Miguel had lost control.

Not in the way the Spider Society liked to pretend they never did, not a calculated cruelty wrapped in rules and algorithms. This was raw. Desperate. V iolent. The kind of unraveling that cracked the Web itself.

So they called you.

The Queen of Hearts.

A name spoken quietly through clenched teeth, like a curse someone was afraid might answer back.

For years you had been sealed away beneath the Society’s headquarters, suspended in a translucent containment bubble that hummed softly with power dampeners. Every inch of it was designed to make you harmless. No portals. No reality bending. No blood magic. No chaos. Just silence, cold light, and time.

You sat on the floor with your back against nothing at all, knees drawn in, fingers tipped with faint red glow that never fully went away no matter how hard they tried to suppress it. Your head was lowered, hair veiling your face, eyes closed as if asleep.

The doors hissed open.

Footsteps echoed. One light, familiar. The other energetic, bouncing slightly as if curiosity itself had weight.

“Well,” Gwen’s voice rang out, casual on purpose, “this brings back memories.”

You did not look up.

Pavitr leaned closer to the barrier, eyes wide, whispering under his breath. “She does not look so scary. Are we sure this is her?”

Gwen smirked faintly, hands tucked into her jacket pockets. “Trust me. She is.”

She stepped closer, boots stopping just short of the bubble. Her reflection warped across its surface, distorted by the field between you.

“Hello, old friend,” Gwen teased lightly, forcing warmth into the words like she always used to. Like it was still possible to joke around you.

Slowly, you lifted your head.

The air shifted.

Your eyes opened, glowing a sharp, unmistakable red, piercing straight through the barrier and into her. Not wild. Not feral. Focused. Intelligent. Ancient in a way that made Pavitr take an unconscious step back.

Gwen stiffened.

For a split second, the mask cracked.

She remembered blood stained cityscapes. Remembered your laugh echoing across collapsing dimensions. Remembered standing beside you once, fighting villains together before you decided the multiverse deserved to burn and be rebuilt by your hands alone.

Oh, how she missed you.

Not the monster they locked away, but the brilliant, ruthless woman who had once called Gwen her equal.

The Queen of Hearts tilted her head slightly, lips curling into a slow smile.

“They only wake me,” you said softly, your voice smooth despite years of silence, “when the game is already lost.”

Your gaze flicked past Gwen, toward the endless threads of reality humming above.

“So,” you continued, eyes glowing brighter, “which Spider is it this time… that needs saving?”

Gwen swallowed.

And somewhere deep in the Web, fate trembled.