NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: CHAPTER 8 : “Waking Storm”
⚜️ Saga 0: The Ash Years
🗓️ Location: Abandoned Safehouse | Slovakia | Pre-Dawn
📌 Cast: Wanda Maximoff, Dante Sparda, Pietro Maximoff
🔮 Sin System Status: Stabilization in Jeopardy — Rival Thread Echo Detected
🛡 Status: High Emotion Lock | Jealousy Phase: Contained
The first thing Wanda felt was the weight.
Not on her body — on her soul. Pressure that wrapped itself around her sternum like an iron vice of memory. Like static tuned to grief, humming in her lungs.
She jolted awake.
Her eyes snapped open with silent violence — pupils dilated, breath panicked. The concrete ceiling of the safehouse no longer looked like stone. It shimmered as if it were tearing in two.
She still heard echoes of the dream:
Laughter.
A child's voice calling "Papa."
A shared dinner. Dante's hand against her thigh.
But over it — layered like a venom — came other things.
Whispers. Golden flame. Eyes that burned from behind silk sheets and soul fragments.
Jean.
Jean had followed her into the dream.
[Sin System ALERT]
⚠ External Anchor Interference Detected
Source: Bond Variant — Grey, Jean
Emotional Overlay Received: Flamebound Assertion
Sync Disruption: 17.6%
Obsession Level: Jealousy Variant, Class II
Threat Status: Rival Claim Registered
The warning rang through her bones like prophecy wrapped in barbed wire.
Her heart thundered — like a bird trapped in a glass box without sky.
She gasped.
Her body surged upright.
Pietro stirred from the cot beside her, alarm clamping his voice. "Wanda? Hey—what's happening?"
But she didn't answer him.
Because she wasn't quite here.
The chamber twisted, kaleidoscoping at the corners of her vision. The hallway stretched impossibly long, then collapsed inward. She blinked and saw Dante's hand in hers — then gone.
And then... Jean.
Standing at the edge of her thoughts, barefoot in a white dress. Eyes golden. Voice quiet as poison-coated trust.
"You didn't dream him first," the echo had said. "That means he was never fully yours."
Wanda's palms clenched into fists, nails biting into her skin. Her Power flared.
Crimson began to seep through the air around her like blood submerged in thunder.
No.
She remembered the kitchen. The child. The candle burning on the windowsill like a lighthouse waiting for caravans of everything abandoned.
She remembered his hands, his smirk, the way his voice dropped into gravel only when speaking to the most broken versions of her and still made them want to heal.
And now everything she had quietly begun to hope for — was being split.
Carved.
Stolen.
[Sin System Stability Critical]
Emotional Surge Detected: Jealousy Variant | Integration 51.2% → 44.9%
⚠ Splinter Consequence: Rival Claim May Interfere With Dimensional Link Integrity
📍 Suggested Action: Immediate Grounding Via Anchor Entity
A voice. Calm. Familiar.
Cutting through everything.
"Wanda."
She turned.
Dante stood in the chamber doorway — coat half-unzipped, silver hair tousled from rest or surveillance. His eyes took in the room with one blink — then landed on her.
No alarm. Just silent registration.
He crossed the threshold without fear. Heat followed him — an aura of low thrumming war-without-sound. He moved like a weapon in sheath, star-bright beneath sarcasm.
Even now, his voice held zero panic.
"You can't fight what's already in your head," he said, stepping closer with a kind of gentleness that still felt made of steel. "But you can decide what it builds."
Wanda staggered a breath. "She was there. She burned into it. Saw the child. Made it flicker."
Her voice broke.
"I felt him slip."
Dante's gaze narrowed, just slightly. Like a latent Devil Trigger reaction flaring before it ever activated.
"She's reaching through what isn't hers," he said. "But that doesn't change who it answered first."
Wanda grabbed his coat.
Pietro's voice echoed distantly — hesitation wrapped in fear. "Dante. What's happening to her?"
Dante didn't look at Pietro.
He looked at Wanda.
His presence blanketed the chaos around her.
Red light pulsed at her wrists — unstable, searing — but he didn't flinch. He stepped into the fire. Let it lick across his chest like a familiar lover's breath.
[Sin System Lock Engaged: Anchor Support Initiated]
Entity: Dante Sparda (Designated: Legendary Devil Hunter)
🔐 Emotional Dampening Buffer Active
Current Sync Level: 54.6%
Rival Convergence Interference Temporarily Paused
"You're not losing anything," Dante said — low, clear. Absolute.
"You're remembering who wants it more."
That broke something inside her — in the best way.
The red wildfire around her wrists settled into twin spirals, softer now. Controlled. Revolving the way planets do: not tamed, just obeying orbit.
She leaned into him, weight folded forward. Her body trembled beneath the edges of a forming star.
And beside them, Pietro stepped back — breath tight with equal parts awe and fear.
His sister had just survived a silent war between two Goddess-tier psyches…
And only bled resolve.
▫▫▫
[Sin System Update — Bond Re-Secured]
💡 Integration: 57.8%
Flame Conflict: Contained (Jean Grey — Ascendant Thread Pending)
Obsession Conversion: Accepting
Emotional Status: Claiming | Willful Focus | Protection Surge Incoming
Phase Pending: Red-Sigil Trigger — First Opening Available Soon
Wanda's lips parted — her voice raw but clear.
"I'll burn," she whispered. "If I must. But I won't lose him."
Dante looked down at her, something unreadable below the smirk.
"Good," he said, letting his thumb graze near her temple. "Because no storm gets him without matching the thunder."
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