The afternoon felt settled, as if the house itself was adjusting to the presence of new occupants.
Within forty minutes of arrival, Nightcrawler had established the kitchen as his domain, addressing the lack of strudel himself. The other rescued mutants dispersed throughout the mansion's common areas, cautiously reacquainting themselves with the freedom to choose their surroundings.
Ilyana Rasputin had made no such choices.
She appeared wherever Ethan's group gathered, standing just behind the main conversation, arms relaxed, her blue eyes observing each person with the patient focus of someone collecting information.
Rogue was the first to notice, which was unsurprising given her attentiveness.
In the sitting room, Raven reviewed her notes by the window, Ethan reflected on the day from the sofa, and Jean read in the armchair. Rogue turned from the bookshelves and looked directly at Ilyana, who stood in the doorway.
"You've been following us for three hours," Rogue announced, which was not a question.
Ilyana met her gaze without any visible reaction to being identified. "Four," she corrected. "I started in the corridor outside the med bay."
Rogue regarded her with a measured, evaluative look. "Come in or not, but standing in the doorway is unusual."
Ilyana considered this, then entered and sat in the chair nearest the door. She was not fully part of the group, but no longer outside it.
Rogue recognized this as progress and returned to the bookshelves.
A minute passed. Then: "The gloves."
Rogue didn't turn around. "What about them?"
"You're wearing them indoors," Ilyana said. "We're not outside anymore."
Rogue pulled a book from the shelf, looked at its spine, and put it back. "I know where we are."
"Then they're not for the cold," Ilyana said. Her tone was matter-of-fact, simply stating the truth as she saw it.
Rogue turned and leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed in her characteristic thinking posture, and looked at the girl in the chair. The girl met her gaze without flinching, as she had before.
"My mutation," Rogue said. "Skin contact — when I touch someone, something in me takes from them. Life force, memories, and abilities, if they have them. It's not something I control especially well, so the gloves stay on around people I haven't worked out an arrangement with."
Ilyana considered this with the same calm, thorough expression she had maintained since her arrival. She glanced at her own hands before returning her attention to Rogue.
"I'm sorry that's how it is," she said, her tone direct and sincere, offering a straightforward acknowledgment of a difficult reality.
Rogue blinked.
Since her mutation had manifested, she had encountered pity, clinical acknowledgment, and the awkward warmth of those unsure how to respond. She had rarely received such a direct, unembellished recognition of her situation.
"It's fine," she said.
It almost sounded genuine, which was an improvement.
Ilyana nodded once, apparently satisfied, and resumed observing the room.
---
Jean spoke with Ethan in the corridor outside the kitchen, where the smell of Kurt's cooking had sent others elsewhere.
"The girl," Ethan said.
"Ilyana." Jean leaned against the wall. "I've been watching her too."
"What do you know?"
Jean considered. "Not much. She only shares information on her own terms, and so far, she has chosen not to share much." She paused. "From what I can tell, she carries herself with the confidence of someone who has never doubted her ability to handle any situation. That certainty comes from real experience, not just training."
Ethan looked toward the sitting room. "Until now."
"I think so," Jean agreed. "She has been adjusting since we arrived at the facility, observing Rogue and me. The effects of what Rogue absorbed from Apocalypse are apparent to those who know what to look for, and Ilyana certainly does. However, she seems most focused on you. She looks at you as if you are a variable she has not yet categorized, and is deciding whether to find that interesting or concerning."
"Which is she landing on?"
Jean allowed a slight smile. "I think she finds it interesting. The fact that she has stayed is telling."
Ethan looked back at Jean. "She'll keep following us?"
"Almost certainly," Jean said. "Until she's decided what she thinks. After that, I genuinely don't know."
---
The evening progressed as everyone settled into their routines.
Jean observed as Ethan, Raven, and Rogue gravitated toward their shared room. Rogue was winding down, and Raven closed her notes with the finality of someone finished for the day. Jean also noticed Ilyana watching these routines closely, fully aware of their significance and deciding whether to acknowledge her understanding.
The girl, around nineteen, had spent an unknown period in a Weapon X cell. She did not need to follow anyone into a situation she already understood and did not need to join.
Jean found her in the corridor outside the sitting room.
"I have a spare room," Jean said directly. "It has a proper bed and a bathroom. You should sleep there tonight."
Ilyana looked at her with an evaluating expression. "Instead of following them."
"Instead of following anyone down the wrong corridor," Jean said evenly. "It's a practical suggestion."
The girl was silent for a moment. Her expression shifted, not to embarrassment, but to the look of someone who had been accurately understood and was deciding how to respond.
"Fine," she said.
