At Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, the esteemed Lalia Azali serves as a dedicated teacher and is also this universe's Scarlet Witch. Endowed with formidable powers and a destiny she must face, Lalia confronts her fate amidst the school's hall...
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- Lalia
I trudged up the ramp of the Blackbird alone, each step feeling like it carried the weight of my entire world. Anguish gnawed at my insides, and guilt twisted in my stomach like a relentless serpent. The events in the tent replayed in my mind, an endless loop of torment.
The look on Logan's face when I asked him to hurt me, to kill me if I lost control again—it was a look I wished I could erase. I never wanted to ask him that. I didn't even want to die. But the fear of what I could do, the destruction I could unleash, was too great. The power inside me was a ticking time bomb, dangerous and unpredictable.
These thoughts swirled in my mind, a storm I couldn't escape. I tried to focus on the mission ahead, but the fear of losing control kept creeping back in, whispering dark possibilities.
Just as I was about to sink into a seat, the door to the Blackbird hissed open. Mystique strode in first, her expression hostile and unyielding. She moved to sit by Erik at the back, her presence only adding to the tension that already hung thick in the air.
Moments later, Logan walked in, a storm cloud of despair etched across his face. He looked more on edge than ever, his usual confidence replaced by a tension that made my heart ache. I approached him cautiously, my voice barely above a whisper, "What did she say to you?"
Logan looked at me, his eyes a mix of hurt and fierce determination. For a moment, he said nothing, the struggle evident in his expression. Finally, he spoke, his voice tight and controlled, "Nothing, Lalia. Just... nothing."
I could see through his words, the layers of pain he was trying to hide. It mirrored my own. The weight of our burdens seemed almost too much to bear, but we had to keep moving forward. There was no other choice.
I could see why he felt that way. The weight of my request, the burden I had placed on him, was overwhelming. I nodded, swallowing hard to push down the lump in my throat. We had to stay focused; the mission was crucial, and we couldn't afford any distractions.
I followed Logan to the other side of the Blackbird, my footsteps echoing softly in the metallic corridor. As we rounded the corner, I spotted Bobby and Rogue standing near the team's uniforms, their eyes wide with admiration. The sleek, black suits looked impressive, almost intimidating, hanging there in perfect rows.
"Why don't we get uniforms?" Rogue asked, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and a hint of longing.
Bobby nodded, still fixated on the uniforms. "Yeah, where's ours?"
Logan walked past them with a blank expression. "They're on order," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Should arrive in a few years." He then shoved the uniforms back into the wall, his face set in a grim look.
I couldn't help but find a bit of humor in his grumpy response. But the weight of everything we were dealing with—what I was dealing with, kept me from feeling any real joy. It was like a dark cloud hanging over me, always there, pressing down further, and further.
