sight of you once it did. The fact that they were Ultron bots, of all people, made you even more bitter. You only had terrible memories associated with the name. Terrible, terrible memories.

Perhaps it was why you were so vicious in tearing them apart.

Which was, ironically, what Ultron himself said that you would do to the Avengers of Earth-616. Look who's talking now.

"She's heading for the child," Maria said.

"Watch him. We'll vote on our return," Carter declared, she and the others immediately running out of the council room to give you a greeting. Only Mordo and Xavier were left with an exasperated Strange. He knew the Illuminati would be no match for you. Not without the Book of Vishanti.

"Stephen, should you manage to escape this chamber, you must guide America Chavez," Xavier suddenly declared when his fellow councilmen left. Hearing this, Mordo beside him was stunned.

"What the hell are you saying?"

"Save the girl and get to the Book of Vishanti," Professor X spoke.

"What? You have the book here?" Strange clarified.

"Yes, you built a waypoint," Charles answered kindly.

"Charles, we cannot trust him!" he exclaimed.

"I believe we can," Xavier smiled. Strange appreciated it. "Just because someone stumbles and loses their way doesn't mean they're lost forever."

At his statement, Gojo took a glance at the three men who exactly embodied what Professor X was describing.

Fushiguro Toji.

Geto Suguru.

Kamo Choso.

... You.

They didn't know how all this madness of yours was going to end, but they knew that whatever happened, it had consequently rippled down into a domino effect of you saving their lives and saving their world from the Culling Game.

"We will see what kind of Dr. Strange you are," Charles smiled, making Stephen nod appreciatively.

"Thank you."

Now the jujutsu sorcerers were looking at America and 838-Christine. Countless alarms were blaring in their ears, with more Ultron bots racing towards your location as explosions shook the building.

"Perimeter breakdown. All sentries engage. Intruder approaching," the bots repeated.

"Everybody out! Now!" Christine ordered to her colleagues and workers.

"It's Wanda," America realized in terror. You weren't gonna stop until you got her, huh? Immediately, Christine ran over to manually override America's biochamber restrictions. However, you seemed to already sense this, using your psionic energy to disrupt the communication technologies in the entire building.

"Ultron commands you to halt! Ultron commands you to halt!"

In the distance, they saw an Ultron sentry running into the explosion, only for its head to roll down the floor right after. You emerged from between two pillars, pulverizing the head with your powers without even looking at it.

"Shit, that one was personal against Ultron himself," Gojo whistled.

"Wait, has Mom been... barefoot all this time?" Yuuji blinked as you calmly marched your way into where America was.

"Hurry, hurry, hurry! She's coming!" America cried out, utterly scared for her life as she slammed her hands on the bulletproof glass. Your face was emotionless—you were here for one thing only and nothing was going to stop you.

Even if these people tried to.

A woman landed in front of you with her jetpack and... vibranium shield? They saw your head tilt slightly in curiosity and slight familiarity. Instead of the typical white star on it, it was the Union Flag on it... and the woman wielding it... she was that woman on Cap's compass... Steve's first love. What was her name again? Ah, yes. Peggy. Peggy Carter.

After her was a man in a black suit and... was that a fork on his head? You didn't have a clue who he was but you were pretty sure he would be a hindrance to your plans.

The next one who flew down from the ground. She was very much like that woman you fought alongside with against Thanos, based on her uniform and powers. Captain Marvel. But... she looked familiar, too. Somehow. She resembled... what was her name? The last woman you spoke to in Westview and helped you... Geraldine. No, Monica. Your briefly wondered who exactly the Captain Marvel in front of you was before pushing the thought to the back of your head.

You didn't care. All you needed were your boys.

The last man was a man dressed in tight, blue and black suit and a number four emblem on his chest. He appeared to be the leader, based on how he was positioned in front of everyone—looking like he was about to negotiate with you. Impatiently, you kept glaring at all of them.

"Wanda, stop," Reed appealed, voice level—calming and nice. "You've possessed an innocent woman but you can still do the right thing. Let her go." He stepped forward slowly, a hand subtly raising up. Suddenly, you felt like a dog or a bull that was to be tamed by its owner. It annoyed you. "Please. I have children of my own. I can understand your pain," he pled, not wishing for a fight.

The jujutsu sorcerers observed you, who seemed to be in deep thought. Your face was blank, void of any emotion that signaled what you were about to do. Then, you spoke words that made the blood freeze in their veins. "Is their mother still alive?" you asked in a hushed, low volume.

"... Yes," Reed replied. He felt that he was finally getting you to reason. That you would stop this madness.

He was wrong.

"Good. There will be someone left to raise them," you added chillingly, the neutral expression on your face making you even scarier.

"... Oh, shit," Suguru cursed, hearing your statement. He briefly wondered if it was him in Reed's place, telling you about his own daughters, then you just brushing off his condolences like that.

Reed sighed, then turned to his teammate. "Wanda. Black Bolt can destroy you with one whisper from his mouth." Right as he said it, the Inhuman King opened his mouth—no sounds, just a warning.

You only stared at him, unfazed. "... What mouth?"

And just like that, it was gone.

