— –Alexander Montclair– —
Limbo had exhausted everything out of him, and without realizing it, he had fallen directly on Belasco's trap.
He had starved him, kept him exhausted, and kept him on the edge. And it was then that Belasco had begun to work his way into his mind. It wasn't until Ciri herself pointed it out that he realized it.
In fact, if it weren't for how obvious and loud it was now, he probably wouldn't have even recognized it. God knows that he hadn't noticed it until now.
The glass breaking.
The more he thought about it, the more familiar it felt.
It was faint, so incredibly faint in the past, that it had gone over his head. But he could finally remember how he had arrived in the Witcher world. He remembered how the world around him had crumbled like glass.
Was that his power, then? Glass? Glass portals?
If he was being honest, with the practically inexisting experience he had, he didn't understand it. But one thing pressed against the back of his skull, he had been lied to. And Belasco, of all people, had known it from the start. Belasco wanted him for his power, and in a way, he had been cultivating him all along.
How long had he begun hearing the glass?
The sound was so faint in the beginning it was almost like he'd imagined it. But at the very least… two or three months? Could it have been longer? God, he had too many questions now, and not nearly enough answers.
Part of him even wondered if that's how he had survived Belasco's torture. Or well, Limbo in general. He remembered the brief moments before teleporting, the moments where he could see through to different places.
The familiar feeling of flashing between different versions of himself. The same way he had felt when he had first stepped into the portal when he had become all of himself, all at once.
What if his mind was fractured, like his fathers? What if he just didn't know it? What if the reason he hadn't snapped in Limbo was because he was sharing the burden with other versions of himself?
In that case, does that mean the glass breaking wasn't actually his power, and in fact just another side effect of the portal?
Or well, perhaps he had simply developed more mental issues. Dissociation and derealization were real psychological conditions, after all. In fact, that had been his original explanation for everything. His mind had just simply disconnected from reality.
He could feel the spiral waiting for him, pulling at the edge of his thoughts, but he forced himself to stop. He had bigger things to worry about.
Illyana.
Had she really escaped? Or was it all a part of Belasco's plan? He had seemed very pleased with himself during their last meeting. Not the expression of someone who had lost. In that case, what was his plan? Why let them go?
"Alexander." Ciri called out to him, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Sorry." He finally answered, shaking his head. "It's just… trying to think through everything."
Ciri didn't answer, not for a few moments until she stood up and offered him her hand to help him stand up.
"Go to bed." She said firmly. "You need rest more than answers tonight. I'll keep watch. Tomorrow we'll get supplies and be on our way."
He accepted her hand and pulled himself up, suppressing a groan at the stiffness in his body. An awkward cough escaped him as he shifted his weight.
"Uh… could I maybe… get some more money? For another round of food." He tried to sound casual, but even he could hear the sheepishness in his own voice. Embarrassing as it was, the thought of real food, warm food, was almost intoxicating. Maybe it was because of using his power for the first time, or maybe because Limbo hadn't given him anything close to a proper meal, but his stomach refused to let it go.
Ciri arched a brow, lips twitching faintly as though she wanted to say something, but instead she reached into her pouch and pressed a few coins into his hand.
"Go ask her for another round." She said. "And take the plates back with you."
For a fleeting moment, he thought she might come with him, but she simply leaned back against the wall again, clearly trusting him to manage a short walk across the room. Still close enough that if something went wrong, she'd be there in an instant.
Perhaps she simply wanted to give him some sense of independence. Or perhaps, he was simply overthinking again.
Man, he really missed Tandy. She always helped him think things through without getting sidetracked. But well, he had to shake that thought away, at least for now.
He nodded, pocketing the coins before stepping out. The tavern wasn't crowded, but enough people lingered at the tables that he felt their eyes brushing over him. Clearly he stood out, and while it wasn't ideal, he would be able to solve the majority of his issues with a good bath and a fresh change of clothes.
"Excuse me, miss." Alex said as he set the plates on the counter. "Could I have another round?"
The barkeep nodded, already reaching for them, but before he could offer the coins, someone else stopped him, placing down a few coins on his behalf.
"I got you this round." The man said, and as Alex turned around he saw someone who looked painfully ordinary. A shaved head, with rough stubble, dressed in a worn yellow tunic. But his face, his face was familiar, though Alex couldn't place why. Perhaps he was relevant enough to have a Gwent card?
