Jack floated in darkness. His body was fully submerged within the mountain, his senses stretched beyond the physical, reaching into the very essence of the island itself. It was vast—not just a landmass but something aware, something conscious.
Jack's golden eyes pierced the void, and he saw it. A shifting, amorphous mass, writhing in uncertainty. It had no form. No shape. It tried—desperately—to become something, to manifest an identity. But it was trapped in an endless cycle of half-formed thoughts, unable to solidify into a true existence.
It was not ancient, but it was old. Something foreign, yet oddly familiar. Jack tilted his head, intrigued. He did not speak. Instead, he sat down—cross-legged, suspended in the endless hollow within the island's heart. He would wait. And he would watch.
…
The doors to Cerebro slid open with a hiss, revealing the dimly lit chamber bathed in cold metallic light.
Dr. Moira MacTaggert walked beside Hank McCoy, her sharp eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure about this, Charles?"
Hank, adjusting his glasses, frowned. "It's risky. Whatever severed your connection to Jean might not just be a barrier—it could be a trap."
Xavier's wheelchair glided forward. His expression was calm but resolute. "We have to make sure," he said. "Jean will have sensed that the connection was cut. If she's trying to reach me, I need to meet her halfway."
Without hesitation, he rolled up to Cerebro's interface. The sleek silver helmet descended, encasing his head. He took a deep breath. Then, he reached out. His mind expanded, stretching across vast distances, sweeping across the ocean to the last known location of Jean Grey.
At first, all he found was nothing. A vast, unnatural void. He pushed deeper, slowly widening the radius. The sheer silence was unnerving—like something had hollowed out reality itself. Then, for a fleeting moment, he felt it. A faint flicker—like the whisper of a dying ember.
Jean. But she was distant, like she was on the other side of a thick veil. Her presence was blurred, distorted, as if something unnatural was interfering, something beyond the realm of normal telepathic interference.
There was something new. A force that was neither machine nor mutant, something that felt alive—and yet, completely alien.
Charles grimaced. This wasn't just a signal jam or a psychic block. Something was deliberately severing them. He tried to push through—And then, for a split second, he felt something else. Not Jean. Not Scott. Not Logan. Something watching him.
Then, the barrier slammed shut. Xavier gasped, his body jerking back as the connection was forcefully cut off. The lights flickered. The cerebro glitched.
Then, stillness. Hank and Moira were still at his side. "Charles?" Moira asked, worry in her voice.
Xavier, breathing heavily, slowly removed the Cerebro helmet. His hands trembled slightly, but his face remained composed. "There's something else on that island," he murmured.
Hank frowned. "Something... what?"
Xavier's expression darkened. "Something that knows we're looking."
…
Jack snapped his fingers. A sharp, casual gesture that seemed out of place in the absolute stillness of the mountain's core. "Heeey, big guy," he said, his voice carrying an almost playful lilt. "I'm a guest here. Focus on me, will you?"
For a split second, the entire island stopped. The tremors. The shifting roots. The unseen hostility that pulsed through the land. Everything froze. Jack grinned. Then—
…
Back in the dimly lit depths of the Xavier Institute, Moira MacTaggert's fingers gripped the edges of her tablet, eyes scanning frantically for any sign of their lost team. "Do we even know what we're dealing with?" she asked, her voice sharp with tension. Xavier exhaled slowly. "It's powerful enough to cut me off. That alone should tell us everything."
Then, suddenly—He felt her. Jean. Reaching. Struggling through the oppressive force, trying to connect. Xavier's hands moved instinctively, adjusting the Cerebro interface, his mind preparing to bridge the connection.
Hank stepped forward, his large blue hands hovering over the controls. "Wait, Charles," he warned. "Let's not do this again. It's clearly a trap."
"No." Xavier's voice was firm, his grip tightening. "Jean is pushing through. There's a gap—I can feel it. I need to use this moment."
Then, without hesitation, he activated Cerebro. A low hum filled the room as the machine powered up, the energy around them shifting, warping under the weight of the psychic surge.
Moira muttered, "Shit… this is going to take a toll on him."
Hank, crossing his arms, nodded grimly. "Yeah. No shit."
…
Jean Grey clenched her fists, her body trembling as she forced her mind through the unseen barrier.
Scott's voice, sharp with concern, echoed in the back of her consciousness. "Jean! Any progress?"
Petra, her hands planted firmly on the shifting ground, barked, "Don't distract her! We'll know when she's done."
Bobby, sweating and breathing hard from the endless fight against the island's defenses, rolled his eyes. "Not to be Captain Obvious here, but this island clearly doesn't want us here. Maybe we hasten the plan?"
Jean didn't respond. She couldn't. Her breath was ragged. Sweat dripped from her brow, mingling with the thin trail of blood running from her nose. She was pushing too hard. But she felt it. Professor X's mind. For the first time since it was severed, she felt a direct link.
Jean's psychic voice exploded through the void. 'PROFESSOR!'
Xavier's mind locked onto hers, steady and firm. 'I hear you, Jean. Stay with me.'
