As the golden spiral closed behind her, the corridor remained bathed in its fading glow.
Two figures emerged from the shadows—Karl Mordo and Kaecilius. Both masters wore the colors of Kamar-Taj, but their eyes held the burden with the recent knowledge from the task bestowed on them by the ancient one.
Mordo stepped forward, arms folded. "So… how did it go?"
The Ancient One's expression was unreadable, but her voice was calm. "He's on our side. And for now, that's what matters."
Kaecilius, ever the skeptic, raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me—how did he open a gateway to this plane? Right here on Earth, beneath our layered spells and runes? That kind of displacement should've shattered alarms across every sanctum."
Mordo nodded, frowning. "Yes… it should have been nearly impossible."
The Ancient One tilted her head slightly. "Yes—nearly. But not completely impossible. As I'm sure you both know… every spell has a loophole. Every enchantment has a seam. Nothing is truly unbreakable least of all magic."
She began to pace slowly, hands behind her back, lost in momentary thought.
"What troubles me more," she continued, "is what I didn't sense. No backlash. No residue. No lingering taint of another realm's influence. Not even a trace of disruption in his aura. It was… clean."
Mordo's brow furrowed. "So… it's not him?"
She stopped in front of them. "Oh, it's him." Her voice was sharp now, laced with quiet certainty. "That much is assured. But for now… we shall leave him to his own."
Kaecilius narrowed his eyes, tone colder. "And if he is truly an agent of deception? A harbinger meant to fell our realm?"
The Ancient One paused. Her eyes flicked toward Kaecilius, holding his gaze for a heartbeat longer than comfort allowed. Then, without a word, she turned and walked on.
Kaecilius clenched his jaw, watching her go, his eyes squinting in quiet suspicion.
Behind her, she asked, "And what of the rogues you've been tracking, Mordo? What news do you have?"
Mordo followed, his voice steady. "We were able to apprehend four of them, Ancient One. One escaped during the pursuit… but we recovered something of interest from their hideout."
He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small book—thin and worn, bound in brown leather that shimmered faintly like translucent insect wings.
The Ancient One stopped, eyes narrowing at the object.
"Take me to them," she said.
---
Within minutes, they stood in the lower sanctum's holding chamber. Four prisoners knelt in a protective circle,their figures bound by glowing runes and around them was reinforced sigils etched into the stone floor. Their faces were downcast, expressions hollow yet burning with an unspoken zeal.
The Ancient One stepped forward, Mordo at her side. She gazed down at them—not with rage, but with solemn disappointment.
"You have forsaken the very duty of our Sanctum," she said softly, the weight of her voice pressing into the room. "You traded the sacred for the profane at the hands of a tyrannical demon. And for what? Power? Immortality? Influence?"
She let the brown-winged book fall at their feet with a dull thump.
"Tell me," she asked coldly. "What has Annihilus the Great offered you?"
The room went still, the prisoners' silence sharper than any scream.
And for the first time… a flicker of fear appeared in their eyes.
——
The black sedan pulled up quietly in front of an old brick building in between abandoned warehouses and an illuminating streetlamp. The engine cut off with a soft hum.
Pietro Maximoff stepped out first, stretching with a slight grimace. "So… what are we doing here, Mystique? Is this about the mission my father gave you?"
Mystique didn't look at him. She simply stepped out, adjusting her outfit. "Follow me."
Pietro raised an eyebrow. "Is there a mutant here that needs to be initiated into the Brotherhood or what?"
Still, she said nothing.
His steps quickened slightly to match her pace. "You know you're going to tell me something sooner or later, Mystique."
"Shut it and get in," she snapped, pushing open the metal door with a creak.
Inside, dim lights buzzed overhead. A figure stepped forward from the shadows—an older woman with a gentle yet ghostly presence. Irene.
Mystique's face softened. "How is she?"
Irene nodded, her smile faint but sure. "Good she is."
Mystique exhaled, smiling warmly. "That's my girl."
But Pietro had had enough. "Alright. Fuck it. I'm outta here."
Just as he turned, a voice stopped him cold.
"…Pietro?"
He froze.
That voice—it couldn't be. It shouldn't be.
Turning slowly, he saw her.
A young woman with auburn-red hair and deep, familiar eyes. Someone he hadn't seen in over a decade. Someone he thought was possibly dead.
"…Wanda?" he breathed.
She moved to him quickly, wrapping her arms around him in a fierce, emotional hug. "I thought you died, brother."
His heart raced as he returned the hug, still in disbelief. "I've missed you too, sister…"
She pulled back slightly, eyes brimming. "Did they take you too?"
Pietro blinked. "Take me? What do you mean—"
"Enough of that," Mystique interrupted sharply, stepping between them. "What's important is that you are reunited once more."
Her hand rested on Wanda's shoulder with surprising gentleness. Pietro noticed it—that look in Mystique's eye he just couldn't place it but it was a first.
Still, he nodded, brushing it aside. "Yeah… that's unimportant. What matters is—" he turned back to Wanda—"you're back now, sister."
As the siblings moved to a quiet corner, sharing quiet words and old memories, Mystique remained at the back with Irene.
Irene's head tilted slightly, her voice low and jumbled.
"Game… d-dangerous is… too much ripples… blood is…"
Mystique nodded. "Yes, I know. But I need a trump card of my own. And what better one than someone who feels like they owe me everything?"
Her voice dropped further, sharp now. "Believe me, Irene—I do intend to collect. And soon."
Then she looked at the precog, her eyes softening again. "But don't make the mistake of thinking I don't care. I do. Us girls have to stick together, after all. Don't you think?"
Irene gave no reply. Just a small nod, haunted and knowing.
Mystique's tone sharpened again. "But for now… I have a mission. Tell me. Do you know where Cain Marko is?"
"The Juggernaut…"
Irene slowly raised her head, eyes glazed, whispering something unintelligible. But Mystique heard what she needed.
---
Outside, the night air was crisp. As Mystique stepped out, she spotted Pietro waiting by the curb, arms crossed.
"What game are you playing?" he asked sharply.
Mystique smiled. "Game? Oh no. This is something much simpler… a family reunion."
"Does Father know?"
Mystique's smile twisted, her eyes gleaming. "I wonder though… why do you call him that? When all he sees in you is a soldier?"
She opened the car door, one foot inside.
"Who do you think had your sister all these years?"
She slipped into the seat, closed the door, and as the car pulled away, she looked into the rearview mirror—
—and smirked at the flabbergasted Pietro still standing in place.