Chapter Text
Several brutal fights later, Magik watched from the high ground as Knull’s essence slithered its way past evanescent corpses into the underground. Mission complete by the skin of their teeth.
The mutant didn’t miss the way Luna’s eyes tracked her movements across the cliffside as Galacta tallied the final scores. Just a few more awkward moments of evading her grasp, and Magik would be free to leave. That didn’t mean her heart didn’t race when the popstar started the trek over to her– even though her boots stayed planted against the rock and her soulsword dug haphazardly into the ground.
Galacta had transported them to the exit lobby long before Luna made it within range.
“Illyana, wait!” Luna called out, but Magik had already stepped through her portal into her next match.
This was the Midtown convoy mission– the attacking team, by the looks of the lobby. In her haste to leave the last match, she found herself alone in the lobby as five other portals pulsed unstably. It wasn’t long before her allies for the match began to arrive– the God of Thunder himself, the Punisher, Jeff the Landshark, and Mantis. The sixth and final member of the team stepped through his portal, clutching an old tome to his chest.
Magik watched as he flipped the tome open to the page he had held, immediately immersed in his own world. As she approached, however, he looked up– then over to the Queen of Limbo.
“Illyana, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Dr. Strange greeted her.
“Steven, I have a question. It’s about this timestream entanglement– I think,” Illyana started.
“I’d be happy to try to answer it,” he replied, “but while I have spent countless hours studying this little pocket of reality, there are many aspects that lie unintelligible, even to me.”
“Does it affect our memories?” she asked.
His expression turned contemplative, closing the tome, “Can you be more specific? I’m not sure I completely understand what you’re asking.”
“It’s about Luna,” Magik caved, gripping her sword. “Every time we’re put on the same team, she acts as though she’s never met me before, but I remember. Maybe not everything, but I remember. Whatever is causing it isn’t any sort of magic I’ve seen before, so I thought I’d ask you.”
“Ah, Seol Hee, yes, I’m familiar with her situation,” Strange nodded. “From my understanding, her memory loss isn’t magical at all.”
“How is that possible?” she asked, stabbing the point of the soulsword deep enough into the concrete to turn heads towards their conversation. She didn’t bother gracing their curiosity with her attention– not when understanding felt so close.
“The human mind works in mysterious ways, dear, especially when exposed to such extreme circumstances as the times we currently face,” he offered with a solemn half-smile.
“So, you’re saying it’s a trauma response?” Illyana pushed.
“In a sense, yes,” Strange agreed. “She’s most likely pushing down the things that frighten her or remind her of her trauma in some way.”
“I remind her of her trauma,” she reasoned, clearing her throat as her voice suddenly failed her.
“I wouldn’t take it personally, Illyana. From what I’ve seen, Seol doesn’t seem to remember most of us here– barring the people she knew before,” Steven reassured her.
“And trying to remind her?” the mutant asked.
His immediate grimace confirmed what she had concluded. “It might work, but it could also do far more harm than good, especially given the circumstances,” he stated, pointing up to the timer counting down until the match was to begin.
Illyana sighed, yanking her sword out of the concrete. Of course, because this hellhole couldn’t be any worse.