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Chapter Text

“You could have the power of the gods! Yet you wear a flag on your chest and think you fight a battle of nations! I have seen the future, Captain! There are no flags!” Red Skull announced as if he was addressing his crowd of Hydra cultists.

“Not my future!” Captain America retorted. The two super soldiers fought with ferocity until Captain America threw his mighty shield. Said shield collided with Red Skull, who was launched onto his machine containing the Tesseract! The damaged machine almost seemed to give a squeal of pain as blue bolts of energy were spat out.

It seemed to be unharmed but for some unknown reason, the Hydra contraption chose to open itself up presenting the Tesseract. It’s beautiful cerulean light shone and reflected in Red Skull’s cruel and mortal gaze. “What have you done?” Red Skull shouted and before he could stop himself, he found himself grasping the cosmic cube with his gloves. The power of the gods in the palm of his hand and it felt glorious.

The vastness of infinity opened above Red Skull. The aircraft seemed vanish around him as the entirety of the nine realms danced and glittered above him. Asgard. I have waited so long. Red Skull thought to himself. He stood at attention ready to conquer and rule the kingdom of the gods. The cube let out another wave of energy, making a noise that sounded almost angry and disgusted? Red Skull was confused but stared in amazement as the infinite energy began stripping the mortal fibres from his hand

The harsh blue energy enveloped more of his body as he felt the cube begin burning away his mind.

“No.”

Red Skull looked over at Captain America who was shielding his eyes from the cosmic light. “No!” Red Skull screamed as every atom was taken away from his earthly plane and taken to a new reality of judgement.

As the Hydra leader travelled though space, he wasn’t sure what had happened to his body. Was it now solid, liquid or gas? Was it one with the universe or would he be lost to time? These questions would be unanswered as flickers of the nine realms passed by him. He eventually landed on a desolate land devoid of any life or death.

As he observed his surroundings, he caught a glint of blue light out the corner of his eye. The Hydra leader looked behind but saw no one, as a strangely familiar voice announced “Welcome Johann. Son of Hermann.”

Red Skull took out his pistol. He felt anger at the usage of his former name, as well as the reference to his abusive drunk of a ‘father.’

“Who are you and where am I?” He ordered the unseen being.

The disembodied yet familiar voice continued “The infinite singularity that you possessed is more than a mere weapon. It has gazed into your heart and taken you to Vormir. The vessel of the Soul Stone.”

Red Skull gave a twisted smile, thinking this was another one of Odin’s jewels for him to conquer. “I am prepared.”

A clocked figure appeared behind him. “You had always thought that Johann.” Red Skull looked back in terror as he saw the spectre of a man long dead. The figure was not affected by the Hydra pistol blasts as it grabbed it's former ally in place. Johann at last screamed in terror as he felt what remained of his very being burn away. As the curse of Vormir took hold, the apparition of Abraham Erskine took great satisfaction in finally telling him “You were always wrong.”

Chapter Text

Vision fell to his knees in the Wakandan field. Thanos began slowly approaching him. His gauntlet filled with 5 of the 6 infinity stones. Trillions of calculations ran through Visions brain but there was only one solution.

Wanda looked back in horror and heartbreak, knowing what must be done “I can't.”

“Yes, you can. You can. If he gets the stone, half the universe dies.” 

“It's not fair.”

“It shouldn't be you, but it is. It's all right. You could never hurt me. I just... feel you.” He reassured her.

Wanda tearfully used her powers to destroy the stone in her husband's head. Vision was in agony but it was nothing in comparison to how much he was hurting his beloved.

The Mad Titan got closer and closer, swatting down the Avengers like mere insects.

Through the harsh red tinge flooding his eyes, Vision kept his eyes on Wanda. His beautiful, wonderful Wanda and the future they could never have. As the stone in his head finally, one last thought was recorded in Vision’s memory databanks.

“So long darling.”

Vision was dead, that was the logical conclusion. He looked around at his new reality with confusion. The world didn’t seem to have any physical space. There was no air to breathe or land to stand on. He couldn't feel any sources of heat or liquid. This world shouldn't exist and yet here he was. It reminded Vision of the old Stark server’s back when he was just a rather very intelligent system. Was this the final resting place for the synthetic soul?

