Chapter Text
At one point several months ago, Illyana hadn’t been sure she’d ever get used to being stuck in this infernal timestream entanglement, but now, she wasn’t sure what she’d do when she finally got free and both Dooms were defeated. Sure, Limbo still needed its queen, and Belasco still needed to be put in his place, but after that? Logan would probably come knocking on her door to recruit her to the mutant’s cause. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see Piotr again, even if they hadn’t parted on the best of terms.
She had barely finished her lunch when a portal opened in the middle of the dining hall of this imitation of her castle in Limbo. Truly perfect timing, she thought to herself as she quickly summoned both a demon to clean up behind her and her soulsword.
She stepped through the portal, looking around the Klyntar lobby to assess what kind of team she’d be working with today. Her scan of the room lasted all of two seconds before her spirit dropped through the floor. The team itself wasn’t the issue, she could work with one vanguard, two other dualists, and two supports any day. The problem was the woman with heterochromatic eyes that brightened when their gazes locked across the lobby.
Luna skated over, using her “Share the Stage” ability (or so Illyana had heard it called), setting a slowly flittering snowflake over the duelist’s head. “Wow, it’s pretty exciting to partner up with a real X-man! A dream come true.”
Illyana tried not to let it show across her features, but the line felt like a slap in the face every time. They had partnered together so many times that Illyana had lost count– more times than she’d been partnered with anyone else in this little pocket of reality– but yet every time, Luna greeted her as if they’d never met. It had to be some sort of inside joke Illyana had simply spent too much time in Limbo to understand. Still, after so many times in the same conversation, she hadn’t quite figured out what to say. Some days she couldn’t hold back the frustration it brought out in her. Today, though, Illyana just sighed, letting her eyes close as she leaned against the pommel of the anchored soulsword.
“I’m looking forward to working with you too, Luna,” she finally managed, gripping the soulsword tightly as she resisted the urge to break something– anything.
If Luna had picked up on her frustration, she didn’t say anything about it. Instead, when Illyana finally opened her eyes and looked over, the popstar was talking with Stark at the other end of the room.
With Galactica beginning the countdown, and the conversations around the room tapering off with the anticipation of battle, Magik’s treacherous little heart couldn’t help but notice that the little snowflake remained with her, despite the suit of armor flying high above the rest of the team. Luna had told her the purpose of the aura in their first match together. “It’s a portable heal. It’s slow, but it will let me help you keep your strength up even when you’re far on the other side of the battlefield and I can’t heal you directly,” she had explained excitedly.
“The battle starts in 5, 4, 3, 2…”
Magik lunged forward the moment the door opened, stepping as far through Limbo as the timestream entanglement would allow her to as she raced to be anywhere but here. She had a job to do.
The duelist lost sight of the rest of the team as she parted off, going for the flank. No one had turned their comms on yet, but Magik could still hear the popstar’s inevitable comment about how risky this was and how they would have a better shot at taking the point if she stayed with the team.
It didn’t matter, though. The soulsword was hungry, and Illyana needed to hit something– hard. The enemy team paid the price well enough, even if half of their team had added a few deaths to their stats before they managed to push them completely off the cancerous little tumor they’d have to escort underground.
They’d barely cleared the last enemy before Illyana was taking off further into the labyrinth of steep walls and gelatinous spires looking for her next fight. She ducked into a side room as the enemy Venom swung past, waiting until the last duelist had passed by as she charged up a sword slash to unleash on an unsuspecting God of Mischief. She sent him on an all-expense-paid excursion back to their spawn point with brutal efficiency, cleaving through him with an unbridled rage. Sure, it made her swings a bit sloppier than usual, but it got the job done. Taking down Rocket, who had turned around just in time to witness the god’s death, was a bit more difficult. He was a fast little raccoon– but not fast enough. In a matter of seconds, he was down too.
“Illyana, where are you?” Seol’s voice rang loudly over her comms in between labored breaths. Illyana winced– partially at the volume, but also at her ally’s pained tone. “We’re being overrun.”
“How is that even possible?” Magik muttered to herself, charging back towards the convoy. “It was a four on five, and they had no healers.”
