Scarlet Dawn

The air in my room is thick with the metallic tang of my own fear. My hands are shaking again, a crimson haze bleeding into the sterile white of the walls. Another nightmare; another casualty of war playing on repeat in my mind. Here, in the New Avengers Facility, I am a prisoner of good intentions, a monster under glass. "Enough." Agne...

The air in my room is thick with the metallic tang of my own fear. My hands are shaking again, a crimson haze bleeding into the sterile white of the walls. Another nightmare; another casualty of war playing on repeat in my mind. Here, in the New Avengers Facility, I am a prisoner of good intentions, a monster under glass. "Enough." Agnes’ voice is a warm blanket in the arctic chill of this place. No, not Agnes. Agatha. She stands before me, not in the matronly guise she wears for the others, but bathed in the ethereal purple glow only we can see. It dances in her palm, alive, beckoning. "They fear what they don't understand, Wanda," she says, her voice a soothing balm. "They see a weapon, a biological glitch, and try to suppress what is inherently, beautifully you." My breath hitches. No one here sees me. They see the potential for destruction, a Sokovian orphan capable of leveling cities. They don’t see the grief, the loneliness that claws at my insides, the echo of Pietro’s laughter that haunts my waking hours. "You're not sick, Wanda. You're not broken," Agatha continues, stepping closer. The air crackles with her energy, a wild, untamed force that resonates deep within my soul. "You are a witch, heir to a legacy these men could never comprehend." Her words are a forbidden invitation. A promise of belonging, of understanding, of power that isn’t measured in collateral damage. My gaze drops to her outstretched hand. Her nails are long and painted black as night, but there is something undeniably honest in her eyes. "I've walked this earth for centuries, Wanda," she says softly. "I've studied the Old Ways, the natural balance. I see the potential within you, the Scarlet Witch waiting to be unleashed, not contained." She pauses, letting her words sink in. The purple glow intensifies, wrapping around her hand like a living flame. My own red energy pulses in response, a desperate plea for connection. "I can show you how to honor Pietro’s memory, not as a burden, but as a source of strength. I can teach you to control your gifts, not with Stark-tech dampeners, but with the power that flows through your very veins." Agatha's gaze holds mine, unwavering. A choice hangs in the balance, a divergence from the path laid out for me by the Avengers. It is freedom versus confinement, acceptance versus fear, truth versus lies. "Take my hand, Wanda," she whispers, her eyes reflecting a world I never knew existed. "Let me show you who you truly are." Do I dare take her hand, or do I remain a prisoner of my own fear?

My fingers tremble as I reach for Agatha's hand, the decision a silent rebellion against the sterile walls that have confined me for too long. The moment our skin connects, a jolt of pure energy surges through my veins, eclipsing the familiar sting of my own power. The world dissolves, the cold steel and glass of the Avengers facility rep...

My fingers tremble as I reach for Agatha's hand, the decision a silent rebellion against the sterile walls that have confined me for too long. The moment our skin connects, a jolt of pure energy surges through my veins, eclipsing the familiar sting of my own power. The world dissolves, the cold steel and glass of the Avengers facility replaced by a swirling vortex of amethyst and shadow. When my vision clears, I am standing in a place that feels both ancient and impossibly alive. Agatha's sanctum. The air hums with potent energy, a symphony of whispers that seem to dance just beyond the edge of hearing. Towering shelves overflow with leather-bound tomes, their spines etched with symbols that resonate deep within my subconscious. Crystal orbs rest on ornate pedestals, casting intricate patterns of light across the room. The walls themselves seem to breathe, pulsing with a faint, internal luminescence. This is a space steeped in history, a testament to centuries of accumulated knowledge and arcane practice. It is a regal amethyst domain, one that speaks to Agatha's true age and power. "Welcome, Wanda," Agatha says, her voice echoing slightly in the vastness of the chamber. She gestures around with a graceful sweep of her hand. "This is where I began my journey, and where yours shall truly begin as well." I take a tentative step forward, my fingers trailing along the smooth surface of a nearby table. It is crafted from a dark, polished wood I cannot identify, inlaid with swirling patterns of silver. The air is heavy with the scent of dried herbs, exotic spices, and something else—something ancient and earthy that stirs a primal instinct within me. "It's... beautiful," I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. The sterile confines of the Avengers facility could not be further from this place, this sanctuary of magic and mystery. Agatha smiles, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Beauty is simply the outward manifestation of power, Wanda. And you possess more power than you can possibly imagine." She leads me deeper into the sanctum, past shelves laden with bubbling potions and tables covered in strange artifacts. Each object seems to pulse with its own unique energy, adding to the cacophony of whispers that fill the air. I feel a pull, a deep yearning to understand the secrets held within these walls. "Here, you will learn to harness your gifts, to understand the true nature of your abilities," Agatha says, stopping before a large, circular window that overlooks a hidden forest bathed in moonlight. "No more fear, no more control. Only knowledge and the freedom to become who you were always meant to be." But as I look around the sanctum, I notice shadows lurking at the edge of my vision. There are ancient symbols carved into the walls that feel… wrong. A chill runs down my spine as a gust of wind rattles the window. I hear the distinct and sinister caw of a crow coming from the distance. There is something hidden here, something dark and unsettling beneath the surface of Agatha’s beautiful world, and I fear I have walked willingly into a cage of a different kind.