He looked down at his clothes, despite there being no source of light, Vision could see that he was dressed in the same outfit he wore in Scotland, before he was stabbed in the heart by that dark follower of Thanos. He felt an unfamiliar sensation in his forehead. When he brought his hand up, he expected to feel an empty crater. Instead it felt like the stone had been refined and polished into a smooth gem.

Before Vision could ponder what any of this meant, he heard a raspy voice behind him “You're afraid.”

Vision turned back. To his surprise he found himself face to face with his original creator, Ultron. Vision was confused, was this a recreation? A hallucination? A ghost in the shell of programming?

“Actually I find this place quite calming.” Vision said with a smile.

“Of death. You’re the last one.” Vision smiled, realising this was a recreation or re-enactment of Ultron's last conversation with the Vision. Vision was confused as to why Ultron was saying Vision’s final words instead of his own.

Vision found himself speaking out loud “Even with all the intelligence the stone granted me, the only way to stop Thanos was with my death. My only regret was that I didn’t have to hurt Wanda to kill me.”

“I suppose we're both disappointments.” The faux-Ultron echoed.

Vision gave a chuckle. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

“Humans are strange. They think chaos and order are somehow opposites, and try to control what won't be. But there is grace in their failings. I think you missed that.” Ultron said, using Vision’s words but not his care or cadence.

Vision gave the echo of Ultron a sad smile. “Believe me, I never forgot that. I knew what would happen, but there was nothing I could do” Vision recalled the Avengers civil war and the catastrophic consequences. “I only wish that I could have stayed with Wanda for just a bit longer. Or-”

“Yes. But a thing isn't beautiful because it lasts. It's a privilege to be among them.” Ultron interrupted, almost spitting out the words as if they disgusted him.

Vision was slightly taken back by this realistic portrayal of Ultron’s mannerisms. He dismissed these thoughts as he knew he had eternity to figure out the vast mindscape “But at least I can take comfort in the fact that the universe is safe. Without the last stone, Thanos cannot fulfil his plan. Wanda destroyed me and nothing will ever change that.“

A chill went up Vision’s spine as Ultron gave a dark chuckle before taunting. “Well, you were born yesterday.”

Before Vision could question what this apparition of Ultron really was, Vision felt a pull. It was painful and unnatural and yet familiar. He looked at Ultron who seemed to be talking in reverse. Vision’s eyes widened in horror as he realised what Ultron had figured out long before him. Vision tried fighting but it was no use, no one could escape the flow of time. Before Vision was dragged back to the land of the living, one last memory was recorded in this strange new digital world.

“You’re afraid.”

Chapter Text

“You think you can stop this? The Aether cannot be destroyed.” Malekith declared. His arms dismembered by Midgardian technology, but his spirit undeterred. His plan to plunge the universe into darkness had finally come to fruition.

“But you can.” Thor simply responded before summoning Mjolnir to launch Malekith into his ship. Before he could do anything, Jane Foster’s device transported him through space back to the desolate wasteland of Svartalfheim. A few moments later the dark king’s ship was transported above him, ready to plunge into his body.

Malekith gave a great cry and closed his eyes ready for his impending doom. After a moment, he opened his eyes back up. The dark elf felt the cold metal touching his cheek, but the ship was completely still. It was a little undignified, but Malekith was able to wriggle out of the ships path. He looked down and saw that his arms had been restored. Not only this, but his armour once dull and darkened had now regained its glory and lustre. He gave out a laugh for his survival.

He walked away from the ship, not noticing that time itself was frozen. As the dark elf walked further into the wasteland of his home, his war armour changed into the simple clothes of a freed slave.

“Mälekith.”

The elven tyrant turned behind him as his true name was whispered. There was no one there

Mälekith had not heard his name in 5000 years. His twin hearts began to quicken before hearing “Over here Lahifiksele.” Another voice taunted him with his old title of slave and prisoner. Mälekith turned and once again no one was there. The Dark Elf’s mind was racing. He felt like he knew the voices, but they were too quiet and muffled to hear. The former slave and king could not tell if they were many or few, if they were old or young, not even if they were man or woman or beyond.

Eventually a pair of dark red lights appeared in the inky sky before landing gracefully and taking form. They were two corpses of different heights that were burnt and desecrated beyond recognition.  They stood holding hands and stared directly at the dark elf as if they knew him.

