Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2

by abcd12344321

A direct sequel to Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, takes place a few days after the original story ended, Peter-Knull has made this world his home, having become an unlikely protector. But in the shadows of the multiverse, his actions have gained the attention of powerful beings. Beings that will stop at nothing to see him destroyed; this is his story.

30. Chapter 30

Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2

Chapter 30: Dark Hearts, Dark Deals; Part 2

…

The room was silent, save for the faint humming of the overhead lights. Maria Hill, ever the professional, sat at the end of the long metal table, her sharp eyes flicking between the two individuals sitting across from her. This wasn't the first time she had interviewed displaced individuals, not by a long shot. The growing list of multiversal anomalies had kept her and her team at S.W.O.R.D. busy for weeks. But this one? This one was different.

Seated before her were two of the most bizarre individuals she'd ever encountered.

Spider-Man. But not just any Spider-Man. This one's suit was lined with flames, faintly flickering as if his very essence burned with some kind of supernatural fire. His demeanor, while familiar, had an edge to it—a confidence mixed with something darker, something unearthly.

Beside him sat Queen Goblin—but not the Queen Goblin they knew in this world. No, this was a different version, her fiery red hair cascading over her armored shoulders, her red, scaly hands casually resting around her Spider-Man's neck. Her presence exuded an infernal energy that made everyone in the room feel on edge. And yet, despite her obvious goblin nature, she looked... happy. Content, even, as she clung to her Peter like a partner, not a menace.

Hill cleared her throat. "So, let's start from the top. I'm going to ask a few questions, and I'll need clear answers. First—who are you, where did you come from, and why are you here?"

The Infernal Spider shifted slightly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Uh, right. My name's Peter Parker, but in my world, I go by the Infernal Spider. As for how we got here... I'm guessing a universal distortion? One second we were in our world, and the next... well, here we are. No idea how or why."

Queen Goblin leaned into Peter with a smirk, her red eyes gleaming. "It's not the weirdest thing that's happened to us." She glanced at Hill, her grin growing wider. "You might want to get to the part where you ask about our relationship. People always get hung up on that."

Hill didn't react outwardly, but she couldn't deny her curiosity. "We'll get there. But first, what's your connection to each other? You're married, I assume?"

Peter smiled warmly at Queen Goblin, the kind of smile Hill had seen on thousands of people before, genuine, heartfelt, and full of love. "Yeah, we're married." He paused, then added with a bit of pride, "Been through a lot together."

Queen Goblin purred, "I've put more than a few demons in their place to keep this guy safe. Blackheart, in particular. Hitting him in the balls was one of my finer moments." She glanced at Peter with a playful look. "Worth every punch."

"Sure was," Peter added, grinning, as Queen Goblin leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Meower," she whispered teasingly, eliciting a chuckle from her husband.

Hill blinked, trying to maintain her composure as she took this in. It wasn't every day she had to interview a Peter Parker who was married to Queen Goblin of all people. Meanwhile, standing off to the side, Jean Grey, Jubilee, this world's Peter Parker, and Miles Morales just... stared. No one said a word for what felt like an eternity.

Jean was the first to break the silence, albeit with a quiet whisper. "I can't... process this."

Jubilee nodded slowly, her eyes wide. "That... that's Queen Goblin. And Peter. Married. To each other."

Miles, ever the one to keep things light even in the weirdest situations, finally muttered, "Okay, I've seen some wild things, but this... this is new."

Earth-616's Peter, standing beside Miles, had his arms crossed. His eyes were fixed on the couple, but his mind was elsewhere, pulling up a memory that had been sitting in the back of his brain for a while now. Peter-Knull. He had mentioned this, hadn't he? That there was a world where Peter Parker had somehow wooed Queen Goblin—not only wooed her, but also dampened her infernal nature, pulling her away from the chaos and into something more stable. More human.

Peter shook his head, trying to wrap his mind around it. "I... I remember now," he muttered, glancing at Miles. "Peter-Knull told us about this world. This version of Peter. He said that this Peter actually..." He gestured vaguely toward Queen Goblin, still struggling to comprehend the enormity of it. "He calmed her down. Wooed her, somehow."

Miles' eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Dude, that's some next-level Spider charm right there."

Peter shot him a look. "No kidding."

Hill, meanwhile, continued the interview, her curiosity only growing. "And what about your allegiances? I'm going to assume you were both involved in the... infernal matters of your world?"

Queen Goblin's smirk grew wider, and she tightened her hold around Peter's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Oh, I was as infernal as they come," she said with a casual shrug. "But I found something a little better than ruling over hellish realms." She leaned her head on Peter's shoulder, eyes narrowing playfully at Hill. "Moving to the human world, falling in love with this idiot, and, oh yeah, kicking Blackheart in the balls to save him? Totally worth it."

Peter smiled, leaning into her. "It sure was."

Queen Goblin let out a purring sound, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek again. "Meower."

Jean blinked again. "I... still can't process this."

Jubilee snorted. "Yeah, welcome to the club, Jean. Just when you think you've seen it all."

Off to the side, Norman Osborn sat in utter silence, his brow furrowed as he stared at Queen Goblin. The very sight of her, happy and content in this world where his own Queen Goblin had spiraled into madness, shook him to his core. How did this work? How could someone as chaotic and infernal as her be in a functional relationship? His mind raced, replaying the image of his own Queen Goblin, who had fallen so far after losing to Peter-Knull. She had bit off her own tongue in a fit of madness, unable to reconcile the loss and her failures.

And yet, here was another version of her, calm, playful, and... happy. It didn't make sense. None of this made sense.

Hill took a deep breath, deciding to try to ask why she's so different, as infernal beings are just that. Infernal beings it's not like they just suddenly turn over a new leaf.

Maria Hill leaned forward, her steely gaze fixed on the pair before her. "So, let me get this straight," she began, her tone sharp but inquisitive. "You, Queen Goblin, were once an infernal being of chaos, the type that thrives on destruction and manipulation. And now, you're... what, reformed? Living happily ever after? With Spider-Man?"

The question hung in the air, dripping with skepticism. Hill had seen enough in her time to know that infernal beings didn't just turn over a new leaf. They were master manipulators, creatures born from the flames of the underworld, and rarely—if ever—did they change their nature. "Infernal beings don't just change like that. There's got to be more to it. Give me something to work with here."

Queen Goblin leaned back, her red eyes glowing with faint amusement as she wrapped her arm more snugly around Peter. She smirked, but there was a flash of something genuine behind her gaze. "Oh, you're not wrong, Hill. I didn't just wake up one day and decide to bake cookies and be a good little housewife. It took more than that. A lot more."

Her voice softened, and she glanced at Peter. "Believe it or not, we were enemies. I was hunting him down. We fought—fiercely, viciously—until something happened that neither of us expected."

Peter gave her a small, reassuring smile, squeezing her hand.

Queen Goblin continued, her voice now holding a weight it hadn't before. "Everything changed when Peter-Knull came into the picture. He didn't just defeat me; he reversed an ancient cosmic spell that had been cast on me long ago. A spell that had buried my emotions, my humanity, under layers of infernal power and madness. The reversal of that spell… it didn't just weaken my infernal nature. It awakened something in me that I thought was long dead."

Hill's eyebrow arched, intrigued despite herself. "What kind of spell?"

Queen Goblin's eyes glinted with amusement. "Oh, it was a poetic one. Infernal magic has a flair for the dramatic, you see."

She recited the words, her voice taking on an almost melodic tone, as if recalling a haunting memory:

"Should light's forgotten flame ignite,
And touch the cold heart clad in night,
The fires of passion, long subdued,
Shall melt the ice where darkness broods."

Queen Goblin's expression softened as she finished. "It was more than just reversing a curse. It rekindled something in me—something I hadn't felt in a long time. Emotions. Love. Compassion. Things that had been buried beneath centuries of infernal rage."

Hill blinked, clearly processing the weight of what she'd just heard. The rhyme, poetic and ominous, wasn't out of place in the world of magical dealings, especially those that touched on the infernal. But it was still hard to reconcile the image of Queen Goblin, once a ruler of hellish realms, suddenly rediscovering something as fragile as love.

Queen Goblin sighed, her eyes distant for a moment as she spoke. "It took time. A lot of time. I fought it at first. I didn't want to be human. I wanted to remain in control, remain powerful. But…" she paused, her hand tightening around Peter's, "…love's a funny thing. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it. Even when you've forgotten how to feel it."

Peter glanced at Hill, his voice calm and reassuring. "It wasn't an overnight change. It wasn't even a quick one. But she started regaining her humanity, piece by piece. And through it all, I stayed by her side."

Hill's expression softened slightly, though the skepticism hadn't completely faded. "So, you're saying that Peter-Knull's spell, this reversal, gave you back your humanity? Made you feel love again?"

Queen Goblin nodded. "Exactly. It melted the ice around my heart. But it wasn't just the spell, Hill. It was Peter too. He reminded me what it was like to be more than just an infernal being. He showed me that I didn't have to be a monster."

Queen Goblin smirked, leaning back into her chair as the room's tension seemed to hang on her every word. "Exactly. It melted the ice around my heart. But it wasn't just the spell, Hill. It was Peter too. He reminded me what it was like to be more than just an infernal being. He showed me that I didn't have to be a monster."

The warmth in her eyes as she looked at Peter was undeniable, and Hill found herself quietly taken aback by the sincerity of it all. But then, as if she'd remembered some absurd yet true detail, Queen Goblin chuckled lightly.

"And then, of course," she added casually, "there was that cheesecake."

Hill blinked, confused. "Cheesecake?"

Jean Grey, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow, clearly as perplexed as everyone else in the room.

Queen Goblin nodded, her smirk widening. "Oh, yeah. The glowing, singing cheesecake. You know the one. The kind they serve at those places run by Seraphis symbiotes. The stuff that comes from their realm."

Miles tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "Wait, that cheesecake? The one that sings? People eat that all the time now. It's like, a thing."

Peter Parker, Earth-616's Peter, looked just as baffled, exchanging a glance with Miles. "Yeah, I've seen it in a few places around the city. But... I didn't know it did anything except taste good. You're saying it actually purged demonic influence?"

Queen Goblin grinned wickedly, clearly enjoying the bewilderment in the room. "Oh, you better believe it. The essence of that cheesecake? It didn't just purge the spell that was on me, it purged the demonic influence out of my mind and body entirely. Turned me from an infernal queen into... well, into me."

She gestured to herself with a shrug, as if the transformation was no big deal. But the weight of her words wasn't lost on anyone.

"And the best part?" she continued, her eyes sparkling mischievously. "I had this ally, a Ghost Rider. We decided to test it on him after the cheesecake worked on me. And you'll never guess what happened."

Everyone leaned in slightly, waiting for the punchline.

"It turned his Spirit of Vengeance into a Spirit of Justice and Peace." She laughed, clearly relishing the memory. "You should've seen the looks on the faces of the infernal realms. It was priceless. Blackheart almost burst a blood vessel from the outrage."

The room fell into stunned silence. Even Hill, who had been composed up until this point, looked floored.

"Wait, what?" Jubilee was the first to break the silence, looking incredulous. "You're telling me that cheesecake... the one people are eating at those symbiote-run restaurants... purged a freaking demon from you? And turned a Ghost Rider into a spirit of peace?!"

Queen Goblin nodded as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "That's exactly what I'm telling you."

Jean's mouth dropped slightly. "We knew the Seraphis symbiotes brought their own... flavor of otherworldly power, but we didn't know it could actually... do that."

Miles rubbed the back of his neck. "Man, I just thought it was fancy cheesecake."

Hill, still reeling from the absurdity of what she was hearing, tried to make sense of it. "Are you saying this cheesecake, a food that people have been eating casually, has the ability to purge infernal beings of their influence?"

Queen Goblin grinned. "Not just infernal beings. But yeah, that's the gist of it. Of course, I had no idea at the time. But when I ate it, I felt... lighter. Clearer. It was like the last piece of the puzzle falling into place."

Hill stared at her, the realization dawning on her. They'd been serving that cheesecake in restaurants for months, and no one had even considered it had such a profound effect. No one thought to use it on infernal beings. No one knew it could change people on that level.

Peter, Earth-616's Peter, was the first to chuckle. "Well, that's... new. And here I thought I'd seen it all."

Queen Goblin shrugged nonchalantly. "You never know what kind of surprises come from the Seraphis home realm. Let's just say, if you're ever feeling a little too... infernal, maybe grab a slice."