Like his mouth had never existed in the first place, only plain skin replacing where it used to be. They didn't even blink once—there were no mind tricks here. His mouth had vanished at your will. They gasped.

"Mmmph!" Panicking, Black Bolt touched his face, trying to feel his mouth—the greatest weapon he's ever possessed. He screamed, only for it to be muffled within him and consequently, explode his brains inside out. His head grotesquely deflated. Blood dripped from his nostrils as he crashed to the floor.

The jujutsu sorcerers who had seen the entire ordeal were frozen to their feet, flabbergasted and frightened. They couldn't understand it. Their brains couldn't even comprehend it.

"Wha—" Gojo's mouth was agape. So were the others. "She just—"

"She... She..." Geto pinched himself. Was he dreaming? No? What?

"... The actual fuck?" Toji cussed in disbelief.

You just made someone's mouth disappear, on a whim, right before their very eyes. Even in the jujutsu world, no one—or not anyone they knew of—could just... do that unless it was an illusion.

This was real. This was your reality-warping in action once again.

Next was Reed, who tried to attack you. But you ripped Mister Fantastic into shreds, using his stretchy abilities against him and tearing him apart until his head ballooned and popped. You didn't even look affected as you killed two of this Earth's so-called mightiest heroes in less than ten seconds. Without breaking so much of a sweat.

"Y/N just turned him into string cheese!" Gojo exclaimed. "What the hell?!"

"... I now wonder if this is even her true potential," Nanami murmured. The other sorcerers looked at him in question.

"What do you mean?" Geto asked.

"Since she's only dreamwalking and she's not in her own body," Kento explained his thought process. "It would make sense if there's some sort of restriction on her. A limitation."

"You mean to say that she's not at her full power yet? After doing all that?" Toji's eyes widened.

"Maybe. Just maybe," Nanami replied, turning back to your fight against the female members of thr Illuminati. "It's just my thoughts."

Your eyes flared red as Captain Marvel and Captain Carter engaged you ina 2v1 battle. One was throwing energy blasts at you while the other was throwing a vibranium shield. Debris and concrete were flying everywhere as you tossed statues at your opponents. However, as a result, dust had flown up into the air around you, obstructing your vision. Peggy used this as a window to tackle you down.

But you had also been trained by two of your world's fighters. Black Widow and Captain America—with your late best friend slash sister being much more ruthless than the latter, practically handing over the training she got from the Red Room to you.

(Perhaps you could be an honorary Black Widow at this point. Hell, technically, you were already a widow after Viz died, weren't you?)

You were able to swiftly roll back from being tackled, glaring at Captain Carter.

"Haven't you had enough?" you grit out to the woman.

"Oh, I could do this all day," Peggy replied confidently, spitting out blood from her mouth. Her reply made you recall the blonde friend you once had. Wherever he was now.

But right now you couldn't care less about them. None of them mattered. Only Billy and Tommy. With that, the jujutsu sorcerers watched you imbue your magic and psionics in your hand-to-hand combat, reminding them of that time you fought Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight. Yet this time, you weren't on the defensive.

This time, you were very much on the offensive.

"... Damn," Toji nodded, impressed as he observed your movements as you threw Captain Carter across the room. You had astounding reflexes and agility. "That was pretty badass."

Whirr!

Captain Carter threw her vibranium shield to you. With your psionics, you easily caught it and prevented its impact, instead swinging it back to her with much more force than she did.

Whirr—

It sliced her cleanly in half, exactly where her midsection was. She could only let out one small gasp of shock, her upper body and lower body falling to the floor—blood and organs spilling out. The light in her eyes instantly dimmed, crimson gurgling from her dead mouth. Her bloody, stained shield implanted itself to the wall behind her. You? You only stared at the body, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed—the only mixed reaction you've given to all the slaughter you caused.

For a moment, you thought about Steve. Just for a moment. It disappeared very quickly, the Darkhold's whispers of encouragement in your ear. You were very close to getting your children. Just a little more.

"... Holy shit," Gojo stared at the bifurcated cadaver in front of them, still so fresh. "She cut this lady in half with her own shield. Half! Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit."

"Fucking brutal," Toji muttered. "But I'm not one to judge." Sure, he's an assassin, but that was one real clean cut there and admittedly, one of the most savage methods to murder someone. Very... Final Destination.

"... I'd rather not stare at it," Nanami inwardly shuddered, turning to look at your thinking face, instead. He was already hiding a sick-looking Megumi behind him and a frightened Yuuji, too.

Your other enemy, Captain Marvel, emerged from the wall you'd tossed her in, blasting extremely concentrated energy at you. For a moment, they saw you in your original body, hair flying around and your face scrunched up in concentration as you released even more of your power in your alternate self's body. As a result, you began sucking in Captain Marvel's energy blast and her power, too, her uniform breaking and fading away.

"Raaaagh!" you yelled as you overpowered her, blowing her away to a large statue. You quickly used your psionics to wrap around the statue, pulling it down until it crashed onto Captain Marvel, appearing to kill her. You'd taken a lot of her power, after all. Maybe you'd rendered her useless, just like a normal human. Again, you didn't care. Not your priority.

