Another chapter uploaded! Much thanks to the best beta reader in the world, ElessarII! You, my friend, have the patience of a saint.

[02.01.2021] EDIT: I've overhauled this chapter to better fit where I'm taking this story. Old readers - apologies for the inconvenience. New readers - hope you enjoy the story.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments down below.

… and beheld

Each other's aspects—saw, and shriek'd, and died—

Even of their mutual hideousness they died,

Unknowing who he was upon whose brow

Famine had written Fiend.

- Darkness, Lord Byron

April 8th, 2024

The Lighthouse, S.H.I.E.L.D. HEADQUARTERS

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED

Coulson's waiting for her with a StarkPad when she emerges from the showers.

She had known, somewhere deep down in her fugue of fighting and killing, that she had been due for a visit sooner or later. She has been so focused on missions she hadn't even realized when Christmas or the New Year had gone by. Her phone is flooded with unread texts and voicemails.

"You haven't been sleeping," he says as she moves to take the tablet from him without a word.

He tugs it out of reach.

Coulson is clearly done pulling his punches.

So she points to the swimming pool behind her and says, "I don't need to."

She won't sleep, not today. Because she knows what day it is. She remembers what happened six years ago today, and she has fought the urge to examine herself every few seconds to make sure she's in one piece.

"Recuperating at the bottom of the pool and emptying it after every mission is not sleeping," Coulson says mildly. "That's the equivalent of chugging gallons of coffee and claiming you're on top of the world."

This conversation is heading dangerously towards the kind of banter they used to engage in when she still trusted him.

"Fortunately, I can't get addicted to the water," she replies shortly. "What's my next mission, Director?"

The Second Civil War continues to rage across the continent. Governments all over are stretched too thin trying to put out metaphorical - and sometimes all too literal - fires to bother paying attention to individuals taking advantage of the chaos to further their own nefarious plans.

She's been fighting all her life, so S.H.I.E.L.D. throws her at the newest villain of the week, knowing that she will fight to win. Most days, she doesn't even bother using her abilities - punching and kicking and shooting works just as well, and is incredibly more satisfying.

If she hits, she doesn't hurt, and that's all she cares for.

Coulson stares at her and his jaw works for a moment. "An SOS from a sister division," he says finally.

Isabelle tilts her head. "Not my usual brand of assignment, sir. What's changed?"

"What's changed is that you've been a zombie since the Ark departed," he snaps. "You don't sleep, you barely eat, and you aren't taking any of the mandatory breaks between your missions. Every partner I've assigned to you has reported complaints of your violent and unstable behavior and has asked to be reassigned, or, in one case, even requested that you be transferred to another division!"

He doesn't need to specify who had made that last request.

Coulson's idea of 'building camaraderie via common enemy' has fallen flat. Daisy Johnson is no closer to accepting her as she was - however long it's been since the Manswell mission - Isabelle is pretty sure the forced exposure has instead driven a deeper rift between what was already a pretty hostile relationship.

Agent Johnson doesn't trust her, Isabelle doesn't care, and it's starting to affect their performance in the field. If they'd been human, they'd have already come to blows to let off some steam, but with their respective abilities, they'd end up sinking half the Eastern Seaboard by the time they're done airing out all their grievances.

She doesn't react to his accusations. It's not as if she wasn't expecting them, after all. "I don't think any of those things have affected my individual performance in the field, Director."

"That's the problem. You're too good. Minimum collateral damage is a concept you seem to have completely forgotten, so much so that your partners are forced to pick up the slack! You're rapidly approaching the line where you're a liability!"

She has developed a rather nice balance between her work and her downtime. Early on, she discovered that the numbness was unsustainable in the long run, so she compromised. She would unleash all her emotions out in the field and when she returned to the Lighthouse, she'd shut that flood behind an impenetrable wall of numbness. It's worked out well so far.

But Coulson's words are like a hammer to that wall, and she is beginning to feel a hint of rage seeping through the cracks. "You knew what you were getting into the moment you accepted me into your command," she says, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice.

He doesn't back down, though. "I did. Which is why I'm not inflicting you on anyone else for this mission."

Isabelle blinks. "You're sending me solo?"

He grins, and she realizes in that instant that she fell into the trap he laid out for her as easily as though she'd been led to it. "No, Agent Collins. I'm coming with you."

It doesn't take long for her to realize that when Coulson had said - I'm coming with you - he actually meant I'm coming with you both.

