The moment they fell through the mouth Loki had called upon to rip open a seam in the fabric of reality, time passed differently for Strange.
Fresh from experiencing thousands of iterations of their defeat, his spirit was tethered to the physical by a fraying string, and so felt the tear in the dimension with a raw sensitivity of spirit, as though the surface had been scraped off his soul. He witnessed raindrops pause in the process of their arced descent, as the earth trembled beneath the soles of his boots and split. From the viewpoint of his enhanced perception, rows of jagged fangs could be seen bordering the edges of the gash opening in the ground, along with thin, pale gums, and tendrils of drool.
While Loki had spoken of luring Thanos and his children to the crossing of the leylines, he'd made no mention of this, and the panic welling within the sorcerer at his inability to react as quickly as his metaphysical form could perceive proved impossible to ignore. Helpless to move his body at a speed that would make a difference, Strange silently agonized while gravity took hold, bringing him and Wanda and the Asgardian down into a vast expanse of swirling gray clouds that revealed nothing of their destination.
Interestingly, though Stephen was experiencing time at an accelerated pace with no outward sign of doing so, Loki tilted his head to regard him, the motion so subtle he might have imagined it if not for the slight arching of his dark brow.
They were mid-way down now, roughly the point of no return, but Strange realized with a thrill that he was no longer afraid. Because while Captain America inspired bravery and trust in those who followed him, there was something about Loki's insufferable smugness that served to bolster and embolden all the same, if only in the hope of not giving him any more reasons to lord his superiority over the rest of them.
In other words, Stephen decided in that moment that he would much rather die a thousand more deaths than have the Asgardian see him afraid, which proved to be fortuitous, as at the same time, the mouth closed, trapping them in this alternate dimension of Loki's choosing, where they plummeted for minutes that felt like hours - the irony of which was not lost on Strange - before landing on ground that felt no more solid than air, in a fog so thick they could barely make out their feet.
It was like watching ice thaw into a river, the Wanda way gradually began moving faster, turning her palms over in alarm at the nebulous mass rolling over her limbs, so thick and dense they could barely make out each other, until at last, time caught up to Strange, snapping into place with the elasticity of rubber.
"Care to explain where you've taken us?" He demanded, addressing the orchestrator of their descent.
After a strange lull, Loki released a ragged breath, then tossed a golden orb of light."It's called a transdimension," he muttered distractedly, watching the orb as it expanded outwards, beyond sight, before returning, like a ripple in reverse. Closing a fist over the golden light, he grimaced. "That's rather disheartening." Glancing at his companions, he elaborated, while attempting to smooth his features into something less obviously dismayed, "Of course I'd known there would be Otherworlders in this realm. It is simply that there are slightly more in our vicinity than anticipated, that's all. No harm done." He tried for a smile, though Strange rather wished he wouldn't bother.
"Transdimension," he repeated slowly, thinking back to the hours of study he'd devoted to pouring over the ancient tomes. "I know I've come across that word before." Loki crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. At once, it came to Strange. "These places exist between realities."
"At the point where one becomes another, yes. In order to travel the realms, one must pass through them, though they may not always be aware."
Undeterred by the impatience lacing Loki's tone, Strange continued, "This is where repressed thoughts and feelings gather, become nightmares." Hearing that, Wanda glanced nervously at the fog, as though staring long enough could reveal what lurked within. There was a very good chance it would, but some buried instinct warned the sorcerer that their ignorance was a protection of its own.
"Oh," with a grin crooked and wolf-like, Loki drawled with a melodic lilt, "it's much more than that." There again appeared that glint. The green in his eyes, already unnaturally bright, began to glow as though with fever. In front of him, a pair of wispy figures appeared. "Nightmares," a twirl of his fingers and the figures danced, becoming the entwined silhouettes of a young man and a willowy women, "wear your fears like a second skin, prancing around in the guise of those you love most, until you fall blissfully into their embrace," the pale young women fell bonelessly and with complete trust into the young man's arms, her limbs closing around his waist as he held her, "entirely oblivious to the claws gouging into the flesh of your back," and the young man's form arched in wordless, soundless agony, impaled on his lover's long, needle-like fingers. A shadow passed over Loki's face, "the nails gently, tenderly piercing your heart."
Then, with a resounding clap, his hands closed over the macabre play, bringing it to a close.
Tensed, Wanda scanned the fog, scarlet tendrils reaching where her vision could not. She bit down on a gasp as her psionic energy appeared to recoil from a solid mass disturbing the natural flow. "...Pietro?"
It pressed closer. Loki tapped her on the shoulder, whispering urgently, "Avert your eyes, witchling. Shield your mind." Seemingly unable to hear, she reached out to the disturbance, a dark mass that now appeared vaguely humanoid, breathlessly hopeful and wild.