"She's just slaughtering everyone who comes in her way," Choso spoke out, more and more shocked at getting to know the seemingly sweet woman he's known.

Meanwhile, Strange was purposefully riling up 838-Mordo, cunningly using the latter's anger to fight and get out of his restraints. (Honestly, it reminded them of how Gojo would piss enemies off, too. What was it with smartass genius sorcerers and their overly huge ego?)

Finally, you had arrived right behind where America was contained. She had punched a small hole into it, amazing Christine, but it wasn't enough to set her free. They gazed at you—barefoot, limping, bruised, bloodied, and covered in oil—in horror for what you were about to do next.

"Enough!" a voice called out.

You snarled, your hand glowing red once more at the person who dared interrupt your goals again. It was a bald man in a wheelchair. He raised his right hand to his temple and his left hand towards you.

Suddenly, it transported all of them—including the jujutsu sorcerers—into the mind of 838-Wanda. 838-You. They winced, seeing glimpses of you, the original one. You were screaming in pain, for the first time since Agatha, getting your mind forcefully invaded and broken in. It was shaking the dreamwalking connection, making you feel nauseous. Like a huge migraine or headache pummeling your head.

"Aaaaagh!" you wailed, eyes still shut.

"Mom! She's—" Yuuji gulped, looking at you in concern. The others had the same look, too. "She's in pain." Despite what he'd just seen you do, seeing your pained, crying face still hurt him. A lot. It always would.

Then, your original self vanished from view. And they found themselves in... somewhere. It was all white everywhere, except for a broken concrete structure and a single, standing door in the middle. It was completely silent, except for Charles's footsteps. The door creaked open. He entered it, the jujutsu sorcerers following curiously behind him. In front of them were a bunch of fallen debris, with some random knick-knacks here and there. On the bottom center was a pitch black hole.

"... Is that WandaVision playing on that TV over there?" Nanami asked, pointing.

"Oh. You're right. It is WandaVision," Gojo answered in wonder. "That 1950s-themed one in black and white, yeah? Where she was in a wedding dress?"

"Uh-huh," Megumi said, frowning. "I don't like this place. Really damn creepy."

"Creepier than any of your missions?" Geto asked.

"Yup."

Right as he answered, a hand shot out from the pitch black hole, making all of them flinch along with Charles.

"Shit. Thought it was going to be the Grudge Mirror Dimension all over again," Geto placed a hand over his beating heart.

"This is not good for my blood pressure," Toji scowled, cracking his neck.

"... Never knew you were such an old man," Gojo snickered, only for the black-haired middle-aged man to give him the finger in response.

"Help me. Please," 838-You whispered, trying to reach her hand out more from where she was stuck.

"Wanda Maximoff. Your mind is being held hostage by your alternate self," Professor X explained. At that moment, the debris over her began to teeter over, trapping 838-Wanda even further below.

"Uh-oh... again..." Yuuji said, concerned as sirens began ringing in the background.

"Grab my hand!" Charles ordered. "Perhaps, if I can pull you from under the rubble, the spell will break!" Panting, your other self was able to slightly squeeze her head out, but only until her shoulders. The rest of her body was still trapped.

"Hey... look," Megumi pointed behind them with wide eyes. They all pivoted backwards, seeing an ill-boding, crimson fog approaching them. Professor X froze. The blaring sirens turned into hushed, feminine whispers in Sokovian, chanting, echoing in their ears.

They saw a flash of your original body back in the Darkhold Castle, cold sweat on your forehead, with you looking... less lively than before while you regained control over your other self's mind.

838-You was terrifyingly pulled back into the darkness, like she was being dragged down to the pits of hell once more.

Scream!

Then, they all flinched as a pair of elongated, sharp talons with blackened tips wrapped around Charles's entire face. A monster with cracked, chalky skin, bloody red eyes and decayed, pointed teeth throughly ripped it open in two different directions.

Back in the research facility, Professor X's actual body slumped down lifelessly, blood dripping from his eyes. Your eyes dimmed down into their normal color as you stared coldly at the man's corpse. However, you then saw that Chavez and 838-Christine were gone. As they reunited with Dr. Strange, the jujutsu sorcerers stared at one another. Sukuna was the only one chuckling in amusement.

"Heh. This oughta be the best thing I've ever seen," the mouth on Yuuji's face grinned wide. "Heh!" It was confirmed in his head now. Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, saw you as his partner. His equal.

"... That... monster... was Mom, wasn't she?" Yuuji quietly asked, spooked as his eyes darted around skittishly.

"Yeah," Nanami answered somberly. This time, you did look like an actual cursed spirit—eyes, skin, teeth and claws. It only happened for what, five seconds? But the appalling image was imprinted in their heads.

"She snapped his neck?" Megumi clarified. His father shook his head, eyes narrowed.

"No. It looked like she did, but she didn't." He glanced at Megumi. "She ripped it open with her bare hands."

"Damn," Choso muttered.

Funnily enough, they were only speed-walking behind America, Stephen, and Christine as they searched for the waypoint to the Book of Vishanti. But when you—looking like a zombie—forcefully opened the metal doors that the trio had closed, angry red eyes staring into them, something inside them told them to run, too, even if this was the past.

