CHAPTER 102 – DREAMS OF ASH AND THE GREEN-EYED STRANGER
The fire was gone.
Jean Grey stood in the middle of nothing—black sky, black earth, her hands empty. She reached for the Phoenix, reached for the heat that had filled her veins, but when she called it nothing answered. Her voice cracked in the void.
A shadow stepped out, faceless, weapon raised. She screamed, flame refusing to spark, and the blow tore through her chest. Jean felt her knees hit the dirt, felt her body unravel in silence. And then—
She woke.
Sweat drenched her skin, hair stuck to her face. Her chest rose and fell in wild gasps.
'The power failed me. Just... gone. And yet I crave it. It came without asking, but using it—God, it feels like breathing. Addicting.'
She pressed her palms against her eyes, forcing the nightmare away, and dressed before she thought twice. By the time she stepped into the hall, her face was stone.
The X-Men were gathered, scattered across the room in half-conversations, half-laughter. Xavier sat with Lilandra close by, Storm and Colossus sharing tea, Logan flipping a cigar between his fingers. They turned as Jean entered.
She didn't hesitate. "Professor. Everyone. I've decided. I'm rejoining the team."
There was a beat of silence—then smiles, claps on shoulders, relief spilling out. Storm hugged her fiercely, Colossus beamed with shy joy, Banshee let out a cheer.
Logan leaned back, smirk curling under his stubble. 'You're back, Jeanie. Knew you couldn't stay away.' His chest tightened, though he'd never admit it. 'Sooner or later, I'll make you fall for me.'
Scott said nothing, only nodded. His eyes lingered too long, his thoughts sharper than his words. 'That decision didn't come easy. Something's behind it. Something she won't say.'
The warmth of reunion filled the mansion's walls, laughter echoing again. But Jean's hands still trembled faintly when no one was looking.
And outside, down in the streets of New York, a figure in green waited in the shadows, eyes glowing with power, lips twisting in a hungry smile.
The city night breathed in neon and rain. Jean walked alone, coat wrapped tight, her mind still heavy with the nightmare she hadn't shared. Every flicker of a streetlight reminded her of fire.
She passed the mouth of an alley. A man stepped forward—tall, lean, green coat flowing like shadows. His eyes burned like lanterns.
"Good evening… Jean Grey."
Her breath caught. "Who—"
And then she looked into his eyes.
A ripple slammed through her skull. Her body stiffened, her thoughts drowned. The Phoenix fire guttered out. Her mind wasn't her own anymore.
"Come," Mesmero purred. "Take me to your Professor."
Her feet moved without will.
---
Back at the mansion, laughter spilled from the rec room. Storm was teasing Colossus for blushing too much when Banshee mentioned Moira. Thunderbird and Sunfire argued about baseball scores. Logan sat near the door, cigar between his teeth.
And then it hit him.
A scent, sharp as poison. HOSTILITY. MALICE. The air soured like burning iron. His eyes narrowed.
He stood, growling low. "Something's wrong."
The others looked at him. Before anyone could ask, the front door creaked open.
Jean stepped inside. Behind her—Mesmero.
His voice sliced the air. "Your wills… are MINE."
Logan's claws flashed out, his body moving before thought. 'TOO BAD—'
And then the world blurred. A green wave washed over him. His muscles seized. His mind cracked, pulled into a fog so thick even his hunter's senses couldn't pierce it. He fell to his knees, teeth gritted, eyes burning with resistance.
But resistance wasn't enough.
The X-Men one by one went silent, their eyes glassy, their minds stolen. Mesmero smiled wide, like a puppeteer holding new strings.
---
Weeks later.
A grey road under a grey sky. A single car stopped in front of a circus poster plastered to a telephone pole. Hank McCoy—Beast—stepped out, coat flapping in the wind. He squinted at the bright, gaudy letters.
CIRCUS MAXIMUS! SEE THE STRONGEST! THE STRANGEST! THE MOST MARVELOUS WONDERS OF EARTH!
He held a phone to his ear. Polaris' voice crackled faintly through the line: "I tried calling them for days. No answer. Something's wrong, Hank. Please."
The mansion had been empty when he checked. Empty for weeks, by the look of the dust. But then he'd found the poster lying on the floor, as though someone had dropped it in haste.
Beast adjusted his glasses, frowning. "If this is my only lead… then so be it."
He turned toward the circus gates.
And from inside, the sound of carnival music drifted out. Laughter, applause… and something else, faint but unmistakable.
The voice of Sean Cassidy, Banshee himself, echoing across the tents.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! WELCOME TO THE GREATEST SHOW YOU'LL EVER SEE!"
Beast froze, his chest tightening.
"God help me," he muttered. "What in the world have you fallen into, old friends?"