“The Scarlet Witch is not born; she is forged. She has no coven or need for incantation. Her power exceeds that of the Sorcerer Supreme. It is her destiny—”
“The Scarlet Witch prophecy is bullshit,” I cut Eliza off, holding up a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and shaking my head. “We know it isn’t set in stone. We died, last time around, remember? It didn’t come true.”
She snorted. “Yeah, because that makes so much sense, right? Big scary prophecy, written thousands of years ago, emphasised repeatedly by the most magically-knowledgeable people in the world, and it just, what, mysteriously doesn’t happen? We didn’t even make an active, conscious decision to try to avert the prophecy when we killed ourselves. It failed in the background. You really think that it was that easily overcome, after everything?”
“It was,” I said stubbornly. “We literally saw that it was.”
“All we saw is that our understanding of what it meant was wrong. What’s more likely? That a massive prophecy like that just turns out to be wrong, or that there was some mistake in the way it was being interpreted? I mean, it’s not like that’s the trope about prophecies, right?” Eliza gestured, wisps of red summoned forth and weaving together to form an illusion—a black book—hovering in midair. “The way Agatha Harkness worded it was different to the way the sorcerers told it, too. ‘It is her destiny to destroy the world.’ But Wong said ‘she is prophesied to rule or annihilate the cosmos’. Which is it?”
I hesitated. There was definitely a discrepancy there, one which I’d never really put much thought into. “…Agatha said there was an entire chapter in the Darkhold dedicated to the Scarlet Witch,” I said slowly. That implied there was at least a few pages, right? It couldn’t just be a couple of ominous sentences.
“Exactly. We’re missing information. Context. The prophecy was written by Chthon, the first demon, right? What did he actually write? The exact wording? What are Chthon’s credentials, anyway, when it comes to divining prophecies? Did he make any others that have come true?”
“Okay, yeah, there are a lot of questions we could ask, but how are we supposed to get answers?” I asked. “Kamar-taj? I really doubt the Ancient One would give us access to whatever information they have on the Scarlet Witch. She might even see us poking around after the prophecy as a big red flag.”
“I don’t know,” Eliza said, shaking her head. “You’re right, that’s probably a really bad idea, but what other choices do we have? Even if we could track down Agatha, the Darkhold’s corruption is dangerous—we’ve got the Mind Stone and we’re getting better at mental stuff, but we haven’t tried to protect against that sort of corruption before. The only other place we could go is the castle on Mount Wundagore, where the Darkhold was originally transcribed from. We don’t know if it has the same properties as the book but, I mean, words graven into the walls of a dark temple by a demon are probably cursed, right? We don’t really have any good options.”
I bit my lip. “We don’t need to worry about it right now, in any case. I mean, we know that nothing relating to the prophecy happens in the next, like, ten years, right? We’ve got other problems that we need to deal with first—Kaecilius, Thanos, Tiamut. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Maybe,” she said. “But we don’t know that the prophecy was ever even meant for that first version of you at all. Maybe it’s always been about you. Now.”
There was a moment of silence as I digested that. “You were right,” I said eventually. “I don’t like that.”
“It’s not a thought we can easily dismiss, either.” Eliza gestured again and the floating illusion of the Darkhold shifted, morphing into a Tarot card—the Magician, as it had appeared in our reading earlier today, balanced horizontally in midair. “According to the Masters of the Mystic Arts, the Scarlet Witch is prophesied to either rule or annihilate the cosmos. Our magic seems to think that there are two possible paths, too, light or dark,” Eliza said, waving at the card.
“…You think those are my choices? Rule or destroy?”
“Ten of Swords, Ten of Cups. Madam Calderu said that Swords and Cups are oppositional and have difficulty understanding each other… that maybe we don’t understand what our happily-ever-after will look like yet.”
“And you think it’s to rule?” I scoffed. “Okay, now you really are sounding a little like Eliza.”
“I mean, if our only choices are ‘rule’ or ‘destroy’, which are we going to pick?” she persisted.
“This isn’t Mass Effect,” I said firmly. “We have options.”
There was a tense silence. I really, really didn’t like her interpretation of the Tarot reading, but it was going to be stuck in my head now. She was right, I just didn’t know enough about the prophecy. This wasn’t a thought I could easily dismiss.
This universe was real. I had to proceed on that basis. But some part of me felt stubbornly sure that the universe my other set of memories had come from was also real. How did that square with the existence of the MCU? Was Kevin Feige some sort of prophet, merely relaying events from another universe? That didn’t make sense. He didn’t personally write the scripts, and the movies were worked on by hundreds of people. How did they end up reflecting this universe so closely? I had no way of answering that question right now—and I was starting to think I never would—which meant I had no way of easily pulling back the curtain on the Scarlet Witch prophecy.
Not for the first time, I wished that the other me had had a chance to see another ten years’ worth of the MCU. There’d been an upcoming series, Agatha: Coven of Chaos, that might have been a real help in the witchcraft department, not to mention the fact that I’d just barely missed out on seeing Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania. Beyond Thanos and Tiamut, Kang loomed on the distant horizon as a future threat, but I had no real clue as to what his capabilities were, really, outside of what I’d seen of He Who Remains in the Loki series. It was frustrating.
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After a few seconds, Eliza let out a heavy sigh and took a few steps toward the door. She glanced back at me over her shoulder, flicking her head in a ‘follow me’ gesture. “Come on. There’s something about this place that you should see.”
She opened the door and walked out into the hallway. I followed. A plush, red carpet ran down the middle of the long corridor and lit torches sat in elaborate, wrought-iron sconces placed regularly along the wall, opposite a series of tall, arched windows. The leaded glass was patterned with mystical symbols and runes that seemed to glow with an inner light.
