Chapter One: On the Wings of Angels
"Are you sure zhis vill vork?" A male voice with a roughly German accent spoke into the darkness.
"Of course it will work," responded another, a female this time.
The sky was almost completely ebony, dark thunderhead clouds covering the expanse of the large air mass above them. A deep bellow erupted from the mouth of the Heavens as a flash blinded the human eye, a streak of white lightning soaring to the peak of a nearby mountain. Another crack of lightning whipped miles away, closer to where the voices were, while the low rumble of thunder followed.
Three beings remained in a low valley, two of them standing while one rested motionlessly on the ground between them. Mountains were on every side of them, standing taller than any of their terrestrial predecessors. It was dangerous for any normal human to be in such violent weather conditions.
But none of them were normal. It was fairly obvious that Warren Worthington III, the man lying on the ground in the middle of the two others, was a mutant. His skin was a pale shade of blue, contradicted by his vermilion hair, cut so that it managed to just hang over his eyes. What was the hardest to hide, however, about his physicality was not his blue skin, but the magnificently large wings protruding from his back. They were covered with ivory-colored feathers with the texture of the most expensive cashmere, any female, anti- or pro-mutant, being glad to snuggle up to those wings.
His eyes remained closed, distracted by the constant pull of unconsciousness. His wings were piled on top of one another, splayed over the dark, cool ground. He was dressed in a black suit, probably one of the best on the market, the jacket absent mainly because of his exposed aviary appendages. The rich playboy managed his own business, but lately had contracted a rather nasty spirit who had the desire to possess his body from time to time. He had kept it a secret from the X-Men until it possessed him in the middle of combat, since then knocked out and brought to Limbo by the only other man in the valley.
The man with the German accent was named Kurt Wagner. His yellow eyes with no pupils glowed in the dark, staring at the spot he heard the female's voice come from. His appearance was odd at best, demonic to most God-fearing people. He had purely white teeth that came to a point at the ends and gleamed when they caught the slightest hint of light. His ears were pointed as well, and he always seemed to crouch rather than stand up straight. White spandex covered two fingers and a thumb on each hand, and three toes on each foot.
His costume formed a red 'v' on his neckline and chest, the rest simply black. He had a sheathe with a thin sword in it thrown over his back, hanging there by a thin strip of leather across his chest. None of these were the first thing you would notice about Kurt, for he too carried a unique pigmentation. Azure fur as soft as velvet covered his body, growing longer and darker behind his hair line. A long tail protruded from the bottom of his spine, the end shaped like the head of an arrow. He was silently praying, not wanting to offend the woman in his presence by underestimating the power of her magics.
She was known as many things. Her birth name was Jimaine Szardos, but the name became too awkward to bring to America from Germany, so she adopted the alias of Amanda Sefton. She was German by origin as well, but her accent had been Americanized long ago. Her voice whispered incantations older than time itself, slowly at first, but increasing pace as the seconds passed. Her hands cupped together, a sphere of white light forming in her palms, growing larger. It illuminated her creamy skin, her eyes slowly opening as irises the color of the deepest of ocean blues rested on Warren's limp frame. Curls formerly draped over her shoulders rose in the air as she held the physicality of her spell, the size of a basketball. The mystical force of the wind swirled spirals of golden blonde locks around her, staying away from her face.
"PUR!" The last word of the spell was screamed with all the raw emotion Amanda could muster, the only one that inexperienced ears could understand. For a moment, nothing happened. Time stood still. Suddenly, white fire erupted from the ground, trapping Warren alone in a star outlined by these flames. A loud whoosh sounded, as if the air were being sucked from their lungs, and their breath was held accordingly so. Silence filled the air once more with its quiet serenity, but was followed by a deafening blast. Both Kurt and Amanda were thrown back from the outside of the star, a bright light shining inside it and enveloping the sight of Warren's body.
The light faded away, Kurt and Amanda both getting to their feet in different manners. While Kurt flipped onto his feet, Amanda created a pocket of air beneath her, both in a fast demeanor. A twitch from Warren's body startled Kurt, causing him to jump, but that was nothing compared to what happened next. The winged man's back arched violently as he took in a sudden breath, cerulean eyes shooting open as something black erupted from his open mouth. Shaped like a small Gremlin, it came flying at Amanda, a devilish grin on its face as it opened its mouth and let out a cackle. Extending her right arm, a sword appeared, the physical manifestation of her magical powers. Its handle was encrusted with jewels, the metallic blade able to slice through anything she put her mind to. The handle felt cool in her palm as she brought it forward, swinging it backwards first and gaining momentum before it came forward with immense strength. The creature was an inch from her face when it was sliced in half, both the Soulsword and the creature disappearing. All that was left was a gentle breeze, rippling the folds of her white dress made from the finest silk. For a moment, her thumb played with the golden medallion around her neck. Seconds after, her heels clicked on the hard ground as she approached Warren, crouching down next to him and checking his vitals.
"How are you feeling, Mr. Worthington?" questioned the woman firmly, placing a hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him.
"Like my insides are jumbled, Ms. Sefton," replied Warren with a groan.
"Vill he be all right?" Kurt interjected, approaching them both with caution, unsure of what to expect after watching him go through such an experience.
"He will have to recover for a few days, so I suggest," Amanda stated, looking back down at Warren, "that you get plenty of rest."
Kurt offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet gently. His eyes motioning for her to follow him, he led her away from Warren's side. "I just vanted to zhank you. Zhe X-Men owe you a great debt."
"There are no debts between us," said Amanda, carefully choosing her words. It was impossible to tell whether she meant us as in her and the X-Men or her and Kurt. "I don't mean to make you feel unwelcome, as you are always welcome here, but," began Amanda, "you should get him home as quickly as possible. Betsy Braddock would have a cow if she knew you stayed here longer than was required." Her eyes strained not to roll, as she did have some respect for the woman.
When it came to Limbo, some of the X-Men were still unsure of sending people there to visit with Amanda. It was a place for lost souls, trapped spirits, but it also needed a keeper. If it did not have one, the souls would create havoc among other dimensions. It was both a physical and surreal world. Being the ruler of it gave a lot of privileges, but it also meant being alone. Teleporters were few and far between, and if she left, there was always the danger of not wanting to come back.
But none of these were reasons for the X-Men's discomfort. The X-Man Piotr Rasputin, a Russian man with the ability to turn into organic steel, was especially reluctant. His sister, named Illyana, was the former ruler of Limbo before she died. She was also the person after which Amanda took her codename. Illyana was the first Magik, and Amanda was the second.
The sword Amanda had used earlier was that which certified her as the ruler of Limbo. Before Illyana died, it was hers. She passed the Soulsword on to her best friend, Katherine Pryde, but she had no magical ability. The Soulsword corrupted her when Amanda was in league with the X-Men as Daytripper. She accepted the sword, also taking on the position as the sole queen of Limbo. In doing so, she accepted probable loneliness, though she wasn't one to wear her heart on her sleeve...anymore.
"You're right," admitted Kurt Wagner, "I should go." Turning his back to her before her scrupulous eyes could read the expression on his face, he hefted Warren into his arms, tensile strength making it possible to hold the much larger man.
"Kurt...," whispered Amanda softly, just audible enough for the blue-furred mutant to catch it, "don't be a stranger, okay?" Caught off-guard by the statement, his response was delayed, his mouth left slightly parted before he smiled.
"Sure." A fleeting expression appeared on his face before he disappeared in a cloud of violet smoke with a soft -BAMF-.
Amanda gave a slight smile before retreating into the mountains, looking up toward the sky.
