Inheritance of ash

We all need family... or something close to it.

The air is cold in the hallway.

Not real cold. Not wind or weather.
A wrongness kind of cold.

The walls are close - too close - the kind that feel like they're leaning in. Old stone. Damp. Smells like rust and candle smoke. Her footsteps don't echo. They should, but they don't.

She walks. Barefoot. Quiet.

Somewhere behind her, a voice speaks. Male. Smooth. Ancient. It doesn't say her name, but it feels like it's talking to her.

"You were never meant to end up here."

She turns—no one's there. But the hallway stretches longer behind her than before. Infinite.

A door appears ahead. Wooden. Warped. Etched with strange, swirling symbols she almost recognizes. Almost.

Her hand lifts toward it, even as something in her gut screams don't open it.

But she touches it anyway.

A flash.

Green light, sharp like a blade. A scream. A laugh. Fire.

And then—

⸻

AVENGERS TOWER - OUTSIDE VICKY'S ROOM

"...She doesn't trust us," Steve said quietly.

Tony was pacing again, hands moving faster than his thoughts, probably. "No kidding. She wakes up in an unfamiliar room with six heavily armed strangers and a grudge against sidewalks. Of course she doesn't trust us."

"She's dangerous," Natasha said. "You all saw it."

"She's scared," Steve corrected.

"So were half the villains we've fought," she replied, unmoved.

Tony stopped pacing long enough to run a hand through his hair. "She's also not from this universe. Or maybe she is. Depending on which part of her vague mystery orphan trauma you want to believe."

"She's from somewhere," Thor added, arms crossed. "The magic in her blood is not of Midgard. I would stake my hammer on it."

"You say that like it's a good thing," Natasha muttered.

Steve exhaled. "I think the more important question is: why now? Why her? And why drop her at our front door?"

As if on cue, the elevator dinged.

Bucky and Sam stepped out - Bucky carrying two bulging grocery bags like he'd been tricked into helping, and Sam waving a receipt like a battle flag.

"I told you we should've just done curbside!" Sam was saying.

"And I told you we're not paying forty bucks for delivery fees just because you panic-buy name brand cereal!" Bucky stomped past him.

"They're Honey Nut realness, and you know it."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "We have a situation."

Sam blinked. "You mean besides the apocalypse-level tension in aisle six over gluten-free crackers?"

Natasha smirked faintly. "Yeah. A kid fell through space."

Bucky stopped. "Seriously?"

Tony clapped his hands. "And she's got attitude, possibly powers, and the worst fake name since 'Ken Adams.'"

"Where is she now?" Sam asked.

"In there," Steve said, nodding to the closed door behind him. "Resting. Or glaring. Or plotting our deaths. Hard to say."