The voice of the Phoenix reverberated through Harry's mind, an ancient storm of power and wisdom that swept over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming yet strangely comforting. It was as though an eternal being, whose every breath could set the universe alight, was observing him, analyzing him, preparing to entrust him with a mission that would shape the very course of fate itself.
"Revenant," the voice of the Phoenix spoke again, and Harry felt the weight of its attention settle on him like an enormous cloak. It was an intimate thing, yet vast—something that reached into the deepest recesses of his being. "I have seen the potential within you. You, the one who has awoken me. But now, there is a task I ask of you. It is a mission that will not only shape your future, but the future of my avatar."
The word avatar echoed in his mind. Harry, still overwhelmed by the presence of the Phoenix, tried to center himself, but the sheer force of the power behind her words made it difficult. Avatar—what did that mean?
"You must help her," the Phoenix continued, her voice carrying a sharp edge of urgency. "My avatar is bound, trapped within chains that suppress her true essence. She is at Xavier's Institute. Jean Grey—her name is Jean Grey. She carries the weight of my essence within her mind, but it is not free. Professor Charles Xavier has bound her, chained her power, in an attempt to control her, to keep her from realizing what she is, what she can become."
Harry's pulse quickened as the name Jean Grey settled into his thoughts. There was something familiar, something important about that name. And the mention of Xavier—one of the most powerful telepaths in the world—made his chest tighten. The idea of someone chaining a mind, controlling a power as vast as the Phoenix, was… repulsive.
The Phoenix's voice rose again, filled with quiet authority. "You must help her, Revenant. Free her mind. Unbind the chains that have been placed upon her by Xavier, and allow her to understand what she truly is. Only then will she be able to embrace the full power of the Phoenix Force that lies dormant within her. But beware," the tone of the voice shifted, becoming more serious, more deliberate. "Once you free her, the path will not be easy. There are forces who will try to stop you, and others who will try to control her. You must be her guide, her protector, as she comes to terms with her power."
Harry's mind reeled as the magnitude of the task settled upon him. Jean Grey, an avatar of the Phoenix, bound and shackled by one of the most powerful telepaths in the world—Xavier himself. The task before him felt impossible. But then again, Harry had faced impossible odds before. The weight of it all settled deep within him, but there was something stirring inside him—a fire. The fire of the Phoenix itself.
He could feel it. This was not just about saving someone; it was about freeing the very essence of life, of rebirth. It was about protecting the heart of something ancient and powerful.
"I will not fail you," Harry muttered under his breath, though the words sounded hollow against the magnitude of the mission. "I will not fail her." The fire in his chest burned brighter at the thought.
The Phoenix's voice softened, her tone carrying a sense of trust and quiet determination. "Do not fail me, Revenant. I am trusting you with my essence. Free her, and bring her the peace she deserves."
The weight of her trust pressed heavily upon Harry, but just as quickly, it lifted. The pressure in his mind intensified, the force of the Phoenix's presence growing stronger, more urgent, more commanding. It felt like the very fabric of the universe was pushing against him, waiting for him to act, to become what she needed him to be.
And then, without warning, the presence of the Phoenix was gone. The storm that had enveloped him so completely faded, leaving only silence in its wake. His mind was once again his own, but it had changed—he had changed.
Harry's body jerked, a violent tremor running through him. The immense influx of energy—the transformation, the awakening of the Phoenix Force within him—it had all taken its toll. His bones cracked, reshaping, muscles flexing and contracting, as his hybrid dragon-phoenix form began to shrink back into his human body. The transformation was excruciating, like being pulled apart and reassembled in the blink of an eye.
He was weightless for a moment, suspended in the transition. His skin burned with the residual heat of the transformation as he felt the Phoenix's power retreat. And then, with an uncomfortable thud, he landed, back in his human form, but now feeling a strange vulnerability in his return. The air around him seemed cooler, and the sensation of being human again was disorienting.
Wong, who had been standing at a respectful distance, blinked rapidly as his eyes darted to Harry. His usually calm demeanor cracked for a brief moment as his face flushed bright red.
"I—uh—well, then," Wong stammered, trying, and failing, to turn away. His eyes involuntarily flicked back to Harry before he quickly averted them again. "This is... not something one prepares for."
