MARVEL'S MIDNIGHT SUNS

PROLOGUE

The stars over Earth dimmed as the cosmos shuddered. Beyond the veil of reality, a storm brewed—a swirling tempest of fire, darkness, and ancient wrath. In the shadowed realm of Limbo, a voice whispered through the chaos, soft and venomous, coaxing forgotten horrors back into existence.

Lilith, the Mother of Demons, stirred from her slumber. Her skeletal fingers traced runes of malice into the air, each symbol pulsing with hellfire as she fed on the energies of an ancient prophecy. The prophecy spoke of her return, her dominion over Earth, and the enslavement of humanity beneath her talons. Yet, her resurrection was incomplete. The blade that once banished her still glimmered faintly in a hidden sanctum, protected by an ancient order that would sooner perish than see her rise again.

"The Suns falter," she murmured, her voice echoing across dimensions. Her amber eyes, burning with contempt, gazed upon the fragile world she intended to consume. "The time to rise is now."

On Earth, in the decaying halls of the Abbey, Doctor Strange meditated before the ever-flickering flame of the Sanctum Solis. His thoughts raced with visions of doom: endless legions of demons clawing through dimensional gates, cities engulfed in fire, and heroes falling before Lilith's might. The Sorcerer Supreme clenched his fists, his voice a desperate plea to the flickering light.

"By the Vishanti, we cannot face this alone."

The Abbey, a relic from the days when supernatural forces openly waged war against humanity, stirred to life. Ancient wards hummed with magic as Strange’s companions gathered: Blade, the Daywalker, his katana gleaming in the candlelight; Nico Minoru, her Staff of One glowing with untapped potential; Robbie Reyes, the Spirit of Vengeance, his Hellcharger roaring in the distance; and Carol Danvers, her energy radiating like a beacon of hope in the darkness.

"It’s worse than I imagined," Strange admitted, his voice heavy with foreboding. "Lilith’s cult has gained allies among our enemies. HYDRA, AIM, and others seek to harness her dark gifts. If she breaks the Veil and summons Chthon, there will be no Earth left to save."

Blade leaned against a crumbling pillar, his voice cold and sharp. "So what’s the plan, Doc? We carve through her followers and hope for the best?"

"No," Strange replied, shaking his head. "We need the Hunter."

The room fell silent. Even Nico, no stranger to dark magic, paled at the name. The Hunter was Lilith's blood—a half-demon warrior forged in the fires of Limbo, bound by prophecy to either destroy or aid the Mother of Demons. Banished for centuries, their existence had become legend.

"You’re serious," Carol said, narrowing her eyes. "The Hunter? The one tied to Lilith by blood and fate? And we’re just going to trust them?"

Strange’s voice was resolute. "We have no choice. Lilith cannot be stopped by ordinary means. Only one born of her line can tip the scales. The Hunter is our last hope."

From the shadows of the Abbey, a voice emerged, soft yet commanding. "And if they side with her, Stephen? What then?"

Wolverine stepped forward, his claws extending with a metallic snikt. "You call on the Hunter, you better have a plan to put 'em down if they flip on us."

Strange’s gaze didn’t waver. "We must have faith that they will choose the light. And if not—" He hesitated, then steeled himself. "Then we must do what heroes do, no matter the cost."

The Abbey’s wards pulsed, signaling an approaching storm. Outside, the sky darkened unnaturally, the stars disappearing one by one as Lilith’s presence grew stronger. The heroes exchanged grim looks, knowing the battle ahead would test not only their strength but their very souls.

Deep beneath the Abbey, in a chamber sealed by ancient magic, a coffin shuddered. Carved with runes of light and shadow, it radiated both hope and dread. As the seals began to crack, a voice—quiet yet resolute—echoed through the chamber.

"I was born in shadow. But I will not let it consume me."

The Hunter had awakened. The Midnight Suns were about to face their darkest hour.