She's claimed the corner of the monitoring station as her own, from where she can see the wall of screens gathered around the Director.

There's an image of a dark-skinned, dark-haired beauty on one of the screens. Tattoos of occult symbols disappear down her arms. Her face is stern, unsmiling, but Isabelle imagines her to be always moving - an avatar of action.

"Director Pandora Peters, of the W.A.N.D. division of S.H.I.E.L.D," Coulson is saying. "We received a high priority alert from their HQ this morning. Very few details - but there's a high degree of possibility that the distress might be caused by an 0-8-4 Peters was investigating."

"W.A.N.D.?" Isabelle asks from her corner.

He swipes at an interface and a new projection rolls out on the screen. It displays a world map - the cities of Hong-Kong, New York and London are circled in red, connected by pulsing lines, themselves bisected by thinner links to other cities all over the globe. Photos and videos pop out of the circles over major cities, lingering for a moment before being drowned by the influx of other data streams.

"Ever since S.H.I.E.L.D. started, we've categorized almost every inexplicable entity that has crossed our desks," Coulson explains. "0-8-4s turned out to be weapons, energy sources… even people. We've had Inhumans, Enhanced, Gifted… aliens."

He takes a deep breath. "One thing I realized during the Decimation - we failed to categorize an ability shared among quite a few people across the known universe."

Isabelle knows where this is going. "Magic." She takes a deep breath. "W.A.N.D. was created to investigate the Infinity Stones." Her words ring like gunshots in the room; everyone flinches.

"Among other things, yes," he admits. "During the Decimation, S.H.I.E.L.D. and various other agencies were looking for any way to reverse the Snap. We pooled in all of our resources and came up with one outlandish idea after another… Magic fell within the purview of the Wizardry Alchemy Necromancy Department; a bridge between S.H.I.E.L.D. and the sorcerers we had on call."

There's a silence as once again, the line dividing the Snapped and the Survivors becomes blindingly obvious.

"If magic is involved, can't sorcerers just portal in?" Johnson points out.

"Their base is old, Daisy. It's always had strong wards preventing rogue teleportation - a necessity considering the importance of their research. Of course, Wong didn't anticipate it being used against him when he offered it to us."

That name pings Isabelle's radar. "Wong?" She asks evenly. "Master of the Mystic Arts Wong? He's your expert advisor on all things magical?"

Coulson turns and nods. "We've had a good relationship going for the past five years as we tried to find a way to bring you all back. Decided to continue it even after the Battle of Earth."

"Is Stephen Strange going to be there too?"

Coulson is the only one who notices the way her voice becomes a few degrees cooler, and that's only because he knows her too well. He doesn't react except for a slight tightening around his eyes and shakes his head. "Our last communication with Wong indicated Strange has not yet returned to the Sanctum or any of the other known sorcerer bases since Stark's funeral."

Isabelle's chest grows cold.

Coulson breaks the quiet. "An 0-8-4 that can give Pandora Peters trouble isn't something we can just foist off to the Sanctums to deal with internally. Wong will meet us there; hopefully, he'll be able to fill in some of the holes."

"I'll prep the Quinjet," Johnson nods. "Where are we headed?"

He grins suddenly. "You'll like this one."

"I call it the Castle."

The Castle, S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, W.A.N.D DIVISION.

LOCATION: CLASSIFIED.

The wine-colored sky is lit up with lightning by the time the Quinjet makes its way to the Castle.

"Can't believe you had Hogwarts as a potential base of operations and decided to go for the Lighthouse," Daisy murmurs as they approach the cliffs.

They flinch as the auto-pilot directs them at the unyielding vertical face of the cliff. Just when it seems like they're about to slam headfirst, the rock face shimmers like a staticky image, and the pixels reveal to show a huge opening carved directly through the middle of the face, leading to an aircraft hangar.

"That's why we didn't choose the Castle," Coulson points out. "I don't want to have to remind myself that we are not actually going to be pulverized every time we land."

Daisy rolls her eyes. Collins, ignoring them with an ease that speaks of long practice, has already unbuckled herself and is waiting for the cargo doors to open.

The hangar is modern, in stark contrast with the fairytale-like castle she had gotten a glimpse of amidst the thunderstorm. The walls and the ceiling are all rough rock, damp and lit with the glow of fluorescent lights. A few holograms bob against the walls. At the other end of the hangar, there are massive metallic doors.

"This doesn't look like much of a castle," Daisy mutters doubtfully.