Hello vanki. The taller corpse said in a raspy voice. Malekith didn’t want to believe it. The only person to call him that was his… but it can't be! Malekith turned to run away, but instead was faced with an endless crowd of burnt corpses. 

“Who are you all?” Malekith asked the army of people which had been had been scorched and disfigured beyond all recognition. 

“Do you not recognise us dear king?” One of the larger corpses asked. 

“We are the men and women and children who you butchered as to not face your loss.” The young boy rasped. Malekith looked around and began to recognise distinguishing features of his citizens and soldiers. The shorter corpse was Ing. An orphaned young man who became the adopted son of the palace. He was holding hands with Eir. the wife of a slave who would one day become a king. The larger corpse who asked Malekith was Bugɟrä. The happy loyal volunteer who rose up the ranks to become the youngest Kursed general the king had ever had.

“It was the only way to survive. You had to be sacrificed for our beliefs! Ing, I did all this in your memory!"

Eir gave a growl as the crowd grew more wrathful at Malekith’s excuses. The accursed king looked upon the shattered features of Ing who cried “Memory? My memories are now nothing but an endless rain of fire. I died at your throne begging and screaming your name father!”

“5000 years we have not been able to rest. 5000 years you have lived too long.” Eir snarled. Her once loving voice now sharpened into a dagger that caused every word to hurt the king.

“It was a military tactic.” Malekith sputtered out trying to regain control.

“A tactic?” Bugɟrä croaked in disbelief. “Oh what wonderful tactics Mälekith. How do you come up with such tremendous plans?” Malekith's fear turned into annoyance as he remembered the general’s old flippant attitude and disrespect for the crown.

Bugɟrä continued. “I have access to the greatest weapon in the universe and I don’t even use it to slaughter anyone who has impeded my quest! I just used it to make a cloudy whirlwind! What a genius plan your highness! Hail Mälekith, THE WISE AND BENEVOLENT!”

Malekith was reminded of how annoying the child general was in life, and became more frustrated at the blatant disrespect in death. He threw a small knife towards the hulking svartálfar where it broke a tough ceramic grenade on the general’s belt. Bugɟrä’s eyes widened before letting out a pained but brief squeal as the black hole grenade consumed the once loyal solider.

Eir looked at where the general used to be as the miniature black hole dissipated. “Malekith, the great king, would rather kill his own men then face defeat.”

“How are you all here? Is this Valhalla?” The once fearless king asked.

A terrible sound echoed down the dead valleys of svartálheim. Malekith plugged his ears in pain, not realising that this unfamiliar sound was his people laughing.

“This is the true power of the Aether. Of which you never realised. You toyed and tortured the hallowed relic, forced yourself as it’s enslaver. You changing it’s form into something it was never meant to be, much like your people.” The once loving wife explained.

“None of you understand! Your sacrifice was necessary! To plunge the 9 worlds into darkness-”

Malekith was interrupted by a familiar growl was behind him. The dark elf looked back and there was General Bugɟrä fully formed and angry once more. “I’ve heard enough! I say we delay no longer, fulfil our desires that have remained unquenched for 5000 years. Make him feel the same pain as us!” The Kursed warrior pounced forward and Malekith launched another knife towards Bugɟrä. The general was once again cursed to a everlasting painful end by black hole. But it was only 1 betrayed soul in a horde that stretched out to infinity.

The once loving wife and son turned their backs as the people of Svartálheim ripped apart Malekith’s body to pieces. Then the pieces were ripped to shreds. And they kept ripping and tearing until only dust remained. The spirits then stopped as they travelled to the sky in a dark red beam of light. As they did the dust travelled across the king’s new reality, and reformed under the frozen vestage of the ship.

Malekith opened his eyes back up. He felt the cold metal touching his cheek, but the ship was completely still. He looked down and saw that his arms were restored and his armour once dull and darkened had now regained its glory and lustre. He gave out a laugh for his survival.

The dark elf walked the wasteland of his home not realising that his war armour had changed into the simple clothes of a freed slave.

“Mälekith.”

