Magneto didn't linger at the prom. Ballroom politics bored him, and Hank's glare felt like a hot iron on his skin. When Quicksilver tugged at his sleeve and whispered something about Wanda, Magneto nodded and walked straight to Charles.
"Charles," he said without ceremony, "I need your help."
"You know I will help," Charles replied. "What's wrong?"
"Wanda's gone. She vanished days ago—phone dead, no contact, nothing. Your psi-amplifier should be able to find her."
"Come with me," Charles said.
Charles didn't walk so much as float—Ryuuto kept the Earth Style · Light-and-Heavy Rock Technique active beneath the professor's body so he could go where his legs no longer would. The cost fell on Ryuuto's chakra, so Charles chose to take his wheelchair into the special chamber. Magneto guided them to the spherical room; the door sighed closed behind them.
"Fifteen years ago, when you built the first psi-amplifier, I thought we were aiming for the same future," Magneto said quietly, watching the console glow. "You and I wanted better lives for mutants. You believed in coexistence; I believed in power. Look how far we diverged."
Charles's voice was soft. "I wanted the same, once."
"Wanda was my daughter in spirit," Magneto said, looking away. "But she is a weapon to you and to me. Help me find her."
Charles touched a knob, straightened, and slipped on the helmet. The psi-amplifier warmed to life—an old miracle that let telepaths reach across continents, tune into mutant signatures, and speak into sleeping minds. Charles closed his eyes and dove into the psychic tide.
Five minutes later, he opened them and frowned. "She's there… but I can't lock on."
"What does that mean? Where is she?" Magneto asked, voice taut.
Charles swallowed. "I'm picking up a signal in the right region—Wanda is sitting at the edge of a dam, fishing. She's with an old woman. But when I tried to tune in directly, there was nothing. Her brainwaves… aren't registering."
Magneto's face went hard. "You mean—?"
"There are only two explanations," Charles said slowly. "Either she's dead, or she's been placed somewhere I cannot reach—shielded or sealed from telepathic detection. I can't tell which. I'm sorry, Erik. I truly tried."
Magneto didn't wait for condolences. He turned and left the chamber without his usual theatrics. Charles watched him go, the helmet heavy in his hands.
"I hope she's found a life without power," Charles murmured after Magneto's footsteps faded. "Or that whatever holds her is kinder than what we might do."
By the time they returned to the hall, Magneto had already called Quicksilver and Mystique to go with him. Their departure left a smaller, quieter circle. Jean and Ororo returned with cases of wine and tried to smooth the edges of the evening—wine is diplomacy's oldest costume.
Charles, Ryuuto, and the others raised their glasses. "To the future of Axville Mutant School," Charles said, forcing brightness into his tone.
They drank. Music swelled again. Outside the nine worlds' scale, things moved in a different register. In Asgard, Odin stood on the palace ramparts while Thor paced, recounting the day's chaos. His voice was controlled and edged with fury.
"Loki is a Jotun," Thor said, jaw tight. "He is family to me. This affront will not go unanswered."
The party on Earth toasted fragile hopes. In Asgard, a storm of retribution was being bled into motion.
....
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