"Well, there aren't any moving staircases or talking portraits, sorry to disappoint. But it is a real castle, and an old one," Coulson confirms, swiping at his prosthetic hand interface. The rear doors of the Quinjet close with a low groan. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has been trying to find out who built it for years now, and our working theory is that sorcerers were involved. Of course, Wong refuses to comment, but that just reinforces my belief."

"Director Coulson?" An unfamiliar voice calls out. A bald man in brown robes emerges from the shadows, his gaze flickering to Collins' briefly. "You made good time; I wasn't expecting you so soon."

"I'm eager for some answers, Wong," he says. "What'd you have?"

"Very little from here - but silence and stillness rarely bode well in such a situation. Unfortunately, I didn't have your Director authorization codes to investigate further," he admits, nodding to the doors.

"We'll figure out something that doesn't involve you being locked out of your own base after this is over," Coulson promises, walking over and looks at a face scanner.

"Say cheese," an artificial female voice echoes in the empty hangar. A holographic red light emerges and scans their faces, turning green an instant later.

"Any tips you'd like to share?" Daisy asks as the elevator doors close.

Golden mandalas erupt from raised fists.

"Expect nothing."

The contrast between the hangar and the Castle proper is never more apparent than when Daisy feels as though she's stepped onto another world.

What was once an atrium - and she's got Hogwarts stuck in her head now, so she mentally renames it to the Great Hall - has been revamped into a central command station. An elaborate silver stand cradles a massive orrery. Constructed of strange, kaleidoscopic fractals, they reflect the faint moonlight from a distant skylight.

Rows of bookshelves are interrupted by strange, runed machinery wired to surprisingly modern screens. Workstations are scattered with ancient books and scrolls. Holograms float in the air, being tossed back and forth between operatives on different floors, reached by stairs - stone, winding - on either side of the Hall.

A bustling, active base with no sign of distress.

Daisy feels something crawl down her spine and cranes her neck upwards. No, she thinks, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary - except for how every single agent turns and stares at them unblinkingly.

A thick bubble of anticipatory silence descends upon their group. As though they exist outside of time - breathlessly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Turns out -," Coulson drawls, though there's a thin layer of tension laced in his words, " - nothing is pretty accurate. Wong?"

Wong's mandalas flicker and die. He cautiously steps out of the bubble - Collins makes an aborted motion towards him, as though tamping down on a sudden urge to yank him back. Daisy can't blame her - her skin is prickling with the awareness of hundreds of eyes.

But nothing happens.

"I… am unsure," the sorcerer says uneasily, eyes rapidly flicking all over the place. He strides over to one of the workstations, brow furrowing as he examines the thick volumes and unrolled scrolls scattered amongst datapads. "These… are spells of forbidden magic. Meant to summon eldritch horrors and cosmic obscenities." His fingers reach out to brush the pages -

Only to startle as a whip of fiery golden light snaps out from the crowd of unnervingly silent onlookers to tether his wrist.

It's a strange thing, Daisy thinks, dream-like, even as Coulson and Collins raise their guns - a strip of magic, emitting sparks almost like a live wire with serrated edges. She has seen it only once before - a year ago, or seven, depending on one's perspective - but that had looked more substantial than pure golden light…

"That does not belong to you," a devastatingly familiar voice orders, snapping Daisy out of the strange trance she'd fallen into. The agent who emerges is young, barely into his twenties. His familiar - older - face is blank, almost wooden, fingers steady around his eldritch whip as he advances towards Wong. "Step away."

"Gabe?" Daisy calls, her voice echoing in the silent, cavernous space of the Great Hall. She takes a half-step towards the kid she'd never thought to see again, the kid whose existence had been buried beneath politics, imprisonment, and the Decimation. "Gabriel Reyes, is that you?"

When she finally moves, she practically sprints across the floor, jolting to a stop just before she crashes into him. "What are you doing here? How are you walking?" The surge of relief breaks off just as abruptly as it had started when she realizes he doesn't seem to have even heard her, his eyes fixed unblinkingly at Wong. "Gabe?"

Wong, to his credit, doesn't seem all that bothered. "The flesh-bound Grimoire Verum," he points to one of the thick tomes. "The Book of Eibon. The Black Sea Scrolls." The last one is conspicuous; a black-as-ebony, ancient, rolled-up parchment, with a script that seems to glow as though written by fiery ink.

"These are kept locked deep within the Kamar-Taj library. As I am the librarian," he says, somewhat acerbically, " - they do belong to me, Disciple Reyes."

Disciple…?

