The portal swallowed Aurora and Miles whole. Their screams were drowned in static, their bodies pulled apart and stitched together again until—suddenly—it was over.
Aurora hit the ground with a thud, coughing as her vision adjusted. This wasn't Brooklyn. The air was cleaner here, strangely quiet, and the campus-like buildings around her carried an unfamiliar insignia: Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.
Miles landed beside her, rolling smoothly to his feet. "Okay… this isn't home. Again."
Aurora pushed herself upright, brushing dust from her jacket. "Where… where are we?"
Before either could make sense of their surroundings, voices echoed down the hall nearby. They crept closer, peeking through a doorway into a sunlit room filled with books, old photographs, and a sense of warmth Aurora hadn't expected.
Inside stood a man with rugged sideburns, broad shoulders, and a haunted look in his eyes—Logan. Wolverine.
He froze in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the familiar halls like he was seeing them for the first time. Aurora and Miles exchanged a look, sensing the weight in his silence.
Then another figure entered—a bald man in a wheelchair, his expression calm, wise, yet touched with astonishment. Professor Charles Xavier.
"It's you," Xavier said softly, studying Logan with eyes that seemed to pierce time itself. "You've returned."
Aurora's breath caught. She didn't understand what she was seeing, but the emotion in the room was undeniable. Wolverine's lips curled into the faintest smile, a lifetime of struggle buried in that single moment.
Miles leaned toward Aurora, whispering, "Uh… are we interrupting something?"
Neither Xavier nor Logan noticed them yet. Aurora felt like she had stumbled into someone's deeply personal story, one she wasn't meant to know.
The room settled into quiet as Wolverine, finally at peace, let out a long breath.
And then—
BAMF!
A puff of blue smoke erupted nearby, startling Aurora. A slender, blue-skinned man with glowing yellow eyes—Nightcrawler—appeared in the corner, his gaze snapping toward them.
"Vhat are you two doing here?" he demanded, his German accent sharp. "You are not part of zis place!"
Aurora stiffened. "We—we don't even know how we got here. Please, we're not enemies!"
Miles raised his hands, palms open. "Promise. We're… lost."
Nightcrawler's eyes narrowed, suspicious but cautious. He stepped closer, inspecting them like prey or puzzle pieces.
From behind, Logan finally turned, his gaze locking on Aurora and Miles. His nostrils flared. "Strangers… but not ordinary ones."
Aurora's stomach twisted. She could feel the tension rising again, the same suspicion she had faced back home.
This wasn't Brooklyn. This wasn't her mission. But one thing was clear: they had landed in a world that already carried too much weight—and their arrival had just added more.