Carrying the sword was wretched. It hung from a scabbard at his back, and he could feel its touch against his spine. Not its weight. Not the stiff presence of the leather encasement. But the call of its influence. It grated against every nerve in his body, leaving him with the same horrible, skin crawling feeling as nails on a chalkboard.

He left Aristelle to dig through the weaponry in the sealed room, hoping maybe that the sword would quiet some as it left its small altar behind. Maybe it would be grateful. For what was a life locked away in a dark chamber for a sentient item? Did it grow tired of the inky monotony? He rolled his shoulders, adjusting the scabbard's straps. It chided him, pressing insistence against the bubble of his mind.

He would go mad before the end of this.

"I will admit, this does not seem like the sort of careful planning my sister has trademarked for herself."

Bucky paused, his eyes focusing on a shape in the dark temple. Of course, she was there. He was not entirely surprised to see her. In all honesty, he had expected her sooner. She lazily inspected the expansive curved blade of a long handled scythe. The metal was stained black and wickedly shaped, like the being who wielded it.

"That seems a little on the nose," Bucky said, forcing a careful calm over his tone. "Especially for you."

She grinned, the smile sharp enough to cut glass. "And you have brought forth the one weapon that can defeat my sisters from a place I, with all my power, could not have gone. I feel we should not be critiquing the viability of our personal choices."

"Let's not forget that, like your sisters, you are not immune to the reach of this blade either."

Her dark eyes flicked to him, and the sword at his back vibrated, almost as though it was...excited to be at the end of this girl's gaze. "You would kill me, assassin? Even after everything?"

"You are nothing to me." When her dark brows raised, humorously questioning his words, he pressed on. "You are not the girl I loved."

But even as he said it, he knew it was not entirely true. The urge to run to her, to wrap his arms around her and bury himself in the feel of her like a butterfly reluctant to leave the hold of its cacoon. He thought of their last intimate moments together. Her limbs tangled in his as she slept softly against his chest. Would they ever have that again?

Her black eyes ignited as she slipped from her place in the shadows to slink towards him. "What happened to not fearing our demons?"

"I think my being a brainwashed murderer and you being the literal devil has a bit of distance between them."

She turned over the massive weapon in her hands as she passed by his shoulder. Light streaked like lightning across its blade. Bucky twisted, keeping his body between her and Cortar. "You really think that you can wield that weapon well enough to kill me?"

Bucky squared his shoulders. "I don't. Not yet. But I don't have to kill you. I just have to slow you down, land a few blows." She laughed, the sound was wild and chaotic. "This sword can cut you like a mere mortal. Or am I wrong in thinking that?"

Miranda paused, eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. He could see her evaluating him, judging if she felt he would really attack her. Would he be ruthless? Would he hesitate? It was a question that Bucky, himself, was unsure of.

"Bucky!" Aristelle's voice called from the chamber behind him, but he did not dare turn away from Miranda despite the panic in her tone.

He watched a sneer pull back Miranda's lips as her sister's footsteps carried quickly towards them. "Bucky, we have to-"

Miranda's smile broadened at the sight of her sister, and Bucky was suddenly struck by a sudden thought. He could imagine the image of the inky blackness of the sea at night, and a shark's toothy smile as it loomed over its drowning victim. The hair on the back of his neck raised.

Aristelle was clutching her cell phone, and as it began to ring, it lit the dark space with pale blue light that did little more than make Miranda appear ghoulish. Bucky could just make out the name on the screen.

Dominque.

That meant there was trouble at the Convergence. Which also meant the sword was not the real reason that Miranda was here.

"We have to go," Aristelle said, turning her focus entirely away from Miranda and towards him, though the tense set of her limbs told him she knew better than to dismiss the other girl completely. "Things have taken a turn for the worse."

But Bucky's eyes did not leave Miranda, so he did not miss the way that she seemed to stand a little taller, her smile a little broader. Without hesitation, Aristelle reached for Bucky. The fabric of the world around them had already begun to warp and ripple.

"Enjoy," Miranda smiled sweetly as the world dropped into black.

What greeted them when they arrived could only be properly encompassed by a single word.

Devastation.

Aristelle surged forward from the wormhole but Bucky seized up the second his boots hit the soil. The torn, scarred earth hardly resembled the manicured grass they had left behind less than an hour earlier. Trees were singed and charred, skeletons lining an apocalyptic landscape. He could almost hear the screams of innocent men caught in the crossfire in the service of their country. An entire world separated him from the life he had lived before, but here, the lines blurred.

The sword seized hold of his fear and drove it deep, lodging it beneath his ribcage. The pain of it struck him as hard as a physical blow, and he staggered. But it had been enough to propel him out of the clutches of his memories.. He followed behind Aristelle, side stepping the endless massive holes that peppered the ground, trying not to look hard at the claw marks sunk into their edges, their depth highlighted by the silver light of the moon.

The front entrance to the mausoleum had been torn apart, the doorway a gaping mouth in a ravaged face. Aristelle paused in the doorway, her slim finger dwarf by the savage gouges in the wood and she leaned on it in and attempt to catch her breath. The fear was written plainly on her face as she approached the open passageway that lead down into the cavern of the Convergence.

They could hear…something from below. The horrible, inhuman cries of those creatures, those demons, that Miranda had described to him. Beneath their call he could hear voices, tired yet unrelenting. They plunged down, down into the darkness of the stairwell. Just when it felt as though they had descended into the maddening blackness of the afterlife, a pale blue glow began to trace the lines of the stairs.

And when they reached the base of the stairs, they were dropped into true madness.

The cavern seethed with living darkness, sharp, angular, horrible forms that writhed across the stone floor like massive cockroaches. The sight of it made his skin crawl, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He could see the saturated red of Wanda manipulations and the blazing, sparkler orange of Dr. Strange's incantations, but it was difficult to discern who all had answered the Director's call.

The sword at his back vibrated into a frenzy, the sensation filling his limbs and urging him to action.

"Olcora," Aristelle snarled. "We have to stop her from reaching the point of the Convergence. She's gunning for letting Terra loose."

"But Miranda put her there, yes?" Bucky asked, thinking of how Aristelle had used her blood to dissolve the spell guarding the door of the weapons chamber. "So only Miranda can let her loose?"

Her mouth twisted into a sad smile. "Unfortunately, that is not the case with magic. Only blood magic is linked to the caster in such a way."

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked. The sword was so loud now, its pressure pushing on his mind so hard his temples throbbed. It was nearly impossible to concentrate.

"We banished our sisters after our father. We thought that if they were free of his influence, that they would let him be. But he has twisted their minds. All they could think about was doing his bidding. So we had to put them away as well. But imprisoning our father took a terrible toll on Miranda. She could not manage another spell bound by blood, and my training in the dark arts was so stunted at the time that I was not able to perform anything that strong."

"So Olcora can undo whatever was used to banish Terra?"

"That is correct."

Bucky took in a shaky breath. "Then what are you still doing here?"

She glanced sideways at him, the slightest glint of humor in her eyes. And then she was gone, folding into the space beside him, leaving him alone at the edge of the writhing cloud of demons. It was then that he realized what the sword was trying to impress upon him. A single word stressed so hard and so repeatedly that he had not understood it at first.

Slay.

Bucky reached back and grasped the hilt of the sword. It sent a jolt up his arm. Something that felt like the electric zing claimed your body in the face of excitement or danger. A mix of adrenaline and instinct taking hold. The demons closest to him stilled before slowly, slowly turning to face him. Then just beyond those creatures turned as well. It was like a wave. Moths drawn to a flame, or in this case, a sword.

And then they rushed him.