"Are you the one?"
The voice didn't come from anywhere. It simply was—resonating in the space between thoughts, bypassing ears entirely to speak directly to something deeper.
Anakin's entire body went rigid. His hand flew to his lightsaber as he spun around, eyes scanning for the source.
"Wait—" He turned to the others, his expression caught between confusion and alarm. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Ahsoka asked, her own hand hovering near her weapon.
Anakin shook his head, uncertainty flickering across his features. Maybe he'd imagined it. The Force was so thick here, pressing against his awareness like a living thing. It could be playing tricks on his mind.
But then he noticed Vision. The synthetic Avenger had tilted his head, his luminous eyes narrowing in concentration. The Mind Stone pulsed with golden light.
He heard it too.
"Are you the one?"
This time, everyone heard it.
Six heads turned in unison, and there—where empty space had been mere seconds ago—she stood.
The woman was breathtaking in a way that transcended conventional beauty. Her gown flowed like liquid light, cream and gold fabric that seemed woven from dawn itself. Green hair cascaded past her knees in thick waves, each strand moving with life of its own, crowned by a delicate golden headdress that framed her face like a halo. Jewels adorned her—not as decoration, but as if precious stones were simply part of her nature, growing from her skin like flowers.
But her eyes held their attention. Ageless. Depthless. Ancient.
"Hello," Anakin managed, his usual confidence faltering.
Obi-Wan stepped forward, one hand raised in a peaceable gesture. His Jedi diplomatic training kicked in even as his instincts screamed that this was no ordinary being. "Who are you?"
"I am the Daughter."
Peter's web-shooters twitched involuntarily. "That's... a name. Good name. Very... specific." He winced as Ahsoka's elbow found his ribs with precision. "Ow! What? I'm being polite!"
"You're being weird," Ahsoka hissed.
"I mean no disrespect," Peter added quickly, hands raised.
The Daughter's gaze swept over them, lingering on each face, but always returning to Anakin with unsettling intensity. "Are you the one?"
Anakin's frustration bubbled up. "The one what? Look, I don't know what you're asking—"
The Daughter's attention shifted abruptly to Vision, T'Challa, and Peter. Her expression—serene until now—showed the faintest flicker of something. Curiosity? Concern?
"You do not belong here," she said simply. "You three... you are not of this galaxy."
Vision inclined his head. "None of us should be here, strictly speaking. We were pulled into that structure against our will."
The Daughter's eyes narrowed fractionally, her gaze fixing on the Mind Stone in Vision's forehead. For a long moment, she simply stared. Then she turned with fluid grace, her gown swirling like morning mist.
"I will take you to him," she announced, speaking primarily to Anakin.
"Who's 'him'?" T'Challa asked, his analytical mind already cataloging everything unusual about this encounter—which was everything.
"Wait, did you bring us here?" Ahsoka added, stepping forward. "Was that whole portal thing your doing?"
"Only he can help you return." The Daughter's voice carried absolute certainty. "Time grows short. You must come with me. We must reach shelter before nightfall."
She began walking—or perhaps gliding, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground—toward a path that wound between floating islands.
The team hesitated, exchanging loaded glances.
"This planet gets more bizarre by the minute," Anakin muttered.
Obi-Wan's hand rested briefly on his former Padawan's shoulder. "As long as we stay together, we'll handle whatever comes. We've faced worse odds."
"Have we?" Peter asked. "I feel like meeting mysterious glowing ladies who talk in riddles is pretty high on the 'weird danger' scale."
But they followed anyway. What choice did they have?
As they walked, the landscape itself seemed to shift around them. Not subtly—visibly.
"Is anyone else seeing this?" Obi-Wan gestured at the trees lining their path. The leaves had been bright spring green when they started walking. Now, before their eyes, they deepened to the rich emerald of summer, then began bleeding into autumn's rust and gold.
