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Chapter 1: The Ritual.
(General P.O.V)
In the larger context, the classic narrative of "good versus evil," "black versus white," has always struck me as overly simplistic.
It's rarely so straightforward, you know? It's more about perspective, I suppose.
During my upbringing, I was immersed in tales where the hero consistently triumphed over the villain, where morality was neatly defined.
However, as I grew older, I came to realize that reality doesn't conform to such clear-cut distinctions.
It's messy, complex, filled with shades of gray.
Consider heroes, for instance. They may perform noble deeds, yet they are not flawless.
They err, they harbor their own imperfections and uncertainties. And what about villains? Not all are entirely malevolent.
Often, there's a backstory of suffering or desperation driving their actions.
This prompts contemplation: are they truly evil, or merely products of circumstance?- By SorcererPrime.
(1 month after the events of Avengers: Age of Ultron)
-Wanda-
Pietro was dead. Her brother...the rock of her life. The last piece of sanity in an insane world...had been mercilessly taken from her.
All because she made the decision to play hero. But even joining the good guys did little for the misfortune that had followed her since she was a little girl.
"But that changes today."
Wanda muttered to herself, inspecting the formation drawn on the floor of the Warehouse for the fifth time.
The Warehouse was located in an abandoned section in Manhattan, closed off by the City Council due to the damages caused by the Chitauri invasion a few years back.
It was a place with potent energy. Not quite a Leyline node but according to the book, those were few and far in between.
That said, it was sufficient for what she wanted.
The natural energy hanging around would conceal the mystic energy produced by the ritual once she begun.
She couldn't get this wrong.
The book was very insistent on that. Every line had to be perfect, every curve smooth.
It's why she had used her own finger to draw it out. Her finger as the brush and her blood as the ink.
"Mother, Father...Pietro, I'll be seeing you soon."
Wanda spoke into the empty air.
"P-please...let us...go."
A voice weakly moaned from the ground beside the magic formation.
'One of them is awake.' Wanda noted.
The male. He should have been unconscious for another 30 minutes, at least until the ritual was over.
'Sleep'
She whispered in a language only known to her.
The book called it the language of Gods but the alien words leaving her throat always tasted of taint and evil.
She had vomited uncontrollably the first few times she tried to pronounce the letters and words.
But after 2 weeks of learning, followed by another 2 weeks of preparation, she could speak the language as well as any native.
That's how she knew it wasn't the Language of Gods but one of Demons and Devils.
She stepped back from the formation after ensuring it was perfect. Her attention falling to the book.
It was black, a hardcover that was 12 inches long widthwise.
It hovered in the air next to her shoulder, close by for when she needed it. It was always so eager to be used. She could always hear it calling out to her.
The book held immense power. Impossible hexes and spells. Some of which were capable of destroying the world many times over.
In fact, the destructive spells made up 50% of what the book had allowed her access to.
That was another thing- on top of favoring destruction and any kind of disorder, as far as she could tell the pages in it were infinite.
However most of the spells, charms and hexes were unusable without the user sacrificing a piece of themselves in the process.
It was why Wanda had foregone some of the more powerful rituals like ressurection.
Bringing Pietro back to life would require more than power, it would consume a piece of her soul, corrupting her in the process.
Wisps of red energy manifested around her form, turning her eyes a blood red color.
Her hand glowed with large amounts of this same energy, and with a simple wave, the book's pages started flipping before stopping on the one she wanted.
The exact ritual she was performing.
[Regression]
-A ritual spell that sends a target's mental self with all their memories intact back in time, to inhabit their younger self. The souls merge ensuring no rejection from the body-
There was a longer description that went into detail and outlined the steps to performing the ritual.
One would need their own blood as a catalyst and two sacrifices, a man and a woman. All of which she had.
The immorality of her actions wasn't lost on Wanda.
