Moments ago, Scar had been at the brink of death. Now he stood somewhere that felt vaguely familiar, and yet he was certain he had never been there before.
A quick look at himself confirmed what shouldn't have been possible. Every injury that had him on death's door was gone. Strange didn't cover it.
But despite the confusion, he found himself hoping, quietly, that this was something helpful. And not hell.
He stood in nothing; a space, darkness in every direction with no sense of boundary or depth.
Then the world around him shifted, the emptiness folding itself into something else entirely. A forest rose in its place, abyssal and dark, the trees dense enough to feel like walls.
And somewhere within them, at a distance that made the details hard to confirm, something stood. A bizarre creature. Chained.
The chains were massive, the kind of thing engineered to restrain something incomprehensible, heavy enough to drag mountains from their foundations.
