CHAPTER 160: PHOENIX RISING
The interrogation chamber had gone silent, save for the slow hum of raw psychic energy.
Jean stepped forward, fire flickering faint around her hair like a halo. Emma rose from her chair, spine straight, diamond-hard will behind the smile on her lips.
"Still hiding behind Charles' dream, Jean?" Emma sneered. "You were born to be more."
Jean's voice was velvet wrapped around steel. "And you were born to be less."
Then they collided.
No fists. No claws. The air itself split under their wills. Invisible daggers raked across the walls. The floor cracked under the pressure of their psychic duel. Emma's power lashed like ice, sharp and invasive. Jean countered with burning fire, her presence flooding the room.
Storm, forgotten in her chair, strained against her bonds. By the Goddess… this is not a battle, it is an apocalypse in miniature.
Emma struck first, driving into Jean's mind, trying to peel back layers, searching for weakness. Jean laughed. Laughed. Her voice echoed in Emma's skull.
"You think you know power? You think you can cage me?"
Jean shoved back. Hard. Emma's shields cracked like glass struck with a hammer.
Emma screamed and fell to one knee, but clawed back up, teeth bared. Her last reserve poured into one desperate strike — a mind blast so raw it bypassed finesse.
The world went white.
---
Below, in the sublevels
Kitty, Colossus, Thunderbird, and Logan were halfway through a hall when the shockwave hit. The walls buckled, alarms died, every light flickered.
Colossus wrapped Kitty in his arms as debris rained down. "Stay close!"
Thunderbird shouted, "The whole damn place is coming down!"
Logan didn't flinch. He sniffed, then growled low. "Storm. Jean. This way!" He bolted ahead, claws out, trusting his nose in the dark.
Dazzler stumbled into the group, face pale. "What was that?"
"Two telepaths," Logan barked over his shoulder. "Neither of 'em play nice."
---
The blast site
The chamber was gone. A crater of rubble and dust yawned where it had stood. Smoke coiled upward. Then — a shape burned into the air.
A bird of fire, wings stretching wide, talons raking sky. The Phoenix.
It shrieked, a sound no human throat could make, and then faded like smoke in the wind.
When the glow dimmed, Storm staggered from the rubble, blood on her temple but eyes fierce. Jean floated behind her, landing softly, fire still licking around her form before guttering out.
Storm whispered, voice raw, "She… she nearly shattered me, but Jean—"
Jean cut her off, smiling faintly. "She was never a match."
Her tone was too calm. Too pleased.
Logan arrived first, Kitty at his heels. He sniffed Jean, then Storm, then spat. "You reek of smoke and pride, Red."
Jean's smirk twitched, but she didn't answer.
Cyclops came last, visor still glowing faintly. Relief washed across his face when he saw her standing. "Jean… I thought—"
"You doubt me?" she asked, tilting her head.
Scott's throat went dry. "No. I—" But inside, his heart sank. That fire in her eyes wasn't his Jean anymore.
---
And then… wheels on stone.
A familiar voice broke the stunned silence.
"I must say," Charles Xavier spoke, rolling into view, "I wanted to see you all in action. And thankfully… you did not disappoint me."
The team turned.
Storm stiffened. "Professor… you were here?"
Xavier's smile was faint, unreadable. "I needed to see with my own eyes if you were ready." His gaze lingered on Jean, long and heavy. "Some of you… more than ready."
Logan's nostrils flared. "You been sittin' back, watchin' while we were fightin' for our hides?"
Xavier didn't flinch. "Every trial has its purpose, Logan."
Logan growled low in his throat but said nothing.
Jean's hand slid into Scott's, though her eyes never left Xavier's. They burned. And Scott, gripping her fingers, felt her pulse — wild, relentless, like fire eating everything it touched.
She's slipping, he thought, dread pooling in his stomach. And I don't know how to bring her back.
The mansion was far away, but for the first time, it felt like home was behind them, not ahead.