A weight lifted itself off Strange's shoulders. He couldn't see what was happening as the cloak dragged its fabric over his head, then there was a startled squeak, and Strange regained his bearings to see Wanda staring bemusedly at the heavy, high-collared garment sitting on her shoulders. It was ridiculously oversized on her, its hemming brushing the obscured ground when she shifted to get a better look at the enchanted designs sewn into the cloth. Bowed by an unnatural weight that greatly restricted her movements, she glanced questioningly at Strange, "Was this your doing, doctor?"
He shook his head. "My cloak tends to have a mind of its own." Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the place in the gray, cloying fog that Wanda had been struggling to reach, willing the creature that had reached into her mind to falter and fade. "I believe it may have saved your life." Nodding hesitantly, Wanda determinedly refused to so much as look at the fog as she gently stroked the cloak, whispering her gratitude into its collar. A corner reached up to wipe the trails of moisture from her cheeks.
Turning on Loki, who was watching the interaction with a silent, thoughtful air, Strange demanded,"Why bring us to this cursed place?" He knew well of the trickster's propensity for switching allegiances, and thus couldn't bring himself to believe that the flash of regret that passed over his features wasn't calculated.
As though sensing the direction of his thoughts, Loki's forehead smoothed of worry lines, a haughty smirk pulling at the edge of his lips. "It is as dangerous for us here as it will hopefully be for our enemies." It spoke of a confidence that was patently false, a construct crafted from lies and illusions. Not even a day spent in the Asgardian's company, and Strange was already sick of it. But he listened,"Even more so, perhaps, since they have felled so many in their time, destroyed so many lives." His tone turned reflective, quiet, as he spoke almost to himself,"What terrible sins must they carry, I wonder?"
Wanda's arms wrapped around her body, hugging the cloak closer to her form. Her expression darkened. "Loss. Despair. Regret. Who's to say those capable of destroying worlds would feel any of those things?" Her features briefly contorted with remembered grief, before being forcibly remolded into a bitter scowl, "I have peered into the minds of true destroyers. They are not capable of it."
Loki studied her. "Warped. Corrupted. Bent out of shape though they may be… They are still alive, witchling. All living things have regrets."
Though Strange opened his mouth to speak, he quickly caught himself. Still, the look Loki cast his way could only be described as one of pure exasperation. After regarding him in silence for a moment, Loki sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Thanos will come here with the Reality Stone," then he began to pace, though not so far that the fog Strange was beginning to suspect was at least somewhat sentient swallowed him. "He will wield the ability to bend our surroundings, our bodies, though not our minds," and he glanced at Wanda, "to his will, if your precious Avengers have done anything right."
Her brow furrowed in thought, then a gasp, "Vis!" She balled her fists, gritting her teeth in impotent frustration. For someone who had already lost so much to lose more still…
Strange didn't have to imagine the effect such loss might have on the human psyche. He'd witnessed the destruction first hand with Kaecilius. He'd witnessed it thousands upon thousands of times in his visions.
And as the last breath fled her lungs, her head tipped back in grateful acceptance, her eyes fluttering closed, at peace with death. Desiring it.
That fate could not be allowed to befall her here. He - No, they wouldn't allow it.
"You needn't worry, Miss Maximoff," he assured her, ignoring the sharp look it earned him. "The captain will protect him in your absence."
"You know this?" She asked, dubious.
He nodded, lowering his mental shields long enough for her to feel his absolute certainty. There were certain truths in the multiverse, and one of them was that Captain America protected his people.
Gradually, she relaxed, her fists relaxing at her sides, then with a small smile, she gave the cloak a pat to let it know she was okay. "Thank you. You can go back to your master now." And it gracefully drifted from her shoulders, settling once more on Strange, who admittedly felt safer when bearing its familiar weight. Although the garment couldn't speak, the lingering concern it felt for the girl was palpable.
Meanwhile, something in the distance had distracted Loki. His gaze was focused on a single point, watchful and weary. "My hope," he muttered, "is that facing him here, outside the binds of reality will not only spare your precious earth from a battle they cannot hope to win," as always, his faith in humanity was overwhelming, "but even the playing field, and since I am familiar with this space, it may even cast the odds in our favor." A rift opened at the point, indistinct at first. Then it widened, ripping through the dimension with the sound of a distant scream. From it, an armored leg emerged, too long to be human. His teeth bared and green eyes alight with excitement, Loki drew his blades, crouching. "Shall we find out?"
And took off, speeding deftly through the perilous fog to take the intruder by surprise.
"He's insane," Strange remarked only to realize, with no small amount of consternation, that Wanda was no longer standing beside him. He looked up to catch sight of a distinctly scarlet blur chasing the snarling Asgardian's heels. "Wonderful." Then set off, his slingrings activated and twisting golden ribbons around his forearms while the cloak billowed majestically in the dead air, to catch up before they could get too far over their heads.
