Sarah (POV)
Later that day—well past midnight—I sat cross-legged on my bed, brainstorming ways to fix my Hellfire problem. Picture this: me, a badass magical powerhouse, and yet my Hellfire attacks barely had the range of a spitball. Sure, boosting them got me to midrange, but tossing a flaming ball as some supernatural quarterback? Too slow. Too obvious. Unless I went big—Michael Bay explosion big. Then, yeah, the target was getting hit, whether they wanted it or not.
But there had to be something cooler, right? Maybe I could mix my Hellfire with my ice element. Fire and ice—a classic combo with Game of Thrones vibes. Or maybe my shadows, the way I did with Life Force Drain. Creative destruction? Who doesn't love that? The possibilities were endless, and I could almost hear my brain cheering me on: "Go nuts, Sarah!"
Then it hit me. Hellfire lightning bolt. Oh yeah. Suddenly, I wasn't just Sarah; I was a demonic, female Zeus, decked out in a blood-soaked crimson peplos (thanks for the fashion inspiration, ancient Greece), rocking an Aegis breastplate, and a Corinthian helmet pushed back on my head in a casual "What up, peasants?" gesture. My eyes glowed with hellfire lightning. My hand crackled with raw, fiery destruction.
I couldn't help it—I let out a totally unhinged laugh. "Wuhuahuahua!" It echoed through the room as if I were auditioning for the next Marvel villain. Then I froze, realizing how psychotic I sounded.
"Oops, stop being an idiot, Sarah. You're not evil," I muttered, shaking my head. "But holy hell, that image was hella cool."
Fashion choices aside, for now, I had to rely on creating Hellfire weapons—a longbow or spear for long-range attacks. But those weren't as fast as modern-day weapons. And for some mystical, mysterious reason I couldn't figure out, the weapons I made with Hellfire were limited to ancient designs. No supercool RPG launcher or Desert Eagle, just old-school relics with okay speed and firepower.
Then it hit me again. Could I pull off that flashy Ghost Rider move with his motorcycle? I mean, he turned a basic Harley into a flaming death chariot—why couldn't I do something similar? Granted, a flaming motorcycle wasn't my aesthetic, but juicing up a weapon? Oh yeah. Especially since I had a stash of modern goodies sitting in my pocket dimension. Thank you, random gangsters of Hell's Kitchen. Your loss, my gain.
With a grin, I plunged my hand into the swirling shadows at my side, rummaging through my loot like a kid in a candy store. What would it be? A shiny Glock? An RPG? Then my fingers brushed cold steel, and I pulled out a double-barreled shotgun. Yeah, baby. If anything deserved a Hellfire makeover, it was this beast.
Just as I was about to light it up and test my evil genius, a knock at the door yanked me out of my scheming.
"What the hell?" I muttered, stashing the shotgun back into the shadows. Please don't let them have heard my evil laughter. That would be awkward.
When I opened the door, I found myself face-to-face with a ridiculously attractive blonde. My heart did the thing—you know, that annoying skip-a-beat, butterflies-in-your-stomach thing.
And there she was: Raven. Her forced smile tugged at my concern like an itch I couldn't scratch.
"I just needed someone to talk to," she admitted softly. "But I didn't want to wake you, so I was, uh, standing here for a while... until I heard you laughing."
Cue internal cringe. Great. Not only did she hear me, but she probably thought I was plotting world domination. Which, technically, isn't wrong...
The effort in Raven's smile triggered a flicker of concern in me. Something was clearly bothering her. Recalling the original narrative, I considered Erik's encouragement of Raven's true form and the subsequent reprimand from Charles.
But the original story was just a blueprint, and reality had taken a different turn. Darwin's survival was a strong sign of that, a ripple from my arrival.
Pushing distractions aside, I stepped back, gesturing her in. "Come in. You know you can always talk to me."
She hesitated, then nodded and stepped inside. We sat side by side on the bed, and without thinking, I gently took her hand. Her fingers were cold, and her fidgeting gave her away.
