Half a month had passed.

Wanda had already grown familiar with everyone in Malrick's apartment.

But their first encounter hadn't exactly gone smoothly.

The initial time she visited, she was greeted by the sight of Sherry and the two sisters—Natasha and Yelena—lounging around in rumpled pajamas, their hair disheveled, and clearly at ease in Malrick's home.

Wanda's innocent heart wavered. For a fleeting, awkward second, she wondered if Sherry was the result of one of Malrick's youthful indiscretions.

She blinked, stared, then awkwardly muttered her goodbye, failing to mask her unease. Her smile didn't quite reach her lips as she turned to leave, her steps carrying a hint of confusion and melancholy.

Yet only days later, Wanda returned.

She couldn't stay away.

The nightmares were too intense, recurring every night with terrifying clarity. They felt less like dreams and more like vivid recollections—visions of other versions of herself locked in endless conflict, drenched in blood-red light and violent power.

In those dreams, she was merciless, draped in scarlet, her magic obeying every whim. A flick of her hand could erase a life. She moved like a goddess of war, emerging from a crimson void.

But Wanda, in this world, had never killed anything beyond interdimensional beasts and the occasional hostile creature. She wasn't prepared for the intensity of those visions. Every morning she woke up disoriented, as if she'd lived someone else's life.

She needed someone to talk to. Someone who could understand magic, and help her calm the storm in her mind.

And who else but Malrick?

She tried confiding in Pietro. He'd just clutched his head in mock horror, whining, "One sister is already a handful. Please don't tell me there are more of you in other universes!"

So, after Wanda smothered him into the couch with a pillow, she returned to Malrick.

And just like that, what started as a desperate visit became a steady routine.

Within two weeks, Wanda was part of their rhythm. She'd learned that Shirley was a girl Malrick had adopted, and her tragic backstory mirrored Wanda's in more ways than one. It drew Wanda closer, made her feel less alone. Something in her heart, previously heavy, now felt a little lighter.

"This time, it was different," Wanda said, pressing her fingers to her temples, eyes shadowed with fatigue. "She destroyed every copy of the Darkhold across the Multiverse... and died beneath the collapsing Mount Wundagore."

She let out a slow breath, her voice soft. "The dream lasted forever. Even now, fragments of it keep replaying."

"And just like before," she added, extending her hand, "I've retained some of her spells."

A faint red glow flickered from her fingertips. The color darkened rapidly—too rapidly—turning a deep, near-dried-blood hue. Blackness began spreading over her fingers.

"Stop!" Malrick's voice sharpened.

He stepped forward immediately, casting a sealing spell to halt the energy buildup. Grabbing her hand, he let his own internal power surge, purging the tainted magic from her body.

"That version of you was already mentally compromised by the Darkhold," he said sternly. "And you—barely a novice—dare to follow her path?"

"Dark magic, especially anything that affects the mind or violates the laws of nature, is no joke. You need to understand the boundaries."

He paused, frowning. He never imagined he'd find himself in Wong's position—scolding someone over forbidden magic.

But just as he prepared to lecture more, he looked up and froze.

Wanda was gazing at him, eyes soft and full of trust. Her fingers remained resting in his palm, delicate and still, like a quiet animal waiting for affection.

But Malrick's eyes were drawn to something else.

Floating just above her head—translucent, crimson, ethereal—was a crown.

It shimmered faintly, a ghostly construct of magic. Through it, he could still see the wall behind her, but he knew the truth.

The crown was real.

And once it solidified, Wanda would no longer just be herself—she would become the Scarlet Witch in full.

The power to reshape reality within her perception would be hers, just like the Wanda from the main universe who had paid for her ascension with the lives of everyone she loved.

And this Wanda… had reached this stage in just two weeks?

Faster than even Malrick's pace before he entered the Starry Sky World.

"What is it?" Wanda blinked up at him. "Is there something on my head?"

Malrick rubbed his temple. "No… just envy."

"Envy?" Wanda tilted her head, clearly confused.

"I mean," he said, shifting the topic, "we need to go over this again."

He reached out, lightly tapping her forehead. A calming wave of Mind magic passed through her, relieving her tension.

"Dreams," he began, "are sometimes windows into parallel versions of ourselves. We've already established the Wandas in your dreams are your counterparts in other universes."

"Most of them," he continued, "had their Chaos Magic awakened by the Mind Stone. You're different—yours awakened through the Space Stone."

Wanda nodded slowly, her eyes fluttering closed as the magic soothed her thoughts.

"And only you," Malrick went on, "seem capable of dreaming about alternate selves. And every time you do, you gain some of their abilities, correct?"

"Yes," she murmured, her expression relaxed. "Their spells… their control… it all transfers over."

Malrick leaned forward.

"Then it's likely your connection with the Space Stone is enabling you to sync across dimensions through dreams. That's an application of Chaos Magic on a spatial level."

He paused, letting the logic sink in.

"All Chaos Magic is equal in potential. It's the user's understanding and technique that define its power."

Wanda opened her eyes, hesitant. "So... does that mean I'll keep dreaming about other Wandas forever?"

"I'm not interested in their lives," she muttered, "and it's exhausting."

Malrick flicked her forehead lightly. "Chaos Magic isn't a curse. These dreams mean your control is lacking, not that the power is flawed."

"And if you're not even trying to control it," he added, "then of course it's going to run wild."

He stood, brushing off his robe. "That's enough for today. The solution is simple—practice. The more you train, the better you'll control it. Except Darkhold spells. Avoid those."

He walked her to the door, noticing her hesitance to leave.

"You'll check in next week," he reminded her. "Let me know how your training goes."

Wanda paused by the doorway. "And if I can't control the Chaos Magic? Will you still… help me manage it with your Mind magic?"

Her voice was quiet, almost teasing, like someone asking if their favorite massage therapist would still take appointments.

Malrick shot her a dry look. "Absolutely not. You're not getting lazy. If I hear you're still dreaming next week, I'll trap you in an illusion with dreams inside dreams."

Wanda winced and laughed at the same time. "You wouldn't."

He raised a brow.

She hurried off.

___

Patreon.com/Zphyr_

Advanced chapters available on patreon.