In the heart of New York City, within a secure government building, a classified meeting was underway.
The chamber was heavy, lined with guards and stern officials. Every word spoken here had the weight to shift nations.
A senator stood at the podium, his voice amplified by the tight acoustics of the hall.
"I hold in my hand a list of real-name Mutant registrations." He declared, holding up a dossier thick with files.
"This allows us to know where they're hiding, who they are."
He let the words hang in the air, letting fear settle over the audience.
"Imagine a girl… who can walk through walls."
His voice dropped to a lower, a conspiratorial tone. "She could appear in the White House, infiltrate our military bases, steal from our national vaults, or worse enter your homes while you sleep."
Gasps and murmurs filled the room.
"And there's evidence of those who can control minds, strip you of your freedom, bend your will to their cause. Gentlemen… this is not science fiction. This is reality."
"We must act."
He slammed a palm on the podium.
"Mutants must be supervised!"
At his words, a wave of applause broke out, but it came only from the human side of the chamber. The remaining seats, where mutants would have stood, were conspicuously empty.
They had not been invited. They never would be.
In the upper balcony, hidden in shadow, Professor Charles Xavier sat silently, watching the scene below with a heavy heart.
His fingers pressed together, his telepathic senses filled with the discordant emotions of the crowd fear, hatred, ignorance.
He sighed, a profound weariness settling over him.
But then… a familiar presence brushing against his mind, like a ghost from the past.
His eyes flickered and narrowed.
"Erik."
Pushing his way out of the crowded hall, Professor X followed the faint trace of the mind he'd sensed until he spotted a figure in a high-collared coat and hat, moving purposefully."
"Erik! What are you doing here?"
At the sound of his voice, the man stopped.
Magneto turned, his sharp, weathered face half-obscured beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes intense, sorrowful eyes, met Charles' with a storm of emotion behind them.
"Why are you still so naïve, Charles?" Erik asked quietly. "Asking questions you already know the answers to."
For a moment, neither spoke.
The city bustled on around them, indifferent to the storm gathering between two old friends.
Charles stepped closer, his voice low.
"Erik, don't give up on humanity."
Magneto's expression hardened.
"And what would you have me do?" He growled.
"Watch as they turn our children into prisoners? As they use their fear to justify shackles? You think peace is still possible, after all this?"
A flash of light flickered in Charles' eyes, the telltale glimmer of a telepath's reach.
But Erik sensed it instantly, his mental barriers slamming into place.
"Charles."
"Don't try to read my thoughts. What are you hoping to find in my head?"
Charles' gaze dropped, his voice soft and aching. "I'm trying to find hope, Erik."
There was a long pause.
Magneto tensed. When he spoke again, it was quiet, like a confession, like a vow.
"Then I'll give you hope."
His eyes burned with unspoken fury. "But I have only one request."
He stepped closer, their faces mere inches apart, the weight of their shared history an invisible force between them.
"Don't stop me."
And with that, Erik turned and vanished into the night, leaving Charles standing alone.
In the wake of the Apocalypse incident, the world has grown increasingly hostile toward mutants.
Governments move toward registry and control, while Magneto once again steps from the shadows, preparing his own answer to the growing threat. Though Charles still believes in coexistence, Erik has lost that faith convinced that survival means power, not compromise.
This meeting marks a decisive moment in their long, tangled relationship.
Both see the storm coming… but where Charles still clings to hope, Erik is readying for a change of tactics.
Birds chirped lazily, but inside the little backroom of the medical center, one man was still deep in sleep.
"Get up, you miracle doctor! You're getting lazy now!"
Jean's playful voice cut through the quiet morning, teasingly close to Soren's ear.
The man stirred, blinking groggily as his vision filled with Jean's face, her red hair catching the sunlight like burning silk.
Soren's heart gave a faint start by the sudden awareness of her nearness.
"I'm up, I'm up."
A mischievous grin played on his lips. "I can hear what you're thinking, you know."