Jean showed her the room, ensured there were towels, and closed the door. She paused in the corridor, reflecting on how well the day had turned out, which she had not expected twelve hours earlier.
---
Morning.
Raven was awake and thoughtful before anyone else. Rogue was in that half-awake state where she could hear conversations but chose not to participate. The room had settled into its morning routine.
Ethan stared at the ceiling, clearly considering how to share a thought.
"At the rate we're going," he said, with complete conversational ease, "we might end up acquiring someone new."
Raven turned and gave him a look reserved for statements that were both reasonable and unreasonable. It lasted three seconds and conveyed her thoughts without words.
"Don't start," Rogue said from her position.
"I was referring to the general situation," he said. "The fact that she shadowed us all afternoon, and Jean had to redirect her at the end of the evening. That's what I was referring to."
A pause.
"Sure," Rogue said.
Raven turned back to the window, her expression indicating the conversation was over, which it was.
---
Breakfast was a larger undertaking than usual.
The dining room was more crowded than usual, with rescued mutants at different stages of recovery and adjustment. Xavier moved among them with practiced ease, while the regular students adapted quickly, accustomed to unexpected changes.
When Ethan entered, Nightcrawler and Bobby were already engaged in a lively debate, using more hand gestures than was typical for breakfast.
"The thermal range is completely different," Bobby insisted, clearly invested in the discussion.
"The range is entirely beside the point," Kurt replied, pointing with his three-fingered hand at a napkin he appeared to be using as a diagram. "What matters is the precision at the destination. Distance is trivial — arrival is everything."
"You're describing your own power to justify your own power," Bobby said.
"I am describing objective truth," Kurt replied. "It happens to apply to my own power, but that is not the same thing."
Rogue sat down next to Ethan and looked at the napkin diagram. "What are they arguing about?"
"Teleportation versus ice bridges as mobility options," Ethan said.
"That's not an argument," Rogue said. "They're not comparable."
"That's what Bobby is trying to say," Ethan said.
Rogue looked at Kurt. "They're not comparable," she said.
Kurt turned to her, welcoming a new participant in the debate. "Exactly, which is why the ice bridge is obviously inferior as a concept."
"That's not what I meant," Rogue said.
"Nevertheless—" Kurt began.
Rogue gestured to her food and resumed eating. Kurt, undeterred, continued his discussion with Bobby.
Ilyana sat across from Ethan without introduction, as she usually did. She ate with the focused efficiency of someone determined to leave hunger behind.
Ethan looked at her. She looked back.
"After breakfast," he said. "Tell us what you can do."
Her expression shifted, not to eagerness, but to the look of someone finally being asked what she had been waiting to share.
"All right," she said.
---
The back garden, cold in January, offered space, privacy, and freedom from students with devices.
Ilyana stood in the center of the cleared area, arms at her sides, unaffected by being observed, as if observation had never influenced her circumstances.
"Stepping discs," Ethan said. "That's the term you used."
"Teleportation portals," she said. "They route through a dimension called Limbo. I can access it, and I have some control over what happens there." She paused, choosing how much to give. "The reach is theoretically unlimited. I haven't found an edge to it."
Raven crossed her arms. "You can take others through?"
"Yes. The disc expands to include whoever I want to bring." Ilyana looked at Rogue. "Can you teleport by any other means?"
"No," Rogue said.
"Then you would rely on the disc for that capability," Ilyana said, her tone factual rather than unkind.
"What else?" Jean asked.
Ilyana's right hand moved.
The sword seemed to have always been nearby, a blade of pale light that was both solid and magical, its presence altering the air. She held the hilt with practiced ease.
"The Soulsword," she said. "Solidified magical energy. It's tied to my soul — which means it can't be taken from me by any conventional means, and anyone else who holds it experiences it differently than I do." She turned it once in her hand. "It cuts what physical things don't. Mystical constructs, magical entities, certain types of psychic constructs."
Jean looked at the blade with the Phoenix awareness behind her eyes, reading it on a different level than the visual. "The magical signature is unusual," she murmured.
"It's mine," Ilyana said, both explaining and cautioning.
Raven looked at the sword with the specific attention she brought to things that had interesting mechanisms. "Can it affect psychic architecture? Mental constructs?"
Ilyana considered this. "Certain kinds. It depends on the construct's nature." She paused. "Why?"
"Curiosity," Raven said.
Ilyana accepted this and dismissed the sword as easily as she had summoned it.
Ethan had been watching all of this with the quiet attention he brought to significant things. "Limbo," he said. "I'd genuinely like to see it."
Ilyana looked at him.
Her gaze lingered longer than usual, as if she was carefully evaluating the situation from several perspectives before responding.
"I'll consider it," she said.
"Fair," he said.