It was a 6D experience, after all.

So when you blasted the storage room with your powers and a stray computer screen knocked Gojo over the head, they were shocked. They were lucky enough to not be harmed during the Battle of Kamar-Taj, but that was proof that anything happening here—in spite of it being in the past—could physically affect them.

"Oh shit! Satoru!" Geto cussed, dragging his best friend out of the way.

"What—" Gojo was shocked. Yes, he didn't have his powers, but he was affected.

"Sensei! Did it actually hit you!?" Yuuji exclaimed.

"Y-Yeah, holy crap..." Gojo blinked, rubbing his head as he processed what was happening. "Ow? That hurt. A lot." A rapidly-forming bruise on his skin was evidence that he had been hit.

"Then I think we should all run, too! Now!" Nanami shouted—for once, raising his voice in alarm as they stared at your terrifying form in the doorway. Right as he said that, Strange was warning America and Christine.

"Go! Go, go, go, go!" Stephen urgently yelled. The jujutsu sorcerers followed after them, running as fast as they could from you—even overtaking Chavez, Strange, and Christine.

When they looked behind their shoulders, you were there—bloodied, limping on one leg, stepping on broken glass shards and debris with no shoes, blasting away doors and blockages.

"I feel like I'm in a horror movie!" Yuuji cried out as he ran. "You know, being chased by a crazy killer in a stinky tunnel! I love Mom but crap, I really wanna pee right now!"

"Me too! Holy shit!" Gojo yelled. "I've seen too many fucking jumpscares today from Y/N!"

Christine was able to close a door before you could pass, though. They staggered to a stop, hearing only the drops of water from the river above them.

Drop. Drop. Drop.

"Why the fuck did we stop?" Toji whispered harshly. "Shouldn't we continue running?"

"Same thoughts," Geto muttered, listening intently for any sign of you.

"She's here. Somewhere. Probably gonna pop out of nowhere," Gojo said with a nervous frown. "So just keep your eyes peeled. She won't lose America so easily."

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

"Where did she go?" America whispered, scared.

Snarl!

You came out out of the shadows, the dim, flickering lights of the tunnel blinking over your red eyes.

"I swear, for a fucking moment, I saw that monster in her face," Gojo rubbed his eyes. "Not kidding. She looked a hella lot like Valak just now."

"... I saw it, too," Megumi swallowed quietly. "Her face... it was all cracked and decayed... and her teeth..."

"It was pointy. All of them," Choso murmured, watching you approach America.

"... So her appearance right now, it might be an illusion, too," Nanami deduced, moving back slowly with the others. "Her face might not be... well, as nice as we know it to be."

"The Darkhold's taken Y/N's pretty face, too? Well, shit," Geto snorted. However, when they looked at you now, it looks like you'd "fixed" your face to be normal again. "Thank God she destroyed the last one last time."

No wonder you were so good at fooling them you were an old woman when they first knew you. You could fix up your face, body, and surroundings any way you wanted.

"I warned you," you told Strange lowly.

"Other Wanda, if you're in there," Strange's hands lit up orange. "Hold your breath." He then proceeded to make river waters crash down on you, giving them time to run to the waypoint.

Fortunately, 616-Strange was able to open it. And it took them back to where Supreme Strange and America were first running from the Ribboned Creature. In the center was the shining Book of Vishanti. They all jumped down into the Gap Junction, the Space Between Universes.

"Really shiny up close, isn't it?" Gojo whispered in awe.

"Yeah," Geto and the others exhaled.

"Give me what I need," Strange murmured, taking the Book of Vishanti carefully from its seat.

"I think we're forgetting something," Yuuji scratched his head.

Their eyes widened. "They didn't close the damn door!" Nanami yelled and turned around, only for America to be literally dragged by the hair with red magic.

"It wouldn't have made much of a difference!" Gojo argued, eyes wide. "She can blast it open anyway!"

You were extremely pissed from being drenched in river water. This had to end now.

Christine cried out, running to America, only for Strange to stop her and protectively place a hand in front of her. Strange fired a blast of Eldritch magic at you, only for you to absorb it with your free hand and deflect it back to him and Christine, sweeping them off their feets. Tragically, the backlash also hit the Book of Vishanti, burning it to ash.

"Shit!" the jujutsu sorcerers cussed, ducking to avoid the violent blast.

You lifted America's struggling form from the ground with one hand, annoyed. Instantly, you took over her mind—as evidenced by her eyes glowing blue and her going limp. You manipulated it to open a random dimension in the Multiverse, using your magic to restrict Christine and Strange then toss them into the portal.

Wasting no time, you once more controlled America's mind to open a portal to your original universe. And there it was. Your own body, sitting cross-legged in the air, surrounded by sanguine wisps allowing you to dreamwalk. With a dark smile on your face—now that you were finally getting what you wanted—you tossed America into the portal. Then, in your original body, you opened your eyes—ceasing the dreamwalking spell.