"Raven, seriously. You're not yourself tonight. Whatever's on your mind, spill it. I'm here—no judgment."
Her smile softened for a split second before the mask slipped back on. Whatever this was, it wasn't small. Her face mirrored the storm inside her, a swirling mix of hesitation and vulnerability. My question had been an open door, but stepping through it was entirely up to her. Over the past few months, Raven and I had built something… solid. A connection. She had been there for me during my adjustment phase, her quiet support sometimes tipping into actual friendship. So, yeah, it mattered when she came to me like this. Concern bubbled up, simmering under the surface.
But her silence stretched on, filling the space between us with unspoken weight. Maybe she wasn't ready to spill her guts, or maybe what she needed wasn't a pep talk but someone sitting beside her, no pressure. Still, the suspense was killing me.
"Don't worry about it, Sarah," Raven said finally, her smile more crack than substance. "Get some sleep. I'll just… keep you company tonight."
Hell no. I tightened my grip on her hand—not enough to hurt, but enough to make a point. "That's not what this looks like, Raven. Talk to me."
Her smile faltered, but when she looked into my eyes, something in her cracked. "It's just… well…" She trailed off, sighing in defeat. "Okay, fine. Hank spoke with me earlier."
I raised an eyebrow, instantly more alert. "Uh-huh." I leaned in, not about to let her stop now.
"He's been working on this serum," she continued, her words careful, as if they might shatter if spoken too fast. "It suppresses the X-gene. If I take it, I could look… normal. All the time. No powers necessary."
Her gaze searched mine, looking for something—approval, understanding, maybe even permission. "But… is hiding who we are really the right thing to do?"
And there it was. My calm, carefully balanced poker face cracked like cheap glass. "Wait. Back up. Hank came to you with this?"
Raven frowned, tilting her head at me. "Yes, of course. Why?"
I waved it off, trying to cover for my slip. "No reason. Keep going."
But my brain was spinning. This? This was familiar. Too familiar. It was like a ghost of a memory from a story I half-remembered. Hank and his serum, Raven wrestling with her identity—it was all part of the original timeline, wasn't it? And if I wasn't mistaken, Hank would be dealing with his own transformation soon, courtesy of this same serum.
Except things were different now. Darwin had survived, and my presence had thrown more than one wrench into the gears of fate. The timeline wasn't some rigid script anymore—it was alive, shifting, and unpredictable. Which meant Raven's choice wasn't set in stone either. This wasn't a chapter from a book. This was her life. And I had to tread carefully.
Settling in beside Raven, I gave her my undivided attention as she unraveled the conversation with Hank. It wasn't just about suppressing the X-gene—it was about clawing for a semblance of normalcy. Hank, weighed down by insecurity over his oversized feet and his impending transformation, had framed the serum as a "fix." Not just for him, but for Raven too.
Hank had also encouraged Raven to embrace her true self, which was... ironic, considering the serum in question. And then he'd dropped the real bombshell: even in a world where mutants triumphed over the Hellfire Club, society would never see their kind as conventionally beautiful. That barb had stuck deep, and I could see it now, raw and aching, in Raven's expression.
Confused and vulnerable, she'd gone to Charles next, revealing her true blue self. But Charles, for all his kindness and intellect, hadn't given her the acceptance she craved. Erik, the guy who practically made "mutant and proud" his tagline, seemed too precarious an option right now. So, she'd ended up here, in my room. Not necessarily seeking answers—just solace.
And then she said it. The question that punched me in the gut.
"So, will I never be beautiful?" Her voice was softer than I'd ever heard it, tinged with a vulnerability she rarely let show.
I pursed my lips, wrestling with the truth. From society's standpoint? Her true form didn't fit the cookie-cutter mold of beauty. But that didn't make her ugly. It just made her... different. And I knew damn well that beauty was more than some arbitrary set of standards.
