Chapter 17: Queen of Otherplace, King of......

Heat.

It was everywhere. So suffocating it felt like a blanket. So complex it felt as cold as it did hot, lifting the hairs on Bronte's skin even in his deep sweat. Making him shiver even if no air visible in the cold escaped his growling lips.

Growling.

As the blackening miasma of feral rage that clouded his brain faded, he found himself somewhere else entirely. No reflective metal floors. No air-conditioned room full of Mutants.

In fact, there were no Mutants. He couldn't smell anyone for that matter. Anyone other than the Mutant laying below him. Her golden hair laying in a stranded mess against the cracked steaming floor. Her blue eyes looked like rings of glacial ice trapped in within her confused and frightened expression.

She didn't move from beneath him. Even with the flaming sword in her grip, because if she did, his claws would puncture her throat. He didn't retract them-- even as sentience returned to him for one reason.

"Tell me where we are right now." Bronte's voice was odd. Guttural-- thunderous.

A bolt of lightning crashed into the ground somewhere off the distance. In response something screeched, sounding both like a bird a man and something else entirely. It made his skin itch.

"You're in the Limbo Dimension...." Her accented voice cut through the chaos like butter.

Even so, the answer did nothing for him. He had no idea what a Limbo Dimension was. He also had no idea why he felt so impossibly strange.

He tried a new angle, one drawn from memory, "You were fighting to kill..... why? Why the fuck would you want to kill me-- I've done nothing to you... are you working with Romulus?"

The questions rolled off his tongue, influenced by paranoia-- fear, the irritation built up over days of fighting Daken the tormentor... days of being pulled, pushed and shoved in every direction.

By the time he was done speaking, he was growling-- even the sky was growling. Steadily spitting blasts of lightning and turbulent winds.

His vision flashed in and out of red.

"TALK DAMMIT!"

"Wh-- Who is Romulus--"

"WHY!.....Did you try to kill me in there!?" Bronte interrupted wildly.

"I didn't! I was trying to get you angry-- to bring out your true form!" Illyana explained, trying to lay deeper into the floor to get away from his boneclaws, now coated in lightning that sparked and snapped at her face.

Bronte took in a deep inhale to try and quell his confusion-- his anger, "ARE YOU STUPID?!"

"No-- I'm suspicious. I'm suspicious as to why you are different-- and why I react to you. That's never happened with any other Mutant I've met-- it only ever happened with Belasco...Belasco is a bad man. I thought you were too...Illyana explained.

Finishing her words, she suddenly just stared at him. Bronte returned her gaze, breaths heavy and senses alert as things in the distance continued to cry out. Her face was no longer hard as stone with all the killer instinct a Mutant teenager could muster. She simply looked.... curious-- sad almost.

"You aren't what I thought you were... you adjust fast-- frighteningly fast. But, you really are just a boy..... thrown into a world you never thought of entering."

Illyana sighed and simply laid against the hellish floor. No more fear, no more fight. "I was mistaken."

Bronte didn't relax, "And you don't know who Romulus is?"

"All I know is the founder of Rome-- something tells me that's not the man you speak of...." Illyana replied.

Bronte shut his eyes, "Man, what the fuck...."

As he got up, he lifted Illyana to her feet, surprised at how he'd almost lifted her off the ground entirely.

Before she could move, he kicked her sword out of her hand and raised his claws to her once again, "Tell me what happened-- right now. And tell me how we got here. You may not work for Romulus, but you still violated."

Daken's first rule in training. Once you're on their throat, don't let up. Press harder. He may not have been following it to a tee, but he also wasn't completely ignoring it. Just never thought he'd have to use it so early....

Illyana's eyes widened in panic as she looked from him to her sword. The cries in the distance morphed into a hungry howl that shook the floor. He didn't look away from her, he couldn't. And with the sounds so far, the only threat in the area was the very being that brought him where he was now.

"Bronte-- I understand your confusion..... but you have to let me retrieve the Soulsword. Our lives may very well depend on it."

"Illyana, the benefit of me being new here is that I don't have to believe a thing you say-- tell me what happened."

Illyana pursed her lips in frustration before admitting defeat, "Ok. I watched you train-- I asked Rahne how your trainings were going after her conversations with Hank. What they said increased my suspicions after our first meeting. Then you started..... doing that...." She explained while pointing at him.

Bronte ignored it, urging her to continue.

"Anyway. I noticed that the feeling never left. So, during the training event, I worked to make you assume your true form. Once it happened, I took you here."

Bronte felt himself fully being attuned to his surroundings. Truly feeling one thing. It was not earth.

"Illyana.... where is here?"

"This is where I grew up."

Bronte, satisfied with her story but still full of questions, turned to look at what exactly he'd been thrown into.

To put it simply, it was hell. He'd been taken to hell. For miles on end, cracked ground spitting acrid flames was all he saw. Flaming valleys and rivers of fire where beings he couldn't accurately described swam and burned. Further beyond a city stood out like a poor and nightmarish rendition of New York.

Skyscrapers reached up towards the stormy sky. Black monoliths cracked and broken, massive winged beings flew to and from their perches like dragons posing as seagulls. Like gargoyles. Other smaller buildings spit flames and raged as dozens of bodies spilled from the interior like insects. Like an infection. All black and slimy, lined with claw and fangs.

Some buildings looked alive. Abandoning the reflective black surface of windows-- or the iron framing of human architecture. Some buildings were fleshy-- bulbous and lined with fat. Covered in glowing veins that pulsed with life. Adorned with eyes that watched him even from the incredible distance they shared.

Every time a bolt of lightning fell, the eyes blinked chaotically, and the beings crawling through the streets scrambled to the shadows screaming madly.

