"Karibu binti!"
The speech of the living statuette was completely unfamiliar to me. I'm sure I've never heard anything like it before. Thankfully, remaining in ignorance wasn't a problem for me. Charlene kindly started transmitting the translation directly into my head. This is the convenience of being a telepath—such small details don't bother you, you can decipher almost any unknown language in real time.
The statuette greeted its daughter, meaning Ororo, and urged her to return to her homeland to fight the great evil that loomed over their tribe. Honestly, I didn't understand much, even with the translation, but the statuette mentioned some evil spirits and angry deities that only Storm could handle.
For a moment, I even felt like Dumbledore, in whose company the famous Sybill Trelawney uttered her prophecy. Heh, so Ororo is our very own chosen one now! Like Harry Potter, but with boobs and without glasses! And instead of lightning on her forehead, she has it in her hands, heh!
Anyway, the situation seemed somewhat absurd to me, but as I had suspected, it smelled like adventure.
Finally, after delivering its speech, the statuette froze in place again and closed its eyes. Storm tried to ask it something, but to no avail, it didn't react.
"What was that?" I decided to ask after a minute of silence.
"It's my adoptive mother, Ainette. I told you she's a shaman and capable of much, although she always said that her powers were just a shadow of the abilities of our ancestors."
"Your ancestors?" I asked, realizing that Ainette had the same unusual hair color as Ororo. Maybe it's indeed a common trait passed down through their bloodline?
"Ainette once told me that she and I, as well as my real mother, are descendants of an ancient line of African priestesses. Our distinguishing feature is white hair and blue eyes. Also, in her opinion, we are all predisposed to magic."
"Wow!"
Cosmic whales! Looks like my comparison to Harry Potter was spot on! Well, except that Storm is more like a wild version of the Malfoy family, heh.
"When Ororo lived in the tribe, she thought her abilities were magical manifestations of hidden forces," Charlene said with a slight smile. "It wasn't until we met a second time, and I invited her to join the team, that I managed to explain to her that she was actually a mutant."
"Y-yes," she chuckled awkwardly. "You were convincing enough to open my eyes."
"Hm, but what about Ainette?" I asked. "Are her powers magic or also a mutation?"
"More like magic," Charlene said thoughtfully. "I only met this distinguished lady once, when I took Ororo, and I can't say for sure, but at that time, I didn't sense any mutant qualities in her." Her powers don't have a common theme, like weather control or telepathy, but in small things, she's capable of both.
Quite an interesting conversation we're having.
"Ha, surprising! Professor, I thought you'd be pretty skeptical about magic."
"Why?" Charlene was surprised. "In my life, I've encountered a lot of things that are simply unbelievable, and magic isn't the most surprising of them."
"Then what made you so cautious about this package?"
"Hmm, that's..." the bald woman hesitated. "It's hard to explain, maybe it just seemed that way to me. And it can't really be true, anyway."
Behavioral hints like these are very familiar to me. I've encountered similar things over the many lives I've lived. Each individual case isn't like the others, but they all share something in common. And the most important thing I've learned is that you have to talk to people who start voicing similar thoughts. Usually, it helps avoid a lot of trouble later on. After all, as Neo said—Déjà vu is a serious glitch in the Matrix! Or did he not say that?
"Alright!" I clapped my hands decisively. "Let's figure this out, ladies. So, Ororo received a mysterious package from her shamanic adoptive mother asking her to return, citing some evil spirits. At the same time, a powerful telepath and a woman with vast experience sees something strange in this package. Something that makes her drop everything and rush away. Am I missing anything?"
"N-no," Storm answered uncertainly.
"Oh Marius," Charlene said, closing her eyes. "I understand what you're getting at, but it could have just seemed that way. I don't think it's really important, maybe I'm just becoming a paranoid."
"This is extremely important!" I protested. "You know perfectly well what will happen next! Ororo won't ignore this call for help, she'll go back to her tribe, either alone or with a couple of friends. They don't yet know what they'll actually have to face. It could really be some evil spirit, or maybe something even worse is waiting for them! And you, the only one who has any idea about this mysterious enemy, so please, tell us everything that's bothering you now, while Storm has a real chance to prepare!"
A heavy silence filled the director's office. Charlene lowered her head, like a girl who's just been caught by the teacher near a broken window. Monroe could only look back and forth from me to Xavier, stunned.
"Alright," Charlene finally gave in, and we all suddenly fell into some sort of vision.
The strict office of the school principal swirled and lost its shape, and the next moment, from the gray smoke, crude clay buildings began to take form with small windows and canopies made of colorful fabrics. The heavy, hot air of the Wind Country desert hit my nose. From the same smoke that rose under our feet, human and other figures started to emerge.
Colorful people in long light dresses were talking, leading camels by the reins, trading at stalls, and smoking hookahs, hidden from the blazing sun under protective canopies. The language seemed vaguely familiar, and I quickly remembered my memorable trip to Egypt in that, first, or zero, as I call it, life. What I was seeing now resembled my memories of the old part of the city, but now it all seemed even more colorful and authentic.
We three clearly didn't belong in this setting, but no one from the locals seemed to pay us any mind. Moreover, Charlene had placed our observation point a little aside from the main human flow.
"This place," Ororo was surprised. "I remember it!"
"Yes," Xavier said a bit stiffly. "It's where we first met. Look."
A woman, who was a little less out of place in this setting than our trio, emerged from a narrow alley between the houses. A younger version of Charlene, already completely bald, was still walking on her two feet, not in a wheelchair.
She was dressed in a beige traveler's suit, something very classic and presentable, yet not restrictive. You know, an aristocratic tourist outfit. The woman from Charlene's memory was in a hurry and almost missed the moment when she collided with a little girl, whose face was dirty and her clothes torn, but with characteristic white hair.
The little girl, not hesitating, reached straight into the woman's outstretched pocket, but the robbery victim managed to react just in time and grabbed the tiny hand.
"What?" Ororo defended herself, as if answering my silent question. "I had a tough childhood! I survived as best I could!"
"And what about me? I didn't do anything, just watched the scene," I put on an innocent face and distanced myself. These women! I hadn't even said anything, and already I'm guilty of all mortal sins.
"Hm, I ran away back then, right, professor?" the grown-up blonde asked, turning to Charlene.
"That's right," she didn't argue.
The scene, which seemed frozen during our conversation, resumed its course. People and camels began to move, and Charlene from the memory suddenly let go of little Storm's hand. The world around the telepath dimmed, the colors nearly faded. The figures of people blurred, and our attention focused on two figures.
Charlene herself and a stocky dark-skinned man in a stricter, snow-white suit, black round glasses, and a funny red hat on his greasy, short-cropped hair. He sat inside a neighboring establishment, very much resembling a shabby bar. These two hadn't seen each other with their eyes, but it clearly didn't prevent them from interacting in some other way.
"Amal Farouk," "our" Charlene introduced him with an absent and detached voice. "He was a strong and skilled telepath, one of the first mutants I met in my life. And my first enemy. An enemy I killed."