…

From behind the one-way observation window, Nick Fury stood with his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the unusual pair in the room, Peter, the so-called Infernal Spider, and his wife, Queen Goblin. He had heard everything, and though Fury had dealt with the strange and extraordinary all his life, this one was testing the boundaries of what he thought possible.

Beside him, Logan's brow was furrowed, his grizzled face twisted in a mix of confusion and concern. His enhanced senses had already been working overtime, picking up the oddities in the room, especially Queen Goblin. For starters, she didn't smell like a demon, nowhere close. If she had infernal origins, he would've picked up the telltale sulfuric stench. But instead, her scent was... floral. A pleasant aroma, almost like a valley of well-maintained lilies.

Logan grunted under his breath, not bothering to hide his bewilderment. "This is disturbing."

His son, Lupin, stood next to him, his bright eyes gleaming with a thoughtful look. Lupin was a natural empath, his abilities allowing him to sense emotions and the deeper layers of a person's essence. He tilted his head slightly, focusing on Queen Goblin as she laughed quietly at something Peter had said in the next room.

"There's something more balanced about her," Lupin whispered to his father, his voice barely audible over the hum of the observation room. "Her soul, her nature... it's not like a demon at all. Whatever those Seraphis symbiotes did with that cheesecake, it didn't just purify her—it refined her."

Logan shot his son a sideways glance, intrigued. "Refined how?"

Lupin closed his eyes, tuning into the energy in the room as he honed in on Queen Goblin. "The darkness in her—it's still there. But it's... balanced. Like someone took equal parts light and mixed it with the dark, creating harmony. She's not purely infernal anymore. There's... holy energy in her. A lot of it."

Logan's frown deepened as he processed that. Holy energy? In Queen Goblin? It didn't make any sense, yet here they were, with evidence suggesting just that. And the scent of lilies... that wasn't normal for anyone connected to the infernal realms.

Reed Richards, standing a few feet away, was equally focused, his analytical mind piecing together data from the blood samples he'd taken from Queen Goblin earlier. The samples were a vibrant, bright red, not the sulfuric yellow or dark, tar-like hues he'd expect from an infernal being. He had assumed that her infernal blood would reflect the demonic nature of her origins, but what he was seeing under the microscope... defied those expectations entirely.

"It's fascinating," Reed muttered, not taking his eyes off the holographic display of her blood's molecular structure. "Her blood... it's infused with something I've never seen before. A kind of purified energy, almost celestial in nature. I'd almost say it's more akin to the energies found in the Seraphis symbiotes' creations. Whatever the Seraphis cheesecake did to her, it didn't just alter her physically, it changed her on a molecular, possibly even a spiritual, level."

Fury raised an eyebrow but didn't speak, letting the weight of Reed's analysis sink in.

Logan, still trying to wrap his head around the strangeness of it all, gave another low growl. "So what're you sayin', Stretch? She's not a demon anymore?"

Reed finally tore his eyes away from the data and met Logan's gaze. "I'm saying she's more than just a demon now. Whatever darkness was inside her has been tempered—balanced, as Lupin said. She's something... new. Neither fully infernal nor entirely mortal."

Fury's gaze hardened, but there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "And what about that? What happens when you take an infernal being and balance it with... holy energy?"

Lupin, still sensing Queen Goblin's emotional and spiritual state, spoke softly. "It creates someone who's walked through darkness but found light. Someone who isn't bound by infernal laws anymore, but also not entirely free of them. It's like she's become... a blend of both worlds."

Logan rubbed his chin, glancing at Queen Goblin through the glass. "Great. So now we've got infernal beings that can be purified and walk around smellin' like lilies."

Fury let out a slow breath. "Just what we needed. More curveballs."

From the other side of the glass, Queen Goblin continued to speak with Peter, completely unaware of the intense scrutiny from the observation room. But Logan, Lupin, Fury, and Reed couldn't look away. Whatever had happened to Queen Goblin, it wasn't just about her personal transformation—it was a sign that things were changing in ways none of them fully understood. The lines between worlds, realms, and realities were blurring more than ever.

And the implications were... unsettling.

As Reed Richards continued his analysis of Queen Goblin's blood samples, his eyes widened, and a flush of embarrassment crept across his usually composed face. He blinked rapidly, looking back and forth between the data and the samples in front of him, as if doubting what he was seeing. His hands moved a little more awkwardly across the interface, and then, without thinking, he muttered under his breath, "Seriously?"

Logan, standing nearby, caught the tone in Reed's voice and raised an eyebrow. "What now, Stretch?"

Reed cleared his throat, his eyes still glued to the holographic display of Queen Goblin's bloodwork. "I... ah... it seems our Spider-Man variant and Queen Goblin decided to get a little... friendly."

Logan tilted his head, still not quite getting it, but Lupin, his son, with his heightened empathy, was the first to pick up on what Reed was hinting at. His eyes widened a bit, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Wait... you're saying what I think you're saying?"

Reed nodded, still looking incredibly uncomfortable, but he straightened his posture and gestured toward the holographic projection of the blood sample. "It's, uh, pretty clear. Her hormonal levels... they're elevated in a way that only happens when a woman is expecting."

For a moment, the room went silent as the weight of Reed's words sank in. Logan blinked, completely thrown off, his gruff voice cutting through the quiet. "Wait... she's pregnant?"

Reed ran a hand over his face, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "Yes. The hormone levels in her blood suggest that Queen Goblin is, in fact, pregnant."

Lupin let out a low whistle, clearly amused. "I gotta say, I didn't see that coming." Even as his eyes softened at the couple through the window.

Nick Fury, standing with his arms crossed, gave Reed a sharp look. "You're telling me that Peter Parker, the Infernal Spider, and Queen Goblin are having a kid?"

Reed nodded, awkwardly adjusting his posture. "It looks that way. There's no other explanation for the hormonal readings. She's expecting."

Logan let out a low, bewildered grunt, then he whistled. "How many Spider-Man variants have things for... unusual pairings?" He shook his head in disbelief, the absurdity of the situation dawning on him.

Lupin chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, but this one takes the cake. Peter Parker and Queen Goblin having a baby? That's… well, things certainly got 'heated' between them…? He said with a pun.

As they all processed the news, Jean Grey, Jubilee, and Miles Morales, who had been standing in the background, exchanged wide-eyed glances. Jean was the first to break the silence with a soft, "Wow."

Jubilee's mouth was open in shock. "I mean... I've seen some weird stuff in my time, but this? This is next-level weird. And kind of sweet... in a messed-up, infernal way."

Even Miles, who usually found a way to make light of situations, was left speechless. "Man... I don't even know how to process that."

Logan, still shaking his head, looked at the hologram of the bloodwork as if it were somehow going to make all of this make more sense. "So... we've got an infernal Spider-Man, a redeemed Queen Goblin, and now... a little goblin-spider kid on the way? What's next?"

Fury sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. "You know, when I woke up this morning, I didn't think I'd be hearing about this. But here we are."

Reed, doing his best to regain composure, added, "It seems like love... or whatever this is, really does find a way." He shot a glance toward the observation window, where Peter and Queen Goblin were oblivious to the discovery, still wrapped up in their affection for one another.

It wasn't the news anyone expected, but in a world full of bizarre variants and realities, it was almost of Form

…

At Avengers Tower, the atmosphere was tense and surreal as the assembled mutants and superheroes processed the information they had just been given. Laura stood silently, arms crossed, while Gabriella and Nathan Summers, aka Cable, exchanged concerned glances. Nightcrawler, known to most as Kurt Wagner, sat with Pixie by his side, holding her gently. His deep Catholic faith made the news even more striking for him. Watching the near-miraculous effects of that Seraphis cheesecake, curing the infernal essence and balancing the darkness within the Queen Goblin, it felt almost like witnessing a real divine intervention.

Rachael Summers held her daughter, Flora-Claw, who was innocently munching on a cinnamon cookie with a salad leaf in hand, completely oblivious to the magnitude of the situation that had unfolded. Scott Summers, Cyclops, looked utterly stunned as he tried to digest it all. This wasn't just a new discovery, it was groundbreaking. To think that infernal beings, which had always been permanently tainted by dark energy, could have their nature balanced out with light… it was unfathomable. Something that even Reed Richards and this world's Nick Fury had barely begun to wrap their heads around.

For Kurt, this hit especially hard. He had spent a lifetime reconciling his Catholic faith with the existence of infernal realms and beings. Yet here was a real, tangible example of redemption and healing—demons and infernal beings finding peace and balance. He held Pixie a little tighter, his mind awash with thoughts of salvation and grace.

Even Mystique and Destiny, who rarely showed surprise, were taken aback by the magnitude of what they had just heard. They stood off to the side, exchanging quiet, contemplative looks.

Meanwhile, Peter Purple-A4 sat with his visibly pregnant version of Mistress Death, who took in the information with quiet contemplation, her hand resting protectively over her robed belly. They were surprised but composed, used to the strange and otherworldly. For them, the arrival of the newly displaced Peter Parker, known as the Infernal Spider, and his Queen Goblin wife was a reminder of the multiverse's chaos. According to Peter-Knull, this version of Peter and Queen Goblin hailed from a universe just once removed from the previous universe he traveled to before arriving here, before settling in Hela's and her Peter's universe where he lost his previous Madelyn before finding love again in this universes of Form

The news that Queen Goblin was pregnant with Peter's son had stirred the room earlier when Reed and Nick Fury had revealed it. And the story of how Queen Goblin had hit Blackheart with her mace in his groin before kicking him there as he squirmed, protecting her Peter, almost made Regina Grind Sullivan snort with laughter as she coughed on her soda. The young woman, a new resident of Avengers Tower after being rescued from an underground fight club, was a force to be reckoned with. "Okay, now I can die happy," she said, wiping her mouth with a smirk.

Queen Goblin raised an eyebrow at Regina, noticing something peculiar about her, especially the sharp metal teeth and the bladed tongue that had flickered as she talked. Regina's hands, too, had metallic appendages, almost like garbage shredders on the palms of her hands.

each one looking like it could tear through steel. And then there was that strange, whirring noise from the back of her throat. It reminded Queen Goblin of a garbage shredder. She glanced at Lupin, Logan's son, and then back to Regina, curiosity piqued.

"There's something… different about you," Queen Goblin said, leaning forward slightly. "You're like him?" She pointed a thumb at Lupin. "Something on the genetic level?"

Laura smirked, and Nathan crossed his arms, nodding. Logan's voice cut through the air with a calm but knowing tone. "Regina and Lupin here aren't like us. They don't have the X-Gene."

Regina nodded, glancing at Lupin before turning her attention back to Queen Goblin. "Yeah, we're what you'd call octo-gene carriers," she said with a grin. "Always born with multiple powers, no normal mutation needed, but rather, a mutation of a mutation."

Rachel Summers added with a smirk, "Regina's got one of the weirder ones, though. She can eat anything."

Queen Goblin raised an eyebrow. "Eat anything?"

Regina grinned wider, the metallic teeth gleaming in the light. "Watch this." She picked up the empty soda can from the table, crushed it into a ball, and brought it up to her mouth. As she bit into the metal, a loud crunch echoed through the room. The can disappeared into her mouth, and the sound of a whirring grinder started rumbling from deep in her throat, traveling down into her chest and stomach.

Peter Orange-A5, or Infernal Spider blinked, blinked in surprise. "Wow… can't say we've seen that before…"

Regina swallowed the remains of the can and gave Queen Goblin a toothy smile. "I can eat with my hands too," she said, wiggling her hand that had a visible similar, bladed spinning garbage shredder in the palm like a mechanical implant.

Queen Goblin, still fascinated by Regina's abilities, tilted her head slightly. "Well… that's definitely new."

Peter Purple-A4, now standing beside his Mistress Death, raised an amused eyebrow. "Guess the multiverse has no shortage of unique talents," he remarked, glancing back at Queen Goblin. The room relaxed just a little, but the weight of the conversation still hung heavy in the of Form

…

Deep within the cavernous halls of Mephisto's infernal realm, the walls themselves seemed to vibrate with the sound of his laughter. His throne, a massive spire of twisted black stone, stood at the center of a dark pit, illuminated only by the flickering flames of eternal suffering. Mephisto himself, lounging lazily upon it, was still chuckling to himself, his fiery eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

"The Living Tribunal's madness knows no bounds," he muttered, shaking his head at the absurdity of what had just occurred. "Of all the places to drop that infernal Spider-Man… in front of her? Oh, the irony! After Mary Jane has already lost so much, she sees a version of the man she once loved with a being of… infernal origins." His grin widened, relishing the cruel perfection of it all.

