The day the telegram came through saying Nicholas had died, was the day a big piece of me died too. It's hard to breathe through the sadness that chokes me. The letter falls from my hand, dropping to the floor, flailing like an old ribbon. I drop the plate I was cleaning too, it shatters into pieces, just like my broken heart. I collapse to the ground, my knees basking the floor, my tears hitting the ground the same time I do. I clutch my head in my hands, unable to accept what was written on the paper.
Nicholas. Is. Dead.
The words don't make sense. I don't understand? I sob his name, crying out for him, even though I know the inevitable has happened. My husband, the father of my unborn child, is dead.
It was August 28th 1945. In four days the war would be over, but I would have no one to celebrate it with. My husband was Captain Nicholas Scott. He fought bravely in World War 2. We had been married for a year and known each other since we were sixteen. But what happened that day was not just the death of Nicholas, but my rebirth.
Through the veil of tears that blurs my vision, I stumbled across the field. The rain beats down on me, forcing me back inside, but I press forward, searching for Nicholas even though I know I won't find him. I yell out to God, cursing him for what misfortune has been laid on me. In response, thunder and lightning crashes around me in an orchestra of power and might.
The air is cold and so is the forest floor, which I can feel barely on my numb, bare feet. My hair sticks to my face, water pours over me. The dress sticks to my body and I struggle to walk. My body feels weak, weaker than it ever has before. My hands dig into the soggy ground, pulling up mud as I climb a small hummock that overlooks the small town of Bratton Fleming. This was supposed to be a brilliant English summer, but it's turned out to be the worst.
Now I stand on the rock, mud and water and tears mixing on my skin. It's here that I yell out, searching for my love, my heart, my Nicholas. But he won't return to me again. It was also there that a star fell from the sky and struck me, forcing me to the ground. But this was no ordinary star, it was something of power that absorbed into my body and gave me new life. The golden rays that emanated from the glowing gem spill into my soul, and suddenly I feel alive. My body feels strong, my heart beats with new found energy as immortality takes a new form in me. My hair brings a new shine, and my dark brown eyes become amber, like the gem that fell on me.
That night I found new powers, new abilities from this fallen, alien star. But with these new abilities I paid a price. I lost my baby. All I had left was his uniform, some pictures and an angel winged locket he gave me for my seventeenth birthday. This would be all I had to remember him by.
I left England searching for a new life in America, where I soon became an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. They did not know of my past, but I told them that I could not die. They simply accepted me as a mutant, but they did not know that I was so much more…