"The seasons are changing," T'Challa observed, his voice carrying scientific fascination despite the impossibility. "But not gradually. It's as if we're moving through time rather than space."
The air temperature confirmed his observation. They'd started in pleasant spring warmth. Now heat pressed down on them—midsummer's weight. And in the distance, through crystalline air, they could see autumn colors spreading like watercolor bleeding across canvas.
"There's no wildlife," T'Challa continued, his enhanced senses detecting the absence. "No insects, no birds, no animal sounds. Just... silence."
"It's wrong," Ahsoka said quietly. "Beautiful, but wrong. Like a painting of nature rather than actual nature."
"Can you feel it?" Obi-Wan's question was barely above a whisper, but everyone knew what he meant.
"The Force," Anakin confirmed, his voice tight. "It's everywhere here. Not just present—concentrated. Like standing in the heart of a star."
"Her energy signature matches it," Vision observed, his sensors locked on the Daughter's retreating form. "She's not just using the Force. She's of it. Similar to Bendu, but... purer. More fundamental."
Obi-Wan stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I've encountered many Force-sensitive beings in my years as a Jedi. This feels different. Primal."
"Yeah, I picked up on that when she magically appeared from nowhere," Peter said, his spider-sense maintaining a low, constant buzz at the base of his skull—not quite danger, but definitely awareness. "Still doing that, by the way. My everything-is-weird sense is going crazy."
Anakin quickened his pace, pulling alongside the Daughter. "Excuse me, but who exactly are we meeting?"
"The Father." She didn't turn, didn't slow. Simply answered as if it were obvious.
"Of course," Ahsoka muttered. "The Father. How silly of us not to guess."
Vision's curiosity overrode his caution. "Who are you? What do you represent?"
The Daughter finally paused, turning to face them. Her expression held something that might have been sadness, or perhaps infinite patience.
"We are the guardians of the Force," she said, her voice resonating with harmonics that seemed to come from the planet itself. "We are the connection. The beginning. The end. We are what is."
Peter threw his hands up. "Oh good, a completely clear and not-at-all cryptic answer. That definitely helps."
"You're gods," Spider-Man said suddenly, the pieces clicking together in his quick mind. "Or god-like beings. Force gods? Is that a thing? That's a thing here, isn't it?"
The Daughter didn't confirm or deny. She simply smiled—a expression so serene and ancient that it made Peter's skin crawl.
Then her smile vanished.
The autumn landscape rushed toward them like a tidal wave of color and temperature. The mountain beneath their feet shuddered—subtle, almost imperceptible, but Anakin's battle-honed instincts recognized it instantly.
Peter's spider-sense exploded into full alarm. "LOOK OUT!"
He and Anakin moved in perfect synchronization, both launching forward. Anakin grabbed the Daughter's arm while Peter bodily tackled her, all three of them rolling clear as tons of rock crashed down exactly where they'd been standing.
The rockslide split their group—Anakin, Peter, and the Daughter on one side, the others driven back by falling stone and billowing dust.
Vision's density shifted instantly, his body becoming intangible as he pulled Obi-Wan and Ahsoka backward through the debris. T'Challa's enhanced reflexes put him at the cliff's edge, but as stone crumbled beneath his feet, he stumbled—
A black-gloved hand shot out, fingers locking around Obi-Wan's wrist. The Jedi Master, despite his precarious balance, used the Force to anchor himself and pulled, hauling them both to safety.
"My thanks," Obi-Wan gasped, nodding gratefully at the Black Panther.
"We're even," T'Challa replied, his usual composure only slightly cracked.
On the far side of the rockslide, the Daughter rose to her feet with inhuman grace. No dust clung to her gown. No scratches marred her skin. She looked exactly as she had before—perfect and untouchable.
But her expression had shifted to something cold. Dangerous.
"You should not have touched me." Her voice carried an edge sharp enough to cut.
Peter blinked behind his mask. "We... saved your life?"
