Following the tragic events of Westview, Wanda Maximoff spent months delving ever deeper into the pages of the Darkhold, learning of more and more infernal beings, eldritch evils, and black magics foul enough to terrify her to her core. It didn't matter. If her lost children could be returned by magic it was worth the terror, worth any price, but poor Wanda learned too late that when bargaining with entities beyond mortal comprehension, you need to choose your words carefully.
Sunk to the forsaken depths of the foundational plains, where dwell the oldest and most malevolent forces across the dimensions, Wanda's soul was torn, her mind shattered, and her body twisted to suit her abyssal husbands' needs. The creatures of the deepest pit had no need for beauty, or elegance, or humanity.
Only meat.
Wanda had wished for her children, and the infinite horrors that popped from her defiled womanhood were all hers through and through, each bearing a fragment of the sundered witch's soul just as the twins she had yearned to resurrect had. These offspring would not be innocent boys, they would not grow to be heroes, they would only grow, and grow, and grow.
By the time any sorcerer of earth learned of the dread forces about to be unleashed upon them it was too late. Every dimension from the deepest depths of reality to the ones hiding just beneath the surface of the material plain had been conquered and dominated by Wanda's coiling sons. Every atom had been devoured, every light extinguished, until there wasn't a corner of creation not filled by ever twisting eldritch tentacles.
As an infinite tangled mass of evil spilled into the waking world, deep, deep below in a realm beyond sanity and understanding, a bloated, moaning shape lay. As a never-ending clutch of eggs forced themselves from within her womb, and cursed milk oozed from her monstrously swollen teats, the Scarlet Witch knew that her demonic children loved her, and was happy.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN
This piece was of course made by the incomparable Loreleia!