At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Lalia Azali hides more than most. She's not just a surgeon-she's this universe's Scarlet Witch, a title whispered with fear and awe, tied to a power she never wanted and a fate she can't outrun.
Logan sees t...
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Serbia, Yugoslavia 1982 -Lalia
When Luca and I hopped off the bus, our feet hit the pavement with a soft thud. We were so excited to be home after a long day at school. "Bet you can't beat me to the house!" Luca challenged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
"It's not fair, Luca! You always cheat with your super speed!" I protested, crossing my arms in mock annoyance.
Despite my protest, we still took off running towards the house. "Trči!" I shouted, as our backpacks bounced with each step.
Luca's laughter echoed in the air as he zoomed ahead, his super speed giving him an unfair advantage. The neighborhood was alive with the sounds of kids playing and dogs barking. The air smelled like freshly cut grass and the faint scent of someone's večera cooking nearby.
I pushed myself as hard as I could, but it was no use. By the time I reached the front door, he was already there, grinning from ear to ear. "Told you I'd win," he said, still catching his breath.
I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile. "Yeah, yeah. One of these days I'll beat you, debil," I muttered playfully.
As soon as we stepped inside, something felt off. The air was thick with a metallic scent that made my stomach churn, a stark contrast to the usual comforting aroma of mama's cooking. The house was eerily silent, the kind of silence that made your skin crawl. "Luca, do you smell that?" I asked, my voice trembling.
He nodded, his face pale. "Yeah, something's wrong." His usual bravado was gone, replaced by a look of genuine fear.
We walked further into the house, each step feeling heavier than the last. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, shadows dancing ominously on the walls. My heart pounded in my chest, every beat echoing in my ears. The silence was deafening, broken only by the creak of the floorboards beneath our feet.
"Luca, maybe we should call someone," I suggested, my voice barely a whisper. But Luca was already moving ahead, his steps quickening as if pulled by an invisible force.
We rounded the corner into the living room, and that's when we saw them.
Our parents.
Lying lifeless on the floor, blood pooling around them.
The sight hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of me. My heart stopped, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.
Luca grabbed my arm, his grip tight and desperate. "No," he whispered, his voice breaking. His usually strong and composed demeanor shattered in an instant.
Luca collapsed to the floor beside me, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared at our parents' lifeless bodies before us. The reality of the scene was too much to bear, the horror of it all sinking in like a lead weight in my chest.
