The veil of night hung heavy over Queens, but not even the dark could hide the tension in the air.
Peter Parker couldn't sleep.
Not because of any obvious threat—not some alien invasion or robotic uprising—but because of a whisper. It crept through his dreams like a fog, staining every thought with an eye that never blinked.
The same eye that had begun appearing everywhere.
Mirrors. Water. Phone screens. Car windows.
And sometimes, terrifyingly, behind his own pupils in the reflection.
He sat upright in bed, sweat clinging to his shirt, and stared at the ceiling.
"This isn't normal," he muttered. "This is… something else."
---
Downtown Brooklyn – The Graffiti Oracle
Miles Morales stood on a rooftop, silently sketching in his notebook. What began as tagging had become something else. The art poured out of him like prophecy—faces he didn't know, places he hadn't been, and cryptic symbols he couldn't decipher.
Lately, his murals always ended with the same thing: an eye.
It wasn't just some logo. It *watched* him.
As he completed his latest sketch—a scene showing Peter, Wanda, and a faceless man in a mirror—he felt a ripple beneath his sneakers. The roof beneath him *shivered*, like reality itself was nervous.
"Okay," he whispered, backing away, "what the hell is going on?"
Behind him, a reflection in a puddle turned its head independently and smiled.
---
Kamar-Taj War Room
Illya Strange traced multiversal signatures on a glowing map suspended in the air.
"He's nesting inside the spiritual fractures caused by past paradoxes," she said to Wong. "Westview. The Snap. The incursions. All of them left scars—and he's sewing threads through each one."
Wong pinched the bridge of his nose. "He's building something."
"Or unbuilding," Illya countered. "With Amon, the goal is often reversed. Instead of creating a future, he destroys the certainty of it."
She pointed toward Queens. "I want to bring the spider boys in. Both of them. Their timelines have enough narrative force to counteract Amon's manipulation."
Wong nodded slowly. "And the Scarlet Witch?"
"She's already dancing on the edge. Either she joins us—or she joins *him*."
---
Amon's Chamber of Reflection
Amon sat cross-legged in a pocket dimension shaped like a cube of mirrors. Within each reflection: a version of himself—some old, some young, some not even humanoid.
"Interesting," he murmured as he watched Peter toss and turn in bed.
A reflection of a teenage Amon whispered, "He suspects."
The one wearing plague doctor robes answered, "Let him. Doubt is the first gift."
Amon smiled.
He rose from his seat, tipping his hat to the collective of himself. "It's time for a test."
With a flick of his cane, a ripple danced across dimensions.
---
Queens – The Nightmare Begins
Peter jolted awake, only to realize he hadn't actually woken up.
He stood in a hallway of mirrors, endless and silent. His costume was gone. He was just Peter—confused, vulnerable, alone.
From the glass around him, versions of himself whispered:
"You let Aunt May die."
"You couldn't save MJ."
"You're not even the best Spider-Man."
The corridor twisted.
The reflections began to bleed red, their eyes turning monocled, their voices blending into one.
"Who are you, Peter Parker?" they asked in unison.
"I'm—" he choked. "I'm trying."
"But trying is not truth."
Suddenly, one reflection stepped out of the glass—a duplicate Peter, but smiling like Amon, with a single glowing monocle.
"Let's see what you *really* are."
---
Sanctum Sanctorum – Emergency Astral Recall
Peter awoke gasping, drenched in sweat, clinging to his ceiling like an animal.
A flash of golden light ignited his room, and Wong appeared mid-sigil.
"Sorry for the intrusion," he said. "But you're being hunted by something that doesn't follow the rules of reality."
Peter blinked. "You mean like the IRS?"
Wong didn't laugh.
He held up a reflective shard.
Peter saw something impossible: a version of himself, broken and laughing, carving spirals into the mirror behind him.
"His name is Amon," Wong said grimly. "And he's interested in you."
---
Cult Ascension – The First Ceremony
In the abandoned subway tunnels, the Maskbearers gathered for a ritual.
Their leader—a man now calling himself The Mirror Priest—held up Amon's card. As he spoke words that twisted the air, a silver tear opened in the wall.
From it stepped a being cloaked in shimmering fabric, face hidden.
They bowed.
"We seek truth," the cult chanted.
"You seek permission," the being replied. "But truth has no gatekeeper."
He raised a mirror.
Each cultist looked.
Each saw a secret they'd buried—and fell to their knees screaming.
The Mirror Priest laughed. "This is only the beginning."
---
Meanwhile – Wanda's Inner Conflict
Wanda stood atop Mount Wundagore, breathing heavily.
The Chaos Magic surged inside her, restless, whispering.
She'd felt Amon watching.
He hadn't contacted her again—but his presence was always just beyond her thoughts. Like a dream half-remembered.
"Why haven't I warned the others?" she asked herself.
She knew the answer.
Part of her wanted to see what he'd do. Part of her missed the clarity of chaos.
The part she hated most… was beginning to *agree* with him.
---
Amon and the Watcher
Within the Realm Between Realities, Amon stood before Uatu.
"You know you don't belong here," the Watcher said.
"I never did," Amon replied with a wink.
Uatu's eyes narrowed. "You're upsetting the balance. Entire timelines are bending."
"That's the thing about balance," Amon said, tipping his hat. "It's only interesting when it tips."
He stepped forward.
The Watcher flinched—for the first time in eternity.
"You watch," Amon said. "But I… *play*."
With that, he vanished.
And Uatu, the ever-calm observer, felt a rare and unfamiliar chill.
---
The Web Trembles
Miles called Peter that night.
"Bro, something's wrong. I painted you again. But this time you were—different. Laughing. Scary. You had a *monocle.*"
Peter swallowed. "Yeah. I've seen him too."
A long silence.
Then Peter said: "We need help. Real help."
Miles nodded. "I know a guy. Wears a cloak. Talks weird."
Peter sighed in relief. "Finally. Someone *normal*."