Chaos (Sequel to Agony)

Chapter 38

||"If you look closely, you can see it in her eyes. She is a mess of gorgeous chaos, a song that never dies."||

Wanda kept seeing Markus' daughter's face in her head, and though she knew they weren't to blame for the terrible death of his daughter, she couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they had just let him go.

Nik and Wanda made their way outside, their thoughts obviously raveled by what was said at the meeting.

"Do you think they'll find this place?" Nik asked.

"We're not exactly hiding," she answered, and at sudden change in his expression, she grabbed his hand. "We've gone up against Markus and his men before. I think we'll be fine."

"He shot you."

"Yet here I am, still breathing."

Nik opened the door for her, and she strolled into the open land to find that it was empty as usual. "You never told me you got shot."

"You never asked."

"It's not something that comes up in casual conversation," he retorted, eyeing the large space gleefully. "Ah," he breathed in, "the familiarity of trees and grass."

"Let's go, before you wander off on some adventure."

Through the woods, where Wanda and Crystal sparred yesterday, her and Nik sat down together on the grass, making themselves comfortable for the tough work ahead of them.

"You've done this before, Wanda. There is no need to fear what is already instinct." His voice caressed her bones, sending her into a state of calmly solitude. Everything around her went blurry, except for Nik, who sat in front of her, his eyes patient and his mouth speaking the words that would guide her through the exercise. "Let your magic breathe," he said lastly, and she obeyed, opening her fists and turning her palms face-up.

Her magic laced through her fingers, snaking around each finger, testing out the air. She realized that this was the first time she had used her magic since returning that she had't feared the outcome.

Hexes formed in her palm, awaiting her command to fire off, but she didn't send them anywhere. She let them sit on her hand until they grew to the size of apples—two on each palm. They hovered above her skin, bobbing idly, and then, with ease and control, she let them rise above her head.

"Where do they want to go, Wanda?" Nik asked, his voice barely an echo, but still there, still near.

"Everywhere," she whispered, feeling her hexes float above her head, asking for her permission to fly away. Her mental grip on them tightened.

"Is that what it feels like, Wanda? Is this what your magic has been asking of you?"

The hexes faltered as she pondered of his questions, but she wasn't sure if she had the right answer.

"I'm not sure," she said, her hexes growing impatient. "I don't know what my magic wants—I don't know how to feed it without putting myself, or everyone else, in danger."

A confession. That's how they'd met back in Sokovia seven months ago.

When Nik had wandered through the woods behind the town, close to the cabin where Wanda and Pietro resided in, he had stumbled upon her on a bad day. She was shooting her magic into the sky, bolts of red firing aimlessly at the white clouds above.

Tears had been streaming down her face; she was frustrated, but most of all frightened.

She'd been so focused on sending her hexes into the sky, that she hadn't heard the boy approach her.