Harry, now standing fully human again, realized the obvious. His clothes, shredded by the transformation, lay in tatters on the floor, leaving him completely exposed. The warmth of his new form still lingered, but now he felt the sudden cold air against his skin.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Harry muttered, his voice hoarse from the exertion of the transformation. He instinctively tried to shield himself with his hands, looking around for something—anything—he could use to cover himself. "Can I get some clothes, please?"
Wong, his cheeks crimson with embarrassment, turned his back to give Harry some privacy, though he hesitated. He wasn't sure whether to leave the room or just… ignore the whole situation. He had seen many things in his life as the Sorcerer Supreme's right hand, but this? This was a new level of bizarre.
"I—uh—right, of course," Wong muttered, flustered, still unsure of how to respond. "Just… just a moment, Potter. You—uh, you're fine, I'm sure."
Before Harry could speak again, dizziness overwhelmed him. The power surging through him—the transformation, the force of the Phoenix itself—had taken a toll that he hadn't expected. His knees buckled, and he collapsed forward, barely able to catch himself before his head hit the floor.
"Merlin help me," Wong muttered under his breath. "What have you gotten yourself into now, Potter?"
Wong quickly crossed the room and knelt beside Harry. He checked for signs of injury—broken bones, bruises—but found none. Still, the sheer exhaustion that radiated from Harry was palpable. Wong's brow furrowed as he gently lifted Harry's head, checking for any signs of distress.
The task of freeing Jean Grey from Xavier's mental chains still hung over Harry, a mission bestowed upon him by the Phoenix herself. But for now, he was unconscious, caught between the power of the Phoenix and the physical limits of his human form.
As Wong tried to make sense of what had just happened, the weight of the Phoenix's mission continued to settle deep within Harry. His body lay still, unconscious for now, but inside him—burning bright and eternal—the fire of the Phoenix waited. Ready.
It would not be long before Harry would rise again, and when he did, his journey to Xavier's Institute would begin. Jean Grey would be freed, and with her, the full power of the Phoenix.
—
The lab was a symphony of chaos, every screen alive with fluctuating data as Tony Stark's voice crackled over the comms, saturated with that signature mix of smugness and mischief.
"Alright, JARVIS, let's spice things up," Tony drawled. "What's the highest altitude a guy in a fancy plane has ever managed to hit?"
JARVIS, ever the patient tutor, responded immediately. "The highest altitude achieved by a manned aircraft is 123,523 feet, accomplished by the SR-71 Blackbird. The pilots—"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it, history class," Tony interrupted, a smirk audible in his tone. "But here's the thing: if history taught us anything, it's that rules are made to be broken. So, how about we aim a little higher today?"
Howard Stark's voice cut in, sharp and unmistakably paternal. "Tony, you absolute idiot! That suit isn't rated for anything near those altitudes! You'll freeze to death, lose power, and probably explode—not necessarily in that order!"
Tony scoffed, reclining slightly as his suit's thrusters roared to life. "Relax, Pops. This is why they pay me the big bucks. And let's face it—you'd do the exact same thing if you were in this suit."
Howard's response was immediate and dripping with sarcasm. "If I were in that suit, I wouldn't have ignored every single safety protocol just to play astronaut, you reckless little—"
"Gentlemen," Lily Potter's voice interjected, crisp and laden with maternal concern. "While I love a good Stark family debate, Tony, this is neither the time nor the place. The magical components aren't designed for sub-zero temperatures, and if they destabilize—"
"Magical schmagical," Tony quipped, climbing higher as the earth below shrank into a patchwork of greens and browns. "Science, guts, and a dash of charm—that's all it takes. Right, JARVIS?"
JARVIS sighed—well, as much as an AI could sigh. "If by 'charm,' sir, you mean reckless hubris, then yes, you are indeed well-stocked."
From a corner of the lab, Gideon Adler's smooth, velvety voice cut in, laced with sardonic amusement. "Ah, the Stark tradition of tempting fate. Shall we take bets on how many feet you'll fall before you realize this is a spectacularly bad idea?"
Tony chuckled, the sound cocky and carefree. "Oh, Adler, you wound me. Where's the love? Where's the faith in my genius?"
"Somewhere buried under my profound respect for gravity," Adler shot back, sipping from a cup of tea as though this were all an amusing sideshow.
Meanwhile, the altitude meter on Tony's HUD climbed steadily. JARVIS's tone became more clipped. "Sir, we are approaching 100,000 feet. Atmospheric pressure is dropping rapidly. I must insist—"
"Insist all you want, JARVIS. What's the fun in limits?" Tony grinned, the suit's thrusters pushing harder. "Come on, tell me the number. Where are we?"