"Peter," Anakin warned, climbing to his feet but keeping his body between the teen and the suddenly ominous woman. "She might just be startled."
"Startled?" Peter's voice climbed an octave. "We just kept her from getting crushed and she's mad about it? Does she even understand how saving people works?"
Anakin didn't respond aloud, but privately, he agreed. That wasn't the reaction of someone who'd just been rescued. It was the reaction of someone who'd been transgressed against.
What kind of being considered a life-saving tackle an insult?
The Daughter's gaze shifted upward, tracking the rockslide's origin point. Her expression transformed again—this time to something approaching concern.
"My brother's territory," she said, that ethereal quality returning to her voice. "He knows you are here. You are in danger now." She looked directly at Anakin and Peter. "Wait here. Do not move from this place."
Then she simply vanished—not walking away, not flying, just ceasing to be in one location and presumably existing elsewhere.
Anakin and Peter stared at the empty space she'd occupied.
"Hey!" Anakin shouted at nothing. "Wait! We're coming with you!"
"Not surprised," Peter said flatly. "Somehow, I'm not surprised at all."
The comm in Anakin's ear crackled to life. "Anakin? Peter? Are you alright?"
"We're fine, Master," Anakin replied, already examining the rockslide for a way through. "But our guide just abandoned us."
"She ditched us," Peter elaborated, his irritation bleeding through. "Saved her life, she got weird about it, then disappeared. I'm starting to think this whole planet needs therapy."
"Return to the ship," Obi-Wan instructed. "Establish communications with Rex and Cody. We'll find a way around this obstruction and rendezvous with you."
But Anakin was already studying the rubble, his tactical mind plotting routes. "We need to go after her."
Through the comm, Obi-Wan's sigh was audible. "What if it's a trap, Anakin?"
"Then we spring it." Anakin's voice carried that particular brand of stubborn determination Obi-Wan knew far too well. "We can't just sit here."
"Anakin—"
"We'll be careful," Anakin cut him off. "But that woman—or whatever she is—mentioned her brother and danger. That sounds like information we need."
Peter webbed a secure handhold on the cliff face. "Plus, she said she was taking us to someone who could help. I really want to meet that someone. Preferably before nightfall, since she seemed worried about that."
Obi-Wan's exasperation traveled clearly through the comm. "You're both impossibly reckless."
"We'll find them," T'Challa assured him, his voice steady. "Give us a moment to navigate this rockslide."
"I'll go after them now." Vision was already rising into the air, his cape billowing despite the lack of wind. "If they encounter the Daughter again, they may need support. Or mediation."
"Are you certain that's wise?" T'Challa asked.
"No," Vision admitted. "But there's something about Skywalker—the Daughter is drawn to him specifically. Whether that's good or dangerous remains to be seen. Either way, I'd rather be present."
Without waiting for further discussion, Vision accelerated, his form becoming a streak of red and gold as he soared over the rockslide toward where Anakin and Peter were already climbing.
He found them halfway up the obstruction, Peter using his webs to create handholds while Anakin enhanced his jumps with the Force.
"Need a lift?" Vision offered, descending to their level.
"Vision!" Peter grabbed his extended hand gratefully. "Yes, absolutely, flying is much better than climbing."
Vision pulled Peter up while Anakin made one final Force-assisted leap to the top. Together, the three of them surveyed the path ahead—more floating islands, more impossible geometry, and somewhere in that maze of autumn-turning-to-winter, a mysterious being who may or may not want them dead.
"This is either going to be really enlightening," Peter said, "or really, really bad."
"Often," Vision observed, "those outcomes are not mutually exclusive."
Anakin activated his lightsaber, the blue blade humming to life. "Then let's find out which one we're getting."
They moved forward into the shifting seasons, unaware that every step took them deeper into a test that would challenge everything they thought they knew about the Force, about destiny, and about themselves.
On Mortis, nothing was ever simple.
And the Daughter's brother was waiting.