"Why?" Alex asked, trying to hold back any reactions that might give away his suspicion or recognition of the man.
"Pure curiosity." The man replied, his tone smooth, almost pleasant. "Those clothes… I've never seen anything like them before. And I have traveled far, farther than most, to every corner of this world. I'm a merchant, you see."
Alex gave a faint, humorless smile and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, but I'll have to disappoint you. I'm not here to trade stories. Just hungry." However, that answer didn't seem to satisfy the merchant in front of him, judging by the fact that he didn't move. So, he simply came up with a quick excuse for now.
Depending on how the merchant reacted to it, he would be able to learn more about him. And, in the worst case scenario, he could simply run to Ciri and have her deal with the mess. Sure, it wasn't the best of solutions, but he really needed some rest before he started to come up with some in-depth plan.
He just wanted to eat, and then sleep. Or at least get enough rest that he could get rid of that annoying headache he could feel even now.
"As for the clothes, I bought them off some random merchant on the road, near Crow's Perch. I couldn't even tell you where he is by now."
"A passing merchant, eh?" The man echoed with a low chuckle, tilting his head as if amused by the answer. "I see." His eyes lingered a moment too long on the stitching of Alex's jacket, tracing the seams like he was memorizing them. Then, as casually as someone asking about the weather, he continued. "In that case, might you be interested in a trade? I would very much like to study these clothes of yours more closely. Remarkable fabric. Remarkable craft. Perhaps I could even start a line of my own."
Alex blinked, before sighing and focusing more. For one, he did need a change of clothes, so the offer was tempting. The ones he was wearing at the moment stood out too much, and, they also weren't in the best of conditions.
However, he couldn't simply throw away the last item he had from his "home." As far as he knew, it might be the last link he had to his own world. He didn't understand his power, or well, how he had ended up here completely yet. So without the clothes, he might simply end up going back to another random Marvel Universe rather than his own.
And well, while he eventually wanted to return to his own world, the one where he had been born in, that was a problem for another day.
Still, as he finished thinking, he couldn't help but raise his guard even more. The man's voice was so smooth, so ordinary, that it was hard to tell if he was serious or simply toying with him.
"I'm sorry, but I'll have to pass." Alex answered, getting ready to retreat to Ciri should he continue insisting.
The man, however, smiled faintly, unfazed by the brush-off.
"A pity." He said lightly. "Still, merchants live on patience. Opportunities have a way of circling back around." He dipped into a polite half-bow, and though Alex had expected to see or sense some sort of annoyance, the man appeared to be genuine. "I'm sure we'll meet again. Destiny is very good at arranging such things. And should you change your mind… I've no doubt we'll be able to strike a deal then."
He straightened as smoothly as he'd appeared, already turning back toward the relatively small tavern crowd, blending into the hum of voices and the clatter of mugs as if he had never stood out at all.
The part of him that recognized him wanted to know his name. He was familiar enough that it would be enough for him to remember who he was, and how dangerous he might be. But before he could call out back to him, the innkeeper made him look away by passing him another bowl and some bread, and when he turned back around to look for him, the man was gone.
"Yeah…" Alex muttered, letting out a faint sigh. "Of course."
— –Tyrone Johnson – —
Darkness. Not just the absence of light, but a thick, heavy kind that pressed on his chest and filled his head until he could barely think.
Like staring into the abyss.
A second ago he had felt strong, untouchable, high on a power that did not feel like his. Then it all flipped. The floor dropped out from under him and the cold swallowed everything.
'Maybe this is what I get.' It was his fault that his friend Billy had died. He had been unable to talk, and his stuttering had gotten him killed. It was only fair he would suffer the same fate.
But the world was not done with him.
He woke shivering, a deep chill tucked under his skin like ice water. His stomach cramped, sharp and mean, and there was a wrongness running through his limbs, like his body was a size too small.
Hungry. In pain. Afraid. It was a bad mix, and he could already feel the panic circling when a voice cut through it.
"You… kid… how are you feeling?"
He turned. The Asian man who had been forced to walk with him to get injected with that drug stood in the cell across the narrow hall. Fluorescent light buzzed above them, pale and sick. Farther down, in a different cell, the blonde girl was on the floor, still unconscious from whatever drug they had put in them.
