Reluctantly, Nova pulled himself away from Wanda's room, her image still burning in his mind. Every step down the corridor carried a weight, but he forced his focus back to his original purpose—finding Rogue.
He slipped into the next room, uncertain whose it might be. The faint glow of a laptop screen cast shifting light across the walls, illuminating two occupied beds. He drifted closer.
On the right lay a girl in bright pink pajamas, blankets kicked to the side, one arm hanging over the edge of the bed. Jubilee. Her side of the room was cluttered, posters and trinkets scattered in a colorful mess.
Across from her was someone entirely different. Sage. She lay on her back, dressed in plain nightclothes, the light from her open laptop still glowing on the desk beside her. A few books were stacked there, titles heavy with advanced equations and theories that most students would even bother to look at. Meanwhile, her laptop screen frozen mid-scroll on some impossibly technical journal..
Nova didn't linger. The instant recognition hit, he turned and slipped away, not sparing either of them another look.
In the next room, the air was softer, carrying the faint trace of lavender. Curtains stirred gently with the night breeze, moonlight spilling in through the gaps and painting silver lines across the floor. Two beds filled the space, less rigid than the previous room, touched with the warmth of their occupants.
As Nova moved closer, he saw Blink was curled tightly beneath her blanket, only a shoulder and the top of her head visible. Strands of pink hair spilled untamed across the pillow, her small frame drawn in close as if cocooning herself against the night air. The rise and fall of her breathing was faint, barely disturbing the stillness of the room.
But Nova barely saw her.
His gaze locked instantly on the other bed, and the world seemed to narrow—Rogue. Finally found her.
She lay turned slightly toward him, dark hair fanned across the pillow in a loose tumble, the single white streak catching the moonlight like a silver slash against midnight. Her shirt had ridden up just enough to expose the smooth line of her stomach, the fabric clinging to the curve of her chest with every slow breath. The loose shorts she wore did little to disguise the shape of her hips or the long line of her thighs stretched out beneath the thin sheet.
With a wave of his hand, a series of temporary wards shimmered into place, sealing the room.
The Trader's crimson gaze flicked back toward Blink. For a moment, he hesitated. Should he trade with her as well?
He frowned faintly, thinking it over. The timeline already annoyed him, but this pushed it further. By all logic, she shouldn't be anywhere near Xavier's at this point. Blink wasn't originally part of the classic X-Men roster; she came later—an era plagued with Sentinels and talk of gene-suppressing food.
A member of some underground group, run by none other than Polaris—Magneto's other daughter. That was supposed to be later. Much later, right now entire events oc mutant timeline are messed up. This damn AU keeps throwing pieces where they don't belong…
Taking a deep breath to calm down the frustration, It didn't matter. The timeline was already messy, inconsistent, warped by fate. What did matter was talent. And Blink had it. He'd read somewhere—maybe an article, maybe even a fanfic—that she could form long-range portals, stretching space itself in ways most teleporters couldn't even dream of. That alone was worth his attention.
Portals were something he could already create himself, but his were powered by reality-altering energy, which he can't or more specifically would never trade. Blink's, however, was an mutant ability. That made it precious, marketable, and far less costly to use. In a trade, it would be highly sought after.
Decision made, the Trader's lips curved faintly. "Yes. I'll be trading with both of them tonight."
He snapped his fingers.
The sound was small, but the echo carried unnaturally, ringing directly in the girls' ears.
Both stirred.
Rogue shifted first, muttering under her breath as she tugged the sheet higher over her chest. Blink groaned softly, burying her face into the pillow. For a moment, it was nothing but sleepy grumbles—two young women trying to resist the pull of waking.
But the consistent sound forced the girls to open their eyes and sit up in their beds.
Rogue groaned first, dragging the sheet higher around her shoulders. "Ugh… Blink, what the hell? Did you leave some alarm running?"
Blink rubbed her face with both hands, hair sticking up in wild pink tufts. "Me? That's not mine! You're the one who always forgets to switch off the stupid clock."
Rogue shot her a glare, voice still heavy with sleep. "Don't pin this on me, I didn't touch a thing before crashing."
Blink flopped back against her pillow with a sigh. "Well, someone did, 'cause it's ringing in my skull like a drill."
They grumbled back and forth, both too groggy to make sense of it, until the sound abruptly cut. For a heartbeat, the room felt normal again—just two roommates snapping at each other in the middle of the night.
Then they noticed him.
A cloaked figure hovered at the foot of their beds, body faintly transparent, as if carved from smoke and shadow. His feet never touched the floor; he floated inches above it, cloak swaying slightly as though stirred by an unseen breeze. From beneath his hood, faint crimson eyes glowed, unblinking. Behind him, a massive tome drifted in the air, its pages turning slowly on their own, symbols glowing faintly with otherworldly light.
Both girls gasped at once.
"G-Ghost!" they shouted together—then screamed outright, voices sharp and panicked.
Trader blinked. Huh? Ghost? Where— His mind flicked for a second to Ghostfreak, but no, he hadn't shifted into that form. Then it hit him. Of course. He hadn't shifted into any alien form, hadn't layered another illusion over himself. He was still using Exodus Animae.
Which meant what they were seeing was his soul, draped in the same black cloak, silver hair faintly translucent, glowing red eyes, body floating above the floor without substance. Add in the flickering edges of transparency and the massive tome drifting behind him, and… yes. To anyone waking up at midnight, he probably looked like the textbook definition of a ghost come to haunt them.
He exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint irritation. Great. First impression: ghost story out of a campfire tale. Exactly what I needed.
With a flick of his fingers, their screams cut to silence.
Despite their throats straining, no sound came out. Both Rogue and Blink froze mid-scream, their voices swallowed by the silence.
Rogue clutched at her throat in shock, her eyes darting wildly between her roommate and the figure floating before them. She tried again, louder this time, desperate—but nothing. Only the rasp of air leaving her lungs.
Blink slapped a hand over her mouth, then shook her head frantically, her pink hair falling into her eyes. She turned to Rogue with a wide-eyed stare, mouthing, "I can't—!" but even that was lost in the void. Panic flared hotter, their movements sharp and frantic, bedsheets tangling around their legs as they scrambled upright.
The silence was worse than the screaming would have been. Every flail of their arms, every soundless cry, filled the room with a suffocating dread.
Trader tilted his head, crimson eyes glinting beneath the hood as he watched. A faintly amused hum stirred in his throat. Should I play along? Pretend I really am some wandering spirit come to haunt them? He could almost picture it—looming closer, whispering in a hollow voice, dragging out their fear until they couldn't bear it.
The image drew a mischievous grin across his lips. It'd be funny. Like Ghostfreak, back in the day when he terrified Potter, Granger and Malfoy, who still deny that he didn't scream like a little girl.… He shook the thought off with a low chuckle. No. That would waste time. I'm here as the Trader, not a prankster.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers once more.
At once, a wave of calmness spread outward, invisible but heavy, washing through the girls' minds. The terror ebbed, their thrashing stilled. They weren't at ease—no one could be, staring at a floating, half-transparent figure with glowing red eyes—but the frantic edge dulled. Their breathing steadied, enough to think rather than only fear.
The Trader let the silence stretch just a moment longer before parting it with his voice. "Greetings, beautiful ladies." His lips curled in a faint, measured smile. "I am the Trader."
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CHAPTER:- [103- FANCY UNDERGARMENTS] IS AVAILABLE ON MY P@TREON