As we walked, we passed elaborate tapestries, each stitched with scenes of Avengers and other heroes fighting against various foes. I ran my hand gently over one as we passed, feeling the embroidered cloth’s rough texture against my fingertips. My mind had actually conjured up a pretty cool-looking castle. I felt a small twinge of disappointment, knowing that it wasn’t real and would probably be gone before I had a chance to really explore it.
Eliza led me down a tight spiral staircase, our steps echoing faintly in the enclosed space. At the base of the stairs, a set of heavy oaken doors loomed to our right, bound with black iron and adorned with what was pretty clearly a stylised representation of the Scarlet Witch’s crown burnt into the wood. We ignored it, continuing forward to a smaller, arched door ahead that opened into the castle’s bailey. A wide, low set of stone steps descended from the door to the yard proper.
Around us, the compound teemed with quiet activity. A blacksmith’s hammer rang sharp and rhythmic in the air, and the scent of smoke mingled with the earthy aroma of hay and horses. The castle’s stone walls loomed above us, adorned with vibrant red banners, fluttering in the wind. The Avengers’ ‘A’ logo was emblazoned in bright gold across the centre of the banners, on top of a darker design that enclosed it—the same representation of Scarlet Witch’s crown I’d seen on the door. I frowned.
I was, however, also slightly distracted by the fact that I was feeling a little exposed—if I’d known Eliza was going to be taking us outside, I probably would have taken the time to put on some actual clothes, rather than just standing here in a tiny silk dressing gown and nothing else.
A silver streak of movement blurred across the yard, resolving into a person materialising at my side. “Hey, sis!”
I paused, caught a little off-guard. Eliza stopped as well, looking back at us and letting out a small snort of amusement. I stared at the new arrival for a moment before shooting her an incredulous look. “Ralph Bohner?” I asked. “Really?”
Eliza shrugged. “You didn’t look up what Aaron Taylor-Johnson looks like.”
“The actor?” fake Pietro asked, looking a little puzzled. “What’s he got to do with anything?”
The faint roar of thrusters drew my attention to the battlements atop the exterior wall, where two armoured figures shot into the air. Their suits were much more ‘knight’s medieval plate armour’ than normal, but one was enamelled red and gold while the other was silver and grey, so it was pretty obvious who these were going to be. They spiralled through the air to land at the base of the steps, and I was momentarily taken aback when they knelt, lowering their helmed heads respectfully, one fist lightly touching the ground.
“My lady,” a muffled voice came from fake Tony. I noticed that the enamel of his armour was scuffed and scarred. “The Captain’s on his way back to the castle, but he’s acting suspiciously and has a group of strangers with him. I tried to ‘encourage’ him to ditch them, but…”
Eliza stepped back a little, so that she was standing next to me, looking between me and the kneeling knights expectantly. “Uh, that’s fine,” I said. “Rise, I guess?”
The knights straightened up and lifted their visors, revealing their faces. The knight in enamelled red and gold was this world’s Robert Downey Jr, as expected, but the other…
“Terrence Howard?”
“We didn’t—” Eliza started to say.
“I didn’t look up what Don Cheadle looks like. Got it.”
As we stood there, at the top of the steps, more Avengers were… well… assembling. This world’s Chris Hemsworth as Thor, in a much more traditionally-Viking style set of leathers, stood next to Edward Norton as Bruce Banner—I hadn’t looked up Mark Ruffalo, either—and a Black Panther wearing a face-concealing mask, amongst others. I wondered briefly what I’d see if I asked the Panther to take his mask off. I hadn’t looked up Chadwick Boseman, but didn’t have a convenient extra actor in my head that could stand in for him. No one commented on what I was wearing. All of them bowed to me, in varying ways, as they arrived. It was bizarre. Surreal, but in a way that made me feel strangely… powerful. Important. As if these people actually respected me.
Next to me, Eliza spoke quietly. “I didn’t do this. This is just what it was like when it was created. Thought you should see.” She leaned forward a little, to catch my eye, and I glanced at her. “We always lose. Every time. In every world. Over and over again. If it comes down to it, are you really going to choose death or destruction over this? If this is what’s meant to happen?”
“This isn’t what I want,” I said slowly, shaking my head. “I don’t want to be in charge. I’m not good at being in charge. I just… I want…” I trailed off, not really sure what to say next. What did I want?
After a few moments of silence, Eliza nudged my arm and gave me a hopeful look. “You know, it’s still not too late to join in on a bit of the musical fun. I’m pretty sure that Mordo’s somewhere around here with a rendition of ‘I Am the Very Model of a Master of the Mystic Arts’ that’s probably worth hearing.”
…Okay, that actually sounded amazing.
“Ah,” she said before I could agree, tilting her head to one side as if listening to something, her expression shifting to one of disappointment. “Never mind. Damn. The others are here. I’d say we could just wait for them but they’re, uh, infiltrating the castle through the dungeon. That’s… not ideal.”
“I thought you said they weren’t in any danger,” I said, my brow creasing in concern. “What’s in the dungeon?”
She gave me a very deliberate look. “They’re not in danger. Just… I want you to remember for a moment that this place was constructed by your subconscious mind, then tell me what you think is in the dungeon.”
“Oh… oh no,” I said. “It’s a sex dungeon, isn’t it?”
“There’s a very horny piece of you there that we should probably interrupt before she gets a chance to do anything we might really need to apologise for.”
I sighed. “I want to be surprised, but… ugh. Okay, let’s go. That is not an appropriate thing for Pietro to see.”
Eliza snorted, gesturing for me to follow her as she started to move quickly toward one of the ancillary buildings. “Well, we did hear about that one comic book…”
“We are not going to talk about that,” I said firmly, making a disgusted noise in the back of my throat.