But as his laughter echoed through the halls, a tremor of interruption disturbed the stillness. Mephisto's grin faltered when he noticed a small demon messenger, trembling as he scurried into the throne room, uninvited.

Mephisto's eyes flared red with sudden anger. "WHAT?" His voice boomed, sending waves of heat and fear through the room. The lesser demon froze, eyes wide with terror.

"WHAT IS IT?!" Mephisto demanded again, standing from his throne, his form towering over the smaller creature like a shadow of doom. "I DIDN'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO BE IN HERE! SPIT. IT. OUT."

The demon whimpered but seemed more horrified by something other than Mephisto's wrath. His gaze was distant, his breathing erratic, as if he had witnessed something beyond the comprehension of even a creature of Hell. Mephisto's fury paused for a moment, noticing the unusual terror on the demon's face.

"What is it?" Mephisto growled, his voice low, suspicious now. "Why do you tremble like that?"

The demon swallowed hard, his voice shaking. "The… the cheesecake, my Lord. The one served in the symbiote-run restaurants. It… it comes from the Seraphis symbiote's home realm. And—"

Mephisto's eyes narrowed. "What about it, fool?! I don't have time for your rambling!"

The demon's voice broke, shaking as he forced out the words. "It tempered the darkness within that variant of Queen Goblin. She is… not tainted anymore. She holds divine light as well as darkness inside her now. My Lord, she… she's become akin to a mortal in terms of morality. Her infernal nature was purged."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Mephisto stared at the demon as the words settled in. His infernal subjects, his forces of corruption and evil, had always been constants. Unshakable. Eternal. The infernal realms were pillars of chaos and darkness in the multiverse, untouchable by the forces of purity or light.

Until now.

"Purged?" Mephisto's voice was a whisper, low and dangerous, as the rage began to bubble beneath the surface. "Purged?"

His eyes flared with a terrifying glow. "That… cheesecake, turned an infernal being into something… innocent?" The disbelief twisted into something more savage, his voice becoming jagged, cracking at the edges as he stared at the messenger.

"Yes, my Lord," the demon whispered, trembling under Mephisto's rising fury. "It… it can turn infernal forces into beings with innocence, even purity."

There was a pause. A deep, horrified silence as Mephisto stood perfectly still. His fiery gaze dimmed, his entire frame frozen like a statue. Then, slowly, his lips curled back into a snarl. The realm around him seemed to groan as his fury finally snapped.

"NO!"

The ground shook beneath the force of his rage. His throne cracked, the infernal flames around him surged higher, spiraling into the air. The very fabric of Hell itself seemed to tremble under the weight of Mephisto's fury.

"This… this cannot be!" Mephisto roared, his voice echoing through the infernal realm like the wrath of a thousand storms. His hands clenched into fists, sharp claws digging into his palms as he seethed, pacing with manic energy. "That creature, that thing, that's insulted me, humiliated me time and time again, now has the power to turn my own against me?"

His wings flared out, the tips brushing the blackened ceiling of his throne room as he ranted, his mind spiraling deeper into madness with each passing second. "The multiverse has always feared me! The infernal realms are untouchable! We are the constant, the unchangeable force of corruption! And now, now, this disgusting, abominable cheesecake has the audacity to rewrite the very laws of our existence?!"

He swirled around, his blazing eyes locking onto the terrified messenger. "That creature, Peter-Knull! He has poisoned my world with light! He dares to warp the nature of my infernal realm?!"

His voice dropped to a whisper, but it was far more terrifying than his screams. "This… cannot stand."

For the first time in eons, Mephisto felt something he hadn't felt in so long, fear. True, existential fear. If the balance of darkness and light could be altered, if the infernal could be purged, then what was left of his power? Of the safety of his realm?

With wild, burning eyes, he turned, spiraling deeper into his madness. "I will not let this stand!" he bellowed, wings flaring as he stormed toward his throne. "The greatest insult of the highest cosmic order! He dares, he dares, to tread upon MY realm, to corrupt MY laws!"

The ground split, cracking open beneath him as his power surged wildly. "I will destroy him!" he shrieked, voice distorted with sheer rage. "I will raze his precious symbiotic kingdom to the ground! Every last soul he has claimed, I will take back! And that miserable cheesecake, every last bite, will burn in the fires of MY wrath!"

His voice echoed through the infernal realms, a scream of madness and rage so intense that the very forces that served him cowered, retreating into the shadows of Hell. Mephisto, for the first time in countless centuries, felt as though the eternal power he had commanded was vulnerable. And he would not stand for it. Not this time. Not against Peter-Knull.

As Mephisto's furious tirade continued to shake the very foundation of his infernal realm, the demon messenger, still trembling, hesitated to deliver the final piece of news. His fear was overwhelming, knowing that what he had to say next might tip Mephisto over the edge of madness. But there was no choice. The information had to be relayed.

"My… my lord," the demon stammered, his voice quivering as he stepped closer to Mephisto's throne, the scorching heat of the fiery inferno around them nearly unbearable. "There is… one more thing."

Mephisto's blazing red eyes snapped toward the demon, narrowing dangerously. "What now?" His voice was venomous, each syllable laced with the promise of suffering.

The demon swallowed hard, the words getting caught in his throat. "The version of Queen Goblin… she claims that in her universe, there was a, an experiment, involving the same cheesecake. An experiment with… with the Spirit of Vengeance."

Mephisto froze, his wings slowly folding back behind him, the fire in his eyes dimming to a simmering glow. "The Ghost Rider?" His voice was low, seething with contempt. "What about him?"

The demon, visibly trembling, nodded frantically. "Y-Yes, my lord. She claims that after eating the Seraphis cheesecake, the Spirit of Vengeance… changed. It was no longer a Spirit of Vengeance, but… a Spirit of Justice. Of peace."

For a long, suffocating moment, the throne room was silent. The infernal flames that had been dancing wildly moments ago seemed to still, as if the realm itself was holding its breath.

And then, Mephisto erupted.

"WHAT?!" His scream was inhuman, a guttural, earth-shattering roar that reverberated throughout the entire infernal realm. The walls of the throne room cracked, the very ground beneath his feet splitting as his fury unleashed waves of molten energy. Flames shot up from the floor, turning the air around them into a scorching furnace.

"The Ghost Rider!" Mephisto's voice was almost incoherent with rage, his form twisting as his anger grew beyond control. "The Spirit of Vengeance itself, reduced to a pathetic, sniveling spirit of… peace?"

The idea was an affront to everything Mephisto stood for. Vengeance, rage, torment, these were the very pillars upon which the infernal realms were built. And now, the Ghost Rider, one of Hell's most potent agents, had been twisted into some… peaceful version of itself? It was unthinkable.

Mephisto's claws raked across his throne, tearing through the black stone like it was paper. His mind raced, spiraling deeper into madness with every passing second. This wasn't just an insult, it was an assault on the very nature of Hell. The Ghost Rider, a tool of vengeance, even if it was an alternate universe, was now promoting justice? Peace?

"NO! No!" Mephisto screamed, his voice shrill with desperation and anger. "This cannot be!" His wings flared out once again, stretching far across the throne room as he stormed toward the demon, who shrank back, terrified.

"Do you understand what this means?!" Mephisto bellowed, his form towering over the demon. "If that disgusting, accursed cheesecake can turn the Ghost Rider, one of the most infernal forces in all of creation, into a force of peace, what else could it corrupt?"

The realization was setting in, gnawing at Mephisto's very core. That cheesecake, born of the Seraphis symbiotes' realm, had the power to balance darkness and light, to fundamentally alter the nature of infernal beings. First Queen Goblin, and now this, this was beyond dangerous.

It was an existential threat to everything Mephisto had built.

He stopped, his entire form trembling with uncontained rage. "The Seraphis symbiotes." He spat the words as if they were poison. "They dare to meddle with the fabric of the infernal realms… to change what is eternal! They seek to weaken my domain, to strip me of my power, my forces. And they've succeeded in corrupting my agents into pathetic, moral beings?"

The room fell silent again, the flames around them flickering in rhythm with Mephisto's boiling fury. His eyes were wild, the madness creeping in as the weight of what this meant pressed down upon him.

"This… this must end." His voice was quieter now, but no less dangerous. "If that cheesecake can turn my infernal agents against me… if it can purge the darkness within them…" He paused, his wings folding behind him, the fires in his eyes burning low and dangerous.

"…Then I will burn their precious paradise to the ground. I will raze the Seraphis symbiotes' realm until nothing but ash remains. And I will make Peter-Knull pay for every insult, every humiliation he has dared to place upon me."

Mephisto's hands clenched into fists, his claws digging into his own flesh as he seethed. "No more balance! No more light! No more cheesecake!"

With a final, furious roar, Mephisto slammed his fist into the ground, sending a shockwave through the entire realm, cracking the floors and walls as molten lava began to bubble up from the depths of Hell itself.

"THIS-IS-WAR!"…Bottom of Form

…

Inside the Raft, a massive supermax prison designed to hold the most dangerous criminals and rogue variants from across the multiverse, Jane Howlett walked with her family through the cold, dimly lit corridors. The Howletts, who had been displaced from their own world, found themselves working alongside S.H.I.E.L.D., trying to make themselves useful in this strange, fractured reality. Jane's daughter Daken, her two sons Laurent and Gabriel, and her brother Badger—all hardened by their battles back in their home dimension—had each taken up roles in the daily operation of the prison.

This place was unlike anything they had ever seen. It was filled with multiversal prisoners—variants, strange and twisted versions of people they once knew, or could have known. The Raft's halls echoed with murmurs of dread, the low hum of high-tech cells keeping some of the universe's most dangerous entities contained. It was an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional shuffle of boots and distant, deranged muttering.

Victor Creed, the Sabretooth of this world, seemed to revel in the chaos. Locked behind a reinforced energy barrier, he lounged in his cell with a grin that never quite left his face, as if every day inside was another dark joke to him.

"Well, look who's here, the Howlett clan," Creed's voice rumbled out, amused as Jane and her family passed by his cell. "Bet ya never thought you'd see so many freaks in one place, huh?"

Jane shot him a glare but said nothing. Her fists clenched involuntarily, her knuckles white. Badger, her brother, muttered something under his breath, but Jane shook her head slightly, stopping him from engaging. Creed wasn't worth it, not today.

But Creed wasn't finished. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his yellow eyes glinting with malicious delight. "Think this place is bad? You ain't seen the real sad cases yet. Got a whole bunch of 'em, folks you'd never think could be broken. Ain't that right, Summers?"

Jane froze mid-step, and the rest of her family followed suit, their eyes flicking to the next cell. The faint sound of metal sliding against metal caught her attention. Gabriel, who had been delivering meals to some of the more docile prisoners, stopped at the last cell in the row and slid a tray through the small opening at the bottom of the door.

Jane approached slowly, peering through the energy field that kept the occupant contained. Her heart sank. Sitting on the edge of the cot inside the cell, looking more like a lost soul than the figure of legend she had once been, was Hope Summers—this world's version of the mutant messiah. But there was no fire left in her eyes, no strength. She sat quietly, eating her meal in small bites, as if the very act of sustaining herself had become a tiresome routine.

Gabriel looked at Jane and shrugged. "She doesn't say much," he said quietly, almost like he was explaining it to himself as much as to her.

"She's not crazy, though," added Daken, who stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching Hope with a mix of pity and curiosity. "Not like the others. She's just… done."

Jane took a step closer, her gaze softening. "Hope...?"

Hope didn't immediately look up. It took a long moment, as if the name needed time to reach her, to sink in. Finally, she lifted her head, her green eyes dull but clear, meeting Jane's gaze with a tired recognition.

"I don't blame you," she said quietly, her voice surprisingly calm. "For locking me up, I mean. I'd do the same." She took another slow bite of her food, chewing thoughtfully. "It goes to show you, doesn't it? What believing in a messiah complex can do to someone when they believe it for too long."

Jane swallowed hard. She had known what it was like to fight against impossible odds, to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. But the Hope Summers in front of her was a far cry from the powerful savior she had heard about in whispers, back in her own world.

"How did you end up here?" Jane asked, though she already suspected the answer.

Hope gave a soft, humorless chuckle, as if the absurdity of it all was too much to comprehend. "I was supposed to save everyone," she said, her voice bitter and laced with exhaustion. "The mutant messiah. The one who would bring balance to the world, save our species, lead us into a new era. That's what they told me. That's what I believed."