"Daisy…" Coulson calls warningly.

"Step away," Gabe repeats. There's something hollow, vacant in his entire posture. Not like a paraplegic who's miraculously walking, but almost like something is puppeteering him. She shivers. "You do not belong here."

Wong tugs at the whip. Gabe almost falls over, then straightens himself with the same, eerie look. "Where is Pandora?"

"Director Peters is currently indisposed. We're done now," he monotones, and with a wave of his hand, the whip disappears. Daisy spots deep, red gashes on Wong's wrist before it disappears beneath his robes. "Step away."

She finally finds her voice. "What's wrong with him?" She asks, backing away. After a moment, Wong follows her.

"I suspect the same thing that's wrong with all of them," he murmurs. He exchanges a loaded look with Coulson as they enter the bubble that no longer feels as safe as it had five minutes ago. "We need to find Peters."

"Now."

The Observatory

They find her in the dome-shaped Observatory.

Built into the peak of the tallest tower, half of the dome's golden, arch-paneled walls are spelled to reflect the cosmos, bursting into life in real-time. Nebulae pulse as multi-colored clouds of dust, distant stars are born and die almost simultaneously, galaxies spin around an invisible axis, before colliding in a tsunami of light.

Holographic mandala crosshairs manifest across the illusion, reminding Isabelle of nothing so much as a magical tracking algorithm.

The rest of the Observatory wouldn't be out of place in a hoarder's wet dream. Thick tomes are arranged haphazardly in alarmingly tilted towers while scrolls are hastily shoved into huge vases. The single, wooden workstation is littered with vials containing suspicious liquids, strange, silver instruments that tinkle at their approach, and a dull, crystal ball resting on a stand.

And in the center of it all is a blue pillar of light, within which a familiar, dark-skinned woman hovers, limp and curled almost fetal-like.

"What is it?" Johnson whispers, sounding still somewhat shaken by her encounter with her old friend.

"Shield of Seraphim. A barrier that acts as fortification and prison, all at once," Wong explains, striding forward confidently. "A last resort of sorts, to stave off enemies at the cost of immobilizing the caster." He raises his hands, fingers moving in specific patterns. The curtain flickers beneath his administrations. "It can be removed only by an acceptable allied magical signature."

'Such as mine' goes unspoken as the barrier falls. Pandora Peters hovers for a microsecond longer before collapsing in a heap at his feet.

A borderline-hysterical laugh shudders through her as she attempts to get her breath under control. "Took you long enough," she says hoarsely, staring up at Wong.

"Tell us what happened here," he orders, making no move to help when she pushes herself up.

"Your S.O.S mentioned an 0-8-4…?" Coulson's voice is gentler.

"The Eternal Eye," Peters replies, nodding. Her voice is gravelly, though Isabelle can't distinguish whether it's natural or a result of her extended imprisonment. "A relic of a forgotten civilization, discovered by our founder Agamotto in his exploits across the galaxy."

"He claimed it was evil and tried to bend him to its will. His magic wasn't powerful enough to combat it, so he bound it instead, creating an impenetrable shield around it so it could never again spread its corruption."

Isabelle stiffens. Her skin is prickling; the way it always does when she feels like she's being watched by something she can't see. With one ear on the conversation, she keeps her eyes peeled for any automaton agent to jump out from the dark shadows of the room.

"What kind of evil?" Coulson asks.

"All he wrote about it was that it 'sees all, knows all, wants all.'" Wong replies. "You broke the shielding, didn't you? I assume by the books I found downstairs that you tried to reverse-engineer the artifact by diving into it with magic."

"Yes," Peters nods, either not reading the cold tone in Wong's voice or deliberately ignoring it. "The Chart of the Cosmos," she gestures to the bespelled walls, " - narrowed down my attempts to find the entity behind the Eye."

She exhales heavily. "But it found us first. It enthralled my agents, turned them against me."

Isabelle inches towards the workstation, eyes absently cataloging all that she can use as an improvised weapon. Her eyes are drawn to the opalescent sphere resting innocuously on a rusted stand. It is unlike anything she's ever seen - glowing and pulsing with strange curtains of light, like the aurora borealis trapped within the ocean.

An unexplained chill runs down her spine.

"Mind manipulation is dark magic, Master Peters. You were taught better than that."

Isabelle is frozen. Her stomach is tied up in knots.

"I was taught to anticipate and remove threats before they were set loose upon the world, which is what I was attempting!"

