CHAPTER 113 – THE FALLEN AND THE FALSE GOD
The jungle smelled like damp earth, blood, and storm ozone. Logan's claws slid back into his hands with a reluctant snikt as Ka-Zar raised both palms.
"Enough! No more fighting. If you are truly Xavier's people… then the Savage Land needs you."
Cyclops frowned, visor glowing faintly red. "Needs us? For what?"
Sauron, still in his pale, hollow-eyed human form, stepped forward. He looked wrung-out, like a man who'd been living half as himself for too long.
"It began… when I fell," he rasped. His voice carried both shame and dread.
Logan folded his arms. 'Here it comes. Excuses.'
But Sauron's story clawed into the air like a nightmare given shape. He told of plummeting from the Antarctic peaks, bones breaking, blood freezing, only to find a ledge that spared his death. He crawled downward, farther, farther, until he stumbled into the green hell of the Savage Land.
"There… I thought I was free," Sauron whispered. "If I fed only on small creatures — rabbits, birds — I could keep… him… at bay. The demon inside me."
Storm, pale but listening, shook her head gently. "A parasite is still a parasite."
Logan caught her tone — tired, but not venomous. 'She's still hurt from what he did. She's not over it. And maybe… she shouldn't be.'
Sauron's gaze lowered. "I lived quietly. Until I saw her."
The X-Men leaned forward as he spoke of Zaladane: tall, dark-eyed, clad in ceremonial feathers and sun-baked jewels. She led a procession of chanting priests into a cavern. They carried torches, and in the center was a slab of stone where a man thrashed, bound tight.
Garokk. The "Petrified Man."
"He begged for his life," Sauron muttered, sweat beading his brow at the memory. "He swore he was no god. But she… she drew fire on his chest. Liquid fire, poured from a brazier… patterns… runes…"
Cyclops clenched a fist. "Branding him alive."
"No," Sauron hissed. "Binding him."
He described the glow, the slab splitting, the cavern shaking as the mortal became stone and fire. Garokk — the Sun God — stood reborn, skin like granite shot through with magma veins. Zaladane and her priests knelt, proclaiming salvation for the Savage Land.
"He asked to see their 'enemy,'" Sauron said, voice breaking. "They showed him a city. Outsiders… traders… men and women building walls of steel. And he—"
Sauron swallowed.
"He made it vanish. A wave of heat. A light… and it was gone. All of it."
Silence fell. Even Logan's gut turned cold. 'Damn. That ain't no parlor trick. That's god-level firepower.'
Ka-Zar stepped in, his tiger Zabu padding low beside him. "He means to gather us all beneath him. In his city. To serve his will, or die for refusing. I roused our tribes to fight. We failed. We are broken."
The jungle air seemed heavier with every word.
---
Cyclops turned, visor reflecting the dim campfire glow. "So you're asking us to go up against a god."
Ka-Zar's jaw tightened. "I ask you to go up against a tyrant."
Logan's claws slid halfway free. The sound was sharp, final. "Before we play heroes— we deal with somethin' else first." His eyes cut to Sauron.
Sauron tensed.
"You drained Ororo," Logan growled, voice low and dangerous. "Left her crumpled in the dirt like she was nothing. I don't lift a damn finger for you until you fix that. You apologize. Now."
Storm blinked at him, surprised, her lips parting.
Sauron froze under the weight of Logan's glare. His shoulders sagged, shame dripping from him like sweat. Slowly, he bowed his head toward Storm.
"I am… sorry," he whispered. His voice cracked, but it was steady enough to be real. "I never meant to… not like that. I could not stop myself."
Storm studied him for a long, painful silence. The jungle sang with insects, the crackle of firewood. Then she gave the smallest nod.
"Your hunger does not erase my pain. But acknowledgment… is a start."
Logan smirked faintly. "Good enough for me, darlin'."
Storm blinked again, softer this time, and whispered so only he caught it: "Thank you, Logan."
He gave her a half-smile. "Nothin', sweetheart. Just cleanin' up the mess."
Then, turning back to Ka-Zar, Logan bared his teeth in a grin that wasn't friendly at all. "Alright then. Enough talk. Point me at this stone freak, and let's crack him wide open."
Cyclops exhaled, shaking his head. "Logan… you'd rush into hell itself if it meant a fight."
Logan lit a cigar off the fire, smoke curling in the humid night. "Damn right. Question is, Summers… you comin' with?"
And so the pact was sealed. The X-Men would march against a god.