At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the esteemed Lalia Azali serves as a dedicated teacher and is also this universe's Scarlet Witch. Endowed with formidable powers and a destiny she must face, Lalia confronts her fate amidst the school's hall...
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-Lalia
Luca coughed, his voice strained and urgent. "It's a trap. Get out of here, sestra. He's looking for you."
I shook my head, refusing to let fear take hold. "It doesn't matter. I'm getting you out of here."
As I started towards the end of the hall, a sudden, bone-crushing force slammed me against the wall. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and Luca fell to the floor, his voice a desperate shout, "Get out of here!"
Standing before me was a man with horns jutting from each side of his head, his face a grotesque, skull-like visage. His eyes were dark voids, empty and soulless, and his skin was a sickly, decaying gray. He wore a tattered cloak that seemed to shift and writhe as if alive, adding to his terrifying presence. My heart pounded in my chest, my eyes widening in fear.
His heavy, rasping breaths filled the room, and his power pinned me against the cold, unyielding wall. I struggled, every muscle in my body straining against the invisible force. He approached slowly, each step deliberate, his presence overwhelming and suffocating. The air grew thick with tension, and I could feel the weight of impending doom closing in around me.
"Vrăjitoare Stacojie," he said, his eyes boring into mine. "Scarlet Witch."
"Vrăjitoare stacojie?" The words echoed in my mind, stirring a distant, half-remembered fear. Where had I heard that before? Panic surged through me, and I thrashed against his unyielding grip, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps. His hold was ironclad, a vise that tightened with each futile struggle.
He continued his slow, deliberate march towards me, each step a heavy, ominous drumbeat that reverberated through the empty hall. The sound seemed to grow louder, more menacing, with every inch he closed between us. My heart pounded in my chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matched the growing terror in my mind. The shadows around us seemed to deepen, swallowing the light and amplifying the sense of impending doom.
"Vrăjitoare stacojie," I whispered to myself, the words tasting of dread and forgotten nightmares. "Vrăjitoare stacojie..." The memory hit me like a cold wave. I had read those words in the journal, the one my mom left behind. My heart raced as the realization dawned on me, the pieces falling into place with a sickening clarity. It was Chthon, the man who had killed my parents and hunted me and my brother for years.
Panic surged through me with renewed force. I stumbled to the side, trying to put more distance between us, but the hall seemed to close in around me. My breaths came in ragged, frantic gasps, and my vision tunneled, focusing only on his approaching form. The terror of those days, the endless running, the constant fear—it all came crashing back.
"No," I muttered, my voice trembling.
My vision blurred with fear, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from his relentless approach. The hall stretched endlessly before me, a corridor of despair from which there was no escape. Each step he took was a reminder of the inescapable, the inevitable confrontation that loomed ahead.