Her breath catches in her chest. There's a darkness that's encroaching in her vision, and the swirling lights inside the sphere seem to be the only source of illumination. The light at the end of the tunnel.

She can't tear her eyes off it.

"Collins…?" Coulson's voice pierces through the veil of whispers descending upon Isabelle's mind. For a moment, for a single moment, she listens to her screaming instincts and raises her gun, but it's just so heavy.

"And how has that worked out for you? You should not have attempted this alone!"

Hot, thick blood trickles down her nose. Time slows down; everything seems drawn out and so… very… distant.

"I didn't! " Pandora says.

"It took Reyes first."

The sphere pulses. Isabelle's gun clatters to the ground.

Her last thought before the energy hits her is that the whispers sound oddly like the ocean.

Phil was already moving by the time he saw strange, multicolored lightning grab Collins, so he was able to catch her before she dropped to the ground.

"Collins!" Brushing away her hair, he tilts her head back and pinches her nose in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. She blinks to semi-consciousness, and he spares a glare for the pulsing orb. "What the hell is that thing?"

Collins stirs, eyes seeking out and fixing unblinkingly on Pandora Peters. Phil's stomach sinks as he places the disturbing, blank look on her face, and knows that he has his answer.

"Lies," she says, her voice double-timbered in a way Agent Reyes' hadn't been. She extricates herself from his arms and pulls herself up without her usual grace.

"Collins…"

"Incredible," Peters says wonderingly. "Usually it takes days for the enthrallment to take effect. Her mind must be astonishingly susceptible to the Eye's control."

"Some empathy wouldn't be amiss in this situation, Pandora," Wong chastises.

"Yes, yes… this is very unfortunate, but we can use this," she says, brushing him off impatiently as she strides towards the universe map. "Keep it talking, Coulson; I'm gonna use it to narrow down the search."

"LIES! "

The roar makes them all flinch backward. Daisy has a palm out, ready to Quake the Eye's thrall to kingdom come. Collins's - no, not Collins, this is the Entity Peters had spoken about, advancing towards her with an enraged look on its face. Wong has his defensive mandalas raised and ready.

"What lies?" Phil blurts, fingers twitching towards his holster. "Who lied?"

"We did not take; we were given," the Entity snarls.

"I don't…"

"We were beyond reach, so she fed tributes to us to pursue our domain!"

He grows cold.

"Is that true?" Wong demands, rounding on Peters. "Did you deliberately expose your own agents to this… thing?"

She blows out a noisy breath but otherwise doesn't react. Under her ministrations, the map zooms into a vast, glowing representation of the Milky Way, with the intricate holographic crosshairs tracing the signal. "When Reyes was enthralled, I realized that the Eye generated a pulse the longer it was linked with him. If I'd pushed harder, he'd be a vegetable by now. So I… scattered the impact among the others."

Phil's stomach sours at the absence of even a single smidge of guilt or regret on the woman's face. He doesn't know her that well - Wong had been their go-to for all magical consultations - but something in him still feels betrayed.

"We will not be tools!"

The illusion flickers. Peters glares at the Eternal Eye. "It's resisting. Where are you?! Tell me!"

"Stop now. The darkness cannot be breached."

"We'll see about that."

Phil has had enough. Seamlessly, he takes one step forward and raises his gun, aiming for the Eye.

The twin screams of denial get cut off by a muffled boom. He is thrown to his feet as the whole world jolts alarmingly. He lands on all fours, scrabbling frantically for purchase, before grabbing onto the bolted-down desk. The quakes are powerful enough to rattle his teeth.

The Observatory is lit up with red, blaring alarms. A crack runs along the wall, breaking the illusion spell and revealing blank, featureless walls with arched panels. Books topple off shelves, raining down upon Wong and Peters, who are kneeling with hands above their heads.

Only Daisy and the Entity are still on their feet; the former with her legs spread apart, palms pointed downwards as she attempts to absorb the quakes. Sweat beads her scrunched brow.

"You've learned too well."

Phil's eyes snap to the Entity, who seems utterly unbothered by the world heaving around it. It picks its way through dust and plaster, its path leading straight and true towards Pandora Peters, who vainly attempts to call forth a shield, only to cry out as ice crystallizes around her wrists.

The Entity's eyes are glowing an inhuman blue. Freezing fingers wrap around Peters' neck, yanking her upright, dangle her in the air easily.

"The servant of the end is here. You have brought them. You are a threat."

With a swift move, the Entity plunges an ice spike into Peters' heart.