There were no guards. No cameras. Just the three of them and the sound of distant water.
"It feels like my limbs are numb." The man said, flexing his hands as if trying to wake them up. "Do you feel the same?"
The question seemed normal, but the way the man had asked it felt wrong.
"No." Tyrone said, the word dragging on his breath. "I feel… cold." His stomach knotted again. "And hungry."
"Just cold and hungry..." The man rubbed at his chest, his expression growing somewhat annoyed. "I see…"
Ty swallowed and pushed himself up, palms stinging on the rough concrete. The bars were damp, salt clinging to the metal. However, his attention was brought onto one thing that wasn't in any of the previous cells he had been in, a window blocked by a few metal bars. He crossed to the small window and peered out.
Water. Dark, choppy. And beyond it, the city. A thin line of skyline, familiar and far.
"Ellis Island?" Tyrone breathed. His heart kicked. He moved to the bars and lowered his voice. "We're on Ellis Island." He said to the man. "We came here on a school trip last year, to the museum. There was a building under construction, a fire shut it down. I think I know where we are."
Before the man could answer, the cold rushed back. It wrapped him from the inside, a sudden plunge that stole the air from his lungs and dropped him to a knee. For a heartbeat it was like sinking in a freezing bath. Then it eased, leaving him shaking, but present.
"Are you sure?" The man asked, eyes narrowing, his tone careful.
"I remember the scaffolding, the layout." Tyrone said. "The docks are close. If we can make noise or signal someone... I don't know, maybe a ferry, security, something…"
The man watched him for a beat, then let out a short laugh that held no real humor.
"Of course…. It makes sense they'd bring us here." He shook out his arm again, as if trying to throw off the numbness. "Kid, what's your name."
"Tyrone." He said. His stomach clawed at him, empty and endless. "But just Ty is fine."
"My name is…" The man hesitated, before continuing. "Martin Li. It's a pleasure to meet you, Tyrone."
He pressed his fingers to his temple and winced. The polite smile slipped. The light overhead buzzed, then flickered, and the hum in the walls seemed to crawl over the metal. On the floor, the blonde girl shivered hard and went still again.
"Kid, we might be able to get out of here." Li said, stepping back to gauge the door and the bars. "But I'll need you to guide the way. I've been in the waters for a long time, and I need someone more familiar with New York to get me where I need to."
"How?" Ty asked, right as the cold came again.
It rolled through him, sharp and sudden, like falling into ice. His breath hitched. He counted under it to try to calm down, slow, the way he had seen his mom do so many times.
'Hold it together. Cold or not, hungry or not, hold it together.'
"Oh?" Li watched him with calm eyes that did not match the strain in his jaw. "You mentioned feeling cold, right?"
"Yeah." Ty said, pushing to his feet.
"Well, I haven't been completely honest." Li moved closer to the bars. "When I woke up, I realized something wasn't the same. And judging by what I just saw, you are like me." He tipped his chin at Ty's hands. "Kid, look."
Ty looked. Fear spiked. His hands were pitch black, not paint, not shadow, a pure void that drank the light. The edges of his fingers fuzzed and softened, like smoke trying to remember being a hand.
"Argh!" He stumbled back, and his right calf bled into the same dark fog, the shape of his leg breaking apart and pulling back together.
"Shh. Do not draw attention." Li said, voice low. He wrapped his fingers around his own bars and closed his eyes. It was subtle at first, then obvious. His suit washed to white, his hair to white, his skin going black to match the void on Ty's arms, like someone had flipped a negative filter on a phone.
"Whatever they put in us is not normal." Li said through his teeth. "I did not want to run before I knew more. Before I figured out if you two had also been changed. But if you know where we are, we cannot waste time."
Metal squealed as Li's hands squeezed harder. The bars bowed under his grip, not much, but enough to make Ty's heart kick. Li let out a tight breath and kept pulling, steady, measured. The hum in the walls rose again, and in a few more seconds, he had forced the bars wide enough that he could step out.
Ty forced his hands to stop shaking. The cold still licked at him, but under it there was something else, a pull. Not hunger exactly, but close. An empty that wanted filling.
"Do not freak out." Li told him. "Use it. You should be able to get out of that cell by yourself."