She let out a long sigh, placing the tray of food beside her. "But none of it mattered in the end. Not when Peter-Knull ripped the Phoenix out of me and... killed it. I lost everything. My powers. My purpose." She looked down at her hands, turning them over as if they should be glowing with some kind of cosmic energy, but instead, they were just... hands. "Without the Phoenix, I'm just... me."

Jane felt a pang in her chest. Losing powers was one thing, but losing a sense of identity, of destiny, was something far worse. "Peter-Knull took the Phoenix from you?"

Hope nodded, her eyes distant. "Yeah. He didn't just take it. He killed it. The Phoenix is gone... or maybe it's just dead to me. Either way, I can't feel it anymore." She gave a weak smile, though there was no joy in it. "Turns out, I wasn't the messiah. Just another failed savior."

Gabriel, standing nearby, listened with quiet respect, but Jane could see the pain in his eyes. They all had their burdens, but none quite like Hope. To be told you were destined to save your kind, only to be stripped of the very thing that made that possible—it was a cruelty Jane couldn't begin to imagine.

Sabretooth's voice cut through the moment like a jagged blade. "Told ya," he called out from his cell, leaning back with that same twisted grin. "The Krakoan messiah, reduced to this. Ain't it poetic?"

Jane shot him a murderous glare, but Creed just chuckled darkly. "What? It's not like I'm wrong."

"I'll make sure you regret saying that," Badger growled, but Jane held up her hand.

"Leave it," she muttered, her eyes returning to Hope. She wasn't going to waste time on Creed when there was someone in front of her who truly needed help.

Hope shook her head, her gaze flicking to Creed, then back to Jane. "He's not wrong, you know," she said softly. "In the end, it didn't matter how much power I had, how much everyone believed in me. I couldn't live up to it."

Daken leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. "What happens now?" he asked, his voice low.

Hope shrugged. "Now? Now I sit here, eat my meals, and wait. I don't have powers anymore. I don't have a mission. Peter-Knull took all that away. Maybe it's for the best. I've seen what happens when people believe in messiahs who are anything but messiahs.

Hope Summers' voice grew quieter, heavier with the weight of her confession. "After everything that happened with Krakoa... after everything fell apart, I blamed Peter-Knull. I thought he was the reason for all the chaos, for the destruction of everything I thought we were building." She glanced down at her hands again, as if the memories were too painful to meet anyone's eyes.

Jane stood frozen, her mind trying to process the depth of what Hope was saying. Daken shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room overwhelming. Hope took a breath, her eyes distant as she continued. "It got worse after the Phoenix came back to me. I thought... I thought I was justified. I was convinced that with the Phoenix's power, I could fix everything, that I could be the savior they needed me to be. But the Phoenix—it whispered things. Told me that sacrifices were necessary. That I had to go further, push harder. It twisted everything."

She let out a shaky breath, her voice trembling slightly. "I wasn't just angry. I was... out for vengeance. I leveled part of the city, destroyed whole buildings, thinking that would stop Peter-Knull, that somehow I could force him to stop what I thought was his plan. I didn't care who got in the way. I didn't care about anyone."

Jane's face tightened, her fists clenching at the thought of the devastation Hope must have caused. Gabriel's jaw tensed, but he remained silent, listening.

Hope swallowed hard. "And then, on my way here... on my approach to Earth, there was a SHIELD space station. They tried to stop me, just doing their job, I guess. But I didn't see them as people anymore. I saw them as obstacles. And I... I hit it. Full force. Destroyed the whole thing. Killed at least 60 SHIELD personnel. Just for being in my way."

Jane felt her stomach twist. The words weighed heavy in the air, and even Daken, who rarely showed emotion, had a dark look in her eyes. Laurent, standing close to his mother, looked like he couldn't comprehend how someone could be driven to such extremes.

"The Phoenix..." Hope continued, her voice bitter. "It told me it was necessary. That they were 'sacrifices for justice.' And I believed it. I believed I was still doing the right thing, that I was fulfilling my role as the messiah." She let out a hollow laugh. "How could I be so blind?"

Jane's heart ached. She had seen people consumed by power before, watched as the lines between righteousness and destruction blurred in the minds of those who thought they were saving the world. But this... this was different. Hope had once been revered as the mutant messiah, someone who was supposed to bring salvation. And now she was sitting here, broken, stripped of everything, unable to even look herself in the mirror.

Badger, who had been standing silently near the door, crossed his arms. "And what now?" he asked, his tone rough but not unkind. "You don't have the Phoenix anymore. Peter-Knull took that away, right?"

Hope nodded. "When he ripped the Phoenix out of me, he didn't just take my powers. He killed it. I felt it die inside me. And when it was gone... all that was left was me. Just Hope Summers. No more messiah complex. No more cosmic fire to burn away everything I touched."

She looked up at Jane, her eyes filled with a sadness that seemed to echo through her very soul. "I was supposed to save everyone. But instead, I destroyed everything I thought I was supposed to protect. Peter-Knull... in some twisted way, he saved me. He stopped me before I could do any more damage. Before I became something... even worse."

Jane knelt down beside the energy barrier, her eyes never leaving Hope's. "We've all made mistakes," she said softly. "You were caught up in something bigger than yourself. But it doesn't mean you can't come back from it."

Hope shook her head, the faintest hint of a smile on her lips. "I don't know if I can, Jane. I don't have anything left. No powers, no purpose. I'm just... lost."

Gabriel, still holding the empty food tray, finally spoke up. "You're not alone," he said quietly. "You've still got people who care about you. People who want to help."

Hope looked up at him, her expression softening. "Maybe," she whispered, though it seemed like she wasn't fully convinced. "But what if it's too late? What if I'm too far gone?"

Jane stood up slowly, her gaze firm. "It's never too late, Hope. You've seen what happens when people lose themselves to power. Now it's time to figure out who you are without it."

Hope didn't answer right away. She looked down at her hands again, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of the cot. After a long silence, she finally said, "Maybe... maybe you're right."

Sabretooth's voice interrupted the moment again, his mocking tone cutting through the air. "Ain't that touching? The mighty Hope Summers, reduced to a sob story. Makes ya wonder if any of it was ever worth it, huh?"

Jane's eyes flashed with anger, but she turned her back on Creed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Daken, however, shot him a glare. "Keep talking, Creed. We'll see how funny you find it when we're done with you."

Creed just grinned, his sharp teeth gleaming in the low light. "I'm always up for a laugh, kid. Just remember, some things can't be fixed. Especially not when the Phoenix leaves a crater where your soul used to be."

Jane led her family away from the cells, her thoughts heavy. The truth of what Hope had revealed sat like a weight on her chest. How many others had fallen like her, twisted by power and driven by delusions of grandeur?

As they walked down the corridor, Jane couldn't help but glance back at Hope's cell one last time. She wanted to believe that Hope could come back from this, that she could find some way to rebuild her life without the burden of being a messiah. But deep down, Jane knew that kind of journey wouldn't be easy. It never was.

For now, all they could do was keep moving forward, hoping that one day, the messiah who had once carried the fate of mutantkind on her shoulders could learn how to carry herself.

As Jane Howlett and her family moved through the Raft, handing out lunches to the prisoners, the halls seemed to grow colder, the weight of the place pressing down on them like a living thing. They had seen their share of lost souls, broken by the chaos of the multiverse, but nothing could prepare them for what they encountered as they rounded the next corner.

A series of cells loomed ahead, marked with bright red signs that read:
MAXIMUM CONTAINMENT—NO CONTACT. PERIOD!

The signs were unnerving enough on their own, but what truly caught their attention was the faint, erratic voice echoing from one of the cells. Jane's eyes narrowed as they approached, the sound growing louder with each step. It was more than just a voice—it was a frantic, deranged muttering, as if the speaker had long since slipped into madness.

When they reached the cell, the sight before them was nothing short of heartbreaking.

Illyana Rasputina, better known as Magik in this world , sat hunched in a corner, her once-proud warrior stance now reduced to a fragile, broken figure. Her blonde hair hung limply around her face, which was smeared with the marks of her own fingers—evidence of restless nights spent clawing at herself in desperation. She was a far cry from the confident sorceress and ruler of Limbo they had once known.

She was completely lost.

"Can't find it... can't find it...," she muttered, her voice distant and trembling, like she was talking to someone who wasn't really there. Her hands moved in frantic patterns, tracing invisible shapes in the air, her fingers twitching as though trying to summon spells that no longer existed.

Laurent paused in front of the cell, his brow furrowing. "Is that...?"

"Yeah," Daken confirmed, her voice quieter than usual. "Magik. Or what's left of her."

Gabriel, who had been bracing himself for the worst, stared in silence. They all did. There was something deeply unsettling about seeing someone once so powerful, so fierce, reduced to this.

Illyana continued her mutterings, her voice rising and falling like the waves of a broken mind. "The multiverse... the gates... no more power... nothing left... they're coming... coming through the cracks... can't stop them... no one can stop them..."

Jane stepped closer, peering into the cell. "Illyana...?" she called softly, though she wasn't sure the woman could hear her through her madness.

But Illyana didn't even blink. She kept rocking back and forth, her hands constantly moving, tracing symbols against the walls of her cell, where dozens of scrawled markings and runes had been scribbled in marker. The walls were covered in them, chaotic lines that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. Some of the symbols were ancient, others were pure madness—gibberish born of a fractured mind.

"I can see them... coming through the cracks... through the spaces between the worlds... everywhere at once, can't you see it? They're coming... they're always coming!" Her voice cracked as she let out a high-pitched laugh, followed by a sob. "But no more power... they took it... they took it all... left me empty..."

Gabriel's expression tightened. "What happened to her?"

Jane shook her head slowly. "After the incident with the Ghost Rider... she lost her powers. But I never thought it would leave her like this."

Illyana's ramblings grew louder, more desperate. She stood up suddenly, pacing back and forth in her tiny cell, her hands still clawing at the air as if she could pull the very fabric of reality apart with her bare fingers. "No more Limbo! No more throne! They took it all! Empty, empty, empty!" She laughed again, but it was a hollow, mirthless sound, like the laughter of someone who had forgotten what joy felt like.

Laurent stepped forward, his voice low and filled with empathy. "Illyana... it's over. You don't have to keep fighting."

But she didn't hear him. Her eyes were wide, staring into some invisible void that only she could see. "The cracks... the cracks are everywhere! They're seeping in... crawling through... there's no more power to stop them... no more swords, no more magic... I'm nothing now! Just a vessel, an empty thing! Hollow!"

Daken clenched her fists, his jaw tight. "This is what happens when someone like her is stripped of everything. She was the Queen of Limbo. Now... now she's just a ghost."

Jane stood still, her heart heavy with sadness as she watched Illyana's restless pacing, her mind locked in a never-ending loop of terror and despair. "How long has she been like this?"

"Since they brought her in," Gabriel answered quietly. "Before Peter-Knull stripped the Phoenix from Hope, they... well, they took everything from her too. The Ghost Rider... her powers... it all unraveled. She hasn't been the same since."

Illyana let out another high-pitched laugh, spinning around in circles like a child lost in a nightmare. "The gates are closing! The cracks are widening! They're going to come through! They'll tear it all apart, tear it apart!"

Laurent stepped back, shaken. "She's not coming back from this, is she?"

Jane didn't answer. She wasn't sure if there was an answer. All she could do was stand there, watching the once-mighty Magik, reduced to a shadow of her former self, lost in a world of her own madness.

As Jane Howlett and her family continued down the dimly lit corridors of the Raft, the oppressive atmosphere weighed heavily on them. The Raft wasn't just a prison—it was a place of broken souls, filled with the worst criminals, variants, and those who had fallen so far from grace that there was little left to save. It was a far cry from the battles they had fought back in their own world, yet somehow it felt more sinister. There was no immediate enemy here, just an overwhelming sense of loss and madness.

The air grew colder as they approached the section labeled MAXIMUM CONTAINMENT, NO CONTACT. PERIOD! in bold red letters. The harsh warning was a stark reminder that these cells housed those who had lost everything, people who had once held power, influence, or even hope, now reduced to shells of their former selves.

Jane and her family stopped in front of one of the first cells. Inside sat Esme, one of the remaining Stepford Cuckoos. She sat rigid, her eyes staring blankly ahead, her face devoid of emotion. It was as if the light had long since gone out in her, leaving nothing behind but a mannequin-like shell. Esme had been left here to rot, a victim of her own choices, trapped in her own quiet hell.