She held his gaze briefly, then turned to Rogue. "Your turn," she said, issuing a clear challenge.
---
The sparring resembled a physical conversation, with questions and answers exchanged through actions and intensity.
Ethan began at a level well below his maximum, as usual. Even so, the difference between his abilities and anything Ilyana had previously encountered was clear within thirty seconds. He was not especially fast by his own standards, but he was still much faster than his previous benchmarks.
She adapted quickly, as expected, without visible frustration, which was notable.
Jean demonstrated her post-Phoenix telekinesis in the back garden, using only a fraction of her power. She lifted the oak tree, roots and all, held it twenty feet in the air, rotated it ninety degrees, and set it back as if shelving a book.
Ilyana observed with the same expression she had worn since the facility: someone accustomed to being the most formidable presence, now choosing to find her new situation interesting rather than threatening.
Rogue demonstrated next, showing controlled strength from Apocalypse, energy manipulation, and short-range telepathy. She lifted a boulder from across the garden with one hand and set it down.
Ilyana looked at the boulder's impression in the frozen ground.
"Absorbed," she said.
"Yes," Rogue said.
"From Apocalypse."
"The same."
Ilyana turned this over. "And it stayed."
"Seems permanent," Rogue said. "We're still testing the range of it."
Raven demonstrated last, using Cyclops' beams at low output to score lines in the frozen ground, raising an eight-foot ice wall in under three seconds, and manipulating the atmosphere enough to make everyone's ears pop.
Ilyana stood in the center of the garden, arms relaxed, her expression thoughtful.
Then she opened a stepping disc.
The portal appeared instantly, a circle of pale light revealing an unfamiliar landscape. The air from it felt neither cold nor warm, but distinctly different, as if shaped by other priorities than those in a January garden in Westchester.
She stepped through.
Nothing. The disc closed.
Rogue turned in a slow circle, scanning the garden.
The disc opened behind her, and Ilyana stepped out. Despite months of unusual experiences, Rogue startled, turning sharply, stepping back, and raising her hands in reflex.
"Don't," Rogue said, with feeling.
Ilyana's expression showed a hint of amusement. "The disc is silent," she said. "It will always open behind you unless I choose otherwise. Consider it a design feature."
Rogue stared at her.
"I'll warn you next time," Ilyana said.
"You'll warn me every time,"
Ilyana tilted her head, neither agreeing nor refusing.
---
The afternoon progressed naturally: sparring ended, and the group sat on benches and stone walls. Ethan's aura kept the cold manageable, and conversation developed organically.
Jean, sitting on the wall with her feet dangling, discussed the Phoenix's cosmological awareness with Raven, a topic that could be either fascinating or disorienting depending on perspective.
Ethan asked Ilyana follow-up questions about Limbo: its geography, consistency, and how entities there responded to her. She answered selectively, engaging while maintaining her boundaries.
Rogue was looking at the oak tree, which was back in its hole and appeared none the worse for Jean's demonstration.
Kurt entered from the back at the moment the afternoon reached a comfortable rhythm, a talent of his.
"I have been in the library," he announced to the group. "Did you know this mansion has an excellent library? I found three books I have been searching for. Also," he turned to Ilyana, "I would like to formally propose that stepping disc teleportation and my own teleportation are directly comparable, and I would like to discuss why mine is superior."
Ilyana looked at him.
"Your teleportation passes through a brimstone dimension," she said. "The sulfur smell is a tactical disadvantage."
"It is atmospheric," Kurt said.
"It announces your arrival," she said. "My discs are silent."
"Silence has no flair," he replied.
"Flair reveals your presence before you arrive," she said.
Kurt opened his mouth, closed it, and considered her point seriously for a notably long moment.
"That is," he said finally, "a frustratingly valid point."
He sat on the nearest surface, accepting the outcome without issue. As Ethan had observed, he was genuinely resilient; correction did not affect him, and he simply moved on.
Ilyana had gone back to watching Ethan.
She made no effort to hide her observation, having decided it was not worth concealing.
Ethan looked back.
"You're trying to figure something out," he said.
"I'm always trying to figure something out," she replied.
"About me specifically,"
She paused, thoughtful. "You move differently from the others. Jean moves like someone newly aware of her power. Rogue moves like someone still integrating new abilities. Raven moves like someone experienced who has recently gained more tools." She paused again. "You move like someone who has been the same for a long time, but you are young."
"I had an unusual upbringing," Ethan said.
"So did I," she said.
They shared a moment of mutual understanding.
From the oak tree, Rogue glanced at them, then at Raven, whose expression indicated she had heard and noted the exchange.
Ilyana turned back to the garden, saying nothing further, her way of ending conversations she considered complete.
She didn't leave.