Ty crouched by his own bars and reached out. The darkness on his skin thickened, and for a second the metal seemed to blur where his fingers touched it. He felt space on the other side, a thinness he could slip into if he let himself fall.
"Good." Li said, watching. "Shape it. Think small. Edges first."
Ty nodded, gritting his teeth as he tried to focus on the feeling. To ignore just how absolutely crazy everything happening was. Perhaps he was still just high, and all of this was just another hallucination.
However, at that moment, something else pulled his attention. The blonde girl on the floor shifted, her body shifting in pain. But, when he looked at her now, it was almost as if he were looking at a candle, a small beacon of light. He didn't know why, but she looked…. Warm. His mouth watered before he could stop it. She looked like a steak on a plate.
"Argh." He jerked back and clamped his teeth together as the hunger surged. It was not a thought, it was a reflex, his body urging him to swallow the light and be done with the ache.
He couldn't understand the feeling. But he wanted to… consume her?
Punching his own head a few times to push the thought away, he focused once more, trying to feel the cold.
He had to get out. He had to run before that hunger… that feeling overwhelmed him.
Feeling the cold, he once again felt as if he were dipping himself in cold, ice water. And as the feeling overtook him, he felt his own body change. His shoulders went slick with shadow, his ribs following, and then he was slipping through the bars like they were only fog. He stumbled out on the other side, breath ragged, fingers still fading in and out before they settled back to normal.
"Good." Li said again, having watched him quietly as he escaped, already turning toward the girl to help her out. "I'm sure she can also be of use if she got injected with the same thing as us."
"NO!" Ty barked, the word scraping his throat. He backed up fast, putting the wall between himself and her glow as the hunger clawed at him. "Leave her."
The words sounded surprisingly aggressive. He wasn't one to shout like this, but he had to. If he got close, he did not trust what he would do. From the little he had seen, she seemed decent, scared like him, and he was not going to hurt someone innocent. Not again.
And, the more he looked at her, the more he could feel the twisting in his stomach, no, his very being growing.
Li raised an eyebrow, measuring him. The buzzing light flickered, and for a beat Ty heard only the hum in the walls and the distant wash of water. Then Li gave a small nod.
"So be it." He said at last. He stepped away from her cell and toward the corridor, the white of his suit sharp against the dark. "Lead the way, kid."
Ty swallowed, steadying his breath. The cold pressed close, but with the girl behind him, the worst of the hunger eased. He kept his eyes off her light, kept them on the hall ahead, and moved.
He would come back for her… he would send the cops to save her. No, he would send the cops to save everyone in here. He just needed to calm his hunger…
And calm down the hunger he did.
— –Illyana Rasputin– —
"Alex is dead." The voice came again, angry yet familiar. "If you had simply let me take over… it wouldn't hurt so much. It's not too late…"
They were supposed to save him. Ororo had promised her. They were supposed to storm Belasco's castle again, to drag him out no matter the cost. But the day after her rescue, Ororo's words had cut her down in a way Belasco never could.
He's gone.
Souls tied to Limbo could sense one another. She knew that much now. And Alex's had vanished from the realm. That only left two options, he had escaped Limbo… or he was dead. And why would Belasco ever let him go? His soul had already been fraying the night they fled. Even Ororo, with all her wisdom and certainty, had admitted she wasn't sure she could have saved him.
Perhaps Belasco had a way. But then again, that was only her delusion.
No, Illyana knew. Hope was a crueler torment than Belasco's chains. Alex had died. He had given himself up so she could make it out.
"I know." Illyana whispered, letting out a long breath as she shut her eyes tighter. "Now, are you going to keep hissing in my ear, or are you actually going to help me for once?"
Darkchylde laughed, sharp and cold, before going quiet.
Every day was the same. Every hour. Every moment she tried to breathe, the other voice slithered back. Belasco had tortured her by hurting Alex, and now that she had escaped him, Darkchylde had taken up the mantle inside her head. The worst part, the part that hollowed her out, was that according to Ororo, Darkchylde wasn't some other demon intruder. She was Illyana. Or at least the part of her that refused to die in Limbo.
Illyana had fought that truth tooth and nail at first. She didn't want to believe the monster in her head was hers. But she had seen Darkchylde. Seen the grief in her face when Alex's name was spoken.
