A circular tear in the sky opened slowly above Kamar-Taj, and Kurogai stepped through, appearing on the outer roofs with the casual arrogance of someone who expected trouble to bend to his will.
Below him the courtyard was chaos. Figures with no distinguishing marks poured into the sanctum, colliding with mages and initiates in frantic skirmishes. They fought like ordinary humans — no magic signatures, no enhanced speed, no signs of sorcery. The masters of Kamar-Taj cut through them easily, and yet their presence here was the oddity that pulled at Kurogai's attention.
"A pack of ordinary people attacking Kamar-Taj? That's strange," he muttered. The move made no sense; the sanctum's wards and privileges kept most civilians from stepping inside, let alone charging through its defenses.
A flash of crimson answered him. Wanda moved with a rush of energy, appearing at his side, her face taut with concern. "Kurogai," she called, relief and urgency mingling in her voice, "it's worse than I thought."
He looked to her. "What happened?"
"People just poured in, seemingly ordinary. They shouldn't be able to breach the wards," she said, voice taut. "I started to report it, then that hall over there—" she gestured to a great stone chamber nearby "—erupted with… with an evil presence. Something like an old god. It feels like a descent of malice."
Kurogai turned. The sealed hall Wanda pointed to sat like a wound in the sanctum's heart, its runes flickering with broken light. He recognized the structure immediately: one of the seals that barred an entrance to another plane — a gate specifically designed to hold back something vast and alien. In the histories of the place, that gate had once contained the entity that gave Wanda and her brother their powers. He could see the memory in her expression — a wound that never quite healed.
"Let's go," Kurogai said. "Stay close. With me here, no one will touch you."
She steeled herself and followed, moving with the quiet determination of someone used to facing things that blurred the line between miracle and horror.
Approaching the hall they found a figure stooped over a circle of blood, inscribing sigils with frantic precision. As Wanda took a step forward she went rigid, a strangled cry escaping her throat.
"Pietro?" she said, disbelief cutting through her tone.
The man looked up and grinned. "Sister," he said, the old familiarity in his voice too bright for the moment.
Pietro — Quicksilver — had vanished years ago after a reckless summoning that nearly freed the entity they'd once encountered. No one had found him since. Seeing him now, bent to the ground and drawing a blood-ritual, was a shock that made Wanda's courage flicker.
Kurogai studied Pietro carefully. The man's movements were quick and confident, and yet something about his eyes suggested he was not entirely himself. "You want to summon that god again?" Wanda demanded, looking at the summoning sigil on the sand.
Pietro waved a hand as if swatting away the accusation. "I have reasons," he said, voice smooth and coaxing. "I will not harm you, Wanda. Trust me."
Wanda's eyes were wide, fear flaring at the memory of what had almost been released before. Kurogai felt her hesitation like heat.
He stepped forward then, the air around him cooling. "Pietro," he said, voice low and composed. "You know better than this. Whatever you're trying to do will tear through Kamar-Taj and endanger everyone."
For a heartbeat Pietro's grin didn't falter. Then his gaze slid to Kurogai and something like recognition followed instantly by unease flickered across his face. "Kurogai" he said, as if the name was a physical thing that tightened his chest. The casual bravado dropped; he became watchful, calculating.
Pietro's speed had always been a gift — a blessing and a curse. Over the years it seemed to have sharpened into something else, a confidence that bordered on recklessness. He spread his hands, the blood-sigil pulsing. "I won't disobey my sister," he said, but his tone was different now, pressed and secretive. "I have reasons. I must finish this."
Kurogai did not move as Pietro began to chant, the summoning sigil flaring like hot iron. Around them the initiates tightened their lines, ready to strike, but Wanda held them back with a silent plea. The forbidden gate thrummed, responding to Pietro's ritual as the air filled with a pressure that felt older than the mountain itself.
Kurogai's mind catalogued possibilities, the quiet, clinical part of him mapping outcomes and contingencies. If Pietro succeeded, whatever waited behind the seal would step into their world — hungry, persuasive, and ancient. If Pietro failed, Kamar-Taj might survive, but Pietro himself could be consumed by whatever influence he'd already come under.
He spoke then, as if to test Pietro's resolve. "You will not tear this place open for whatever selfish end you imagine. Stand down."
Pietro's hands trembled, the speedster's jaw tightening. For an instant Kurogai thought he would relent. Instead Pietro's voice found a strange intensity. "I didn't disappear for nothing. I've learned things. I can control it. Trust me."
Wanda's face crumpled. "Pietro, please," she whispered, trying the sister's plea that had failed once before.
Kurogai watched the exchange, weighing options. Without a word he shifted, subtle and decisive, and the space around Pietro tightened like a thread pulled taut. The summoning faltered; the blood-sigil dimmed. Pietro's motion slowed, confusion flashing across his features.
"You're not the same Pietro I remember," Kurogai said quietly. "You're playing at something dangerous."
Pietro's response came in a breathless, defensive lilt. "Forgive me, my lord," he said suddenly, and the old deference — unexpected, almost comical — rippled through the scene. "I have reasons. I must do this. I will not hurt you."
Kurogai's expression didn't change.
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