Mother Talzin's dwelling was exactly what Matt Murdock expected from an ancient witch-queen: dense with incense that masked other scents, filled with the rustle of hanging charms and bone decorations, and thrumming with a low-frequency vibration that his enhanced senses identified as some form of magic.
Nightsisters lined the walls, weapons held with practiced ease—not threatening, precisely, but making their presence felt. A reminder that this was their territory, and visitors existed here on sufferance.
Talzin herself sat on a throne-like chair carved from a single piece of dark wood, her luminous eyes tracking the three visitors as they were led inside. When she spoke, her voice carried layers of amusement and ancient power.
"Master Kenobi. What an unexpected pleasure."
Obi-Wan inclined his head with diplomatic courtesy. "Mother Talzin. Thank you for receiving us on such short notice."
"I suspect your visit is not a social call." It wasn't a question. "You have questions for me."
"Several, actually," said the man in the red-lensed glasses.
Talzin's attention shifted to him with predatory interest. "And you are?"
"Matt Murdock." The blind man's voice was professional, measured. "I'm an associate of the Jedi. We're investigating reports of a Dathomir male who's been attacking Republic forces."
"He's killed Jedi," Anakin added, his tone carrying less patience than his master's. "Multiple Jedi. Along with entire outposts of clone troopers."
Talzin's expression didn't change. "The Nightbrothers are not under my direct control, young Skywalker. What they do beyond these borders is their own affair."
"Mother Talzin," Obi-Wan said carefully, "please don't insult our intelligence. Everyone in the galaxy knows Dathomir is a matriarchal society. The men serve the clans. I find it difficult to believe that one of your warriors is rampaging across Republic space without someone knowing about it."
A smile tugged at Talzin's lips. "How charmingly naive. Tell me, Master Jedi—do you always trust gossip and rumor as your primary sources of intelligence?"
Matt's head tilted fractionally. Talzin's heartbeat hadn't changed—steady, controlled, utterly calm despite the implicit accusation. Her breathing was measured. Even the micro-movements of her muscles suggested perfect composure.
She was good. Very good. A lifetime of deception had made lying as natural as breathing.
But everyone had tells. Matt just had to find hers.
"This isn't about rumor," Anakin said, frustration bleeding into his voice. He stood from where he'd been leaning against the wall, taking a step forward. "This is about a dangerous individual killing people. If you know anything—"
Obi-Wan's hand on Anakin's shoulder stopped him mid-sentence. The older Jedi gave his former Padawan a pointed look, then returned his attention to Talzin.
"The warrior we're tracking is extremely dangerous," Obi-Wan continued, his tone hardening slightly. "If you have information about his whereabouts, the Republic would consider it a significant gesture of cooperation."
"Cooperation." Talzin repeated the word as if tasting it. "An interesting concept. Tell me, Master Kenobi—what does the Republic offer in exchange for this cooperation?"
There it was. The real negotiation beginning.
Matt spoke before Obi-Wan could respond. "That depends on what you need, doesn't it? Everyone wants something."
Talzin's luminous eyes fixed on the blind vigilante with renewed interest. "Perceptive. Yes, I could use assistance with a matter that concerns my people."
"We're listening," Matt said.
"There is a Nightsister—an exile, a traitor—who poses a threat not just to my clan, but to all of Dathomir." Talzin's voice took on darker notes. "Her name is Gethzerion. She was once one of us, but she violated every sacred law our people hold dear. If you encounter her, she must be stopped. Permanently."
"Stopped how?" Anakin asked.
"Destroyed." The word was cold, final. "She's too dangerous to imprison, too cunning to simply exile. Gethzerion has power that rivals my own, and she uses it without conscience or restraint."
Obi-Wan and Anakin exchanged glances. Matt's enhanced hearing caught the almost-silent communication—the shift in their breathing, the minute rustle of fabric as they made eye contact.
"Wanda mentioned her," Matt said. "She seemed... concerned."
"Maximoff knows Gethzerion's capabilities firsthand," Talzin confirmed. "She can provide details. But know this: if you see the exile, do not hesitate. Do not attempt negotiation. She will use any moment of mercy to destroy you."
Matt's senses painted a picture of Talzin's physical state during that warning. Heart rate elevated—just slightly. Breathing pattern changed—barely noticeable, but there. The chemical signature of adrenaline, faint but present.
Fear. Genuine fear, carefully controlled but definitely there.
Whatever this Gethzerion was, Mother Talzin was terrified of her.
"We'll do what we can," Matt said carefully. "Now—the warrior we're tracking?"
Talzin studied them for a long moment, then rose from her throne. She moved to a table where an orange crystal sphere rested on a dark cloth. Her hands passed over it, and she began chanting in a language that made Matt's teeth ache—something about the frequencies involved made his enhanced senses recoil.
The crystal sphere began to glow. Images formed within its depths—vague at first, then crystallizing into clarity.
A Zabrak warrior appeared in the sphere's reflection, projected outward for all to see. Massive build, yellow skin covered in black tribal tattoos, wielding a double-bladed crimson lightsaber with brutal efficiency.
"The beast you seek," Talzin said, her voice carrying an otherworldly echo, "travels to Toydaria as we speak. King Katuunko is his target."
Obi-Wan's jaw tightened. "Toydaria. We need to leave immediately—"
"Before you go," Talzin interrupted, and something in her tone made all three visitors pause. "I have a question of my own."
"Of course," Obi-Wan said, though Matt could hear the tension in his voice—the desire to move, to act, warring with diplomatic necessity.
