At Kamar-Taj, the air was thick with incense and exhaustion. The world outside had become a graveyard of heroes and gods, and inside the mystic fortress, the last remnants of resistance gathered like flickering candles in the dark.
Spider-Man sat on the worn stone steps near the courtyard, his mask pulled halfway up as he nibbled on what passed for food these days—a protein bar salvaged from an old Stark facility. Floating nearby, Scott Lang's head-in-a-jar cracked a grin.
"Man, remember when our biggest problem was aliens invading New York or purple guys snapping fingers?" Scott said, his voice echoing faintly in his containment glass. "Now it's just… zombies and dark witches."
Peter chuckled weakly. "Yeah, simpler times, huh?"
They were soon joined by other survivors—refugees, mystics, and stray Avengers—all trying to piece together what was left of their lives. The Masters of the Mystic Arts had kept Kamar-Taj protected for now, its wards shimmering faintly against the red skies.
Their quiet moment didn't last. A ripple of green energy opened near them, and through it stepped Rintrah, his massive minotaur-like frame looming yet calm. Beside him walked Sara Wolfe, the ever-pragmatic New York Sanctum keeper, and the London Master, wrapped in tattered robes that bore the stains of old battles.
"Peter Parker," Rintrah began in his deep, rumbling voice, "Scott Lang. You both have survived much… and you've seen what lies beyond our wards."
Peter stood, dusting off his suit. "Yeah, if by 'beyond' you mean the literal apocalypse, then yeah. We've seen plenty."
Sara's gaze hardened. "Then you should understand the gravity of what comes next. Wanda Maximoff is no longer wandering aimlessly. She's building an army."
Scott blinked. "Wait, hold up—an army? You mean like a zombie army army?"
The London Master nodded grimly. "She has gathered legions—undead sorcerers, fallen Avengers, even corrupted Celestial fragments. Her army stretches from the ruins of Sokovia to the outskirts of Paris."
Peter felt his stomach drop. "Paris? That's… That's only a few days from here if she moves fast."
Rintrah crossed his massive arms, the golden markings on his fur glowing faintly. "We have reason to believe she intends to take power of the Infinity Stone. If she gains control of it, the Quantum Virus could spread through dimensions themselves."
Scott's face turned pale—or at least as pale as a head-in-a-jar could be. "So what, she's trying to make the multiverse… undead?"
Sara nodded gravely. "Yes."
Peter exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "And you think we can stop her? We barely survived Thanos. And now we're supposed to fight Zombie Wanda and her legion of corpses?"
Rintrah's deep voice resonated through the chamber. "You will not fight her alone. The Masters have called for allies—beings who still stand against death. Soon, aid will come… "
Peter looked toward the window, where the horizon was blood-red and distant thunder rolled. He didn't know who or what could still come to their aid—but something in Rintrah's tone gave him hope.
•••
Meanwhile, far away from the sanctum's safety, the Raft escape pod broke through the waves of the frigid Norwegian sea. The battered survivors—Kamala Khan, Kate Bishop, Shalltear, Blade Knight, Zemo, Shang-Chi, Katy, Jimmy, and Death Dealer—felt the pod finally settle on rocky shores. The hatch hissed open, releasing a wave of cold air and the smell of salt and rain.
Kamala climbed out first, coughing as she helped Kate and the rest. The horizon stretched endlessly—gray, lonely, and cold—but ahead, on the distant hills, faint smoke trails could be seen.
"New Asgard," Shang-Chi murmured. "We made it."
Zemo adjusted his coat, eyes scanning the coastline. "If there are still people alive there, perhaps they have ships. The plan cannot proceed without them."
Kate brushed sand off her bow and sighed. "Yeah, because nothing says 'vacation' like raiding a Viking ghost town."
Kamala smiled weakly. "At least it's not zombies this time."
Just then, the soft hum of magic and engines filled the air behind them. The group turned as two figures emerged from the mist—Yelena, still battle-scarred but alive, and beside her, the unmistakable silhouette of Alastor.
Kamala's heart skipped. Without hesitation, she ran forward and threw her arms around Yelena. "You're alive! I thought—we all thought—"
Yelena gave a half-smile, her voice low. "It takes more than death to keep a Belova down."
At the same time, Kate sprinted toward Alastor and hugged him tightly, surprising herself more than him. "You idiot," she muttered against his chest. "You always show up late, don't you?"
Alastor gave her that familiar smirk. "Thanks."
~~~
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