Jean didn't waste a second. She forced everything into the connection. Images. Thoughts. Emotions. The entire battle. The Blackbird's destruction. The endless attacks from the island. The horrifying realization that the land itself was a mutant.
Xavier, despite the overwhelming flood of information, remained composed. His decades of experience allowed him to sort through it all methodically, filtering each detail without being overwhelmed.
Jean, however, was reaching her limit. Her vision blurred. Her head pounded with an unbearable weight. She felt herself slipping. Her body jerked, and a scream tore from her throat—Then, she gasped, forcing one last message through the link.
'THAT'S ALL WE GOT, PROFESSOR. SEND REINFORCEMENTS—'
Then, just like that—The connection severed once again. Jean collapsed.
…
A sharp whirring noise filled the room as Cerebro powered down. The machine's glow dimmed, and the humming vibration that had filled the space vanished. But Xavier remained still. His hands trembled slightly. His breathing was uneven. He sat there, unable to lift the Cerebro helmet from his head.
"Charles?" Hank called, stepping forward. The moment he saw Xavier's pallid complexion, Hank moved instantly, his large hands gripping his mentor's shoulders, checking his pulse. "Moira," he barked. "Check the readings. His vitals are unstable."
Moira was already on it, her fingers gliding over the control panel. She frowned deeply. "Damn it. His brain activity spiked dangerously high, and there's residual psychic feedback." She turned her eyes toward Xavier, concern laced in her voice. "You're not okay, Charles."
Xavier exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I just need a moment—"
"No," Hank interrupted, firm but caring. "You pushed yourself too far. We're taking you to the medbay."
"The information," Xavier began, trying to protest, but this time, it was Moira who cut him off. "We'll hear it on the way. You're not arguing this." Without another word, Hank lifted Xavier out of the chair, guiding him carefully as they left the chamber.
As they moved down the corridor, Xavier spoke, his voice calmer now but still weak. "The island… it's alive."
Hank and Moira exchanged a look. "What do you mean, alive?" Moira asked.
"Not just the plants. Not just some mutant controlling it from the shadows. The island itself—its land, its roots, its mountains—it's all one living, thinking entity."
Moira's eyes widened. "Are you saying it's a mutant?"
"Yes," Xavier confirmed. "And it's intelligent."
Hank's brow furrowed. "That doesn't explain why Jean's connection was severed."
Xavier nodded. "There's something else at play here. A power capable of cutting me off completely. This… whatever it is… is beyond anything we've encountered before."
Moira sighed, rubbing her temples. "And our team is trapped there with it."
…
Jean collapsed. Her body gave out entirely, and if it weren't for Scott catching her mid-fall, she would have hit the trembling earth. Her breath was shallow, her body limp. Scott's arms wrapped around her instinctively. "Jean—"
Alex's voice snapped through the chaos. "Scott! Don't break formation!"
Scott barely had a moment to process before a sharp scream cut through the night.
Petra. A single, thick vine had wrapped itself around her ankle, its grip tightening before yanking her backward with terrifying speed. She screamed. "Aahhhhhh—"
Bobby's head whipped around. "PETRA!" He lunged forward, ice forming at his fingertips—Too late. Petra was gone, dragged violently into the forest. And then—the ground began to shake violently.
Logan cursed, trying to steady himself, claws extending. "Shit—" Before he could react, the earth ruptured beneath him. A massive chunk of land shot up like a piston, slamming into him with shattering force. His body was launched backward, crashing into a thick tree trunk with a brutal crack.
Scott's head snapped toward him. "Logan!"
A low, sickening sound echoed from behind. Alex's power—his raw cosmic energy—sputtered. He glanced down. A vine had wrapped around his body. And worse—his power was dimming.
He struggled, trying to break free, but his entire body felt drained. The vine wasn't just holding him—it was absorbing him. His jaw clenched. "FUCK!" And then, just like Petra—He was dragged into the abyss of the forest.
Bobby's entire body froze, his mind spiraling into panic. 'Petra. Logan. Alex. All gone in the span of seconds.'
Scott turned to him, eyes wild. "BOBBY! MOVE!"
But Bobby didn't hear him. The ground beneath his feet softened. Like quicksand, it swallowed his ankles, then his knees—His ice power dimmed. His heart pounded in his chest. "N-no—" And then he was sinking.
Scott watched in horror as Bobby was consumed by the earth. His entire body shaking, he whipped his head around—They were all gone. All of them.
Logan. Petra. Alex. Bobby.
Only he and Jean remained. And Jean was barely conscious. Scott couldn't think. His hands trembled, gripping Jean tightly as he looked around at the suffocating darkness. A feeling crept into his chest. A feeling he hated. Hopelessness.
His jaw clenched, his throat tightening. His tears welled up, burning hot. But he refused to let this be the end.
Scott tore his visor off. A raw, unfiltered blast of energy erupted from his eyes, splitting the night apart in a blinding, uncontrolled explosion of pure force. The force of it cracked trees, split the ground, ripped through the vines. His tears didn't stop the blast. He didn't care. If the island wanted them—Then it was going to have to fight for it.
**A/N**
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**A/N**