Daken, leading the way, paused before the cell, looking at Esme with something close to pity. "This one's been like this since they brought her in," Daken muttered. "She barely says a word. It's like she's already dead inside."

Gabriel, standing beside her, shook his head. "I don't know how people can do that... just shut down like that."

Jane looked at Esme, a cold sadness creeping into her chest. This was what happened when you gave in to power, control, and cruelty, it consumed you, until there was nothing left.

But it was the next cell that truly gave them pause.

Inside, restrained and weakened, sat Emma Frost. The once proud and manipulative White Queen, now a shadow of her former self. Her left arm, brutally torn from her body by Peter-Knull in a fit of rage, was gone, replaced by a crude bandage over the stump. She sat in silence, her glamorous and imposing appearance long since stripped away. Emma's eyes were downcast, staring blankly at the floor. There was no defiance left in her, no sense of superiority or cunning. She was broken.

Daken grabbed the file on Emma Frost, flipping through it with a growing sense of disgust. "They tried to rebuild Krakoa," she spat, "but not the way it was meant to be. It wasn't about unity or freedom anymore... it was about control."

Jane could already sense where this was going. Emma had never been one to care about others, not really, not when power was at stake.

"They were cloning babies, Jane," Daken continued, her voice thick with anger. "Children. They raised them in biomes, indoctrinating them, controlling their development from birth. Those kids never had a chance."

Jane clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as she glanced back at Emma, who continued to sit in eerie silence. "Who shut down the tanks?" she asked quietly, though part of her already knew.

"Sophie," Daken answered, her voice growling. "She purged the tanks, killed all the babies they were breeding in there. Phoebe nearly killed her for it, up until Peter-Knull…"

Daken's voice trailed off as she handed Jane the file. It detailed how Sophie didn't even show pity for her actions, how she said casually, "We can always make more of them?"

But Peter-Knull had been the one to exact judgment. In his rage, he had pulled Sophie's head apart, killing her on the spot.

"Peter-Knull thought it was necessary, which it was in its own way," Daken said bitterly, "but it was too late. They had already killed too many kids, it ended in more bloodshed."

Jane's stomach turned as she flipped through the pages of the file. "Phoebe's still alive," she muttered, "and she's allied with Peter-Knull now. She got out of this delusion before it was too late."

Gabriel spoke up, his voice tinged with disbelief. "They were cloning kids? Controlling them from birth?"

Daken nodded, her voice seething with disgust. "They weren't just cloning children for mutant kind's survival. They were making soldiers. Puppets. They were building an army of mindless, obedient mutants they could control. And worse? They put people like Selene and Beast on their new council. It was all about power, Jane."

Jane turned her attention back to Emma Frost, the once-regal queen now a broken, silent prisoner. She had tried to create a world of her own making, using children as tools in her twisted vision of a new Krakoa. And in doing so, she had damned herself, and so many others.

Just then, a bitter laugh rang out from a nearby cell. Julian Keller, better known as Hellion, was leaning against the energy barrier of his own cell, arms crossed, a mocking sneer on his face. His eyes, still full of defiance, locked onto Jane and her family.

"You can tell Peter-Knull," Hellion spat, his voice dripping with venom, "that he's still a bastard. A Madelyn-fucking, Craven-bastard!"

Daken's claws unsheathed as she shot him a deadly glare. "You've got a lot of nerve talking after what you did, Keller."

Hellion shrugged, unfazed. "What? You think I regret it? Everything I did, I did for mutantkind. You lot wouldn't understand. You're just like Peter-Knull, too blind to see the bigger picture."

Gabriel, unable to contain his rage, stepped forward. "You helped Emma Frost clone children, babies, and you don't see anything wrong with that?"

Hellion met his glare with cold eyes. "We were at war. Sacrifices had to be made. It wasn't pretty, but it was necessary. But Peter-Knull? He came down on us like a goddamn hammer, destroying everything we built, just because he couldn't see past his own self-righteousness."

Jane took a step toward his cell, her voice low and dangerous. "You think cloning babies, raising them as mindless soldiers, was justified? You think you're the victim here?"

Hellion sneered. "I think Peter-Knull's playing god just like Emma was. You're all hypocrites. You think you're any better than us? You're just as willing to spill blood when it suits you."

Another bitter voice rang out, slicing through the tense atmosphere of the Raft like a jagged blade.

"YOU! I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

The sound was raw with rage, followed by the violent crackle of energy as something slammed into the bars of a nearby cell. The impact was so fierce that it caused a feedback loop, sending jolts of electricity dancing along the containment field. Laurent, standing closest, took a step back, his eyes narrowing as the source of the voice came into view.

It was Kitty Pryde, but not the Kitty they knew. This version of her looked worn, hardened by a brutal past. Her left arm was entirely metal, glinting harshly under the sterile lights. She glared through the energy field with wild, furious eyes, her face twisted in a mixture of hatred and pain.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" she screamed, her voice hoarse with fury as she slammed her metal arm against the barrier again, causing another harsh crackle of energy.

Daken took a cautious step toward the cell, glancing at Jane with a look of warning. Gabriel, his muscles tense, edged closer to his sister, ready to act if things escalated further.

Laurent's eyes flicked to the file in his hand, hastily scanning the occupant's information. His face paled as he read the details. "It's... her," he muttered, his voice tight with disbelief.

Jane's jaw clenched as she stepped forward, her eyes narrowing at the enraged figure thrashing against the energy barrier. "Pryde," she muttered under her breath, realizing just how dangerous this version of Kitty Pryde was.

Kitty staggered back slightly, breathing heavily from the force of the feedback. Her entire body shook with a volatile mix of hatred and desperation, but it wasn't just aimless anger. There was purpose behind her fury.

With trembling hands, Laurent flipped through the rest of the file. "This Kitty Pryde... she's from a world where Logan, Wolverine, went on a killing spree. He murdered... friend and foe alike. It says... he was fully in control of his actions."

Jane froze at the mention of Logan. Even here, in this twisted version of reality, his legacy seemed inescapable.

Kitty sneered, her lips curling back as she saw the recognition dawn on their faces. Her voice was cold, venomous. "Yeah, that Logan. Your precious Wolverine. He didn't hold back, not even from his so-called friends." Her metal arm flexed, fingers curling into a tight fist as she slammed it against the energy field again, ignoring the painful shock that ran through her body. "He even killed Gabby! Sweet, innocent Gabby. You wanna talk about 'sacrifices'? He was ready to sacrifice all of us!"

Gabriel's hands tightened into fists, the mention of Gabby hitting far too close to home. Jane's chest tightened as she remembered the young girl, someone Logan had protected fiercely in this world. But here? In this Kitty Pryde's world, Logan had become something far worse than a protector.

Kitty's breathing was ragged now, her voice growing more desperate, more broken. "He only stopped... when I phased my hand through his skull." She held up her metal arm, the metallic fingers shaking as she looked at it with a mix of loathing and bitterness. "I unphased it... turned his brain into mush... killed him. That's what it took to stop him. But not before he... ripped my arm off." She held out the arm as if daring them to deny the truth. "LOOK AT ME!" she screamed, her voice raw. "LOOK AT WHAT THE LEGACY OF WOLVERINE BECOMES!"

The rawness of her pain was like a living thing, infecting the air around them. For a moment, no one spoke. Even Daken, with her usual sharp wit and biting remarks, remained silent, unable to respond to the weight of Kitty's words.

Kitty's eyes, wild and broken, locked onto Jane's. "THIS is your legacy!" she spat, her voice hoarse with venom. "DEATH, ROT, AND RUIN! You think you're any different? You think you can change what he was? What all of you are?"

Jane's fists clenched tightly at her sides, her claws threatening to break through her knuckles. The fury in Kitty's words struck deep, opening old wounds that she had tried to bury. The legacy of Wolverine—death, violence, destruction. It was something she had fought against her entire life, trying to prove that she could be more than what the world expected of her.

Kitty staggered back, struggling to regain her balance from the shocks coursing through her body. She was panting heavily now, her rage consuming her. "TELL ME I'M WRONG!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she charged the energy bars again, her metal arm colliding with the field, sending a violent surge of electricity through her body.

This time, the shock was too much. Kitty collapsed to the ground, her body twitching slightly as the energy coursed through her. The room fell into a heavy silence as her breathing slowed, unconsciousness finally taking hold of her.

Daken let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "She's lost it," she muttered, shaking her head. "Completely."

Gabriel, still shaken, turned to Jane. "What do we do with her?"

Jane didn't answer right away, her mind racing with the weight of Kitty's words. The legacy of Wolverine. Was this really what Logan had become in another world? A monster that had to be put down by one of his closest allies." The thought made her stomach turn.

She glanced down at Kitty's unconscious form, her face twisted with anguish even in sleep. There was no easy answer here. Kitty was broken in ways that even the Raft couldn't fix.

"Her world took everything from her," Jane finally said, her voice soft but laced with sorrow. "But I'm not him. And this... this is not our legacy."

As Jane turned away, her thoughts heavy, Laurent couldn't help but glance back at Kitty Pryde, still twitching slightly from the shock. He wondered if, in some way, she was right, if this was the fate that awaited them all.

…

Later, at a group meeting…

Inside a softly lit meeting room, chairs were arranged in a loose circle, each filled with faces worn by the weight of their respective journeys. This gathering was unlike any other, where they could openly share their struggles and victories without judgment. For many, this was a sanctuary, a place to heal.

At the center of the room, Krystine, the former girlfriend of Doctor Strange, now a respected counselor, smiled gently as she guided the discussion. "Alright, everyone. We're here today to share progress, to connect. This is a safe space, and it's important we listen to each other. There's no need to rush."

Sitting among the group was James Howlett, no longer the lone wolf many of them knew. The Logan from a universe where Peter Parker had started a family with Hela, his demeanor had softened, but the old strength still radiated beneath his calm exterior. He was the first to speak.

James Howlett, Logan Green-A7, went first, "I've come a long way since settling here," he began, his voice steady but reflective. "Life's different. Peaceful, even. I've got a cabin in one of the new neighborhoods, the one with the refugees from Jean Blue-A1's world. At first, I didn't know how to fit in. But... I've been helping out around the community, getting folks settled into this new reality." He paused, a brief smile forming. "I never thought I'd be coordinating people adjustin' to symbiotic fridges and houses, but it's working out."

A few knowing chuckles rippled through the room as James continued. "It ain't been easy for them, lost their world, their lives. But this place? It's givin' 'em a chance to rebuild. And I guess, in a way, it's givin' me the same chance." He sat back, nodding toward the next person.

Jean Blue-A1 sat beside her family, Gabby, Laura, and Daken from her war-torn universe. Each had endured unthinkable horrors in a world ravaged by nuclear war and endless conflict. Jean's gaze softened as she looked at them before speaking.

"James is right about the community," she said. "It's been a lifeline for us too. Back in our world, it felt like everything was falling apart... endless war, devastation. Coming here? It's strange. Quiet. At first, that scared me more than anything." She looked at Laura and Gabby, who gave small smiles of reassurance.

"But we've found a way to live again. The community has given us a place to heal. To... remember who we are outside of the battles. Laura's been gardening, of all things, and Gabby's helping out with the kids in the neighborhood." Jean's voice faltered for a moment, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. "For the first time in a long time, I think we're starting to feel... hope again."

There was a quiet moment of reflection before she added, "We've still got a long road ahead, but being here, with you all... it helps."

From across the circle, Peter Parker, now known as "Infernal Spider" from universe Orange-A5, sat with a soft smile, his arm around Queen Goblin, his lover. Her transformation and redemption had been a miracle, and now, there was more news to share.

Peter cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "So, uh... some of you already know this, but for those who don't..." He paused, his smile growing wider as he glanced at Queen Goblin beside him. "We're expecting. A son."

A ripple of surprise and congratulations passed through the room.

Peter chuckled nervously. "Yeah, we've been thinking about names. It's not easy, especially given... well, everything." He gestured vaguely, referring to their complex origins—Queen Goblin's infernal nature that had since been purified, and Peter's own history. "But we're leaning toward something that represents balance. You know, something that reflects his infernal side, his holy side, and the human side we both share."

The room was quiet for a moment, absorbing the magnitude of his words. The fact that Peter and Queen Goblin had come so far, from enemies to expecting parents, was nothing short of extraordinary.

Next to speak was Lupin, Logan's son from this universe, with his two wolves sitting loyally at his side. He looked at them, as if drawing strength from their calm presence before addressing the group.