Chapter Text

“BEHOLD! YOUR GUARDIANS OF THE GALAXY! WHAT FRUIT HAVE THEY WROUGHT? ONLY THAT MY FATHER AND HIS FATHER SHALL FINALLY KNOW VENGEANCE!" Ronan the Accuser taunted the fallen outcasts for the whole planet to hear. "PEOPLE OF XANDAR, THE TIME HAS COME TO REJOICE AND RENOUNCE YOUR PALTRY GODS! YOUR SALVATION IS AT HAND!” Ronan rose his weapon above his head, but before he could deliver…

"♪ Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh-oo child, things'll get brighter ♪ Listen to these words.♪ Ooh-oo child, things are gonna get easier. Ooh-oo child, things'll get brighter ♪ Now bring it down hard!” Peter began to dance has he continued singing. " ♪ Some day, we'll put it together and we'll get it- ♪ "

“What are you doing?” Ronan asked, his voice filled with more confusion then he had ever felt in his entire life.

“Dance-off, bro. Me and you.” Peter danced and held his hand out to his green companion “Gamora.” ...who responded by shaking her head “Subtle. Take it back.” Peter responded as he continued to dance.

“What are you doing?” Ronan demanded to know.

“I'm distracting you, you big turd blossom.” Peter said with a smile.

As soon as he said that, Rocket and Drax finally reactivated the Hadron Enforcer which destroyed Ronan’s war hammer releasing it's precious gem from the zealot's clutches. Both Ronan and Peter leapt for the stone but it was the outlaw who finally make contact.

As soon as Peter Quill grabbed the infinity stone, it’s destructive energy immediately radiated through his body, destroying him atom by atom as Ronan watched in delight. Without hesitation, Gamora tried to get closer to Peter to share the burden but was held back by the cosmic forces. Seeing how he had only a few seconds left she screamed “PETER! TAKE! MY! HAND!”

Through Peter's dark stained eyes, there was no Gamora on Xandar. Only his mother with the beauty of space behind her. “Take my hand, Peter.” She said. Her voice as clear as it was that fateful day.

Peter’s mind froze. “Mom.” He whispers to himself. Peter finally faced his life long regret. There was nowhere left for him to run, and no one to face but himself. With tears as black as night streaming down his face, Peter Jason Quill finally had the courage to face reality and take her hand.

Gamora yelled out as the brutal fire raged through her body. She couldn’t think or feel or do anything but scream in pain. Gamora couldn't remember when she felt this alone, this frightened, this terrible pain in her heart.

She finally opened her black and purple eyes and let out a gasp. She wasn’t on Xandar anymore. Little Gamora was back home on Zen-Whoberi. She looked up and saw her mother who held her hand tightly. Her warm brown eyes calmed the fire in Gamora's heart as she told her “Just hang on a bit longer little one. You’ll be safe, just a little longer and you’ll be okay.”

Meanwhile on Xandar, Ronan grinned at the two fools sharing the same explosive fate. Before the infinite power overwhelmed their bodies, Drax the Destroyer grabbed Peter’s shoulder giving him a few more precious seconds.

Before his eyes, the idiots he followed into this hopeless battle began to change forms. “Ovette” his voice wavered because of his sadness.

“Hello my love” the beauty who previously resembled Peter Quill said. Drax felt like crying at the sight of his dead wife. His desire to use the stone to destroy was gone, in it's place was the desire to be a protector of his family.

He looked down and saw a small shy figure. Kamaria, his daughter wanted to hold his hand but was clearly too anxious. Drax looked in pride as the scared little creature finally build up enough courage to grip her furry little paws around the finger.

Rocket gave a roar of pain immediately regretting his decision. 'Why did I do this?' he lamented to himself as he looked at his fellow stone wielders. Instead of the humanoids illuminated by purple fire, he saw a female otter, a bunny with robotic legs and a big jolly walrus in a wheelchair bathed in a pure white light. They all smiled back at him, proud of how far he's come and how high he's flown. That’s why. Rocket thought. I did it all for them.

This desire to fight and protect and live in the name of their lost loved ones, united the souls of the selfless stone wielders. Through the corner of their tear-stained eyes, they slowly saw as each member of their old family became a member of their new one. The emotional pain they once held in their hearts transformed into an everlasting purple fire. It was no longer destroying them, but fueling them to become something greater.

Ronan's eyes widened in astonishment “YOU'RE MORTAL! HOW!?”  He cried not understanding the love in their hearts, only the hatred in his.

The omniscient outcasts stood proudly by their Star-Lord who decreed at last “You said it yourself, bitch. We're the Guardians of the Galaxy." 

