Might of will

Om stumbled into the scene, his vision blurred by dust and smoke. His heart hammered in his chest as he surveyed the landscape of destruction—a haunting and twisted ruin where his home once stood. Every shattered wall, every broken piece of his life around him spoke of devastation, loss, and something ominously unfinished.

His body tensed as his mind raced through questions that churned within him, but one thought overpowered the rest: he had to find Iryna. Their last conversation echoed in his mind like a beacon, urging him forward. His hand shook as he called out to Aether, his AI companion, his voice raw with urgency.

"Aether, locate Mom's last known position," he commanded, his tone teetering on the edge of desperation.

Aether responded with a faint ping, directing him toward a corner of the wreckage. Swallowing the terror that clawed at his throat, Om scrambled over broken beams and jagged stone, his hands frantically digging through the rubble. The sharp edges cut into his fingers, and the dust choked him, but he pressed on, his muscles burning, his mind singularly focused. Each second dragged painfully by, amplifying the silence that loomed around him.

Then, piercing through the oppressive quiet, he heard it—a faint, fragile voice. "Om…help me…"

Hope surged within him, a flame igniting against the darkness. He dug faster, his fingers numb, his thoughts drowned out by memories of Iryna's gentle voice, the way she would soothe him with her laughter and ease his fears. "I'm coming, Mom!" he shouted, his voice breaking, his throat raw.

A few yards away, Olek was guiding Wanda and Pietro through the chaos. The twins were shaken, their wide eyes reflecting the surreal horror around them. But Olek's steady, unwavering presence anchored them. "We're not giving up," he said firmly, his voice a lifeline that bound them together, giving them the strength to keep moving.

"Stick close, keep moving!" Olek urged, steering them toward where Om was frantically digging. The weight of uncertainty loomed over them, but Olek's fierce resolve gave them a glimmer of hope. Om's cry of relief echoed through the ruin as he finally heard Iryna's voice again, faint but alive, filling him with desperate determination.

As they cleared the debris, Olek could sense the growing unease in Wanda and Pietro's expressions. He paused, his voice softening as he spoke. "Let me tell you something about Om," he began, his tone reverent, inviting them into a shared memory that held pieces of their brother's soul.

The twins grew quiet, leaning in to listen. Olek recounted a moment from years ago—a day when Om, barely five years old, had spotted Pietro near a lively lake, dangerously close to the water's edge. Despite his own fear, Om had rushed forward, pulling Pietro to safety as he nearly drowned. "He's always been a protector," Olek said, his gaze steady, a quiet pride in his voice. "Even when he didn't understand the risks."

Pietro listened, his skepticism fading as he absorbed the story of Om's bravery. Wanda watched Olek, a new understanding dawning in her eyes, as she began to see her brother through a different lens. This moment of shared stories, of family legacy and silent strength, became an anchor that bound them amid the chaos, grounding them in an unbreakable bond.

Olek continued, his voice laced with a gentle honesty. "You were both so young, just two years old. That day, your mother and I were preoccupied, tending to Wanda. But in one fateful moment, Pietro slipped and fell from a railing, right by that lake. Panic struck me as I struggled to set Wanda down safely, but Om—barely a child himself—leaped from above, diving in after you. It looked like a reckless act, but he reached you, held you close, and began whispering apologies as he checked to make sure you were safe. 'I'm sorry… so sorry,' he kept saying, over and over."

Olek's voice grew softer, and his expression clouded with memory. "After that, we looked for Om's family. But as we searched, it became clear he was alone. The authorities had no record of him. It was as if he had appeared from nowhere. And there he was, crying, left without a family—just as he'd saved you."

The twins gasped, stunned. "What? Om…isn't our blood brother?"

Olek nodded solemnly. "Yes, we adopted him after that incident. He became part of us, as if he had been with us from birth. We knew, from that moment, that our family had gained another son, another brother, someone who would give his life to protect you both."

"Then…why didn't you ever tell us?" Wanda asked, her voice tinged with hurt.

Olek sighed, his face etched with regret. "I feared you might see him differently, that knowing might alienate him from you. But now, it's time. You both deserve to know the truth. And Om deserves your love and respect—he may need it more than ever in the days to come."

The twins exchanged looks, anger fading as a newfound determination settled in their expressions. They had always loved him as their own, and they would continue to do so.

"Om has carried so much alone," Olek admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "I never told him how proud I was, how deeply I respected him. He bears so much, without asking anything in return."

Olek's words settled over them like a blessing, each syllable strengthening their resolve. Om, Wanda, Pietro, and Olek turned back to the rubble with renewed strength, each driven by a fierce sense of family, pushing against the debris that separated them from Iryna's voice. Her words became clearer, filled with love and encouragement. "You're so close, my love!" she called, and Om's heart swelled, his hands moving faster.