"One hundred twenty thousand feet and climbing, sir. However, I must inform you that—"
"We just broke the record, didn't we?" Tony interrupted, his grin stretching wider. "Eat your heart out, Blackbird! Who's the king of the sky now?"
Howard's voice returned, livid. "Tony, you lunatic, get back here! Do you even hear yourself? You're going to—"
"—freeze," JARVIS interjected coolly. "External temperatures have now dropped below minus 60 degrees Celsius. The suit's structural integrity is beginning to—"
"Beginning to what?" Tony asked, his confidence faltering slightly. Then the HUD flickered. "Oh. That's not good."
"No, sir, it is decidedly not," JARVIS replied as frost crept across the suit's visor. "Flight systems are offline. Power reserves are rapidly depleting. You are now in free fall."
Back in the lab, chaos erupted.
"Tony, eject! Eject now!" Howard bellowed.
"There is no eject system!" Lily snapped, her hands flying across a console as she channeled magic into the suit's dormant systems. "It's a fully enclosed design!"
"Brilliant engineering," Adler muttered, not even glancing up. "Truly groundbreaking. I'll start drafting your obituary."
Tony, now plummeting like a very expensive meteor, took a deep breath. "Alright, JARVIS, let's hit me with the good news."
"There is no good news, sir," JARVIS replied with his trademark calm. "But if it's any comfort, the free fall should provide you with a brief, albeit intense, adrenaline rush."
"Great," Tony muttered. "Because that's exactly what I need right now."
"Tony, listen to me!" Lily's voice was sharp, but beneath it lay a steely determination. "I'm going to channel a stabilization spell through the suit's circuits. Stay still!"
Tony, ever the quipper even in the face of death, grinned. "See, this is why I keep you around, Lily. Science meets magic—an unbeatable combo. Like peanut butter and jelly."
"Less talking, more surviving!" Howard snapped.
The suit's systems hummed back to life just as the ground loomed uncomfortably close. With a final surge of thrusters, Tony managed to slow his descent enough to crash-land in a field. The suit hit the ground with a resounding thud, sending dirt and debris flying.
Inside the lab, the comms crackled with Tony's voice, breathless but triumphant. "Well, that was... exhilarating. Who's up for round two?"
Howard's voice boomed. "You're grounded, Tony. Indefinitely."
"Love you too, Dad," Tony quipped, smirking as he pulled himself out of the crumpled suit. "But come on—you've got to admit, I looked good doing it."
—
The lab was a symphony of sparks, hums, and the occasional curse word from Tony Stark as he landed. The sound of his suit scraping against the floor echoed through the lab, a mix of high-tech gadgets and mechanical failure. When the thrusters sputtered out and the suit dropped to the ground with a heavy thud, Tony's grin was already in full force. He was standing tall, unscathed, despite looking like a battered, burnt-out version of himself.
"Miss me?" Tony quipped, pulling off the helmet with a flourish, shaking out his hair. His grin was wide, cocky, like he had just pulled off the most epic stunt known to mankind.
Howard Stark, who had been quietly watching the entire scene from the back, whipped around with a speed that could only be described as furious. His suit was impeccable, as always, though his arms were crossed so tightly it looked like he might rip the sleeves off in one swift motion. His face, ever so stoic, was now a thundercloud of rage.
"Miss you? Tony, I was just about to send a recovery team to scrape what was left of you off a mountainside!" Howard's voice boomed, his hands flying to his hips as if holding himself back from marching straight up to Tony and smacking him upside the head.
Tony cocked an eyebrow, undeterred. "Pops, relax. It's not like I died. You're acting like this is the first time I've flown a suit to the edge of space. Not even close."
"You should be dead," Howard seethed, every word dripping with a level of exasperation only a father could muster. "You flew into the stratosphere with zero backup. You know what happens when a system goes down up there? You freeze. You fall. You die."
Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, and everybody lived to tell the tale, didn't they? What's the fun in living if you're not pushing limits?"
From across the lab, a voice like smooth velvet interrupted, laced with sarcasm. "Ah, the Stark tradition of reckless genius. How refreshing," Gideon Adler—who, for the life of anyone in the room, couldn't decide whether he was genuinely amused or plotting his next power grab—sipped his tea like this was all a very entertaining show. His dark eyes sparkled with an almost palpable hunger for chaos.