"Some people call it Hell.... some say Otherplace.... Blackspring... a piece of The Nexus of All Realities. It is simply where I was captured and raised."

As Bronte took his eyes from the horrific sight to look at Illyana, he found that she had changed. Black plated horns erupted from her head, contrasting with the clean gold of her hair. Her skin had taken on a smokey greyed tone, and a barbed tail waved at her back. Her glowing eyes matched his own in a weird way.

"What the...." Bronte mumbled.

"I thought bringing you here would give me answers... and a chance to end you if need be. But I don't even think my servants can reach us.... I've never seen storms in Limbo...."

"Servants..... you lead those things?"

"Whoever wields the Soulsword rules over the Limbo Dimension. Which is why I need to retrieve it."

Bronte lowered his hand. Illyana walked off to retrieve the weapon. Once it was in her hand, the world changed. It calmed, no more constant billowing flames and deafening screeches at all times. But the storms raged on. They were out of her control....

"So..... you thought I was here to kill you-- and I thought you took me to do the same.... well maybe not a thought." Bronte mumbled.

"Yes." Illyana said, almost abashedly.

"Why couldn't you have just spoken to me..... I was trying to be cool with you anyway."

"I find that I'm better with my hands than my words." Illyana explained.

"Look where that got you." Bronte replied as she stood beside him, watching the world beyond. So far from danger made it almost pretty. In a dark and twisted kind of way.

"Yea well.... usually, I'm better. You are still a mystery-- even if you are as new you as seem. Look at you...."

Bronte did just that, looking down at himself to find that the tophalf of his uniform had been incinerated. Lightning danced along the contours of his muscle like sparky accents. The sweat beads on his skin moved and held the structure of veins, traveling up and down his skin with the cadence of his breaths. He suddenly realized; all the wind he'd been feeling was focused on him. Shown in the way Illyana's hair on her right side was the only part to move.

At his feet, fire didn't burn between the cracked stone floor. Water rose and circled him like a small hurricane. Sometimes turning to ice only to be melted by the rise of steaming currents.

He held a hand out, watching as the water rose to meet his touch.

His spine hummed-- reminding him of that day. Only minus the rage. He was simply present as he conjured the liquid wall, now speckled with lightning and snowflakes that melted and reformed infinitely.

He found his reflection staring back at him in the watery wall. His hair a flaming beacon of white. His eyes to match with sparks of energy lining them. His veins bulged at the tensed state of his muscles. He'd never seen the Storm-State before. It was..... intense, to put it lightly.

"What is this?"

"Magic is more responsive here-- easier to work with. Manifestation isn't a barrier for any Sorcerers, Witches, or spellbound folk, it is simply an option. The longer you stay, the easier it gets.... and the more you change." Illyana explained.

Bronte suddenly had an idea as to why she looked the way she did. The thought lingered in his mind for a moment before he found himself caught on something else she said.

"Magic?"

Illyana let out a haunting laugh that sounded more akin to the beings below, "You really are new... you don't even know all of your abilities."

Bronte stayed silent. At this point he wouldn't be surprised if Hank had withheld the fact that he wasn't even from earth. Maybe that would explain why Raze was so bizarre.

"Now you understand why I reacted to you..... and why I was suspicious. You get it, don't you?"

Bronte found himself looking over at the demonic Mutant.

"You may be a Mutant.... like me. But you're also something else. Something heavily connected to Magic..... not just any magic. Magic strong enough to threaten an entire Dimension."

Illyana turned to face him and took a step closer, holding out her hand.

"I'm sorry for my mistakes and how they've affected you. Now that I know the truth about you, allow me to fix this... maybe one day, I can help you learn more of this magic in you... when your plate is less full and this world is less new to you. Within that time, I hope you can forgive me. But for now, let's just go back to the Institute."

Bronte eyed her suspiciously before taking her hand, never letting the claws disappear on his freehand as she shot out a portal and led them through....

***

No more than two minutes had passed since Bronte and Illyana disappeared. But all hell was about to break loose anyway inside the Institute.

Laura stood facing Cyclops, Daken, Raze and Gabbie at her back. Cyclops' X-Men did the same with Charles trying his best to mediate the disaster.

"You just ALWAYS have to intervene! You stuck up bastard! Even when I came here by myself, and the Lupines broke into the old Institute..... they killed so many children. You still wouldn't let me leave! You never change, Scott!"

"Your blood and the man that binds you all is more important than half the Mutants in this room RIGHT NOW! Think about Mutant kind for once, Laura!"

"Fuck Mutant Kind, and fuck you. I'll be damned before I let Bronte sit here and watch this school get torn to shreds every month because Romulus revels in watching us suffer before taking us. You want to sacrifice all humans of Salem and Mutant children of the Institute, fine. You're not doing that while I'm here. And you're not doing what you did to me, to him."

"We're still searching for him... you know we never stopped." Cyclops said, sounding almost hurt.

"Yea well, you all fucking suck. And you know I know, you take the jobs that put you all in good favor. I know your goal, Scott. We're still searching for him, what a joke. Fraudulent Captain America looking mother fu--"

Between them, a blue ring manifested with a loud screech following by the space within filling and expanding. The two opposing forces split in the wake.

From within the portal, monstrous winds exploded followed by bolts of lightning and rainfall splattering the ceiling above.

In a flash, two beings stood. As inhuman as could be.

Illyana faced the X-Men, fully demonic and unapologetic about it. Her blade burned like a blue sun and the ancient ornate armor that once only covered her arm had spread to her neck and chest.

Facing the children of Wolverine, Bronte stood. Storm-State fully awakened. No rage. Only confusion as the state faded and he regarded them all.

".....There may have been a misunderstanding. Why do you guys look like you're about to fight, though?"