[ Heart-Shaped Herb Cave, Wakanda ]
In Daisy's perception, the world had slowed to a reverent hush. T'Challa was muttering something rapidly under his breath, hands steady as he crushed the glowing herbs with methodical speed. His voice sounded almost like spoken jazz—Wakandan ritual delivered in fast-forward. She sensed as the Dora Milaje moved around her and Storm with a kind of sacred choreography.
The guards removed their outer cloaks, their motions graceful, their faces solemn. Daisy and Storm were placed side by side in a shallow pit carved into the soft earth, and the women gently covered their bodies with fine sand, like the touch of warm silk. Their arms were crossed over their chests—a burial posture, symbolic, powerful. Ritualistic.
She could feel the coolness of the herb's crushed remnants shift unnaturally. As the pulped heart-shaped herb was mashed, it began to exude heat—an alchemical transformation she couldn't quite explain. A subtle warmth bloomed from the crushed herb bowl.
Interesting.
Daisy's brows twitched, ever so slightly. She wasn't unfamiliar with reactions—chemical, mystical, or metaphysical—but this? This was something else. The transformation of the herb was unlike anything in her extensive mental archive. She had studied Wakanda long enough to know the heart-shaped herb was sacred, but she hadn't expected it to behave like a sentient compound.
Good thing I didn't try to steal it. She made a note to herself, half-chuckling inwardly. That would've ended... poorly.
T'Challa was trying to be efficient, but even he couldn't rush the full ceremony. His urgency, however, bled into his tone, his speech taking on a clipped rhythm like a panicked rapper trying to meet a deadline. He was clearly desperate to save both women, but especially Storm.
Of course, Daisy thought with dry amusement. Save the girlfriend first. I'm just the charming stranger who saved her life.
But she wasn't bitter. Storm was the one on death's edge. Daisy's own injuries were self-inflicted and mostly cosmetic—a calculated performance.
As T'Challa fed the steaming pulp to Storm first, Daisy suppressed a smirk.
There's always a pecking order, she mused.
Once Storm had swallowed the herb, T'Challa returned with another bowl, recited another round of rapid-fire Wakandan prayer, then brought the concoction to Daisy's lips.
Daisy was speechless for a while because the prayer was spoken too fast and she couldn't hear many parts clearly. Which means, so much time of her learning Wakandan language is gone in vain.
As all she heard was T'Challa praying to the panther goddess Bastet for her blessings and recovery. She had been trying to learn the Wakanda language so that she could memorize the prayers and study them carefully, but now it doesn't matter anymore.
The taste hit like burning mint mixed with gasoline and fire. It raced down her throat like a comet, and the moment it reached her stomach, Daisy felt everything around her dissolve.
Her soul—or what passed for it—was pulled from her body, heat radiating in every nerve ending as her consciousness traveled. The world of sand and caves evaporated, replaced by an ethereal, wide-open plain.
She stood barefoot in jeans and her usual black shirt on a surreal grassland bathed in vibrant auroras. Massive trees dotted the horizon, with treetops so thick and twisted they looked almost artificial. She glanced down. Still had her shirt. Good.
This wasn't her first time in a spiritual realm. The dimension reminded her of when she had been injured and had caught a glimpse of Shou Lao, Kunlun's dragon guardian. But this time? It was different. Calm. Warm. Unsettlingly pleasant.
Okay... where's the lecture or the spirit guide or some giant cat trying to claw out my soul?
Right on cue, the fog thickened. From within it, a massive panther—five meters tall, ten meter long and glowing faintly—emerged like a stalking shadow. Its eyes shimmered like twin moons dipped in honey.
Daisy raised her hands in mock surrender, forcing a soft smile. "Hey there, beautiful. Don't mind me, just trespassing politely."
The Panther Goddess eyed her with visible confusion. Not African. No faith. And annoyingly calm. Not the usual applicant. She secretly cursed the Wakandans for causing trouble for her. Her golden pupils narrowed, more curious than aggressive.
Daisy, who has no faith in her, is actually not a big problem, but Storm is the real trouble.