"NO! " A heavy silver instrument crashes down on Wong's head when he attempts to reach out. He crumples, unconscious.

Peters gurgles, a trickle of blood trickling down her open, gaping mouth. The Entity loosens its hold, steps over her collapsed body. Phil watches helplessly as the last of the shock and horror in her eyes fade into the emptiness of death.

He knows he should grieve Peters. But all he can think of Izzy, trapped and screaming in a body that's no longer hers. Fighting with every inch of her life. "Let her go!" he shouts over the roaring of the earth. "She's done nothing to you!"

"No. This vessel shapes the essence of our world. She will remain a servant of our needs. "

Something calm and cold settles in him. "If you take her," he whispers, " - I will find you. Wherever you go, however far you run - I'll never stop hunting you."

The Entity stills, cocks its head for a long, breathless moment, extraordinarily still even when the ground shakes beneath it. "We believe you."

It looms as it reaches for him.

The realization that he may have massively miscalculated jolts him just as painfully as the second the quakes peter out and Daisy loses all control over the vibrations.

A shockwave of incredible power erupts from her. The Entity goes flying, and Phil would've been tossed backward as well if he hadn't already been half under the workstation. So he's in a prime position to watch the Quake smash the Eternal Eye to smithereens.

He allows himself a swell of satisfaction before scrambling towards Daisy. She sags in his arms, her cheeks wet - he can't tell if it's with tears or sweat - and blue-black veins running down her arms.

She waves him off, attempting to catch her breath. "Might not be out of the woods yet."

Phil nods, snatches Collins' gun from the floor. His face is a thundercloud as he advances towards the Entity, who's crawling along the floor to Peters' bloody body with a possibly-genuine, shock-triggered, blank look on its face. But he's not taking any more chances.

"Collins would rather be dead than some monster's puppet," he snarls, as he switches off the safety and aims. It is slow to meet his gaze. "Examine her memories. She never carries an I.C.E.R."

"It's me, Phil," Izzy says, after far too long a moment. Her voice is hoarse, as though she'd been screaming on the inside, just as he'd imagined. "Just me."

He drops to the floor, crawls up to her, ignoring the pool of blood soaking his pants. He cradles her face in his hands, the guilt and self-loathing clear in her eyes. "Wasn't you," he says fiercely, wondering, for the millionth time, how five minutes can make so much difference. "It wasn't you, Izzy. Let it go."

She swallows. "Would you be able to?"

He is spared from answering by a low groan. Wong sways as he pushes himself to his feet, the horror as his eyes follow the trail of blood shuttering behind an impressively impassive face. He carefully doesn't look over at Collins. "The Eye?"

"Destroyed. What was that earthquake?"

"'The servant of the dark is here'," he quotes, striding towards the exit. They scramble after him, Phil supporting both Izzy and Daisy. "The Entity behind the Eye was afraid."

"I suspect Pandora's actions might've called something far worse."

The Great Hall

There's a gigantic portal above the atrium.

It's not like the ones she'd seen in the battle that's going to stay etched in her memory forever. No, the sparks these holes emit are black, encircling the view of a rocky, dusty, equally dark landscape. Panicked screams trail up from the ground floor as devastatingly familiar creatures drop down from the hole, launching themselves at the hapless sorcerers in far worse shape than she is.

"Chitauri? " Coulson whispers.

Isabelle's head is pounding hard enough that she can feel it in her eyeballs, made worse by the fact that she can't get the image of Pandora Peters' bloody corpse out of her head. They say the body can hold memories the mind has forgotten; she might not remember any of it, but her fingers can still feel the phantom give of Peters' heart beneath her ice spike.

Nausea churns in her gut.

"What the hell is that?" Johnson grunts, pointing to the portal. Her arms are alarmingly bruised; Isabelle thinks they'll make a good team if they have to fight the horrific creatures, which - from the way this day is going - is just a matter of time.

"A semi-stable breach. Its formation is what caused the earthquake."

"Can you close it?"

"Yes." The sorcerer glances down the circular corridor, nods at the gigantic creatures rapidly making their way over. Isabelle recognizes their hulking silhouettes - Chitauri Gorillas, little more than animals to the main horde. "Buy me some time."

She shakes her head when Coulson hands over her gun.

There's understanding in his gaze. "Punch your way through today if that's what it takes, Agent Collins."

Gratitude swells in her.

"Violent and unstable behavior coming right up, Director."