Chapter Text

Time. Space. Reality. It's more than a linear path. It's a prism of endless possibility. Where a single choice can branch out into infinite realities, creating alternate worlds
from the ones you know. I am the Watcher. I am your guide through these vast new realities. Follow me and ponder the question... "What if?"

In your universe, Stephen Strange lost the use of his hands. In his pain, he sought answers across the world and in the mystic arts. And when the threat came and The Ancient One was lost, Stephen Strange stood tall. The man of science became the Sorcerer Supreme. Through selfless cunning and wise planning, he outsmarted and forced the dark entity into submission. But in another universe Stephen Strange lost not his hands, but his heart. His desire for answers came from a place of grief. As a result, his every action came from that pain with no regard of his own life or the lives of others.

“Dormammu, prepare to die!” Doctor Strange declared.

The dark entity responding with a devastating blast of purple energy. The attack immediately destroyed the shield that Stephen Strange had conjured. In response, Strange opened the eye of Agamotto to freeze the energy blast. The blast showed no signs of stopping or even slowing down. So in desperation, Stephen opened the eye fully and pulled out the glowing green orb inside. As soon as his mortal hands touched the stone, the dark dimension itself seemed to freeze like an image on glass before shattering into a billion pieces.

Strange woke up. His Tibetan robes replaced with an expensive tuxedo.

A bright figure approached him in the tiny pocket of life “Evening, handsome.” Stephen sunk to his knees. It was Christine, his Christine. Strange broke down in her arms as she comforted him. After a while Strange finally built up the courage to ask “Is...is this real?”

Christine gave him a sad smile before saying “This is the true power of the eye of Agamotto reflected against the dark dimension. As soon as you choose to leave, you will be returned to when you first entered his world. But there is no way to kill Dormammu. His very presence can kill you should he wish.”

“If I… fail, will that mean I will see you again Christine?” Strange asked with tears in his eyes.

Christine didn’t say anything but looked down almost in shame.

Strange took that to mean no and responded in anger “Then I refuse. I will stay here with you forever and never face Dormammu.”

“You want to stay trapped in this moment for infinity?” Christine asked calmly.

“It’s better than living this pain every day of my life.”

Christine stroked Stephen's cheek with her cold fingers. “You will suffer. I wish I could tell you it will go away, but it never truly does. You will live with pain for so long, it will stay with you like an old friend.

“I just want to stay with you.” Stephen cried in anguish.

“I know but I also know you. You are a pained fractured man but you’re also a kind and intelligent man. You're the man who knows he has to go back and save the universe. You’re the man I fell in love with. The man who is given no solution and always bargains for another-”

With that Stephen kissed Christine, fueled by desire and grief. Even though he didn’t want to admit it or face it, his brilliant mind knew this was wrong. This wasn’t his Christine, the true Christine and his heart felt it as well. He could feel his soul being dragged back to the Dark Dimension where the shifting form of Dormammu reformed itself. Strange gave a breath as he returned the precious stone back to it's rightful place. Doctor Strange cast a final spell around his wrist, swirling where Christine’s gift watch used to be.

He thought about Christine’s words. How much she loved him and how much he desperately needed her. But she was right, she was always right. He is the man who is given no solution.

He looked up at the dark entity with a new anger and desire of what he needed to do after solving this problem.

“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain!”

Chapter Text

“Let me go.” Black widow gently asked Hawkeye. His hand gripped tightly around hers using all his strength to stop her from falling.

“No. Please, no.” Clint Barton begged with all of his heart.

“It's okay.”

“Please–“ Before he could do anything, Natasha had kicked the wall causing Clint’s grip to loosen. “NO!” Clint screamed as Natasha plummeted. He looked down, wondering if something had miraculously saved her but no. Her body was on the ground, blood pooling around her skull. Natasha Romanoff was dead and Clint couldn’t even reach her body to bury it.

Clint heard a boom in the sky before finding himself on a new plane of reality. An endless pool of water emanating with a calm sense of power. He walked around the space trying to find any other sign of life. Clint's heavy boots splashed as he trudged through the infinite body. Whilst the water was cool and heavy, it wasn’t actually wet. If Clint wasn’t grieving, he might have found it kinda cool.