Storm, though nearly dead in the physical world, was an African woman of deep faith... in the Eagle God. A rival deity. Her family has believed in the Eagle God for generations, and they are the most hardcore and devout ones. Especially Ororo's identity, she is a contemporary saint.
Not exactly the best political move to show up here asking the Panther Goddess for blessings.
Meanwhile, Daisy had been studying this mental dimension. She realized now that the place was half-created by the user's mind—like a shared VR sandbox. The trees, the sky, even the grass were painted in her thoughts.
So was the goddess. A projection. Not fully divine, but divine enough.
She considered bluffing her way out. Claim loyalty to Wakanda, offer service, blah blah royal oaths. But that felt like a waste. It was rare to meet someone with extraordinary powers who seemed easy to talk to. She wanted to gain more favor from her. Screw Wakanda!
Instead, Daisy leaned into charm.
"Look, I'm not Wakandan, but I am creative," she said, grinning slyly. "How about this—you help me out, and I help you get some global visibility? Ever thought of making a movie?" Daisy could barely use some psychic abilities in real world, but now in this world made up entirely of her mental power, her abilities were magnified a hundred folds.
The Panther Goddess stopped mid-prowl, clearly baffled. Then she thought about what Daisy said while her body turned into fog and drifted for a sometime. And after some time, she thought. Was Wakanda more important or was she more important? Of course, she was more important.
Meanwhile Daisy conjured a memory and secretly change the original movie, reshaping it in real-time: a reimagined Life of Pi—except the boy was African, and the tiger was replaced with a majestic panther. The narrative was fed straight from her psyche into the Bast's projected consciousness.
The goddess tilted her head. At first skeptical, then thoughtful. Finally... impressed.
Bast saw the movie visions and gradually understood the meaning of it. It is actually more attractive than those words about guarding Wakanda and defending Wakanda.
The Panther Goddess nodded its big head to show her approval. Normally, she could withdraw at this time, but today, in order to show her approval, she padded closer and gave Daisy a slow, deliberate lick across her face. This will be considered her fulfillment of the approval ceremony.
Daisy blinked, startled. Not quite the divine handshake she expected.
Remember your promise. The Bast's voice echoed in her mind before she dissolved into a mist of stars.
Daisy snapped back to her body.
Daisy had already had an experience of being enhanced and felt it very clearly. Heat surged through her like a wildfire. The herbal energy of the heart-shaped herb now roared in her bloodstream, as if a ball of flame was coming out from the deepest part of her body and roasting her.
Several broken bones were repaired quickly, and hidden injuries caused by constant vibration practice over a year were also healed. The remaining energy had nowhere to go, so it began to strengthen the body.
She wasn't just healing—she was evolving.
The cells starting to restructure, and the new structure is stronger and more powerful, the blood flow begins to speed up, and a large amount of energy is evenly delivered to all parts of the body.
After the awakening of the alien bloodline, her physical fitness once again experienced a major enhancement.
Unlike the White Tiger Amulet she'd used before—which was always external, always temporary—this was internal. Permanent. The power was hers now, in her bones, her blood, her very cells.
Moreover, the White Tiger Amulet is not as good as herself in some aspects.
The strengthening triggered a domino effect. Enhanced strength. Sharper reflexes. Power, pure and undiluted, trying to burst from within.
And it did.
Back in the real world, the mountain itself began to tremble.
T'Challa flinched as the cave shook beneath his boots. The walls groaned. Cracks spiderwebbed outward as the very earth began to hum.
"What the hell—?" he muttered.
Several Dora Milaje steadied themselves as chunks of stone crumbled from the ceiling. The priests shouted over the noise, trying to figure out if it was a divine sign or an incoming disaster.
The mountain was shaking like a drumskin beneath a war beat. The stone beneath T'Challa's feet split open, revealing a deep fissure, a bottomless black maw that threatened to devour the cave.
He leapt away just in time.
Daisy, still lying in the pit, looked serene—but inside, her powers were rebounding. Her body was vibrating, literally and metaphysically. Her enhanced physiology was responding to the herb's raw power like it was fuel for a fire already burning.
To Be Continued...
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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]