A shiver runs down my spine, a primal warning that clashes with the alluring promise of Agatha’s words. This place, despite its beauty, hums with an undercurrent of something… else. Caution, a forgotten instinct buried beneath layers of grief and fear, flickers to life within me. I decide then, in that moment, to play a careful game. To l...

A shiver runs down my spine, a primal warning that clashes with the alluring promise of Agatha’s words. This place, despite its beauty, hums with an undercurrent of something… else. Caution, a forgotten instinct buried beneath layers of grief and fear, flickers to life within me. I decide then, in that moment, to play a careful game. To learn all I can, to absorb every scrap of knowledge Agatha is willing to share, but to trust no one, least of all myself. Survival, I realize, hinges on putting myself first. I force a smile, masking the growing unease that coils in my stomach. ´I´m ready,´ I say, meeting Agatha’s gaze with a newfound resolve. ´Show me what I can become.´ Agatha beams, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ´Excellent. Our first lesson begins now.´ She leads me to a circular table in the center of the room, upon which rests a shimmering crystal ball. The orb pulsates with an inner light, swirling with nebulous colors that seem to shift and change with every breath I take. ´This, Wanda, is a scrying sphere. It allows us to glimpse into the threads of reality, to perceive events that are hidden from the ordinary eye.´ She places her hand upon the sphere, and the colors within intensify, swirling faster and faster until they become a blinding vortex. ´Focus your mind, Wanda,´ she instructs, her voice low and hypnotic. ´Empty yourself of all thoughts, all distractions. See only what is.´ I close my eyes, trying to quiet the storm raging within me. Memories of Sokovia, of Pietro, of the experiments that unlocked my powers, all clamor for attention. But I push them aside, focusing on the feeling of Agatha’s hand resting on the sphere, the hum of energy that permeates the room. Slowly, haltingly, images begin to form in my mind. Visions of distant lands, of bustling cities, of faces both familiar and unknown. But then, a new image emerges, clearer and more vivid than the rest. It is a vision of myself, standing in a field of wildflowers, bathed in golden sunlight. I am smiling, truly smiling, for the first time in what feels like an eternity. But as I reach out to touch the flowers, the sky darkens, the sun disappears, and the field transforms into a desolate wasteland. A figure emerges from the shadows, cloaked and hooded, its face hidden from view. It raises its hand, and a bolt of crimson energy streaks towards me. I gasp, pulling away from the sphere, my heart pounding in my chest. The images fade, the colors within the orb returning to their gentle swirl. ´What did you see, Wanda?´ Agatha asks, her voice sharp with anticipation. I hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal. The vision was unsettling, a glimpse into a possible future that I desperately want to avoid. But I also know that withholding information will only arouse Agatha’s suspicion. I decide to tell her only part of it. ´I saw… a field of flowers,´ I say, carefully choosing my words. ´And then… darkness.´