The ruins of Wundagore.
The stranger's footsteps crunched on white snow. They didn't falter when they saw the crushed stone, or when they looked closer and saw the prophecies inlaid upon them.
They'd seen it all before. Countless things were different in each multiverse, but Wundagore always remained the same. They kept walking until they reached the center of the ruins, where the damage was the worst of all.
The stranger spotted specks of blood on the snow and her mouth stretched into a smile, her fingers summoning up a ball of scarlet energy. With a thrust, the shattered stones were lifted clear off the ground and hurled several feet away, revealing the source of the blood beneath them.
Wanda's robes were torn, half of her headpiece broken in half, an arm shattered, a shard of stone impaled straight through her chest, and a pool of scarlet staining the snow under her. Weak threads of energy twined around her fingers, still stained black from use of the Darkhold.
"Wanda," the stranger murmured. "Wanda, wake up."
No movement from the witch.
With a sigh, the stranger stretched her consciousness out to the woman's, enveloping it, encasing it, and pulled.
Wanda's eyes flew open, and she gasped for breath as her lungs strained to keep her alive.
The stranger chuckled.
"You didn't expect to wake back up, didn't you?" she said.
The witch merely stared at her. "Why am I not dead?" she finally asked.
"Were you trying to die?"
The witch's eyes narrowed, as if such a question was inconcivibly stupid. "Anyone who collapses a mountain on themself is trying to die."
"Well, you can't."
"Why?"
"Because it's not your time yet," the stranger responded. "Your destiny is to either rule your universe or destroy it. As you can see, it isn't over, and you're not ruling. Therefore, not dead."
The witch frowned. The stranger was a stranger, but somehow also very familiar.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
The stranger laughed."Sort of. In fact, I guess I could say that I know you rather well. Almost as if we're the same person, Wanda."
Wanda's mouth fell open as the stranger pulled her hood back. Sunlight glinted off of a scarlet headpiece crowning a face that she recognized instantly: her own.
But not version of her was only sixteen years old.
Her variant grinned at her surprise.
"And who is that?" Wanda asked faintly.
The grin on her variant's face stretched even wider.
"The Scarlet Witch, of course. We're one of the only people who exist in every single universe."
"Why?"
"Because eventually in time, every universe must be destroyed. And we're the ones who do it," she said.
Wanda sat back in shock, her eyes unfocused. The variant's eyes swiveled to the growing pool of red beneath them. Wanda had lost a lot of blood.
Wanda's eyes fluttered shut—
"Wanda."
Her variant snapped her fingers in front of her face, and Wanda groaned, forcing her eyes open.
"Wanda, I need you to stay with me, okay?" her variant said. "I didn't come all this way so you could let yourself bleed out."
Wanda stared at her, curiosity, distrust, and need warring inside her.
"Wanda, you need to heal yourself," her variant said. "Do you really want to die here?"
Wanda frowned. Did she? A couple minutes ago, the answer would have been yes. But not anymore. She twisted her fingers, summoning up a ball of red energy, and sighed in relief as bone and muscle and tissue healed and dissolved. The blood on the snow disappeared, pulled back into its rightful place.
The pain was gone.
Wanda looked up at her sixteen year old self. "Why are you here?"
"You'll have to clarify, I'm afraid."
"Why did you save me?" she asked.
"Because I want your help," said her variant.
"My hero days are over," Wanda said.
Her variant snorted.
"Who said anything about being a hero?" she said as she pulled off her gloves, which had gotten soaked in Wanda's blood. "None of our variants are, Wanda. Not a single one. And this isn't a job for them. It's a task for the cold-hearted."
"Why should I help you?"
"Because if you do, I can bring your children back. Properly. The right way. No hexes, no sitcoms, no traveling to other universes. Real boys."
She offered Wanda a hand up, but Wanda's attention was focused on her variant's fingers. Just like her own, the tips were stained black.
"You've been corrupted by the Darkhold," she said, stunned.
"I wouldn't call it corruption. Are you coming or not?"
Wanda stared at her variant in shock. "That's the book of the damned," she said. "Do you have any idea what you're playing around with?"
Her variant stared at her, and Wanda noticed something dead in her eyes. "I'm you, Wanda. Perhaps I'm younger. Perhaps our stories are slightly different. Does that make me any less ruthless?"
"I—I don't understand," Wanda said.
Her variant chuckled. "We're both villains, Wanda. I just got started with my evildoing a bit earlier."
With a wave of her hand, she created a glowing portal.
A glowing star-shaped portal.
"You killed America Chavez?" Wanda asked incredulously.
"She made the mistake of coming to my world and had something I wanted," her variant said. "So I took it."
Wanda gazed into the portal and saw only inky blackness and swirling embers. "What's in there?"
"A world that's waiting for us," her variant responded.
"To do what?"
A grin stretched across her variant's face.
"To do what we're meant to do," she said. "To end it."