As the portal slowly closed, the jujutsu sorcerers ran to the other side where original you was. And their last vision was 838-Wanda falling to her knees tiredly, finally in control of her own body, no matter how battered you caused it to be.

"My boys..." 838-You mumbled worriedly, levitating back to the entrance of the waypoint to the Gap Junction.

Behind the terrified America, the anxious jujutsu sorcerers watched as you wordlessly stared at the girl as you stepped closer, like you were wondering what to do next.

"... She looks different," Megumi pointed out, squinting. "The same, but really different?"

"Mom looks... sick," Yuuji frowned. He's frowned probably more than a hundred times today, seeing how your life played out.

"Yeah. It's the crazy look in her eyes," Gojo answered quietly, noticing the darkened bags around your eyes and that your skin tone had become ashier—like the Darkhold was physically (and mentally) making you ill. Your hair was wilder, messier.

You truly did look insane. Even the way you were staring at America, like she was some sort of prey; it wasn't like the normal you.

"The isn't what your children would want!" America weakly told you, only for you to ruthlessly throw her onto the sacrificial altar of the Darkhold Castle and pin her down. You circled her like a predator, the jujutsu sorcerers watching uneasily. You stopped right behind America's head, your blackened fingers mindlessly stroking the cool stone of the altar. You gave America an emotionless smile.

"They'll never know," you replied offhandedly, sending chills down their spines.

"Maybe not," America shot back. "But you will."

For a few seconds, you appeared to contemplate your whole decision. Like a glimpse of your kinder, uncorrupted self had shone through. Then, the scene rapidly changed to Strange and Christine, who had become stuck in a bleak universe where an Incursion had happened. They met... other, other Strange... who seemed a lot more sinister than all the other Strange variants they'd met. He had a longer beard, and his skin—ashy and pale, almost lifeless, like yours. This... Sinister Strange possessed a Darkhold.

"Careful. The Darkhold exacts a heavy toll," Sinister Strange declared, refusing to give 616-Strange the Book of the Damned. His words resonated through the jujutsu sorcerers, remembering how much you had changed. "Not just on its reality, but on its reader."

Eventually, the whole conversation took a dark turn, with a third eye ominously appearing on Sinister Strange's forehead.

"Ew. Reminds me of that damned Prison Realm," Gojo cringed as the two Stephens broke out into a fight made out of musical notes. It ended with Sinister Strange falling off the Sanctum, dying when he fell through the pointed entrance gates.

Then, they were momentarily back at the Darkhold Castle, seeing Wong suprisingly alive and trying to climb up. On the other hand, you had spread your arms to the side, beginning to siphon America's powers from her body. She screamed in agony as your hands and the sacrificial altar below her glowed crimson.

Strange, now holding the Darkhold, was attempting to execute the dreamwalking spell with the help of Christine.

"While I'm under, I need you to protect my body in case they attack me for trespassing," Stephen disclosed.

"Who's they?" Christine and the jujutsu sorcerers chorused.

"The souls of the damned." With that, Stephen summoned multiple candles from around the Sanctum, beginning to dreamwalk.

"Okay...? But doesn't a version of you have to live in that universe so that you can dreamwalk into them?" 838-Christine asked, confused.

Stephen peeked an eye open, "Who said they had to be living?"

That was when the jujutsu sorcerers found themselves where Supreme Strange was buried. Thunder rumbled from around them. His hand shot out as he rose from the ground, bones cracking as he opened a portal to Mount Wundagore. This time, it was Geto who was severely disturbed.

"I don't... like this," he muttered, looking away instead as he briefly recalled what Kenjaku had done to him. Up to this day, he still felt violated. Possessing a dead man's body? Yeah. He didn't have the greatest experience with that.

And the jujutsu sorcerers were back in Mount Wundagore, shivering in the icy cold. However, from Supreme Strange's corpse emerged dark, skeleton-like spirits.

"Stephen Strange!" they snarled, attacking him. "Possessing a dead body is forbidden!"

"Forbidden!"

"Trespasser! Trespasser! Trespasser!"

"Cease your dreamwalk, or face the eternal consequences!"

Weirdly enough, three of the spirits turned to them, making the hairs on their skins rise. The three approached them, hissing. "Trespassers! Trespassers!"

"Into the wretched memories of the Scarlet Witch!"

"How shameful!"

"How deplorable!"

"Sinners, sinners, sinners! All of you, who destroy the cursed!"

They were stunned. No beings in your memories had ever interacted with them. Yes, they experienced everything with their senses, but this? This was new. And were they... talking about cursed spirits? Were the souls of the damned cursed spirits, too? Vengeful ones?

Thankfully, before the souls of the damned could do any harm, Stephen was able to overpower them with Christine's help, using them as makeshift wings. They were all transported to the Darkhold Castle. Your head snapped towards Strange, stopping the ritual to get America's power.

"Dreamwalking, you hypocrite!" you screamed. Scornfully, you threw a blast of Chaos Magic at him, only for the souls of the damned to eat it up like dinner. You threw another blast at him, but he dodged it, directing the souls to you. They swarmed at you like bees, chanting and cackling. And for once, it was you who was frightened and wide-eyed, caught like a deer in headlights.

"Murderer! Murderer! Murderer!"