Howard whirled on him. "Not. Helping."
Adler merely smiled over the rim of his cup, unfazed. "My apologies. Please continue." He took another leisurely sip, clearly enjoying the spectacle.
Lily Potter, who had been standing next to the console, furiously typing and pulling up data on a display screen, looked up from her work with a sigh. She placed her hands on her hips, her emerald eyes flicking between Tony and Howard, before turning her gaze to Adler with a bemused, almost apologetic glance. "Tony, you're lucky you're even alive. The magical components of that suit weren't designed to handle temperatures that low. You're extremely fortunate they didn't destabilize completely."
Tony gave her a sly smile, winking. "See, someone around here gets it. Luck's just another word for good engineering, right?"
Lily shook her head, lips curling into a small, fond smile that couldn't quite hide the worry in her eyes. "You really need to stop acting like you're invincible."
Tony shrugged, leaning casually against a console, clearly unfazed. "What can I say? I'm a walking miracle."
Howard's nostrils flared as he paced, his jaw tight with irritation. "No, Tony, you're a walking disaster. And I am done with this." His voice dipped into a dangerous calm that made Tony pause for a moment. Howard fixed him with a stare that could burn through steel.
"You think this is a joke? You're 16! You shouldn't be acting like a one-man space program. You're supposed to be learning responsibility, not taking your life in your hands like a stupid stuntman."
JARVIS, ever the voice of reason (or at least, attempting to be), chimed in, "Sir, I must advise against further altitude experimentation. The thrusters have exceeded their designed limitations. And, should you continue this reckless behavior, the suit will be inoperable for the foreseeable future."
Tony shot a look toward the ceiling as if glaring at the AI, his smirk never fading. "JARVIS, whose side are you on? I'm not the one making him rage. It's just a little altitude. It's not like I set the thing on fire."
Lily, still standing near the console, crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow at Tony. "You nearly did, Tony. The components were already overheating when you reached 120,000 feet. The magical core wasn't designed to function at that altitude. You're lucky it didn't implode."
Gideon Adler raised his teacup in mock salute, eyes glinting. "A lucky boy. That's what you are, Tony. No skill, just good fortune."
"Is this where I get a 'you'll learn your lesson' speech?" Tony asked, taking a step closer to Howard, finally dropping his playful tone as he took the lecture seriously—well, kind of.
Howard's patience snapped like a rubber band, and he jabbed a finger toward the door. "Tony, you listen to me: if you ever, ever, pull something like this again, I won't just ground you. I'll dismantle that suit, piece by piece, and then I'll personally melt it down into paperweights. And you will watch me do it."
Lily moved quickly, placing a gentle hand on Howard's arm, her voice soft but firm. "Howard, please, let's not make it worse. He's fine. He's not dead, and we can fix the suit."
Tony's grin returned, softer now, his usual bravado tempered with a hint of sheepishness. "See? Lily gets it. It's all good, Pops."
Howard didn't respond immediately, but his eyes narrowed, still full of simmering anger. He looked like he was weighing whether or not to take a swing at Tony. "You don't get it, Tony. You don't get that you're not invincible. One day, you're going to push too far and I won't be there to save you."
Tony nodded slowly, for once recognizing the weight of his father's words. "I hear you, Dad. No more stratosphere stunts. For now."
A long, tense silence filled the room, broken only by the gentle hum of the lab's machines and the occasional clink of Adler's teacup as he carefully set it down.
Then, as if on cue, Tony pushed off from the console, standing upright and making a dramatic gesture toward the rest of the lab. "Now, who's got a soldering iron? This suit isn't going to fix itself."
Adler smirked, as dry as ever. "Ah, yes, the man of the hour, back on his feet with not a care in the world. It's as though nothing happened. I admire that about you, Tony."
Howard, still stewing in his irritation, threw his hands up in the air. "I give up."
"Love you too, Pops," Tony called over his shoulder as he walked to the workbench, unbothered.
Lily gave a long, resigned sigh. "One of these days, you'll really test your luck, Tony Stark."
Tony's grin never faltered. "But today's not that day, Lily."
Gideon chuckled softly from his corner, lifting his teacup again, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "To Tony Stark, ladies and gentlemen. A walking disaster who may just be the unluckiest lucky man in history."
