A collection of crystalline spheres floated in a cave chamber far below the surface of the underworld. They spun leisurely, illuminating these parts. Beneath them laid a pit that seemed endless, and through its depths flew a flame. One thing drove the queen further down - curiosity.

Magma had learned quite a few things over her years spent reigning in Hell. Most relevant to the here and now was the fact that Mephisto had never completely mapped their dimension, never ruled the whole of this underworld. In previous jaunts down these uncharted regions, Magma had found places that were almost beyond words.

Deep down in the pit, a demon with over ten thousand mouths had tried to devour her, during her last journey through it. A blast of flame to scorch off an arm had been enough to deter it then. None of that crossed her mind, tho.

Magma frowned, eyes focusing on the floor of the chamber - a swirling cloud of light covered a few hundred square meters. Almost without warning, lightning surged forth from it. No concern came out on her face, and the bolt missed her by far.

The surface of the light rippled, and an image took shape - a dark-skinned teenage girl, dressed in an all-black uniform with yellow gloves and boots, and an X on the shoulders. She stood with a few others in the same outfit, out in a grassy meadow.

Magma focused on the most familiar face, a younger version of Scott Summers, and realized at once what this was.

"A parallel universe," she mused. What else did it have to show? "Perhaps a better question is, how to make it show me others?" It had reacted to her presence, so perhaps she should leave and return.

The image promptly shifted, into another one of her. In this one, she was an adult and in her fiery form. Magma listened, a frown replacing her fascination when she heard the other say "Lord Apocalypse".

Another image replaced the image of Universe 295. Magma watched with aloof fascination as it played out, showed her an Amara who lived in Asgard and an Ororo Munroe who was the Goddess of Thunder.

The next image showed her a reality where she had never left Nova Roma, the mundane life with a husband and daughter she led there.

Magma glared. "Heed my voice, and change." The phantasmal light complied, showed her herself wandering the Australian outback. She smiled, pleased to see it work. "Change again." It obeyed again.

After another twenty or so sights it, without warning, began to flare up, pulsate with lightning. Magma watched with more curiosity than she had its other displays. A fiery figure emerged from it, and she followed its path as it landed beside the light.

Quickly regaining her bearings, Amara frowned at the unfamiliar hellscape. She looked to the device on her wrist. "Where am I now?"

"Universe 632," the band replied, neutrally. Amara sighed mentally. At the very least, she thought, it might be a good sign - she was getting close to home again.

"Welcome, Amara, to Hell," Magma declared. Amara looked up, shock filling her face at the sight of the other her.

Amara knew at once what this was. "You stayed with him," she murmured.

Magma realized who she was. "And in your timeline, you chose not to," she answered. That raised a question to her, and answered other things. The cloud had a mind of its own and wanted them to meet. But why?

She smiled, musing that it was obvious. The light had wanted to serve the queen of the realm, give her somebody to show off her glory to, and who better than a lesser Amara Aquilla?

"Now then, look long and well at everything you could have been," Magma declared forcefully. "I am the queen of this Hell, of seven million demons. Mine is a life measured in centuries, and when the stars themselves wither away, I shall live on." Amara listened, glaring daggers. "Mine is a fire that burns hotter than the flames of Hell." Magma liked that introduction of herself.

"All I see is another me who was too naive to see Mephisto for what he was," Amara bit back.

Magma smirked. "Oh, I know quite well what he is." The Devil. Evil incarnate, literally. "But nevermind what he is. You should fear what I am!" Magma raised her arm, clenching her fist. Her forearm became engulfed in a bright blue flame.

Amara gasped at the sight. "Blue fire?" Was this some gift from Hell? Or perhaps not - a blue flame was just a very hot one.

"Yes, quite a useful little thing," Magma disclosed, seeing no reason not to boast. "It is a trick I learned long ago. Before I was even one hundred years old. I highly doubt that you have the strength to repeat it."

Amara decided against continuing the banter. "This does give me something to work on."