"Those things are scary," Yuuji winced, seeing as Wong restricted you in another magical ball along with the souls of the damned. "Kinda feel sorry for Mom."

Strange set America free, encouraging her that there was only one way to defeat you. At that same moment, you released a powerful blast of energy, escaping the souls and the magic restriction you were in. You paced towards Strange, throwing a ball of Chaos Magic at him, which dissolved his dead body like acid.

Well, at least until a roaring America Chavez landed a solid punch at you, creating shockwaves all over Mount Wundagore.

"Damn, that kid packs a punch," Gojo and the others were impressed.

"I'm even more shocked Y/N's still standing after that," Toji added. "Her durability's out of this world."

America stared at her fist in shock, then looked up at you confidently, "Uh-huh."

You were cradling your jaw, mania in your eyes as you madly smiled back, panting, "Mmmhmm—agh!"

America landed three more punches and a kick to your stomach, opening a portal that nearly made you fall into the boiling, lava-filled pits of Hel. Yes, Hel.

"I'm amazed by how durable she is but now Y/N really looks like she escaped from a mental asylum," Geto commented, arms crossed. "She looks insane! And not in a good way!"

"... Huh. It looks like Vecna's lair behind her," Yuuji pointed to the portal, shrugging. "Just saying."

Balancing yourself once more, you slowly—terrifyingly—turned back to America, a murderous glare in your eyes as you stopped being the punching bag. If looks could kill, America would've been dead long ago. You overpowered the girl, blocking her punch with your magic. The portal to Hel closed.

"I can't beat you," America realized, then closing her hand into a fist. "So I'll give you what you want." With that, she landed another strong punch at you, opening a portal. The jujutsu sorcerers watched, aghast as you lifted America by the neck with one hand, strangling her.

Just like what Agatha did to your Billy and Tommy.

Just like what Thanos did to Vision.

Unbeknowst to you, you had become the very thing you hated. The very person you despised.

The jujutsu sorcerers, on the other hand, witnessed your downfall. All of it.

"What was the saying?" Gojo murmured, remembering how you faded into dust during The Snap. "You either die a hero..."

"... Or live long enough to become the villain," Geto finished, looking at his surroundings. At the same time, you realized where you were. And you saw your boys, sitting on the couch, watching TV and eating popcorn peacefully.

"Billy... Tommy..." you breathed, only for them to scream in fear at the sight of you.

"Mommy! It's the witch!" the twins screamed, dropping their bowl of popcorn and running over the sofa.

"What. Have. You. Done," you hissed to America, tightening your hold on her neck as your hair flew wildly around your head.

"Damn, Y/N, this isn't you," Gojo muttered, shaking his head.

"Mom!" the twins shouted as your other self came running down the stairs, all washed up and changed into new clothes, but still scratched and bruised. She moved in front of the twins protectively, one hand glowing red, but it was clear she hadn't mastered her powers and didn't use them very much, judging by the terror and apprehension painted on her face. Her powers were primitive in comparison to yours.

"Wait! Boys!" you cried out desperately.

"It's okay, it's okay," 838-You assured them.

"I'M YOUR MOTHER!" you asserted viciously, chucking the couch to the wall. "Get away from them!" You then proceeded to fling your other self to the corner, making the jujutsu sorcerers wince at your cruelty. Other you screamed as she was thrown into a cabinet of books. She fell roughly to the floor.

"... That's how delusional she's become from the Darkhold?" Choso blinked, feeling pity for your variant. She's been through much over the past day.

Seeing what you did to their mom, 838-Billy and 838-Tommy ran down the stairs, hurling toys and multiple items at you. "Mommy! Get away from our mom!"

You blocked their throws with your arms, trying to appease and calm them with a gentler tone, "Hey—boys—stop!"

"You're not our real mom!"

"Please—please—"

"Get out of our house!"

"Wait, boys, stop it—"

"You're not our mom! Get out! Go away!"

It was when they threw a whole scooter at you that your patience snapped.

"STOP IT!" you screeched in a shrill, earsplitting volume, eyes hysterical. They all flinched in fear. Even the jujutsu sorcerers grew silent. They'd never seen you scream like that before.

Afraid, the twins retreated to the opposite side of the staircase. Slowly, with a joyful smile, you approached them, reaching out to touch their faces with your very hands after so, so long.

"Please don't hurt us," Tommy begged.

"Please," Billy sniffled, scared for himself and his brother.

Their words made you freeze in your spot. "... I would never hurt you," you assured them in a whisper, shaking your head. "Never." A single tear dropped to your cheek. "I would never hurt anyone. I'm not a monster."

Slowly, their young, terrified eyes peeked behind you, looking at their beaten, whimpering mother. Their eyes turned back to you, telling you it was a lie.

It was all a lie.

And everything came crashing down to you in realization, their gazes harsh as you slowly detached yourself from the influence of the Darkhold.

Murderer. That was what the souls of the damned labeled you as.

Monster. That was what these children saw you as.

And they were right.

"I'm—" you stammered, stepping back from Billy and Tommy. The jujutsu sorcerers watched as your pale, chapped lips began to tremble, more tears falling down your cheeks.