Upon exiting the portal, Corvus Glaive was greeted by the sight of an Asgardian in full regalia falling from above with his daggers poised to spear the sides of his throat, right where the plates were made thinnest to allow for mobility. Snarling, he threw his gauntlets before him to block the strike. "Only two, is it?" Loki tore open his gritted teeth to bark a laugh as Proxima stepped from the rift. "Franky, I'm offended." And he disengaged, pushing off of Corvus's chest with the soles of his feet to avoid the thrust of Proxima's lance.
Before he'd completed his arc, Wanda rushed out of the shadow he cast, tossing crimson orbs at the Black Order combatants. The first went for the crescent-shaped wound Corvus bore across his torso. Proxima batted it away with her lance, deflecting the second with her vambrace. She sneered. "Think yourself powerful, girl?"
Wanda focused on gathering her energy for a second volley. Loki landed lightly beside her. "You went after the Mind Stone, didn't you?" He couldn't quite hide his delight at the implicit confirmation in the furious roar that erupted from Glaive's elongated maw. "Tell me," Loki continued to press, deftly dodging a strike from the glaive that could quite literally atomize him if it made contact, "was it the dear captain who wounded you so, Corvus?"
Outraged, Corvus raised his clawed hand for what would be a devastating blow… if it hit. First, he jerked in place, surprised he could not reach the trickster though he danced so tantalizingly in front of him, only to spot the ice creeping up his legs. Then he twisted to see the golden circle spinning around the hand he'd raised to strike, and Strange floated down, his hands moving swiftly in a closing motion.
The portal sealed itself, taking Glaive's hand with it. Presented with what remained, Corvus howled with rage, breaking free of the ice imprisoning his legs as Proxima rushed Wanda with her lance. "You think," the cloak deflected the spearhead from hitting her, singeing itself on the point made of stars and blackholes in the process. Wanda used the distraction to surge forward, pushing a ball of energy into Proxima's chest that send her skidding backwards on her heels, "because you have accumulated such a meager show of allies you stand a chance against the might of Lord Thanos?" And she straightened, virtually unharmed and visibly furious. "As I recall, his mere presence brought you to his feet, sniveling praises with your tongue of lead like a whipped dog."
And Loki knew well she was only trying to rile him up, as he had her husband, "Yes, well, suffice to say our recollections of that particular encounter differ greatly, Proxima," it simply didn't matter. He crouched, and with the memory of having his throat crushed, his brother thrown into the unforgiving reaches of space, at the forefront of his mind, coldly sneered,"But I'm more than willing to refresh your memory." And he bolted forward, ignoring the warning shouts from Wanda and Strange, and leapt upwards, descending with his blades aimed for her exposed flesh.
"Starting from the prelude?" Proxima let out a cruel laugh. "But it was so short and underwhelming. I thought we might skip to the conclusion." She reached out to catch him by the neck, only for her gauntlet to pass through empty space, the illusion dissipating upon contact. "What?!" Behind her, Loki lunged from the fog. She swung around to impale him on her lance, but that too was an illusion, and three more took its place. These, however, were solid, their blades real enough to clash against her spear shaft.
"Careful, Proxima," a disembodied voice mocked. "You're dangerously close to demonstrating a capacity for independent thought. What would hethink?"
A scream of frustration escaped her, before an idea struck, and she stabbed one construct through the torso, taking joy from the way its features contorted in agony before dissipating, then swung through the second's neck, severing the head from its shoulders. This left only one to watch her wearily as it kept its distance. She grinned, her thin purple lips stretching too wide across her face, "Hello, Silvertongue."
With a small shrug, Loki wiggled his fingers in a sheepish wave.
Meanwhile, Wanda concentrated on immobilizing Corvus, keeping him from defending himself as a dozen of Strange's mirror images rained magically reinforced punches upon his head. He growled and snapped, reaching for illusions, only to suddenly twitch, his neck craning towards the shifting haze.
Proxima stiffened. "What was that sound?" She swiveled her head wildly, trying to find the source, but Loki didn't hear anything. He waited. "It sounds like…" A look of horror crept into her dark eyes. "Children?"
With a shout of rage and exertion, Wanda took advantage of their distraction to lift Corvus off his feet and propel him into the fog, which promptly rolled over him. "Corvus!" Proxima darted in after him. A high, shrill scream was heard. The grey haze continued to move and shift, peaceful and undisturbed.
Breathing heavily, Loki shuddered. Wanda placed a hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"
He pulled away. "I'm fine."
It was just… for a moment… he could have sworn…
The air had smelled distinctly of fresh rain and sunshine.
A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much for all your support... Are you ready?