Tony raised a hand in mock salute. "Cheers to that," he said with a wink. "Now, let's get this thing back in one piece."
—
Harry woke to the soft, golden light of dawn filtering through the ornately carved windows of his room in Kamar-Taj. The faint aroma of incense lingered in the air, mingling with the earthy scent of aged wood and herbs. His head throbbed slightly, a dull reminder of the cosmic power he'd been exposed to the night before. He groaned and sat up, running a hand through his unruly hair.
A fresh set of robes—simple but impeccably clean—had been draped over him, mercifully preserving his dignity. Harry muttered under his breath, "Well, at least someone had the courtesy to sort that out. Small mercies."
From across the room, a familiar voice cut through the quiet. "You're welcome."
Harry turned his head to see Wong seated in an armchair by the window, arms crossed and an expression hovering between concern and outright exasperation. Beside him, the Ancient One stood in her usual tranquil pose, her hands clasped in front of her and her gaze as unreadable as ever.
"Well," Harry croaked, his throat dry. "I'm guessing you've got questions."
Wong snorted, leaning forward with a pointed look. "Questions? Oh, no, no, Potter. What I have is a running list of complaints. For starters, the next time you decide to spontaneously combust, could you not do it in the middle of a sacred space? And maybe, just maybe, avoid terrifying everyone by collapsing naked on the floor? Honestly, I'm still trying to figure out if we should fumigate the room."
Harry winced, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that… Sorry? For the record, I wasn't exactly in control of the situation."
"Clearly," Wong deadpanned, gesturing at him like he was explaining something painfully obvious. "Because nothing says 'in control' quite like bursting into flames and turning into a giant cosmic dragon."
The Ancient One's lips quirked in what might have been the faintest hint of amusement. "Enough, Wong," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Harry has been through a great deal. Let him speak."
Harry exhaled, feeling the weight of the Phoenix's words pressing on his chest again. "It wasn't just flames and wings," he began, his voice quieter now. "It was the Phoenix Force. I… connected with it, I think. Or it connected with me. I don't know—it's hard to explain. It's like it tore me apart and then stitched me back together, but different."
The Ancient One stepped closer, her gaze sharp and assessing. "The Phoenix Force," she repeated, her tone both curious and cautious. "A primordial entity of rebirth and destruction. Few encounter it and live to tell the tale. But you, Harry—you did more than that. You bonded with it."
"'Bonded' feels generous," Harry said dryly. "It felt more like being swallowed whole and spat back out with a cosmic to-do list."
"And what task has it given you?" she asked, her expression unchanging, though Harry sensed the weight behind her question.
Harry hesitated, the name lingering on his tongue before he finally spoke. "Jean Grey. The Phoenix said she's her current avatar. However, her powers are bound—suppressed by Xavier. It wants me to free her, help her… embrace her power."
Wong's eyebrows shot up. "Xavier? As in Charles Xavier? One of the most powerful telepaths on the planet? That Xavier?"
"Yup," Harry said, running a hand down his face. "Apparently, he's been keeping Jean's powers under lock and key. The Phoenix wasn't exactly thrilled about that."
The Ancient One tilted her head slightly, her gaze unfaltering. "Xavier's actions are not without precedent. He has always acted from a place of fear—fear of what uncontrolled power might do. If he has bound Jean's abilities, it is likely to protect her and others. But the Phoenix Force cannot be contained indefinitely."
"Tell that to the Phoenix," Harry muttered. "It's not exactly a fan of the whole 'let's suppress cosmic power' approach."
Wong leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again. "So, let me get this straight. You're supposed to march into Xavier's Institute, unbind the powers of one of the most dangerous mutants alive, and just… hope for the best?"
Harry shrugged, though the weight of the task felt like a stone in his chest. "Pretty much. Oh, and apparently, I'm also supposed to protect her, guide her, and stop anyone who tries to control her. You know, just your average Tuesday."
Wong groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're going to get yourself killed, Potter. Or worse—me."
The Ancient One, unbothered by Wong's dramatics, stepped closer. "This mission is not simply about freeing Jean Grey. It is about balance, Harry. The Phoenix Force is not merely power; it is a force of nature, one that brings both creation and destruction. To guide Jean Grey is to walk a razor's edge. Every decision you make will tip the scales."
Harry swallowed hard, her words driving home the enormity of the task. "No pressure, then," he muttered, forcing a wry smile.