Oh, God. What have you done?

"... I-I'm sorry," you barely choked out, shaking as you placed a hand over your mouth. Other you tried to get up, only for her to stumble down helplessly. She was too injured and exhausted.

"Mom!" Billy and Tommy ran to her. Not you. "Are you okay!?"

"Hi! Hi!" she breathed out, touching their faces. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

Those were the exact same words you told your Billy and Tommy when they were running to you when you closed the hole in Westview during the fight against Agatha. To save them. And their father.

Seeing this, you sobbed, a hand over your stomach. Empty. Void of your children. Your twins. Your babies. To everyone else, it wasn't real. But to you? It was real. It was real to you.

The jujutsu sorcerers watched as you fell to your knees, crying at the familiar yet different sight.

"How long has it been since WandaVision?" Geto asked the others, crestfallen seeing you.

"A few months, perhaps? Maybe a year?" Nanami answered mournfully.

"You think... you think that maybe, Y/N had postpartum depression?" Suguru murmured.

"... Yeah. Likely," Toji replied, gazing at your kneeling form, clutching your stomach.

"Then she's no different to all the mothers in Japan who've lost a child," Nanami said. "And out of grief, brought to life cursed spirits." It wasn't uncommon. They'd exorcised many cursed spirits like that. Miscarriages, stillbirths... a mother's pain and suffering was unlike any other.

"... What is grief, if not love persevering?" Choso repeated to himself the words your late husband said to you.

"Unfortunately, love is the most twisted curse of them all, neh, Gojo-sensei?" Yuuji wiped his tears, sniffing at seeing you cry.

Gojo was quiet for a few moments, "... Yeah. It is."

All this madness and chaos, born out of your love. You had so much of it to share and spare, yet received none because all your loved ones were gone. The Scarlet Witch, born and forged, was just like a cursed spirit.

And your curse? It was love.

Your alternate self stood up, cautiously approaching you. The twins tried to stop her, but she assured them it was fine. You couldn't find it in yourself to look at her out of guilt and shame. You'd wrecked her world, her home, and her own body. It was unforgivable.

Then, she reached out to you, touching your cheek. Who else was there to comfort you... but you?

"It's okay," the jujutsu sorcerers heard from around them. It was your voice—no, it was your variant speaking to you. Telepathically. "I've had nightmares... over past few weeks... but they're not nightmares, are they?"

You slowly opened your teary eyes to look at your other self, so same, yet so different.

"They were your life. What you'd lived. What you've gone through," she told you mentally. Mirthlessly. "And while I was having those nightmares, you were having dreams. Dreams of my life. What I've lived. And all the happiness that was unfairly stolen from you. While you were possessing me, I also saw what you've seen from our other alternate selves. Their happy lives, too. I can't imagine how much pain you're in, being the only one who's gone through so much. The only one who's been deprived of a loving life."

You were silent, staring at her sadly.

"I'm sorry. For everything you've had to endure alone—" she murmured in your mind, her warm hand calming you. "Mother. Father. Pietro. Vision. Billy. Tommy."

You pursed your lips, tears welling in your eyes once more.

"I forgive you," she whispered. You stared at her—so good and kind. Capable of forgiveness. What you once were before you became... this. Then, finally, she spoke out loud as she removed her hand from your cheek. "Know that they'll be loved," she announced, reading your mind. Your only question to her. Your only wish—telling her to take care of them.

From the sidelines, listening and watching, some of them had silent tears fall down their faces. It was a painful goodbye, just like the one you had with Vision and your children. This time, you had to let go. Again. America closed the portal, bringing you back to the Darkhold Castle. You cried, knowing what you had to do next. You levitated towarda the sacrificial altar, kneeling down, hands glowing a misty, reddish-black. This time, you would be the sacrifice. Then, they saw in your face, the same exact expression you had when Thanos snapped his fingers.

Staring up at the sky hopelessly, waiting for death to come and take you once and for more. But as much as you wanted to, your Chaos Magic wouldn't allow you to die.

Not when you were the Scarlet Witch.

The Darkhold Castle began shaking. You allowed America and Wong to return to Kamar-Taj, leaving you alone with Stephen, who was still dreamwalking in his other self's corpse. They saw you slowly turn to him, repentant. This time, it was sincere, unlike that time in the apple orchard.

"I opened the Darkhold," you whispered regretfully. "I have to close it. No one will ever be tempted by the Darkhold again."

Strange slowly nodded at you. And inwardly, he was right about you. He knew that deep inside, you were a good person. Just hurt and lonely. He knew that as always, you would set things right in the end. And he never doubted that. Just because one has stumbled and lost his way doesn't mean that they're lost forever. Professor X told him that. And it looks like you were able to read his mind.

With your powers, you made the Darkhold fall, taking it down with you in it. Before they could be hit, the jujutsu sorcerers were suddenly teleported afar to a cliff overlooking the crumbling castle, their last sight of you being a blast of red.

"Mom—" Yuuji whispered worriedly. Suddenly, they were with 838-Christine and Strange. The former neurosurgeon woke the unconscious woman up.