As Om cleared the final pieces of rubble, he reached out, whispering a promise. "I will protect us… no matter what happens." Just as they managed to pull her free, the ground beneath them trembled ominously. A warning echoed in Om's mind—there was little time left before everything collapsed entirely.

Working in silent tandem, they pulled Iryna to safety. As she emerged from the wreckage, her injuries became clear—bruised, bloodied, yet alive. Exhausted but united, the family gathered around her, relief mingling with an unspoken fear of what lay ahead.

Om's gaze fell upon a twisted, metallic casing half-buried in the debris—a bomb, unmistakably stamped with the name Stark. Recognition jolted through him, twisting his stomach with horror as he realized this device might be the cause of the ruin surrounding them. Shadows of memories stirred within him: glimpses of a man with piercing eyes and undeniable charisma—the name Stark, a haunting echo, resonated deeply. Was this destruction linked to Tony Stark, the elusive figure from his fractured memories?

The device ticked ominously, and Om's heart seized as he heard the subtle, escalating whine of its timer. Realizing it was moments from detonation, he turned and ran, desperation tearing at his limbs. But as the countdown reached its crescendo, Wanda, terror-stricken and trembling, shouted through her tears, "NOOOOO!"

A brilliant red glow surrounded the bomb casing, halting it mid-explosion. It trembled, caught in a surreal, pulsating field of energy as Wanda, from a distance, exerted every ounce of her will. But the momentary victory came at a cost—her power waned, and with a heart-wrenching gasp, Wanda collapsed.

Pietro dashed to his sister's side, gripping her shoulders, frantic. Om, witnessing the sheer toll on his family, felt a profound weight settle onto him. The devastation, the anguish—it all felt like part of something far larger, a threat looming on the horizon, and he was bound to it in ways he couldn't yet understand.

In the midst of the devastation, Om's mother, Iryna, lay against him, her body weakened and her breathing faint. Clutching her close, Om's voice broke, thick with desperation. "We have to move her, Dad! We need a hospital!"

Olek's attempt at reassurance rang hollow, his own voice trembling. "Pietro, go—find help!" he ordered, his face stricken with fear.

Pietro nodded, setting Wanda carefully aside before sprinting into the wreckage, only to return moments later, eyes wide with horror. "The nearest hospital…it was destroyed in the bombing!"

Om's heart plummeted. His vision blurred as he looked down at Iryna, his mother, her skin turning cold in his trembling hands. His fingers pressed into her palm, holding on with a desperation that clawed at his soul.

"Aether," he choked out, voice trembling with desperation, "are there any hospitals nearby?"

After a momentary search, Aether's voice came, quiet and solemn. "Boss, none within five kilometers. And the closest facility lacks the capacity to treat Mrs. Maximoff's injuries."

Om's grip on his mother tightened as his own helplessness suffocated him. Her hand slipped slightly, and in that moment, her fingers gently squeezed his, a final gesture of comfort, of love. "I'm here, Om," she whispered, her voice a soft murmur against his grief. Her eyes, though weak, held his gaze, conveying a silent message that broke his heart. "You are stronger than you know. Look after each other. Protect them."

As Iryna's strength faded, her words seared into Om's heart—a blessing, and a burden, a legacy that left him as her voice fell silent forever.

A wrenching emptiness flooded Om's chest, leaving a hollow so deep it felt boundless. Tears streamed down his face, his throat raw as he tried to speak, but all that escaped was a broken, guttural cry: "NOOOUUU! NOOOUUU!" His voice ripped through the stillness, raw with agony, reverberating like a shockwave that seemed to reach into every fiber of his being, carrying his sorrow into the empty sky.

As his cries echoed into silence, Om collapsed beside her, the weight of grief pulling him into darkness. His world spun, and he fell, surrendering to the exhaustion, to the sorrow that swallowed him whole.

Twins and Olek burdened with death of Iryna now, added with Om's sudden fall caused panic. His family caught him, their grief blending into a shared moment of loss.

In his dream state, he was trapped, watching helplessly as shadows of his loved ones faded away. He reached out, crying in the silence, only for the scene to shift—a hand of mixed vibrant colors among them purple being dominant reached for him, and he felt its grip tighten. When he tried to move, his body resisted, frozen by unseen chains. The space shattered around him, fragments of glass and broken memories, until he found himself facing reflections of people: capes, a shield, a bow, and his siblings' faces, filled with determination.

Om shocked awoke to the familiar ceiling of his office, the sounds of his family close by. He gasped for air and felt the thirst as he breathed air. As he saw twins near him and his father near blanket covering the body of Iryna, he forgot about thirst but despair filled his eyes and tears wailed and his vision blurred. The sadness and despair made his mind numb to the coldness he thought he had to feel normally seeing the chilling night. Being tired of the helplessness determination within him roared to life, his soul marked by loss, by duty, and a resolve forged from despair. His journey had only begun, and he would see it through to the end, for those he had lost—and for the family that remained.