"This place really was hard to find."
War Rider Alexandra Rasputin gazed out over the nameless island, colder and more desolate than the Siberian plains. As she strolled along, she casually twisted the space beside her.
A snow-covered tree formed from interwoven frost and ice was spun and sliced into irregular, crystalline fragments.
The frigid wind of the Arctic Circle, dozens of degrees below zero, howled past. It swept up the shredded, cotton-like remnants of the snow tree, scattering them across the sky like glittering jewels fallen from heaven.
Rasputin looked at the scenery she had created on a whim and nodded in satisfaction. She followed Apocalypse forward. Her son, Peter, had been left somewhere else and was not with her.
Apocalypse stepped across the ice sheet. Though he had possessed the ability to traverse space thousands of years ago, he rarely set foot in every corner of this planet. Instead, he preferred to "nest" within his own kingdom, basking in the praise and hymns of countless people.
"Have you found it? I hope the information those so-called 'executors' gave us is true. Heh, they were all tough nuts to crack."
Pestilence Rider Caliban's brow ridges protruded high from his face like two grown exoskeletons. He frowned unhappily, lowered his grayish-white face, and slowly crouched down, solemnly pressing a massive hand clad in a blue-green gauntlet against the ice sheet.
Caliban disliked the woman's attitude toward him, but he also knew he was no match for her. The anger filling his chest had never erupted.
After being freed from the shackles of worldly constraints, Alexandra Rasputin indulged wantonly in the transcendent thrill brought by greater power. Other than Apocalypse, she regarded no one as worthy of notice, and her methods were exceedingly cruel.
After sensing for a moment, Pestilence Rider