"... Is it over?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he answered.

"Is America okay?"

"She's on her way to get us."

Christine swallowed, "... Wanda?"

The jujutsu sorcerers' ears perked up. Strange, sadly, shook his head. "No." At that moment, though, the Darkhold beside them burned into ash from red flames.

"So she destroyed the Darkhold in every universe," Strange realized.

"She did the right thing," Christine smiled.

"Yes. She did." Strange smiled back.

The consequent scenes they were seeing now all seemed glitchy, but then they saw you—in another universe—destroy the knowledge and contents of the Darkhold. You absorbed the entity chained in the main Darkhold: Chthon, the primordial god of chaos. Somewhat like Cthulhu. A Lovecraftian beast.

"You do not possess me, Chthon," they heard your voice declare as you absorbed the god. "I possess you."

None of them knew that something was chained and sealed within you—something that that ancient and dangerous. It was almost ironic: like mother, like son. Chthon was sealed within you while Sukuna was stuck inside Yuuji.

Then they saw snippets of you with Agatha... then Loki... and other individuals. The glitchy flashbacks with you ended when a hole appeared in the now-empty space they were in... and a feminine hand dragged them out one by one.

Thankfully, it didn't have talons or crooked fingers. They knew it was you who'd come to save them.

The sorcerers were back in their world; in your living room, specifically. You—the present you they knew as Y/N L/N—were staring at them with an unreadable expression. Were you angry? Were you pissed? Were you sad?

"... I'm not angry," you told them all quietly, reading their thoughts and everything they'd seen. "You've seen it all. What I've done." You chewed your lips, suddenly averting your gaze. "But what matters is that you're all okay and in one piece. Whatever... spell Agatha put in that flash drive had gone bonkers and dragged you all into it." They were silent as they stared at you, still processing those last few scenes of you they were able to see. "I'm sorry—"

Ding dong!

Your doorbell rang. Sighing, you walked away from the jujutsu sorcerers and opened the doors (thankfully, you'd magicked up the heater and everything else in the house before dragging the boys out of the television screen). You blinked at the person at the door, wrapped in lots of thick layers but still shivering from the blizzard outside. Did he... travel all the way from the grocery shop to here?

"You... uh... d-dropped y-y-your keys," Higuruma stammered from how freezing it was outside. He handed you your keys. Wide-eyed, you immediately let him in, worried about how long he's been in the cold.

That was when he saw the guys in your living room, all scrutinizing him and wondering who he was and how he knew you.

"Who the hell are you?" It was Sukuna who spoke... as a mouth... on Yuuji's cheek. He wasn't supposed to hear or see anything since he wasn't a sorcerer, but the jujutsu sorcerers were only shocked when he tilted his head at Yuuji in question.

"Attorney Higuruma Hiromi," he introduced himself, unintimidated by all these men glaring at him. He's had worse, facing criminals and all. And right, he also sees those weird spirit thingies. He always has since he was a kid. In the corner, you sighed, leading Higuruma to the kitchen to offer him something warm to drink. You popped your head back into the living room, eyes boring into the speechless jujutsu sorcerers.

"I'll talk to you boys later."

At least they were back home again...?

(to be continued)

Author's Note: Hi, everyone! It's been a while! Sorry for being gone for so long and being inactive, even in answering my asks. Thank you also for your patience. After my very draining and somewhat hectic slash traumatic semester last June, my body basically took a break. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. All I did was rest, do nothing, and catch up on sleep for a month or so. I also went home to visit my dad, spending time with my family and looking for other ways to earn extra income from other gigs because I need to save up on allowance. Then... after that and currently, I'm working on my thesis because dang, I'm halfway through college now! Wow! Still, I tried my best to really write the entire DSMOM2 accurately inbetween my short breaks—so that was almost 2 hours of dialogue plus brainstorming for the JJK men's reactions. I hope you understand! And thank you all so much for your overwhelming support! I can't promise when the next updates will be, because time flies so fast and I'll have to move away from home, into a dorm, in less than a month since my 3rd year of uni begins again. It's hella stressful, but I'm 2 years away from graduating as a speech-language therapist! 🙏🥰

[TL ; DR: Got burnt out from school, took a vacation and mental health break + social media detox, gonna become a junior college student soon, could really use some extra money from writing these fics. I love writing and it's emotionally fulfilling, but physically and time-wise, really exhausting. 😅]

If you can and wish to, please support me on my Ko-Fi here! Thank you so much to whoever would like to help me out more even if writing is just my hobby! I'd appreciate it a lot. ☕️

Reblogs, comments, hearts, constructive criticism, and any kind of interaction are much welcome! Thank you for 1100+ notes on this fic. I've never imagined it would get so far. I'm hoping to publish it on AO3 if I find time. Also, I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter and even just the DSMOM2 film! See you next time! And please don't spam my inbox about when the next chapter will come out. You can ask, but a reminder to please ask nicely and don't be demanding! 🤨‼️

(For the taglist, I'll try to keep up with all the requests to be added but I've kinda lost track, hehe. Just comment in this chapter if I forgot to add you or you would want to be added or if you've updated your name/URL. 💗)

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