A deep silence settles in the passage. Johnson shuffles in readiness, and it triggers a response from the creatures. Almost in unison, they take a step forward, their heavy tread making even the stone floorboards groan in protest. The flickering lights cast a skewed beam over their forms.

Isabelle inhales sharply.

The parts that are illuminated reveal… augmentations. Organic tissue has been dismembered or amputated - she can't tell whether it's deliberate - and replaced with painfully-advanced, glowing cybernetics. External components such as shoulder-mounted weapons disappear beneath nauseatingly distended muscle and skin.

Three gorillas, one for each of them. The realization washes over them like a wave, and in the next instant, the three of them spread out in a loose triangle around Wong. Isabelle hears Coulson release the safety even as a long ice spike blooms from her fingers.

"What are you waiting for?" Johnson taunts.

Her answer is a thunderous roar.

It doesn't take them long to realize that the gorillas are practically invulnerable.

Their armor plating is able to withstand most damage. Johnson's Quakes and Isabelle's water blasts barely make a dent. Coulson's enhanced prosthetic is the only thing keeping his own at bay.

Adding insult to injury, their weapon mounts are particle rifles; more than once, Isabelle has gotten singed by a stray radiation beam.

The only thing in their favor is that the gorillas are slow.

She ducks underneath a boulder-like punch, and it goes through the large doors of the Observatory. The fist gets stuck in the jagged hole, so it yanks hard until the door comes right off its hinges, and swings it at her.

It sends her flying backward towards a wall. Her head hits something hard, and she crumples. She ignores the ringing in her ears, spits blood out of her mouth, and looks up…

Only to roll out of the way as a massive paw comes stomping down on top of her. She jumps up, cries out as the beam that follows scorches a stripe across her arm, but then her fists shoot out, an ice beam directed towards the gorilla's feet, freezing it in place.

It roars as it finds itself trapped again. Behind it, Coulson squeezes the trigger. His aim is true, and the bullet goes shattering through the temple. Brain matter splatters over the wall as it collapses, the light in its eyes blinking out in death.

She grabs Coulson's hand and pulls herself up.

Then shoves him out of the way of the threat he'd ignored in favor of lending her a hand - his own gorilla - just in time for it to slam into her.

Her back hits the metal railing, driving the breath from her lungs. The particle rifle swivels and primes menacingly, aimed at Coulson, and she doesn't even think before plunging an icy spike directly into the muzzle.

A fiery light sizzles through her fist, and she screams but doesn't let go, forcing her entire body to turn to unyielding ice. Thickset arms enfold her, squeezing the life out of her - she can't move, can't breathe, but her grip doesn't loosen. The few seconds it lasts feels like an eternity, but finally, the weapon overheats and backfires.

The fiery blast throws them apart. She gasps harshly as she hits the floor, ice bleeding away to reveal her blackened, sizzling arm. The pain is indescribable, and she can already feel the water starting to pool out of her suit, but then Johnson cries out, and Isabelle's head snaps towards her.

Johnson's attempting to hold off her own gorilla unsuccessfully. Coulson's shots go wide. Isabelle can barely move due to the pain but pushes herself up on shaky legs. But she's not going to be fast enough, she realizes, watching helplessly as Johnson goes down. The gorilla looms over its helpless victim, blocking Isabelle's view. The boom of its loudest roar yet rattles the glass windows in their frames.

That's when she feels the air shudder behind her.

It distracts Isabelle, and she turns to look at the breach slowly closing beneath Wong's skillful spellcasting, which is why she doesn't spot the Quake fast enough to dodge it.

It rips through the gorilla's rifle mount and strikes her square in the chest. The concussive blast is powerful enough that she is lifted clean of her feet and tossed into the gaping maw of the rapidly shrinking hole in the universe.

The last thing she sees is Daisy Johnson's horrified face, next to the crumpled form of the Chitauri she's vanquished, just before the portal snaps shut.

April 9th, 2024

The Atrium

Daisy fingers the dark veins on her arms, watching S.H.I.E.L.D. agents scurry about, cordoning off various sections of the Castle and removing Pandora Peters' body on a stretcher. "How are you feeling?"

Gabe Reyes arches an eyebrow. He looks drawn and exhausted, fingers wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate. Coulson had put his foot down on W.A.N.D. agents helping to secure the area until they were completely cleared of the Eternal Eye's influence. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I'd rather focus on anything else," she admits. Her emotions are a mess - the guilt and self-loathing are mixed with the ever-present irritation and fury that always accompanies every single mission she's been forced into with Isabelle Collins. "I'm sorry about Pandora."