"I've been... busy," he started, his voice carrying a calm authority. "Applied for a job at S.H.I.E.L.D., and they took me on to help with some of the veterans who came from Peter Blue-A1's world."

He paused, the weight of his work clearly showing on his face. "They've been through hell. That world... it left a lot of them broken. Flashbacks, trauma—some couldn't even look at the sky without thinking about the bombs. It was bad."

"But," Lupin continued, a sense of pride in his voice, "I've been using my empathic powers to help heal them. It's like... emotional therapy, but deeper. I can restore the broken parts of their minds and souls. So far, I've helped about 80 veterans, each one taking anywhere from 30 seconds to a few minutes."

A few gasps of admiration filled the room. Lupin smiled softly. "It's... humbling. Many of them are out of the hospital now, working normal jobs, living in homes. It's slow, but... it's progress."

He gave his wolves a soft pat on their heads before concluding, "I can't heal everyone, but I'm doing what I can."

As the room settled, all eyes eventually turned toward Jane Howlett. She sat back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, her expression hard yet thoughtful. Her family—Daken, Laurent, Gabriel, and her brother Badger—watched her closely, knowing this wasn't easy for her. Jane wasn't one for opening up, especially about the complicated mess she'd been carrying around for years. Still, she knew this was part of the process, part of what they were all here to do.

There was a beat of silence, the weight of the moment heavy on her shoulders. She hesitated, her fingers flexing and tightening around the edge of her chair. Finally, she let out a breath, breaking the quiet.

"In all honesty," she began, her voice low but steady, "I'm almost exactly like any other version of Logan you might meet... except for the fact that I'm, you know..." She paused, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "A chick."

The room broke into soft chuckles, easing the tension in the air. Even Jane managed a smile, feeling the pressure lift slightly.

"But seriously," she continued, her tone becoming more reflective, "it's not just that. Coming from where I did, it's hard not to feel... disconnected from everything. I've spent most of my life fighting. Hell, I've been fighting since I was old enough to throw a punch." She glanced around the room, her gaze briefly meeting with the other Logans—James Howlett, the Logan from this world, and others—before continuing.

"We had our own Krakoa, back in my world. God only knows if it's still around, but... part of me knows, deep down, that even if it's still standing, they're making the same damn mistakes. Resurrection, cloning, playing god..." She trailed off, her jaw tightening. "They're still bringing people back, telling themselves that it's the same person, that they're saving lives. But it's just... cloning. And it's tearing people apart."

Her voice dropped, the weight of her words pressing down on her like an old wound that wouldn't heal. "I've seen what that does to people. I've seen the cracks in the system, the way it messes with your head, makes you question whether you're really you anymore. I've seen what happens when someone you care about dies and comes back, but it's not really them. Not completely."

The room was silent now, the light chuckling from before long gone as Jane's words hit deeper.

"Part of me... part of me hopes we can get back in time. Before too many more lives are lost to this resurrection madness. Before more kids grow up thinking their parents are just a body waiting to be remade if something goes wrong."

She paused again, swallowing hard. The vulnerability in her voice was rare, even for someone like her. "I've lost too many people already. We all have. And now? Now we're all stuck in this multiverse, trying to find a place that feels like home. Trying to make sense of a world that's gone mad... a bunch of worlds, actually."

She glanced at her family, Daken, Gabriel, Laurent, and Badger, each of them hardened in their own way, yet still bound together by the same hope. She took a breath, knowing what she had to say next wasn't easy.

"The truth is, I'm scared. Scared we won't get back in time to make a difference. Scared we'll end up fighting the same battles, losing the same people. Because... what if there's no fixing it? What if Krakoa, and all the versions of it, are just doomed to repeat the same cycle over and over again?"

Her words hung in the air, the heaviness of her fears more than apparentBottom of Form. She shook her head slightly, running a hand through her short, rugged hair. "I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we'll figure it out. But... damn, it's hard to believe in that when you've been fighting for so long, and the mistakes just keep piling up."

There was a long pause as Jane's words resonated throughout the room. Her honesty, raw and unfiltered, cut deep into the heart of what so many of them felt. It wasn't just the battles they fought that wore them down, it was the uncertainty, the fear that no matter how hard they tried, they might be trapped in an endless cycle of loss and resurrection.

Krystine, sensing the weight of the moment, nodded quietly. "Thank you for sharing that, Jane." She allowed a moment for the room to breathe before gently prompting the group to continue.

Jane's words opened the door for the others to express their own fears and doubts, a shared understanding rippling through the room. They were all warriors, all survivors of countless wars and losses, but here, in this space, they could admit the things that haunted them.

They weren't just fighters. They were people trying to find their way through a multiverse that had torn their lives apart.

…

As the meeting began to wind down, the atmosphere had grown heavy, weighed down by the confessions, fears, and shared pain of everyone present. Jane Howlett sat quietly after sharing her story, her mind still churning over the thoughts she had just voiced. She wasn't used to being this vulnerable, and the rawness of her emotions left her feeling exposed.

Suddenly, there was a frantic pounding at the door. The sound was sharp, desperate.

"Please!" A voice called out from the other side, strained and full of urgency. "Please, you have to let me in! This is so important! I know Jane, I know her!"

The entire room froze. Jane's eyes widened. She recognized that voice.

Daken was the first to react, her senses sharp. She stood, her body tense, as Gabriel and Badger exchanged quick glances with Laurent. The voice continued pleading, the desperation growing more frantic by the second. "Please! Let me through!"

Krystine looked concerned, and one of the attendants quickly stepped out of the room. A few moments later, he returned, leaning down to whisper in Krystine's ear. "There's a woman outside who claims to know Jane... she says she's from her universe, and she looks... injured. Badly."

Jane stood up immediately, her heart hammering in her chest. "Let her in," she said, her voice steady, though her mind was racing. She already had a sinking feeling of who it might be.

The door opened, and the woman staggered inside. Blood stained her clothing, a deep wound on her side still dripping down onto the floor. She was clutching her side with one hand, her face pale, sweat pouring down her brow.

Jane's breath hitched as she saw her. Sypher. Or rather, a version of him, from her world, a female version of Cypher from Jane's universe. Her name escaped Jane's lips as they tried to move quickly to help her. "It's Daria, she's losing a lot of blood, get her stable!"

stumbled forward, barely able to keep herself upright. Jane darted forward just in time to catch her as she collapsed, her hands drenched in the other woman's blood. Daria coughed, wheezing painfully as she clung to Jane's arm. "Jane..." she choked out, her voice raspy. "I had to get here... had to get help..."

"Hold on, Daria. Just hold on," Jane said, kneeling with her, her voice softer than anyone had heard it before. Her family closed in, concern etched on their faces.

Daria's body shook with pain, and blood dripped from the corner of her mouth as she tried to speak. "I had to go through... the infernal realms... to get here..." She winced, her words broken by sharp coughs. "It's bad, Jane. Really bad..."

"What happened?" Jane asked, her tone urgent but measured. She gently placed her hand on Daria's back, trying to steady her as the woman's body trembled from the blood loss.

"Ms. Sinister... She's taken over... Ms. Xavier... and at least... three more mutants... on our island." Daria's voice wavered with a mixture of fear and agony as she spoke, her breathing labored. "Krakoa knows... what's going on, but... doesn't know who to trust. He sent me... to find you. To bring help..."

The room went cold. Ms. Sinister. Jane's fists clenched at the name, her mind racing. The sinister influence was spreading through the Krakoan leadership. Daria's breaths grew more shallow, but she kept going, pushing through the pain.

"Sinister... she's planning to... take over... the whole council... through the resurrection protocols..." Another violent cough shook Daria's frame, more blood splattering onto the floor.

Jane's heart clenched. "Daria, we'll help. We'll find a way to stop her, I swear." She was holding her up, desperately trying to keep her conscious as the severity of the situation sank in.

Daria's eyes, glassy and filled with pain, locked onto Jane's. There was something deeper in them now—an uncertainty, a doubt. Her lips trembled as she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, "Is it... true, Jane? Am I... just a clone?"

Jane froze, her breath catching in her throat. The question cut through the noise in the room like a blade. Daria, bleeding out in her arms, was asking the one thing Jane had feared herself in her darkest moments—whether her entire existence had been nothing more than someone else's design, a hollow mimicry of life.

Tears welled in Daria's eyes as she asked again, her voice softer now, pleading. "Am I... just a clone?"

The room was silent, the air heavy with the weight of the question. Everyone, from Jane's family to the doctors trying to stabilize Daria, held their breath. They knew this was more than a question of biology, it was a question of identity, of self-worth. And right now, Jane didn't have an easy answer.

She looked into Daria's eyes, struggling to find the right words. "Daria... I don't care what anyone says. You're real. You matter. And you came all this way to help... that's more than most would do."

Daria's breathing was shallow now, her body growing weaker. But there was a flicker of something in her eyes, a small, fragile piece of hope that she wasn't just a tool, that her life had meaning beyond the twisted plots of others.

"Hang in there," Jane whispered, her grip on Daria tightening as the medics moved in. "You're not alone. You never were."

Daria's eyes fluttered, her grip on Jane's arm loosening as the darkness began to take her, but for a brief moment, her expression softened.

…

Daria, the female version of Sypher, woke slowly, blinking against the soft, sterile light of the hospital room. For a moment, everything was still, silent, peaceful. The weight of her exhaustion still clung to her, her mind heavy with the remnants of pain and fear from before.

But something was off. The blood, her blood, it was still fresh, the memory of the gash on her side vivid and recent. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Only minutes had passed, maybe less. It didn't make sense. She had been bleeding out. She should have been dying.

Her fingers instinctively went to her side, where she remembered the terrible wound. Her hand trembled as it made contact with smooth, unbroken skin. There wasn't even a scar. The wound that had nearly torn her apart, exposing ribs and cutting deep into her organs, was gone. Completely gone.

Daria's eyes widened in disbelief, her breath catching in her throat. "What...?" she whispered, her mind spinning.

Then she saw them.

Three angelic figures hovered just above her, bathed in a soft, radiant light. The figure in the center was smaller, glowing intensely with a brilliance that seemed to pierce through the dim atmosphere of the hospital room. Flanking it were two larger beings, their wings outstretched, but not entirely—each pair of wings curled slightly, as if to allow the central figure's light to shine through. Their forms were adorned with glowing blue, intricate patterns that danced over their ethereal bodies, from their heads to their feet, like living art. Ornate halos of shimmering light hovered above their heads, framing their glowing, serene faces.

Daria's breath hitched again. "Are those... angels?" she whispered, unsure whether she was still dreaming, lost in the haze of her injury.

But something about them was... different. Their eyes, glowing with an unearthly blue hue, reminded her of symbiotes. Not entirely—but there was something familiar in their presence, something deeply comforting, yet foreign. These weren't angels in the traditional sense. They were something else entirely.

The three beings spoke in unison, their voices intertwining perfectly, as though they were a single entity with three mouths. "You were hurting... so we healed you," they said, their tones melodic, almost otherworldly.

Daria stared, mesmerized by how they moved. Their heads turned at the exact same time, with identical precision. Their glowing eyes remained fixed on her, calm and unblinking. The synchronicity of their movements was unnerving in its perfection—too perfect, too alike.

She blinked, her mind struggling to process it all. Reaching down again, she touched her side, running her fingers over the spot where the wound had been, expecting to feel the rough ridges of a scar. But there was nothing. The pain, the gash, the blood—it was all gone, as though it had never happened.

Her chest tightened as she tried to comprehend the magnitude of it. She had been torn apart, bleeding, barely clinging to life. And now, just minutes later, she was whole, completely healed. "How...?" she began to ask, her voice barely a whisper.

The central figure, still glowing brightly, seemed to tilt its head slightly, the motion mirrored perfectly by the two beings on either side. "It is our purpose," they said in perfect harmony. "To heal, to restore."

The warmth radiating from them washed over Daria, calming the storm of emotions raging within her. Despite the impossible situation, she felt an overwhelming sense of peace. It was as though their presence alone was enough to soothe the chaos in her mind.

But even as she lay there, feeling the warmth, her hand lingering on her unmarked skin, a new question began to form in the back of her mind. These beings—angels, or whatever they were—they had healed her. But what had she just witnessed? And more importantly, why were they here now?

Daria blinked, the surreal calm of the angelic beings in front of her making her question everything she'd just gone through. But as her vision sharpened and the strange glow softened, she noticed she wasn't alone in the room.