Jean let out a soft laugh and quickly stood up, knowing that if she lingered any longer, she might find herself tangled up in one of Soren's mischievous traps… again.
Her powers were growing stronger since embracing the Phoenix Force, new abilities surfaced unpredictably, including the ability to sense and influence thoughts.
But Soren was one of the few who could keep her at bay.
After a simple breakfast, Soren suddenly brightened.
"Jean, come on, I'm taking you to see something special."
"My pet."
Jean's eyes lit up. "Is that the Zilant you told me about?"
Soren chuckled. "Yes, though… it's having some issues lately. I need to bring it back for treatment."
He grabbed his coat and, without another word, took Jean's hand. In the blink of an eye, the space around them shimmered, and they vanished.
Manhattan Shoreline
The salty air of the Manhattan coast hit them immediately.
It was Jean's first time experiencing Soren's teleportation, and she couldn't hide her wide-eyed amazement.
"I didn't know you could teleport like that… it's convenient."
"Teleportation's tricky. But I can teach you a kind of dimensional magic with a proper magic item called a Sling Ring."
"I'll track one down for you."
Jean's face brightened even more at that.
Soren stepped to the water's edge, cupping his hands around his mouth.
"Zilant!"
His voice rolled across the waves, carried by a force beyond ordinary sound. Moments later, the sea began to churn.
A massive white wave surged forward, parting to reveal an enormous thunder python its scales shimmered with silver-blue light, crackling faintly with stored electricity.
With an excited, resonant cry, the beast lowered its colossal head and affectionately nudged Soren.
Jean, who had imagined a large sea snake at most, froze at the sight of the thunder serpent's sheer size and majesty.
The thing was tens of meters long, its eyes intelligent and… playful.
"Okay, okay, enough with the greetings," Soren grinned, motioning to Jean.
"Zilant, this is Jean, my girlfriend."
The python tilted its head. The word girlfriend meant little to it, but Soren's tone was clear enough.
The serpent coiled gently around them, its immense head lowering to Jean's level, eyes filled with curiosity and a certain wary affection.
Jean was nervous at first, but the snake's gentle demeanor eased her fears.
When it let out a soft, almost puppy-like whine, she burst out laughing.
"Hello, Zilant!" She said brightly, reaching out to touch its warm, crackling scales.
The three of them spent a while there by the shore.
Jean and Zilant played, she lifted small stones with telekinesis, and the serpent chased them like a massive aquatic cat.
It was absurd, but somehow perfect… and how no one noticed them yet…?
With a gesture, Soren brought them all back to the courtyard, another instant of shimmering space.
Inside the lab, Soren began preparing a syringe filled with a faintly glowing solution.
Zilant, seeing this, instinctively recoiled, memories of the last painful treatment still fresh in its ancient brain. Yet, beneath the fear, there was eager anticipation.
Every time Soren experimented with its genes, Zilant grew stronger.
The giant snake's innate nature, a hunger for strength, made it push past its hesitation.
"Don't give me that look." Soren smiled.
"This batch will make you stronger, no side effects this time."
Zilant gave him a long, skeptical stare, as if muttering in its snake mind: So those other times did have side effects, huh?
Jean couldn't help laughing at the scene of a serpent sulking like a scolded dog.
"Hey!" Soren said, pretending to be stern.
"Stare at me like that again, and I'm making snake meat soup for dinner!"
At the words snake meat soup, Zilant instantly perked up, making a low, plaintive noise.
If not for its colossal size, the pitiful whine might have been mistaken for a small dog begging for mercy.
Jean chuckled, brushing a hand over its smooth scales.
"Don't worry, big guy, I'll make sure he keeps his promise about those side effects."
Zilant let out a low, grateful rumble, settling down as Soren approached with the syringe.
꧁𓊈𒆜༺⚜༻𒆜𓊉꧂
Fellow Phantoms and aspiring Phantoms to be, if you seek to access advanced parts of this story procced to my shadowy realm of p@treon.
PhantomDream