His smile flickers. "She was my mentor, you know? She took her job very seriously. Which makes me think there was a part of her that was genuinely trying to save me." He shakes his head. "I just wish she'd have found another way instead."

A silence descends. Then, softer - "What did it feel like?"

His gaze turns distant, as though he's gone somewhere she'll never be able to reach. "Dark," he says. "Cold. Wherever it was - it was never meant for mortals." He shivers. "Ask something else, please."

"How are you walking?" she asks immediately.

"Well," he smiles," - right now I'm wearing leg braces, but usually I channel dimensional energy directly into my body."

"Don't suppose you can channel some into these," she rolls her bruised forearms, wincing.

"Doesn't work that way," he chuckles, then sobers. "Daisy - it wasn't your fault Isabelle Collins got pulled in."

She grimaces. "More like 'shoved'. My Quake hit her head on, Gabe."

"Maybe, but someone created that breach - it didn't come from nowhere. And it took her somewhere very, very far."

She examines his troubled face. "Wong was pretty insistent on that word - breach. Is that a portal that leads you to another continent? Another world?"

"Daisy… breaches take you to other dimensions."

"I thought the Chitauri were all destroyed in the Battle of Earth," Phil asks as he approaches Wong, who's kneeling over one of the gorilla corpses.

"Only those from the alternate universe. These are from our universe. Stragglers, severed from their connection with the mothership." He sighs heavily. "They seem to have found a new master."

"The cybernetics," Phil nods. "Is that how they managed to create a breach in the middle of one of the most secure magical sites on the planet?"

The sorcerer shakes his head. "Their enhancements don't grant them access to magical arts. Peters was clever; she tied the Castle's wards to the Shield of Seraphim when she cast it, knowing that only I could bring it down. Unfortunately, we all got… distracted before I could raise them again."

"Collins wasn't responsible, Wong."

He nods stiffly but doesn't answer.

Phil suppresses a sigh. "Did you get anything about where she ended up?"

The sorcerer shakes his head. "Pinpointing one in the infinite number of realms that have rocky, dusty landscapes is like hunting for a needle in a stack made of other needles. Besides, I know of only one sorcerer who can open breaches, and he hasn't been seen since the Battle of Earth."

Phil sighs. "Strange."

Wong nods, looking troubled.

"So we have no leads, very few answers and we lost another one of my agents?" Phil grits his teeth. "Get your sorcerers to double-down on the wards, Wong."

He seems to struggle for a moment, before giving in. "What about Collins?" There's a dark look in his eyes.

But Phil has known him long enough to understand that, despite everything, Wong can't help but care. "She's counting on us to bring her home."

"Let's not disappoint her."

Marvel Comics Context: W.A.N.D is the magical division of S.H.I.E.L.D. Director is Pandora Peters.

The name of the headquarters is never actually mentioned in the comics, so I decided to call it the Castle because it fits the pattern of S.H.I.E.L.D. bases to have very obvious code-names. In my fic, W.A.N.D. was created, once again, as a result of the Decimation, when control was sorely needed in order to prevent the complete extinction of the human race.

The Eternal Eye is technically another name for the Orb of Agamotto. Unfortunately for me, the Orb is actually already displayed in the Doctor Strange movie, so for the purposes of this fic, the Eye and the Orb are two different things. Mass Effect fans will recognize the true nature of the Orb by the description given. An Easter Egg. :)

The Shield of Seraphim is a spell I created for the purposes of this fic. I do love creating mystical spells and artifacts.

Sorcerer Tomes: Information copied from the comics-based wiki.

The flesh-bound Grimoire Verum is stated to be one of the oldest occult textbooks in the world. Inspired by the occult books of the Cthulhu Mythos.

The "frightful" Book of Eibon was a means to summon "strange creatures and stranger gods".

The Black Sea Scrolls were one of many books mentioned to contain knowledge on a cosmic obscenity that slumbers and on the cults and lost races that wait for the end of that slumber.

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Context: 0-8-4s are S.H.I.E.L.D. code for 'objects of unknown origin'. Mjolnir was declared as one when it crash landed in New Mexico.

Mass Effect Context: In the canon, the destruction of the Statue of Liberty sparked a Second American Civil War, which lasted two years, ending in the UNAS' favor.

It'll be happening in the background of this fic; my character will not be participating in it. In my fic, two terrorist attacks back-to-back resulted in a blaze of outrage which sparked the Civil War.

A/N: Let me know your comments down below!