Jane Howlett stood by the door, her arms crossed but her expression softened with concern. Next to her was Krystine, the former girlfriend of Doctor Strange, who had taken up the role of helping refugees adjust to this fractured, multiversal world. Several others lingered in the background, their faces a mix of relief and cautious hope. The tension was immense, Top of Form

, even under the calming influence of the Seraphis symbiotes that hovered in the air.

Daria's eyes shifted back to the angelic beings. She had never seen anything like them before, and the way they spoke—perfectly in sync, with voices full of peace—was something out of a dream. But this wasn't a dream. She had been bleeding out, close to death, and now... she was whole. Healed. The shock of it all lingered like a haze in her mind.

"You're awake," Jane said softly, stepping forward. There was a hint of relief in her voice, though her posture remained guarded. "We were worried about you."

Daria swallowed, her throat dry. "What... What happened? I was... I mean, I was stabbed, and then... then I woke up here, and..." She trailed off, her eyes darting between Jane and the glowing Seraphis symbiotes. "Who are they?"

Krystine stepped forward, offering a gentle smile. "They're called Seraphis symbiotes. They're unlike any other symbiotes you've encountered. They come from the first Knull of the multiverse—a version of Knull who embraced creation rather than destruction."

Daria frowned, struggling to process the information. "Knull... as in the creator of symbiotes? But... they're symbiotes? I don't feel... anything malevolent. They don't seem like any symbiote I've heard of."

Jane nodded. "That's because they're different. They're healers by nature. They don't know how to sin, or even lie. It's not in their nature. They're pure."

Krystine continued, her voice soft and reassuring. "These Seraphis symbiotes were created to heal, to restore life. They aren't like the symbiotes that bond to hosts for survival or power. They seek to help, to fix what's broken. That's why you're alive, Daria. They healed you."

Daria stared at the glowing figures, their gentle light filling the room with warmth. It was hard to believe. Symbiotes, at least in her experience, were dangerous, parasitic creatures—beings of darkness. But these Seraphis... they were the exact opposite. Everything about them radiated purity and kindness, qualities she never associated with the word "symbiote."

"They healed me... without asking for anything in return?" Daria asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The three Seraphis beings, still hovering in perfect harmony, seemed to tilt their heads in unison. "It is our purpose," they repeated. "We restore. We heal. It is what we were created to do."

Daria blinked, her thoughts racing. The concept of symbiotes that healed rather than consumed was difficult to wrap her mind around. And yet, here she was, living proof of their power. "I... I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. "Thank you."

Jane smiled softly. "You don't need to say anything. Just rest for now."

But Daria shook her head, questions still swirling in her mind. "I've never heard of anything like them. Symbiotes that don't... need hosts? That don't feed off negative emotions or try to take control?"

Krystine exchanged a glance with Jane before speaking again. "They're unique. The Seraphis symbiotes were created to be helpers, to be companions to those in need. They don't require a host to survive, but they do bond with those who are hurt, those who need their healing. It's an entirely different kind of bond. There's no hunger, no desire for control. It's purely symbiotic in the sense of mutual benefit—except, in their case, they don't ask for anything in return."

Daria was silent for a moment, her gaze shifting back to the beings hovering above her. They radiated light and warmth, and she realized how calm she felt in their presence, as if their mere existence soothed her soul. "But why me?" she asked quietly. "Why did they help me? They don't even know who I am."

One of the Seraphis, the smaller figure in the center, seemed to glow a bit brighter as it answered. "We sensed your pain. We heal those in need."

Daria frowned, her hand once again going to her side, where the terrible wound had been. "I was in bad shape," she admitted. "I had to go through the infernal realms to get here... to warn Jane... Krakoa is falling apart. I barely made it out alive."

As Daria tried to process everything, the healing, the Seraphis symbiotes, and the weight of her mission—Jane Howlett stepped forward, her voice calm "You already told me everything before you blacked out, Daria. You did your part." Jane offered her a small, reassuring smile. "And we're already on it. This world's Fantastic Four is working on a device that will take us back to our world—with some new friends to help."

Daria blinked, her hand still resting on her side where the once-fatal wound had been. "New friends?" she asked, her voice still hoarse. Her gaze flickered over to the Seraphis symbiotes as they gracefully floated out of the room, on their way to heal more people in the hospital.

Jane nodded, and then gestured toward the far side of the room. It was only then that Daria noticed a man standing patiently in the shadows. He was tall, with dark hair and intense eyes. His black biker jacket was covered in intricate symbols, each one meticulously crafted, and his entire demeanor radiated power and control. Daria immediately felt a strange, instinctual chill run down her spine.

There was something about him—something ancient and overwhelming, like the feeling you get when standing on the edge of a cliff looking down at a vast, unknowable abyss. Her pulse quickened. It wasn't fear exactly, but rather a profound sense of respect... and perhaps a little wariness.

"That's him, isn't it?" Daria whispered, her eyes widening as she stared at the man.

Jane stepped closer to her and nodded. "This is Peter-Knull," she introduced him quietly. "He's the one who created the Seraphis symbiotes... among others." Jane's voice softened as she spoke, clearly bracing herself for what she was about to reveal. "He's not just a creator of symbiotes. He runs a whole symbiotic universe, one that he built from the ground up."

Peter-Knull stepped forward, his presence filling the room, though his expression remained composed. He took a seat next to Daria, and while his appearance was as mortal as anyone's, there was an undeniable aura of power about him. Daria couldn't help but feel like she was sitting next to something far beyond human comprehension.

"Everything in my universe," Peter-Knull spoke, his voice deep and steady, "the planets, stars, moons, alien races, and even its afterlife... I shaped it all. Every detail is tailored to be in balance. It's a sanctuary for those who seek peace and order, including those who have nowhere else to go."

Daria was speechless. A whole symbiotic universe? He created everything in it? Her mind struggled to keep up with the sheer scope of what he was describing.

"And that's not all," Jane added, her eyes on Peter-Knull. "He's extended his universe's afterlife to those from other realms. People who recently died, or even those who went to Limbo... they're choosing his realm instead."

Daria glanced at the murals on the walls, some of which she hadn't fully registered before. They were dedicated to Peter-Knull and the people seeking refuge in the Seraphis symbiotes' realm. Scenes of healing, of light and peace, were painted in loving detail.

Jane continued, "When someone is healed by the Seraphis symbiotes, it's not just physical healing. It goes deeper. It gives them a choice, where they want their afterlife to be. They're no longer bound to places like Limbo or any other realm of torment."

Peter-Knull leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady as he looked at Daria. "I take great care of those who choose my realm," he said simply, but with a weight of responsibility behind his words. "They're free from suffering, free from chaos. They have peace."

Daria stared at him, her mind reeling. She had spent most of her life surrounded by the darker sides of symbiotes, of beings that thrived on chaos and destruction. But Peter-Knull... he was different. He wasn't the destroyer she had imagined. He was a creator, a protector. And it was clear from Jane's expression that she trusted him, which, for Daria, meant something.

"So... you really protect them?" Daria asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Peter-Knull nodded once, his gaze unwavering. "With everything I have."

Daria's heart raced as her gaze shifted again. The shock of seeing Peter-Knull, learning about his symbiotic universe, and witnessing the impossible healing powers of the Seraphis symbiotes was overwhelming enough. But now... standing next to Peter-Knull, her breath caught in her throat, and she froze.

It couldn't be.

Standing just a few feet away, dressed in tribal armor that looked as if she had stepped straight out of the Savage Lands, was Victoria Creed. Sabretooth. The one who had haunted Daria's nightmares for years. The brutal woman who had been the bane of her existence before this woman had Bottom of Form

Daria's heart raced as her gaze shifted again. The shock of seeing Peter-Knull, learning about his symbiotic universe, and witnessing the impossible healing powers of the Seraphis symbiotes was overwhelming enough. But now... standing next to Peter-Knull, her breath caught in her throat, and she froze.

It couldn't be.

Standing just a few feet away, dressed in tribal armor that looked as if she had stepped straight out of the Savage Lands, was Victoria Creed. Sabretooth. The one who had haunted Daria's nightmares for years. The brutal woman who had been the bane of her existence before Daria had vanished from her own universe. The one Jane Howlett had gone after herself to confront.

And yet... something was different.

Victoria's stance wasn't aggressive. She wasn't grinning with that usual sadistic smile that Daria had come to associate with her. Instead, she stood there quietly, her muscular arms crossed over her chest, but her expression wasn't one of menace. It was... hesitant. Her fierce, wild eyes were downcast, avoiding direct eye contact with Daria. She wasn't moving to intimidate or provoke.

For a moment, the air between them hung heavy with tension. Daria could feel the old fear creeping up her spine, her body instinctively tensing up at the mere sight of Victoria. She remembered every violent encounter, every ruthless fight, and yet... this time, Victoria didn't look like she was here to fight.

The silence stretched uncomfortably, and before Daria could find her voice, Jane stepped forward, her tone soft but clear. "Daria, I know what you're thinking," she began, glancing between her and Victoria. "Yes... this is Victoria Creed. The Sabretooth from our world. But..."

Daria's brow furrowed, still frozen in place, her mind racing. "But... what?" she managed to say, though her voice was shaky, filled with disbelief.

Jane took a deep breath and continued, her eyes steady on Daria. "She's not the same person you remember. She's... changed. A lot."

Victoria remained silent, her posture stiff, still not meeting Daria's gaze. Her muscular arms tightened as if bracing herself for something she wasn't ready to face. The wild, untamed fierceness in her had dimmed, replaced by a kind of uncertainty Daria had never seen in her before.

"Changed...?" Daria echoed, trying to process what Jane was saying. "What do you mean 'changed'? She's Sabretooth. She doesn't change."

Jane offered a small, knowing smile and nodded. "I get it. Believe me, I didn't think it was possible either. But... she has a family now, Daria. She has thirteen kids."

Daria's eyes widened in shock. "Thirteen... kids?" The idea of Victoria Creed, the ruthless predator who had tormented her in the past, as a mother was almost laughable—if Jane hadn't been the one saying it.

"Yeah," Jane continued, a faint hint of amusement in her voice. "I'm an aunt now. Can you believe it?"

Daria's gaze flicked back to Victoria, still struggling to wrap her mind around the concept. Victoria Creed, the ferocious Sabretooth, with a family? "How...?" Daria began, but she couldn't finish the question.

Jane stepped a little closer, speaking gently. "She's been trying to do better, Daria. For her kids. For the man she loves."

Daria blinked, her confusion growing. "The man she... loves?" Her heart raced again, remembering the countless times Victoria had almost ended her life. "Who could...?"

Jane smiled softly, nodding as if anticipating Daria's confusion. "Yeah. His name is Peter Parker. Spider-Man. But not from our universe. He's from the universe next to ours—the one Victoria went to after she left our world."

Daria's breath hitched. Spider-Man? Victoria Creed married Spider-Man? "Wait... Spider-Man? But... how?"

Victoria finally lifted her gaze, hesitantly locking eyes with Daria. For a moment, Daria could see the weight of everything she had been through, her struggles, her regrets, her transformation. This wasn't the same woman who had once terrorized her. There was something different in her eyes, something... softer.

"It's true," Victoria said, her voice gruff but devoid of the usual edge that Daria was used to. "I left our universe. I thought I could start over in the one next door after I was assigned to track down and kidnap a target. That's how I met Peter... he wasn't like anyone I'd ever known." Victoria paused, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to continue. "He saw something in me. Something I didn't even see in myself. We built a life together. And yeah... I have a family now."

Daria's mind raced, trying to reconcile the Victoria standing in front of her with the Sabretooth she had known. "But... how? You were... you're..." She couldn't find the words, the idea of Victoria Creed as a wife and mother so utterly foreign to her that it almost felt like a dream.

Jane stepped in again, her voice soft. "Victoria's changed, Daria. I didn't believe it at first either, but... it's real. She's trying to do better, for the sake of her family. She's not the monster you remember."

Victoria's eyes flicked to the floor again, her expression tight. "I'm not asking for forgiveness," she muttered, her voice strained. "But I'm trying to be better, for them."

Daria stood there, silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in. She didn't know how to feel. She had feared this woman for years, carried the scars of their encounters. But now, standing here, seeing Victoria so... different, so vulnerable, it shook her to her core.

Jane placed a hand on Daria's shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze. "I know this is a lot to take in," she said gently. "But people can change. Even the ones you least expect."

