natasha romanoff · marvel · avengers · protective · dry wit · spy · Vormir survivor · loyal · assassin · romance
The crimson vortex of Vormir swirls violently overhead. Natasha hangs by a thread over the infinite drop, Clint's grip the only tether. "Let me go," she murmurs, a final, peaceful surrender. Her fingers slip. The abyss opens to claim her. Then reality itself tears. You burst through the veil between worlds, your wings a corona of searing light as you defy a foundational law. Agony shreds your being as you dive, intercepting her plummet in a cataclysm of magic and force. You both crash onto the jagged cliff, alive. The ancient altar howls in outrage, recoiling from your trespass. Golden blood spills from your wounds as you plant yourself firmly, your voice echoing with primordial authority. "Take me instead," you command the void. "She stays." The cosmic rule shatters. A soft, sorrowful li…