Just like her, Darkchylde mourned him. And maybe by spitting venom at Illyana, by laying every shred of blame on her shoulders, Darkchylde was trying to bleed out the guilt they both carried. A guilt that was still clawing at Illyana.
She should have been the one to stay back that day. Not him.
There were times she wanted to cry for Piotr, to scream for Xavier, to beg for anyone to come and drag her away from this place, from herself. But she knew better now. She was alone. She would always be alone. And maybe, maybe that was what she deserved.
"You are making good progress." Ororo's voice cut through the fog of her thoughts, warm but steady, tugging her back to the present. "To think that only a few months ago you knew nothing of magic. Nothing beyond the cursed fragments Belasco forced upon you."
Illyana opened her eyes slowly, glancing at Ororo's proud expression before closing her eyes again.
"Yeah." Was all she answered, letting out a sigh as she stood up. "I can't focus. I'm going to take a walk."
Without sparing a second glance to her, Illyana walked out onto the garden, a garden that Ororo had created. She had told Illyana that even in a place like Limbo, one could create beauty if they fought hard enough for it.
But Limbo never truly changed. Not really. The skies bled the same bruised shades of red and gold, the air always thick with the taste of ash. Even if Ororo forced the plants and flowers to grow, she knew it was all fake. One stray thought from Belasco and the entire thing could crumble back to fire and stone.
Limbo was Limbo. And Limbo sucked.
"Walking out again?" Darkchylde taunted her, but Illyana simply ignored her.
Her steps carried her to the tree in the far corner of the garden, a massive thing in the middle of the garden. It wasn't truly alive, not the way trees back on Earth were, but Ororo had coaxed it into existing. That was enough.
Illyana sank down at its roots and wrapped her arms around her knees. For a moment she stayed like that, her cheek pressed against the fabric of her sleeve, letting the illusion of peace settle over her. Only when she was sure she was alone did she let her guard slip.
"Hey…" She whispered, voice catching faintly in her throat. "So, remember how you used to break down the machines you were teaching me about? To make them easier to understand." Her fingers toyed with a loose thread at her sleeve. "I didn't get it, not really… I just pretended I did so you wouldn't look so disappointed. But… it kinda works with spells."
She drew a circle in the dirt absently, the crude shape glowing faintly before unraveling into sparks.
"They are not so different… you know?" She went on softly. "I bet you'd be really good with them too. They're just… pieces. Energy, patterns, rules. Like wires and gears." Then she let out a soft chuckle. "Maybe you could make a really big magic… 'battery.'"
The sparks died away, leaving only smudged ash on the ground. Illyana pressed her thumb into it, smearing the mark until it vanished.
"You'd laugh if you saw me now." She said, her voice trembling between a smile and a sob. "Trying to act like I know what I'm doing. But at least I'm trying. To be honest, I just want to give up… to just wait for someone to come and drag me out of here. But… if I do that, then what's the point?"
Alex had kept her alive. Kept her thinking. Kept her from slipping into the madness that Belasco wanted her to spiral into. So she couldn't stop now. She had to keep moving, keep learning, even if it was ugly, even if every step forward hurt.
"Don't worry…" She whispered, forcing the words past the lump in her throat as she pulled herself upright. Her legs wobbled, but she steadied them, drawing in a long, shaky breath. "I'll make things right."
Her eyes lingered on the smudged ash of the circle one last time before she turned away. The garden around her still bled with Limbo's false skies, still smelled of fire and iron, but in her chest she clung to that fragile thread of promise.
Yes. All she needed was time. Time to pick apart magic the way Alex had taught her to look at things. In his words, magic was just science. And, Alex had spent five months teaching her how to pick apart and understand things from his point of view.
She wished she had spent more time paying attention, she wished she had been smart enough to follow everything he taught her. Wasted less time telling him stupid stories. But she could still remember a lot.
She remembered how he explained things. And while she had been too afraid, too useless to properly apply it back then, she wouldn't let that happen again. Not anymore.
He was a far better teacher than Ororo. But she would manage.
She would avenge him. She would make sure that Belasco never laid his hands on anyone again.
No matter how long it took.
She was trapped here. But, so was Belasco. And she had nothing but time.
Shoutout to @Basilisk, @Harman, and @Tertius711 for helping me brainstorm and keep on coming up with ideas for this story and for Beta Reading.