[ Heart-Shaped Herb Cave, Holy Mountain, Wakanda ]
The ground of Wakanda groaned beneath the weight of something ancient and unstoppable. Cracks split the earth like lightning frozen in stone, deepening with every pulse of energy that surged from beneath the Holy Mountain. Each wave was stronger than the last, every tremor more insistent. Vibrations coursed through the soil, into the roots of trees, up the walls of homes, shaking the dust of centuries loose.
Except for the royal structures reinforced with vibranium and the vast underground excavation sites, nothing was spared. From the borders to the heart of the city, the land trembled in protest. Livestock bolted in all directions, bleating and bellowing in panic, crashing through wooden fences and into one another in blind terror.
Wakandans, proud and steeped in tradition but never tested by earthquakes of this scale, rushed into the streets. Chaos blossomed in the marketplace, in the hills, in the compounds. Citizens called out to each other with confusion in their voices. Mothers clutched children. Elders stumbled out of shaking homes. All asked the same thing: What in the gods' names was happening?
Within the Holy Mountain, the source of this turmoil stirred.
Several high priests, known for their unwavering composure, found themselves swaying like reeds. One fell to his knees, hastily reciting ancient prayers. Others followed suit, faces pale. But the ritual halted abruptly. Each priest blinked in confusion and exchanged wary glances. A shared oracle had just whispered through their minds — calm, authoritative, and oddly casual.
It's fine. Don't bother me.
That was it. A divine "Do Not Disturb." Delivered with the breeziness of a queen waving off a trivial concern. The goddess had spoken, and the priests, devout as ever, nodded gravely.
"If the goddess says it's fine... it's fine."
Or so they told themselves, trying to believe it. But before they could find their footing again, the air thickened with a new energy.
It was Ororo.
Outside the mountain, clouds that had no business forming in the African dry season rolled in like dark tidewater. Thunder cracked like war drums, and sheets of rain began to fall — heavy, relentless. A storm was being born, ferocious and alive. Not summoned. Not manipulated. Birthed.
Daisy and Storm — one triggering earthquakes, the other conjuring tempestuous fury — were locked in a duet neither planned. Earth and sky answering each other's call. Thunder clapped as rock fractured. Lightning seared across the darkening heavens, illuminating the tilting silhouette of the Holy Mountain. The sacred slopes, already shaken loose, began to slide. The entire mountain leaned to the northwest.
Rivers surrounding Wakanda began to writhe. Swollen with diverted rain and destabilized by the trembling land, they bucked their banks and threatened to reverse course entirely. It was as if the nation's lifeblood was rebelling.
In the temple, the priests stared slack-jawed. Was the goddess... drunk?
This clearly wasn't "fine."
Across Wakanda, the panic was morphing into something worse: despair. Elders wept in the rain. Entire families dropped to their knees, heads bowed, begging ancestors and gods to intervene. Somewhere, a man cried out, "Has the king failed the gods? Is Wakanda being punished?"
It wasn't long before the blame began to swirl. Natural disasters were a rare thing here — and that made them political.
T'Challa, trying to remain steady on his feet. He was calm outside, but inside? Panic brewed like the storm above. He could see that the natural disaster was caused by these two women's special powers. He had never heard of the story of mountains being torn apart and the sky and the earth being united in causing disaster. He only knew that he was in big trouble.
Whether it is political questioning or distrust among the people, he needs to resolve them.
He didn't have any regret of helping these two women. He just hoped that the two would wake up soon.
"Wake up!" he shouted towards them. "You two need to stop this! The mountain can't take it!"
No response.
"Daisy! Ororo!" he yelled again, voice ragged with urgency.
He got lucky. On his final call, something shifted deep within the heart of the mountain.
Daisy stirred, whose enhancement was about to end.
Still cloaked in residual energy, she felt her mind sync back with her body. Her senses snapped online like a system rebooting from overload. The tremors that reached her skin weren't internal anymore. No — this was outside.
She furrowed her brow. That level of vibration? That kind of tectonic disturbance? Unless some vibranium reactor had gone rogue, she was the source. Well, at least half of it.
Awkward.
Stopping an earthquake wasn't like switching off a faucet. She'd already destabilized the energy equilibrium in the crust. Halting now would only cause more damage. So she did the only thing she could.
She waited.
She didn't open her eyes right away. That would've required responsibility. Instead, she listened to the vibrations fade. Only when the final ripple of energy dissolved into silence did she sit up.