A month ago she was helping The Avengers fight a self-replicating genocidal AI that wanted to bring about the end of humanity. And now here she was, about to sacrifice two humans for her own selfish gain.
What would the Avengers say if they learned of her plans? Most likely fight to stop her.
"It doesn't matter. None of them do."
She shook her head to get rid of the distracting thoughts.
"Besides, once I go back, it will be like nothing happened. It will be a fresh start. A clean slate."
She was doing this for her family.
Her power flowed through the air in streams, folding around the man and woman before carrying the two of them to the center of the ritual circle.
Ever since the book found it's way to her, all her previous abilities had gotten a bump up.
Using her telekinesis had never felt easier.
With the sacrifices in place, it was now time for the final step.
A chant that if done correctly, would transfer the life essence of the sacrifices onto the circle, offering Chthon their souls for consumation in return for using his power to open a Path into the past.
The ritual carried no discernible risk for her, except for the unfortunate sacrifices who would have their souls consumed.
But because she was travelling back into the past, this current present would cease to exist.
Her family will be alive and she won't have to wait on dreams and nightmares to see them again.
"Wait for me."
Wanda stated, closing her eyes as she begun her chant.
The wisps of red energy around her body grew in volume and intensity, her hair begun to dance in a non-existent breeze and her feet left the floor as she levitated above the ritual circle.
Foreign words, guttural and nonsensical to anyone who would have been listening, left her lips, filling the warehouse with a powerful aura.
In the same vein, she visualized the result she wanted in her mind. Her destination was set for 12 years ago, when she was 6 years old.
The ritual circle begun to glow, her blood on the floor pulsing with the power surging through her veins.
Wanda had only touched upon magic a month prior, but it's energy was way different from anything else she had ever sensed.
If she had to make a comparison, she would say it felt similar to the power of an infinity stone, primal and old.
The chant came to an end just as the ritual circle hit a peak in intensity.
The two sacrifices above the circle had awakened to find their hands and legs bound by rope constructs made of her power.
They thrashed about, terror apparent on their faces as they tried to scream, but due to Wanda binding their mouths, they could only watch on in horror as the circle started pulling in their life force.
Wanda did not look away from the scene.
Even as the bodies begun to visibly decay and the ritual circle got brighter and brighter.
A glowing blue portal, the size of a basketball popped into existence above the ritual circle, growing larger as the screams died down.
Wanda's excitement soared along with her relief. It was working! The book hadn't lied.
All she had to do now was wait for the portal to stabilize before walking through it, and she would start over.
A new beginning.
The portal was now wide enough that a child could walk through. The opening in the middle revealed stars and pinpricks of light on the other side.
The night sky.
She remembered watching the stars with Pietro whenever their parents went to sleep.
The weight of her emotions forced her to land on the floor, too agitated to keep levitating.
On the ritual circle, the bodies of the two sacrifices were now mere skeletons and even the bones seemed to break down and dissolve into dust.
'I'm sorry.'
Wanda looked away from the remains, sparing a look behind her, before steeling her heart and approaching the now stabilized rift.
The second her foot breached the ritual circle, everything went wrong.
There was an explosion from the portal that spread out, slamming into the hastily set up defensive shroud of magic around her and throwing her body back.
Wanda ragdolled on the floor as the Warehouse around her was decimated by the blast of mystical energy, leaving her gasping on the ground while staring up at the cloudless sky.
"No..."
The word, full of dread, escaped her lips as she staggered to her feet, eyes wide and focused on the magical formation that had taken her week to create.
"No..."
The word came out again, this time her voice cracking with a swirl of negative emotions.
Her portal! Where was it?!
She waved her hand, expelling the dust obscuring the area, only instead of a Path into the past, all that remained of her efforts and sacrifice was a magic deprived ritual circle and the body of a man lying on top of it.
That wasn't the worst of it. It is said, bad things come in threes.
The Avengers arriving in a Quinjet at that very instant only served to reinforce that phrase.