Her blood rushed through her veins as she ran, pulse picking up as irritation bled into dread– she was too far away.
She watched helplessly as the snowflake over her head faded, finally disappearing completely as the healing aura evaporated into the sweltering Klyntar heat. Sure enough, Galactica called out Luna’s death at the claws of the darkborn symbiote. The rest of her team followed suit. Magik sighed, but she didn’t let up her pace back towards their spawn point. She greeted them at the door wordlessly as they trudged back toward the convoy.
Luna didn’t meet her eyes, but the snowflake settled back over her head somehow anyway. It weighed nothing, but in that moment, it felt heavier than Limbo’s crown.
This time when the teams clashed yet again, Magik didn’t lead the charge. She was exhausted. Physically, she’d never been better– her sword still cleaved through flesh, bone, and metal alike, and her muscles carried it with practiced ease, but there was a bone-deep hollowness behind each swing’s intention.
She parried punch after punch from Iron Fist, still tanking far more of them than was strictly necessary. He still eventually fell before the soulsword, even if he left his mark in what would surely have been deep purples and greens across her pale skin if not for the healing magic being funneled into her.
“You should be more careful,” Luna offered softly, her tone carrying that deep exhaustion Illyana was beginning to know quite well.
She didn’t need a response, so she didn’t get one. Instead, Illyana threw herself at the next opponent, sword at the ready. In her haste, she missed the flash of black-and-white flying past overhead as her sword clashed against the adamantium claws of someone she’d once considered a friend. It wasn’t until she heard Seol’s pained gasps for air and cry for help that she turned, taking three adamantium claws through the side for her troubles.
Her knees gave out as blood rushed up, coating her mouth in iron and crimson. Gravity forced her down, and she let it as her vision blurred. Just as the floor came up to meet her face, a flash of orange carried her away.
She gripped the soulsword with the last of her strength, bracing it up to bear the brunt of Venom’s attack. She cried out as he slammed down against it, fraying skewered muscles as she fought to hold him back. Streaks of ice raced across her skin, numbing far less of the pain than she would have preferred as it fought the symbiote for her life. It was all far too much.
She could feel the anger– the rage– the pain– all bubbling to the surface. All there was left to do was embrace it. And just like that, she was a passenger to her own flesh and blood.
“Behold! Darkchylde!” she heard herself call out with the voices of Limbo’s horde. The soulsword cleaved through the darkborn in seconds, and then the demonic-feature-encrusted form darted into the thick of the battle, cutting down any enemy slow or stupid enough to stay in range.
By the time those soulfire orange eyes blinked back to blue, what was left of their team was bruised, battered, and surrounded by the evidence of a pain much deeper than death. Magik just leaned against a stable-enough wall and tried to catch her breath.
She hadn’t even realized she had closed her eyes until a soft, frigid hand landed on her exposed shoulder, channeling healing magic through her once again.
“Thank you,” was all the popstar said.
But it was just enough to fan the flames into a proper wildfire. Magik flinched, biting down on her tongue, as her muscles quivered with barely restrained rage. It wasn’t Luna’s fault.
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it,” she spat out instead, instantly regretting her words.
“What is your problem with me?” Luna finally snapped. “I have done nothing but try to help you and the team the best I can, but every time you look at me, all I can see is anger. Did I do something, or are you just naturally this irritated?”
Magik sighed, pulling away, but Luna grabbed her arm by the bicep and pulled her back to face her, staring through her with those unflinching, heterochromatic eyes.
“Why does it matter?” Illyana finally responded, not bothering to push her away.
“We have a job to do, and whatever your deal is with me could jeopardize that. You’re an X-man. You should know that better than anyone,” Luna reasoned resolutely.
“Yeah, well once this is over, you’ll never have to see me again, so who gives a shit,” Magik grit her teeth.
“That’s not the point,” Luna sighed, loosening her grip on the duelist. “You saved my life back there, and now you’re pissed off for no reason. So what gives?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Illyana shrugged off her grip. “Nothing matters. You’ll forget in two minutes anyway.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Luna asked, her brows scrunched in confusion, but Magik was already gone.