Wanda's vision deepened. Beyond her memories, she glimpsed the Mind Stone's essence—whispers of countless lives it had touched.
She saw another Wanda, mad with grief, crumbling to ash in a dead universe. She saw James, regret in his eyes as he failed to save others, facing titanic enemies. His black armor gleamed under a golden sun, stars stretching endlessly.
"Ah!" Wanda's eyes snapped open, sweat beading her brow. The stone's light dimmed.
James watched her. "What did you see?"
"Too much," she gasped. "Another me… she died, didn't she?"
"That universe is gone," James said quietly.
Wanda fell silent, then looked up, her eyes resolute. "I don't want to end like that. I want to control this power, not be controlled."
James's lips curved. "That's the spirit."
He let the Mind Stone fall into her palm. "It'll help refine your chaos magic, but remember…" His eyes pierced hers. "The stone's a conduit. Your power is you."
Wanda gripped the stone, its steady pulse grounding her. She nodded firmly.
The room's lights softened, mirroring the energy between them. James stood, his black shirt accentuating his sculpted frame. Wanda's breath hitched, but she quickly masked it.
"Now, try this." He traced a complex golden rune array in the air. "Chaos magic's basics: reality warping."
Wanda frowned. "That doesn't look basic."
"For you, it is," James said, flicking his fingers. The array split into dozens of smaller runes, orbiting her. "Touch them with your energy, but don't force it. Let them respond."
Scarlet energy flowed from her fingertips, brushing the runes. The room warped briefly, walls rippling like water.
"I… did it?" Wanda stared at her hands.
"You mimicked," James corrected. "True reality warping needs no runes. Close your eyes, picture what you want to change."
Wanda focused. The air shimmered, forming a red teacup with Sokovian floral patterns.
"Good." James picked it up, crushing it into light particles. "But creating from nothing drains you. Start with existing objects."
He snapped his fingers, a metal target rising. "Transform it."
Wanda's scarlet energy enveloped it, morphing it into a massive steel rose, its petals razor-sharp.
"Not bad," James smiled. "Now make it fly."
Wanda flicked her fingers. The rose lifted two meters, then spun wildly, crashing toward the wall. James blocked it with a golden barrier.
"Control's lacking," he said, touching her shoulder. "Feel the energy's flow, like breathing."
Wanda trembled, sweat dripping. "It's hard… it wants to break free."
"You're scared," James said softly. "Chaos magic amplifies emotions, especially fear. The more you fear losing control, the wilder it gets."
Wanda frowned. "How do you know I'm scared?"
He tapped her Mind Stone necklace. "It tells me. Your childhood memories—pain, anger, helplessness—surface when you use it."
Wanda bit her lip, scarlet energy flaring. "Look at me," James said, his eyes locking hers. "Those experiences shaped you, but they don't define you. Pain can fuel power, not chain it."
Silence fell, waves outside soothing the tension.
"Again," James said, resetting the target. "Don't control the magic—guide it."
Wanda raised her hands. Scarlet energy wrapped the target gently, morphing it into a lifelike red sparrow. It flew, circling the room, landing on her finger.
"I did it?" she whispered, incredulous.
James smirked. "Better than you think. Now make it sing."
Wanda scrunched her nose. "That's too much!"
The sparrow tilted its head, singing a Sokovian folk tune her mother once hummed. Tears welled in Wanda's eyes as it dissolved into scarlet light.
"Keep that feeling," James said gently. "Magic stems from emotion, but reason guides it. Practice. Tomorrow's tougher."
He headed for the door. "James!" Wanda called.
He turned.
"Thank you… not just for training."
He waved dismissively. "Keep up, tomorrow's harder."
Wanda touched the Mind Stone, its glow responding. "Turing?" she called.
"At your service, Miss Maximoff."
"Find me Sokovian folk songs… like my mother sang."
"Found 37. Play now?"
Wanda nodded, gazing at the sunset's orange glow. The melodies filled the room, easing her buried pain.
On the villa's rooftop terrace, James reclined on a sun chair, the Mind Stone hovering. His thoughts drifted to the stars.
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