This wasn't part of the narrative I remembered. In the original timeline, she'd have gone to Erik by now, his bold declarations leading her toward a path of self-acceptance—and, let's be honest, some major moral ambiguity. But now, the timeline had thrown her to me. The weight of this moment wasn't lost on me, and I knew I had to handle it carefully.
"Raven," I began, my voice steady, though my heart was pounding, "forget about everyone else for a second. Just... listen to me."
Her blue eyes met mine, uncertain but searching.
"I accept you. Completely. Exactly as you are. I've told you this before, and I'll keep telling you until it sinks in. Please, believe me."
A flicker of uncertainty passed over Raven's face, a momentary doubt before a tentative hope replaced it. "Even this way?" Her voice was barely a whisper, as though testing the waters, afraid of the answer.
I didn't flinch. In fact, I didn't look away. Because I knew what was coming.
And then it happened. Raven's usual human façade melted away, and I saw her true form—blue skin rippling with scales, fiery red hair instead of the golden strands she wore as a mask, and her eyes now glowing with an intensity I hadn't fully grasped until this moment. This wasn't just a deviation from human convention. It was something much more raw, much more powerful.
But I didn't look away. I met her gaze, unwavering. "Especially this way," I said, my voice steady and firm. "Your true form is a part of what makes you strong, Raven. Don't let anyone—anyone—tell you otherwise."
I had never seen Raven in this form before. Not this way. But I wasn't about to let my mind flicker back to the movie image, the one where this powerful, startling form belonged to someone else. Someone I barely recognized. No. Raven was right here, in front of me, and I wasn't going to reduce her to a mere image or an echo of a past I didn't control.
Without hesitation, I reached out, my fingers brushing gently against her cheek. Her skin felt different—warmer, more textured—but the warmth in her eyes felt the same. "Even this way, Raven," I said, my voice soft but firm, "you're beautiful. At least in my eyes, you're very beautiful."
Raven froze, the tension in her posture saying everything I needed to know. She hadn't expected this reaction. She'd expected judgment, maybe rejection, certainly a hard, uncomfortable silence. But not this.
The air in the room shifted, the weight of her fear lifting, piece by piece. Showing her true form had always felt like vulnerability to her, a risk she couldn't afford to take. The fear of rejection had haunted her—fear of being too different, too alien for anyone to accept.
The air between us grew charged with unspoken understanding. Raven's question, barely more than a whisper, carried a thick vulnerability. "You... really think so?" The hesitation was there, the old walls still standing just a little too high, but her voice held something new—something that begged to believe it.
"Absolutely." I smiled softly, tracing the contours of her cheek with my fingertips, barely believing how right this felt. "It's a unique beauty, Raven. I can see why many would find it captivating."
The words slipped from my lips as if they'd always been meant to be said. Her eyes shimmered, the flicker of doubt finally breaking apart. The storm of insecurities she'd been carrying for so long began to clear. I saw it in the way her shoulders relaxed and her golden eyes softened.
A beat of silence passed before Raven pulled me into a tight embrace, burying her face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the heat of her breath against my skin, the pulse of her heart, quick with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes—tears I knew weren't just from relief. No, this was deeper. This was recognition. Her own recognition of herself, something she'd never fully allowed herself to see.
And then, that tender moment stretched, and something shifted. Her embrace deepened, and without thinking, without hesitation, our lips met. It was tentative at first, as though we were both unsure whether the world would keep turning if we crossed this line. But we both knew, deep down, this was inevitable.
The kiss deepened, raw and honest, and it felt like a release—as if all the tension that had been building between us was suddenly given space to breathe. Raven's heart swelled, but there was more than just gratitude in the kiss. It was something else, something more tender, more uncharted. A connection.
As we pulled away, the world outside felt miles away. Raven reached out, her hand brushing mine, unsure at first, but I met her hesitation with certainty. Our fingers intertwined, and I felt the spark of warmth rush through both of us. It was quiet, unspoken, but real.