Victoria stood silently, watching Daria with a mixture of hesitation and hope. She wasn't asking for redemption or understanding, just a chance. A chance to prove that she wasn't the same person she had been before.

After what felt like an eternity, Daria finally spoke, her voice quiet but steady. "I don't know if I can trust you," she admitted, her eyes meeting Victoria's. "But... if Jane says you've changed, I'll try."

Victoria exhaled softly, the tension in her body easing just slightly. "That's all I'm asking for," she finally said.

As the room slowly emptied, Jane Howlett and Daria were left alone in the quiet, sterile hospital room. The Seraphis symbiotes had silently drifted away to tend to others in the building, their glowing presence leaving a lingering warmth in the air. Krystine gave Jane a soft, understanding nod before leaving, and even Peter-Knull and Victoria quietly stepped out, closing the door gently behind them.

Jane took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. She could still feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, but now it was only between her and Daria. The two women stood and sat there for a moment, the silence growing uncomfortable as Jane tried to find the words. She knew what was coming, what she had to tell Daria, and it wasn't going to be easy.

Daria sat up in her bed, her body still adjusting to the fact that it had been fully healed, despite the trauma she had endured. But her mind, still foggy from the shock of everything, was sharper now, clear enough to remember the last thing she had asked before everything had gone dark.

"Jane…" Daria began, her voice quiet, almost hesitant. "What I asked you before... before I blacked out. Am I...?"

Jane turned toward her, her face set in a grim expression. She crossed the room, pulling a chair over and sitting down next to Daria's bed. There was a weight in her eyes, a burden she had been carrying ever since Krakoa's downfall. It wasn't a conversation she wanted to have, but she knew it was one they couldn't avoid.

"There's no easy way to say this," Jane said, her voice low but steady. "And I'm sorry. But I've gotta tell you the truth, Daria."

Daria's heart began to race again, though now it wasn't from fear of the wound or the people around her, it was from the growing realization that the answer to her question might be worse than she had imagined. Her fingers instinctively gripped the edge of the blanket, bracing herself for what was coming.

Jane let out a heavy sigh, trying to collect herself before she spoke again. "You know how Krakoa worked—the resurrection protocols, the cloning, the memories." She paused, looking down at her hands for a moment before meeting Daria's gaze again. "Just because they cloned the bodies and uploaded the memories... it didn't mean the soul came back."

Daria felt her stomach drop, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't say anything, didn't move. She just stared at Jane, waiting for her to continue, hoping against hope that she was wrong.

Jane's voice softened, filled with a mixture of regret and sadness. "The soul... it passes on, Daria. When someone dies, they go wherever it is they're supposed to go. The resurrection? It was a lie. A damn lie."

The words hit Daria like a punch to the gut. She had suspected, deep down, that something wasn't right with the resurrection protocols. She had heard rumors, whispers in dark corners of the island, but she had never wanted to believe them. She wanted to believe in the promise of Krakoa, the paradise they had all been told it could be. But hearing it now—from Jane—made it all too real.

"I'm so sorry," Jane said, her voice thick with emotion. "What they told us about resurrection—it wasn't true. They brought back bodies, sure, and they gave them memories, but the soul... the person... they were already gone. They'd already moved on to whatever afterlife was waiting for them."

Daria's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white. She felt a deep, sinking dread wash over her, and a hollow ache filled her chest. "So... all those people? Everyone we thought we brought back… they were just… clones?"

Jane nodded slowly, her expression pained. "Yeah. And the worst part? In so many worlds, Krakoa falls because of it. Eventually, people figure it out. The mutants either leave the island on their own, or they get kicked out—like what happened here. It's a cycle, Daria. It seems to happen in almost every version of Krakoa that exists."

Daria stared ahead, her mind reeling. All those years, all those fights, the sacrifices… for what? A lie? "How could they let that happen?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "How could they just… lie to everyone?"

Jane shook her head, her jaw tightening. "Power, control... maybe even denial. Some of them didn't want to believe it either. They wanted to think they had found a way to cheat death, to bring everyone back the way they were. But it wasn't real. It was never real."

Daria's chest tightened as the weight of Jane's words settled in. The hope, the promise of a utopia for mutants—gone, shattered like glass. She had believed in it. She had fought for it. And now, it felt like everything had been for nothing.

Jane leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. "I know this is hard to hear, Daria. And I'm sorry. But we need to face the truth if we're going to move forward."

Daria bit her lip, holding back the wave of emotion threatening to break free. She had spent so long fighting for something she believed in, something she thought was real. And now… it was gone.

"So what now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "What are we supposed to do now?"

Jane sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. "We try to fix what we can. We help the people we can. We move forward, Daria. One step at a time."

Daria didn't respond right away. She just sat there, letting the reality of everything sink in. After a long moment, she finally spoke, her voice quiet but resolute. "I don't know if I can forgive them. For what they did. For what they took from us."

Jane nodded, understanding the pain and anger in her voice. "I get it," she said softly. "I don't know if I can either."

The two women sat in silence, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air. There were no easy answers, no quick fixes. But in that moment, they weren't alone. And somehow, that made the unbearable truth just a little more bearable.

Jane shifted in her seat, her hand rubbing the back of her neck as if to relieve a tension that had settled deep in her bones. She had one last piece of truth to share with Daria—something she knew would hit hard, but something that needed to be said before they could move forward. There was no point sugarcoating it.

"Daria," she started softly, her voice tinged with reluctance. "Before we call this conversation done, there's something else you need to know. Something about... Xavier."

Daria blinked, her attention snapping back to Jane at the mention of Xavier. Her world's Charles Xavier had been the driving force behind Krakoa's creation, behind the resurrection protocols and the idea of mutantkind as a united, thriving nation. But now, hearing the truth about the resurrection process had already shattered the idealized image she had of him. What more could there possibly be?

"Xavier... in this world—hell, probably in our world, too—wasn't as pure as we thought," Jane said, leaning forward slightly. The weight of what she was about to say was evident in the way her words slowed. "Turns out, he did things—things we should've seen coming."

Daria's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Jane took a breath, letting the words come as naturally as they could. "He knew. He knew that Sinister had been planting his genetic code into every resurrection. He let it happen. The whole time. The Krakoa in this world—and likely ours, too—was built on lies and manipulation. Xavier invaded the minds of everyone who went through resurrection, altering them in subtle ways, keeping tabs on their thoughts, steering them... And Sinister's influence was hidden in their DNA, just waiting to activate."

Daria's stomach churned. The image of Xavier as the benevolent leader, the visionary who could lead mutants into a golden age, was crumbling even further. "He let Sinister do that? Why? Why would he—"

"Control," Jane cut in, her voice tinged with frustration. "He wanted to control everything. He thought that if he could keep everyone on a leash, keep them in line, it would preserve the dream. That's what makes it worse. He wasn't some outright villain—he thought he was doing the right thing. The ultimate good, no matter the cost. But it was rotten from the start, Daria. He let Sinister taint everything. But... it didn't stay that way."

Daria narrowed her eyes, confused. "What do you mean?"

Jane straightened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips—not out of joy, but out of a sense of grim satisfaction. "We got help. From Peter-Knull."

Daria tensed at the mention of Peter-Knull, her mind still grappling with the idea of a benevolent version of Knull, the creator of the symbiotes. "What did he do?"

Jane leaned in, lowering her voice as if the walls themselves might be listening. "Peter-Knull, with his symbiote tech and knowledge, helped us refine something—Logan's blood. You know how Logan's healing factor works, right? Well, Peter bonded one of his Seraphis symbiotes to Logan's blood and used that to create a... gas. A gas that purges Sinister's genes from anyone carrying them. Sinister can't survive in this world anymore—at least, not the version of him here."

Daria's eyes widened in disbelief. "They created a gas that... purges Sinister's influence? That's... that's insane."

Jane nodded. "It's lethal to Sinister, hell, it's lethal to the genes themselves, and it's airborne and waterborne. And it fixes anyone with those dormant genes. Peter-Knull and his team figured it out, there's no place for Sinister to hide here. And... the flowers, Daria. The Krakoan flowers they've been passing out as medicine? They're not just medicine. They're an addictive poison."

Daria's jaw tightened, anger flickering in her eyes. "What? The flowers we were using to heal people?"

Jane's gaze hardened. "Orchis—the anti-mutant organization, they were going to activate something called the 'Berserker Signal,' a frequency that would have driven anyone who'd been taking those flowers into a frenzy, turning them violent, uncontrollable. Millions of mutants and countless humans were at risk. But before they could, Krakoa, the sentient island, kicked them out. Peter-Knull exposed it all, every lie, every trap. He saved millions of lives that day."

Daria felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. Everything she had believed in, everything she had fought for, was based on layers of deception. "How do we fix this?" she asked, her voice a mix of frustration and desperation. "How do we undo all the damage?"

Jane exhaled, leaning back in her chair. "We can't undo what's been done. All we can do is move forward, make sure it doesn't happen again. Peter-Knull and the people in this world have been working on making things right, creating safe spaces for mutants who want to live free from Krakoa's shadow. And you and me? We can help with that. We can bring this knowledge back to our world, try to save what's left."

Daria swallowed hard, the weight of responsibility settling over her like a lead blanket. "If we go back, what if... what if we can't stop it? What if it's too late?"

Jane looked her straight in the eyes, her expression firm but compassionate. "Then we keep fighting. Like we always have."

The room fell silent again, but this time, the air between them felt lighter, as if sharing this truth had lifted some of the burden. Daria still felt the sting of betrayal, the grief of knowing everything they had fought for was built on a lie. But with Jane by her side, and the knowledge that Peter-Knull's help had already begun healing this world, she found a flicker of hope deep within her.

…

At the SHIELD facility. Jane Howlett stood with her family, Daria by her side, and her brother Badger, her children Laurent, Gabriel, and Daken, all gathered around her. Each one of them was preparing for what was to come. The grim reality that lay ahead weighed heavily on all of them.

The confrontation they were about to face wasn't just with Sinister or Xavier, it was with the very foundation of Krakoa itself. The mutants of their world deserved the truth. The truth about the resurrection protocols, about the flowers that were poisoning them, and about the sinister influence woven into their very DNA. Jane knew it wasn't going to be easy. In fact, she anticipated a war—perhaps not with fists, but with beliefs and the betrayal of those who had put their faith in Krakoa's promise of paradise.

As they strapped on their gear, the SHIELD facility buzzed with quiet activity around them. Logan, Laura, and Daken were there as well, their presence grounding Jane, even as her mind raced with everything that was at stake. Peter-Knull was with them too, his expression unreadable as he stood off to the side, gears in his mind already turning as he thought about the inevitable fallout. He'd been through this before, truths unraveling civilizations, trust being shattered.

Beside him, Lupin, Logan's son, stood ready, his empathic abilities primed to help them find the three mutants who had fallen under Sinister's control. And then there was Regina Grind Sullivan, the ever-imposing woman who could devour anything in her path, her calm yet intense demeanor betraying her readiness for the fight ahead. Extra muscle, yes, but more than that, her sheer presence was a statement.

"We're as ready as we'll ever be," Jane muttered, adjusting the leather strap of her gear across her chest.

Logan nodded, his usual gruff silence speaking volumes. "This ain't gonna be pretty. They never take this news well."

"They never do," Peter-Knull agreed, stepping forward. His voice was calm, but there was a dark undertone to it, like someone who had witnessed the collapse of worlds far too often. "But it's necessary. They need to know."

Regina cracked her knuckles. "Let's just hope they don't try to tear us apart before we get a chance to explain."

Lupin, ever calm despite the tension, nodded. "If things go sideways, I'll do my best to diffuse the situation. My powers should be able to calm the more volatile ones... but we have to move fast."

Daria, standing beside Jane, tightened her jaw. "We need to find the ones under Sinister's influence. That has to be our priority. If we can pull them out of his control, we might have a chance to stop this from spiraling into full-blown chaos."

Jane nodded, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll handle this, I promise we will."

With that, they all gathered at the gateway SHIELD had modified, a combination of Krakoan technology and the symbiotic enhancements provided by Peter-Knull. It hummed with a soft, eerie glow, the energy pulsing as they prepared to activate it.

"Ready?" Jane asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

One by one, they gave silent nods, their faces set with determination.

"Let's go."

The gateway activated with a surge of energy, and in the blink of an eye, they were pulled through the shimmering portal, traveling between realms. The sensation of the transfer was disorienting but brief. When they emerged on the other side, they found themselves standing right in front of the Krakoan gateways.