The Ancient One's expression softened just slightly. "You are stronger than you realize. And you are not alone. Wong and I will assist you however we can."
"Assuming you don't set yourself—or anyone else—on fire again," Wong added with a pointed glare. "Seriously, Potter. The budget for new robes isn't infinite."
Harry chuckled weakly, the sound dry but genuine. "I'll try to keep the flaming bird routine to a minimum."
The Ancient One nodded. "Rest for now. Your journey to Xavier's Institute will not be easy. You will need your strength."
As they left the room, Harry sank back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. The fire of the Phoenix burned quietly within him, a constant reminder of the power—and responsibility—he now carried.
"Jean Grey," he murmured to himself, the name heavy with significance. "Hang in there. I'm coming."
—
Jean Grey sat cross-legged on her bed in the dormitory at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, absentmindedly twirling a pencil between her fingers. The late-afternoon sun poured through the tall windows, painting her room in warm, golden light. Outside, the distant hum of students training in the yard mingled with bursts of laughter. Normally, she would've been out there too, effortlessly balancing leadership with charm.
But today, something felt… wrong.
Her chest felt heavy, as if a weight had settled there. It wasn't physical, not really. It was deeper—an emotional unease that pulsed like a slow, steady drumbeat. Her fingers fumbled with the pencil, which began to wobble unnaturally.
Jean frowned, narrowing her green eyes. The pencil vibrated, spinning faster until it blurred. She clenched her fist, stopping it mid-spin and dropping it onto her comforter with a frustrated sigh.
"Focus, Jean," she murmured, pressing her hands to her temples and shutting her eyes. She inhaled deeply, calling on the techniques Professor Xavier had drilled into her. "Breathe in, breathe out. Calm your mind."
But the chaos within her refused to be stilled.
Instead, it grew. Her breath hitched as unfamiliar memories—or visions—flashed across her mind. Fire. Blazing wings. A voice, ancient and powerful, resonated within her, both alien and oddly familiar.
Rise.
Her eyes snapped open. The pencil rolled off the bed and clattered to the floor. Jean glanced around nervously, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. The dorm was empty. No one had seen… whatever that was.
"Jean?"
The sudden voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. Kitty Pryde's head phased through the door, followed by the rest of her. She looked up from her phone, oblivious to Jean's startled expression. "You skipped dinner? Dude, are you okay?"
Jean pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing. "Kitty! For the love of—can you not do that?"
Kitty raised her hands in mock surrender. "Sorry! Didn't realize I'd walk into Drama Central. What's the big deal?"
Jean shot her a look, but Kitty just smirked and flopped onto her bed, lying on her stomach with her chin propped on her hands. "Okay, spill. You've been all moody and weird lately. I mean, weirder than normal."
"I'm fine," Jean said quickly, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Just tired. Logan's training sessions aren't exactly relaxing, you know."
"Uh, hello? I was there too, remember? And I'm not the one looking like I just saw the boogeyman." Kitty wrinkled her nose. "Seriously, Jean, if something's up, maybe talk to the Professor. He's good at the whole mind-meld thing."
The mention of Xavier sent a flicker of unease through Jean. She waved a hand dismissively. "It's nothing, Kitty. Probably just stress or… I don't know, maybe I ate something weird."
Kitty rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. 'Weird mutant hormones' or whatever. I'll stop bugging you. For now." She sat up, grinning. "But if you go full Carrie and start levitating stuff, warn me first, okay?"
Jean couldn't help but smile despite herself. "You're impossible."
"And you're predictable," Kitty shot back, sticking out her tongue as she phased through the wall to leave.
As the room fell quiet again, Jean's forced smile faded. She sat cross-legged on her bed, her gaze fixed on the small candle burning on her nightstand. Its tiny flame flickered, dancing in the air.
She reached out, not with her hand but with her mind. Something deep inside her stirred, rising to meet the flickering light like a moth drawn to fire. The flame swayed, growing brighter, taller, hotter—until it flared unnaturally high and vanished with a sharp pop.
Jean flinched, jerking her hand back as though she'd been burned. The room plunged into shadow, lit only by the soft glow of the moon outside. Her breathing was uneven, her heart racing.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the blood rushing in her ears.
But there was no answer. Only silence, and the faint, undeniable sense that something within her had awakened—and it was just getting started.
---
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