"Thank you, Sarah," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."
I held her hand, squeezing it gently, not needing words to convey the depth of what was shared between us. But I spoke anyway, my voice soft and steady. "You don't have to thank me. I'm here, Raven. Always."
And in that moment, everything felt like it had fallen into place.
I lay beside Raven on the bed, the silence of the room wrapping around us as we locked eyes, speaking volumes without a word being said. My blue eyes searched the depths of Raven's golden ones, and I felt our connection deepen with each passing second. The world outside seemed to vanish.
I reached out again, slow and deliberate, my fingers barely skimming Raven's blue skin. Just a whisper of a touch, enough to tuck that unruly strand of hair behind her ear. It wasn't just a gesture; it was a spark, a ripple through both of us that made the air feel thicker, heavier.
"Come," I murmured, my voice soft, intimate, as I slid out of bed. Raven trailed after me, her golden eyes locked on mine, her gaze searching as though she was trying to decode something I hadn't even said yet. I hesitated, the weight of what I was about to share settling in my chest.
"It's only fair if I show you something," I said, my tone shifting, more serious now.
Raven didn't say a word—just watched me, curious, cautious.
I took a deep breath, stepped closer, and let the words slip from my lips: "Soul Synchronization Mystique."
The room shifted. The energy between us sharpened, static before a storm. And then, everything about me changed—my skin darkened to match her rich blue, my hair burned red, and my eyes turned to gold. A mirror, but not quite.
Raven's breath hitched, her lips parting as if to speak, but no sound came out. Finally, she managed, "You… you're the same as me?"
"No," I said, shaking my head slightly, my voice calm but edged with something deeper. "It's not that simple."
Our eyes met—gold to gold—and I could see the questions swirling behind hers. "It's my ability," I explained. "I can copy someone else's essence, their ability."
Her jaw tightened as the realization hit her. "That's… dangerous. If people knew—"
"They'd fear me," I finished for her, a quiet, bitter laugh escaping my lips. "I know. But you? I trust you." I paused, letting the words settle between us. "It's not just copying, though. It's… a connection. This wouldn't even work if we weren't connected."
The way her gaze softened, the way her body leaned just the slightest bit closer—it felt as if she understood. Or maybe she wanted to. Either way, I was standing there, exposed, hoping I hadn't just made a mistake.
Raven blinked, her golden eyes wide as the weight of what I'd shown her started to sink in. I let my features shift back to normal, the air around us settling but not entirely. There was a tension, thick and electric, pulsing between us. I could see it in the way her gaze lingered—equal parts awe and something darker, deeper.
Her mind was working overtime, I could tell, but before she could string together a thought, I stepped forward and kissed her. It wasn't planned, it was instinct, pure and raw.
Raven didn't pull back. If anything, she leaned into me, her hands finding their way to my body with a confidence that made my heart race. One hand curved around the soft curve of my backside, sending a shiver up my spine, while the other settled in the crook of my neck, firm but gentle, grounding me to her.
A soft, involuntary sound slipped from my lips, and Raven's grip tightened, acknowledging it, wordless and intent. She broke the kiss just long enough to bury her face in my hair, breathing me in as if I were oxygen after a long dive underwater.
"God," she whispered against my neck, her voice a mix of wonder and hunger. She kissed me there, just below my jaw, slow and deliberate.
When she pulled back, her golden eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe. "You're… stunning," she said, her voice low, almost reverent.
I barely had time to process the words before her lips were on mine again, fiercer this time, her mind made up, and no room for hesitation. Her fingers threaded through my hair, tugging just enough to make me gasp against her mouth, spurring her on further.
Our tongues met in a dance that was anything but tentative. It was consuming, thrilling, a give-and-take that left me trembling. I could feel her intensity growing, the weight of her desire pressing against me, crashing like a wave I didn't want to escape.
And honestly? I wasn't about to argue.