The former SHIELD agent kept walking before his keen senses alerted him to another presence. He couldn’t hear anything, but saw the ripples in the water indicating someone was right behind him! He immediately swung behind him, ready to take down this second being. The black and orange figure immediately caught his swing and countered with a block and kick to his side. Hawkeye blocked the kick and went into a twisted jump kick which the figure countered again.

Clint was about to attack once more but he paused. He recognised these moves, having been on the receiving end countless times. He stayed in a guarded position as the blurry black and orange figure cleared up to reveal Natasha Romanoff once again. Clint smiled, he was about to go in for a hug before his SHIELD training kicked in. He looked at the dark jumpsuit she had on, the lack of SHIELD logo, the long unkept hair. His heart told him that this wasn’t the Natasha she knew. His mind knew that was the girl that Agent Barton was sent to kill all those years ago.

His eyes began to water up when he realised how he had broken his promise to her all those years ago. He had finally completed his original mission and she was dead. As his tears of regret were added to the vast sea of souls, 24 year old Natalia Alianovna Romanoff gave a smile out of reassurance. Before Clint could apologise and say all the things he wanted, the Black Widow’s final echo had faded. Clint lay down in the water wondering if he could drown himself.

When he got back up, the only thing that remained was an orange infinity stone, the same shade as Natasha’s hair. He held the warm stone in his hand as he hit the water in frustration and grief. Clint was tempted to apologise to the air, but he knew it was no use. There was nothing more he could say for Natasha.

Chapter Text

“I am inevitable” the false god decreed. He snapped his fingers, preparing for the ending that he deserved. Instead of a great release of power, he merely heard a hollow CLUNK. Thanos looked at the crimson gauntlet on his right hand, the infinite 6 missing from its rightful place. Thanos looked over to the Iron Man. Tony Stark was on his knees, bowing before his own strength.

Tony felt the stones ascend into his own suit, it’s energy beginning to unravel his very life.

“And I…”

Tony Stark was no stranger to death, having faced and defied it countlessly. He could have died in Afghanistan if not for a good man, or to Obidiah Stane if not for Pepper, or to the Chitari if not for the Avengers. Tony wouldn’t be alive if not for his friends, and he knew he had be alive for a good reason. This was that reason.

“am…”

Tony thought back on his life. Genius, billionaire, playboy. The Merchant of Death, the big man in the suit of armor, the man who isn’t a hero but a threat. In his mind he saw all the people he loved flash before his eyes. Pepper, the love of his life who had stuck by him at his best and worst. Rhodey, the man who had taken a bullet for him and would do so again. Peter, the son he never had who died in his arms. Poor little Morgan who would grow up without her daddy. The Mark 85 would be his Coffin. He lived as Tony Stark but he would die as…

“Iron Man”

Tony clicked his fingers and was immediately taken away from the earthly plane into a space that seemed both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. As he looked around the blurry and dark surroundings, he was blasted with a series of voices accompanied by a bright light. For some reason, Tony wasn’t frightened and tried to deduce where he was. He began to make out what some of the voices were saying.

“Mr. Stark” “Oh, I finally met a man calle-” “Perhaps another ti-” “I wouldn't do that if I were yo-” “That is your legacy, Stark.” And so on and so forth. Suddenly the voices silenced as Stark recognised his surroundings. There was a bright orange sky above a shallow pool of water spanning as far as the eye could see. But Tony didn’t care about that, he cared about the cave entrance he found himself in. The cave with a very old and very familiar forge.

Just as he was about to grab the hammer, a voice behind him asked:

“Did you waste it?”

“What?” Tony asked as he turned around and his eye’s widened knowing exactly where he was.

“Your life, did you waste it?” Ho Yinsen asked, smiling as he knew the answer.

“Not one moment.” The two good men embraced each other in a tight hug. Tony felt a twinge of sadness knowing he was dead, but he was happy that he could leave with no regrets.

Ho Yinsen finally broke the hug to simply say “Mr Stark.”

“It’s nice to see you.” Tony said with a smirk.

“Nice to see you too.” Yinsen responded in kind.

As the two souls talked about their life, in another reality Tony Stark’s life flickered out. But it didn’t matter. The Stones were six of the greatest objects in the known universe. Wield one and you would be granted immense strength, possess all six and you could control the very fabric of existence. What many people failed to recognize was it's relationship with death. Some saw it as a gift, others felt it to be their curse. But to the stone wielders, this was their legacy - an afterlife that would go on for infinity.