"The one who travels with you—the speedster who shares Maximoff's bloodline." Talzin's luminous eyes seemed to glow brighter. "He is her twin brother, yes?"
"Pietro Maximoff," Anakin confirmed, wariness creeping into his posture. "Why?"
"You intend to take Wanda with you when you leave." Again, not a question. A statement of fact.
Matt's senses caught the increased tension in the room. The Nightsisters lining the walls shifted slightly, hands tightening on weapons. Talzin's heartbeat accelerated—not much, but enough.
This was the real negotiation. The information about Savage Opress had been a trade. But Wanda's departure? That was something else entirely.
"Wanda is an Avenger," Matt said, keeping his voice level, reasonable. "Her team has been searching for her across the galaxy. They need her. The Republic needs her."
"She has made herself valuable to my clan," Talzin countered. "She has taught our young ones. Protected them. Become..." A pause. "Family."
"I understand," Matt said, and meant it. "But Wanda knows her team is looking for her. When we tell her about the threats we're facing, about how much we need her—she'll want to come with us."
"You seem very certain of that."
"Call it intuition." Matt allowed himself a small smile. "I'm rarely wrong about people."
Talzin was silent for several heartbeats. Then: "And the children she's adopted? The two young Nightsisters?"
"The Avengers have a habit of accumulating children," Anakin said dryly. "It's become a pattern."
Despite the tension, Matt almost smiled at that. It was true—between Natasha's adopted daughter Mara and the collective guardianship of Grogu, the Avengers were starting to resemble a very strange, very dangerous family unit.
"Illyana and Merlin," Talzin said softly, "are members of this clan. They have a place here, a community, a heritage."
"They also have a guardian who loves them," Matt countered gently. "One their mother trusted with their safety and happiness. Separating them from Wanda would be cruel—to all three of them."
Another long silence. Matt's senses tracked Talzin's internal state—the elevated heart rate, the tension in her muscles, the way her breathing pattern shifted as she weighed options.
She cared about this. About Wanda, about the girls, about what their departure would mean for Dathomir.
But she was also pragmatic. A leader who understood that sometimes you had to let people go.
"As much as I would wish otherwise," Talzin said finally, "Wanda Maximoff has the right to choose her own path. She is not my prisoner. If she wishes to leave—if the children wish to go with her—I will not prevent it."
She stood, drawing herself to her full height, and suddenly the air felt heavier, charged with power that made even Matt's dulled connection to such things prickle.
"But know this, Jedi. Avenger." Her voice carried layers of command and warning. "If harm comes to Wanda Maximoff or those children under your protection, you will answer to me. To the Nightsisters. To Dathomir itself."
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise, backed by ancient power and absolute conviction.
"Understood," Matt said simply. "We'll keep them safe."
"See that you do."
They were escorted from the dwelling by silent Nightsisters, the tension not breaking until they were outside in Dathomir's murky air.
"Well," Anakin said once they were clear, "that was intense."
"She's afraid," Matt said quietly. "Of this Gethzerion. Genuinely terrified, though she hides it well."
"You could tell?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Heart rate, breathing, chemical signatures." Matt shrugged. "Everyone has tells. Even ancient witch-queens."
"What about the information on our target?" Anakin pressed. "Think it's accurate?"
"Yes." Matt's certainty was absolute. "She wasn't lying about Toydaria. That part was true."
"Then we need to move," Obi-Wan said. "If this warrior is targeting King Katuunko—"
"We're already behind," Anakin finished. "Come on. Let's get back to the ship, inform the others, and plot a course."
They started back toward where Pietro waited with Wanda and the girls. Matt's enhanced senses painted a vivid picture of the village around them—the suspicious Nightsisters tracking their movement, the ambient magic that seemed to pulse through the very air, the distant sound of Wanda's laughter as she caught up with her brother.
"Matt," Obi-Wan said quietly as they walked. "Did you get anything else? Any other information we should know?"
Matt considered his answer carefully. He'd heard Talzin's heartbeat throughout the entire conversation, tracked every micro-expression, every chemical change. There were layers here—secrets upon secrets, plans within plans.
But some of those secrets weren't his to share. Not yet. Not until he understood them better himself.
"She's playing a longer game than we realize," Matt said finally. "This thing with the Zabrak warrior, with Gethzerion, with Wanda—it's all connected somehow. I just can't see the full pattern yet."
"The dark side clouds everything," Obi-Wan murmured. "Even here, I can feel it. The Force on this world is... different. Harder to read."
"Then we proceed carefully," Anakin said. "Get Wanda, get to Toydaria, stop the threat, and figure out the bigger picture as we go."
"The Jedi way," Obi-Wan agreed with a slight smile. "Reactive problem-solving masquerading as a plan."
"Hey, it's worked so far," Anakin protested.
They found Pietro, Wanda, Illyana, and Merlin near the landing pad. The twins were still engaged in animated conversation, Pietro demonstrating something with his super-speed while the girls watched in delighted awe.
When Wanda saw them approaching, her expression shifted—joy fading into something more serious as she read their body language.
"What happened?" she asked. "What did Talzin tell you?"
"We need to talk," Obi-Wan said. "All of us. About a lot of things."
Wanda looked at her brother, at the girls, at the three visitors from her old life. Then she looked back at the village—at the home she'd found here, the family she'd built, the peace she'd discovered in the most unlikely of places.
"Okay," she said quietly. "Let's talk."