She was covered in sand again — fine, golden, and annoyingly clinging to every crevice. "Déjà vu," she muttered. A flick of her fingers summoned a vibration so precise, it shook the sand off without disturbing a grain more.
Flexing her arms and bending at the elbows, Daisy ran a brief diagnostic of her body. The power was stronger now — fiercer, yes, but also more obedient. The defect in her ability, that self-inflicted feedback loop of resonance, had dulled. It still existed, like a scar, but now it felt more like a challenge than a curse.
Those Costa Rican insects wouldn't stand a chance now.
Unfortunately, the focus of the heart-shaped herb's enhancement is still agility. As her movement felt different. Faster. Lighter. Like her bones had been wired for sound and her tendons strung like violin strings. Her legs twitched with potential energy.
Speed boost confirmed. Her top velocity had once capped at 200 km/h, but now? If she truly pushed herself with all her strength in a short period of time... She may be able to break the sound barrier.
The beast instinct similar to the White Tiger Amulet has finally become her own ability.
And then the real horror struck.
She looked down.
Underwear. Just that. Her clothes were nowhere in sight, until she spotted them, neatly folded by a Dora Milaje and placed on a rock nearby. How... considerate.
With a sigh, Daisy bent her middle finger and flicked. The air warped as she created a localized gravitational pull — a soft tug that pulled her outfit into her hands. One quick change later, she was dressed, dry, and amused.
Her fingers ran over her arms, then her waist. Her skin was smoother than silk. If this hero gig flopped, she could easily become the face of Wakandan skincare. Her waistline, once athletic and strong, was now impossibly toned. Elegant muscle sculpted her form, lean and fierce.
Then she noticed something else.
A new gift.
The Panther Goddess had left her mark. Daisy's nails, once trimmed and utilitarian, could now shift at will — elegant claws when she needed, harmless and subtle otherwise. Their sharpness was directly tied to her strength.
Ten steps closer to making her personal claw attack technique, she mused.
She tested them on the cave wall — one swipe, two. Dust and rock flew. Ten gashes etched into sacred stone.
Behind her, several priests twitched violently, but none dared protest.
Daisy arched a brow, then retracted her claws with a soft hum. "Sorry," she muttered. "Still learning the safety mode."
She checked her chest, then turned. "Mind checking my back?" she asked the Dora Milaje nearby. "Please tell me I don't have a panther tattoo now."
The woman gave a brief once-over, nodded. "No panther. You're clear."
"Excellent."
Feeling diplomatic, Daisy turned toward T'Challa. "Thanks for the hospitality. And the medical treatment. I'll remember this. You've made a lifelong friend today."
It was genuine. And calculated. Never hurt to have a king owe you one. And while these words could not be said casually to the gods, but they could be said to a few ordinary people.
T'Challa studied her with curiosity. "That earthquake... it was you, wasn't it? Are you a mutant? Like Ororo?"
Daisy sighed inwardly. She should start carrying a sign that read: NOT A MUTANT. Maybe print a few business cards.
"No. Just your everyday superpowered girl," she said smoothly. "Definitely not on Charles Xavier's mailing list."
"Still... that was impressive. It was such a big earthquake, your abilities seem quite strong." T'Challa would be lying if he said he wasn't envious.
She offered a faint smirk. "Flawed, painful, and risky. My powers aren't as glamorous as they look. How's Ororo?" Just point out her problem gently and these righteous friends will help solve it. However, she cannot shout that she wants vibranium. She naturally shifted the topic to Storm, who was still buried in the sand.
T'Challa's jaw tensed. "I'm... concerned. No one's ever enhanced a mutant with the heart-shaped herb before."
"She'll be fine." Daisy's voice dropped an octave — calm, firm, certain.
T'Challa relaxed slightly. "Thanks."
Ten minutes passed. Daisy found a dry corner and leaned back, arms crossed.
But Storm hadn't stirred.
The earth had calmed, but the sky? It raged. The storm had escalated. Rain fell sideways. Lightning snapped through the darkness. And then — the temperature dropped.
Africa was no stranger to rain, but this... this was turning into a blizzard.
Snow.
In Wakanda.
Daisy raised an eyebrow. "Well. That's new."
She glanced up at the dark clouds whirling above the holy mountain. Her lip curled into a slow, wicked smile.
"And here I thought I was the dramatic one."
To Be Continued...
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[POWER STONES AND REVIEWS PLS]