1. The Rift in Westchester**
The X-Mansion was no longer a school.
The jet touched down outside the shattered grounds of what was once Xavier's dream. Black snow and violet flame mixed in the wind. Reality pulsed where the front gates had once been—warped, torn open like a wounded heart.
Jon stepped into the hellmouth first.
Behind him came **Daenerys**, her fire pulsing faintly; **Wanda**, crackling with suspenseful energy; and **Sif**, her sword already raised. The shadows moved unnaturally now, like they remembered where they came from.
A corrupted whisper echoed through the ruins:
*"You weren't supposed to live, Jon Snow."*
Then she appeared.
**Jean Grey.**
But not the woman in Xavier's files. Not the noble mutant with scars and grace. No—this host had eyes of pure black and crimson tendrils trailing from her body like claws of mourning flame.
She hovered effortlessly, crackling with Phoenix energy—twisted, fused with Dormammu's essence.
"You… were supposed to remain forgotten in death," Jean hissed. Her voice carried beneath reality itself. "But you fell through the cracks. And now you are a poison."
Wanda gasped. "He's not the poison. You were taken."
Jean raised a hand.
The air screamed.
Jon didn't move. He stood at the center of her wrath, letting flame crash around him.
And she saw it—deep in the ancient part of her stolen Phoenix soul.
**Flame recognized Flame.**
"You are not from this world," she hissed. "But you're made of ours."
Daenerys stepped forward, wings of fire pulsing behind her.
"You wear my crown," Dany said evenly. "But your soul is choking on something not yours."
Jean snarled—and the battle exploded.
### **2. Fire vs. Flame**
What followed could not be called a duel—it was a **collision**.
Daenerys launched herself into the skies, bathed in Phoenix Force light, spinning like a burning spear. Jean screamed as she met the charge, creating concentric shockwaves across the ruined landscape.
Wanda and Sif circled wide, shielding Jon from killing blasts. But energy singed through them regardless. Power like gods clashed in the air—**Phoenix vs. Corrupted Phoenix**—and the planet trembled under them.
Daenerys fought with purpose.
Jean fought with hunger.
"Help her!" Wanda gasped, conjuring twin lances of chaos magic and launching them upward.
Jon stepped into the rift-fire, eyes burning silver.
He half-whispered a word of Valyrian—**"Zaldrīzes."**
(Dragon.)
The rift behind Jean **shuddered.**
Something dark screeched from far beyond: the voice of **Dormammu himself**—shouting through her hijacked soul.
**"Join me, Dragon Prince. Your fire is legacy. But mine is eternity."**
### **3. Seduction of the Dark**
The battlefield bent.
Suddenly, Jon stood not in the mansion—but in obsidian corridors. A vision inside the flames, inside **Jean's corrupted mind** or… Dormammu's tethered dimension?
Before him: Jean, reborn. Nude but cloaked in smoky crimson fire, seductively walking toward him.
Around his feet: burning chains slithered like snakes.
"This could be your world," Jean whispered. Her voice was silk wrapped in razorwire. "No thrones... no duty. Just gods… and those they please."
Her hands trailed up his bare chest. "I can give you anything. A harem of celestial queens. Magic beyond stars. Death undone."
Behind her, shadows pulsed—other versions of Wanda, Sif, even a darker Daenerys, twisted by flame and longing.
Jon gritted his teeth.
"You're not her," he growled.
Jean smirked, and the façade began to crack.
"You could learn to love me," she whispered desperately. "I could be your goddess. Just say the word."
Jon closed his eyes… and roared the same word he'd used to banish the chains of the Wall, the one that broke time for him—
"**Dracarys.**"
The illusion shattered.
### **4. Salvation and Shattering**
Back in reality—Jon surged skyward, wrapped in embers and magic, blade drawn. His scream ripped through the stratosphere as he met Jean in midair, Longclaw clashing against Phoenix flame.
Daenerys joined him mid-dive, their light synchronized. For a brief moment—they were **one**.
Together, they struck.
Wanda's magic wrapped the blow, and Sif threw her blade into the core—
An explosion of light consumed the horizon.
And when it faded…
Jean was on the ground, unconscious. Her corrupted Phoenix Force peeled away like ash on water.
But the rift… did not close.
Instead, it **talked.**
A dark mouth opened mid-air above the grounds, not ripping space, but whispering through it.
"Jon Snow. You may resist power. You may claim the favors of witches and goddesses. But you carry something older than even flame. You carry *the seed of the First Flame itself.*"
"Sleep well, Prince of Targaryens…"
And it vanished.
### **5. The Red Queen Awaits**
Back aboard the helicarrier, Jon collapsed into the war room beside Daenerys. She tended a burn on his wrist while Wanda studied remaining traces of Dormammu's taint inside Jean's blood.
"She'll live," Wanda murmured. "But... whatever he opened isn't done yet."
Sif kept watch at the door.
Jon drank from a flask—liquor Tony had left behind years ago. He stared into nothing.
Power. Goddess temptation. Multiversal chaos.
And somehow—he had to lead?
"You need to breathe," Daenerys whispered.
But just then, SHIELD's comms beeped once more.
An unfamiliar voice crackled.
:: Incoming visitor requesting audience. Genetic match confirms mutant Class Omega–Red Category. ::
Wanda narrowed her eyes. "Who the hell—?"
The screen came online… revealing a shadow-drenched corridor and a slowly-approaching figure.
Long red curls. Body-hugging leather suit. Yellow-eyed and smirking.
**Mystique.**
She stopped before the feed.
And smiled knowingly.
"Oh, Snow Prince…" she purred. "You've made quite the name for yourself."
Jon blinked.
Daenerys blinked.
Wanda groaned.
Sif chuckled.
"Not another one," muttered Wanda.
Mystique tilted her head. "Correction. The one."
:: END OF CHAPTER 5 ::