The Prophecy

i.

Charles remembered the first time he'd seen Cecily—though not in person, but through someone else's memories. In that vision, he had glimpsed the person she was destined to become, the potential radiating from her. But the girl in front of him now, cradling the snake in her hands, was not that person—not yet.

Cecily carefully cradled the snake, watching it slither gracefully across her fingers. "Its colors and stripes look just like a coral snake's," she murmured, her voice soft and distant, "but it's not poisonous."

Charles observed her closely, his expression thoughtful. "That's really interesting," he said, pausing as he chose his words. "You've got a gift," he added, allowing her to explain further.

He was determined. The hesitant, unsure girl before him would one day grow into the powerful person he had seen in those memories. He was certain of it—he would guide her there.

"They mimic the venomous ones," Cecily continued, her eyes still locked on the snake, "to trick predators, to survive."

Charles studied her carefully. There was something deeper in her words, more than just a simple observation about nature. "A clever disguise," he said gently, sensing the layers behind what she wasn't saying.

"Yes," Cecily replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It helps them stay safe."

"It has eyes," Cecily whispered, watching the snake closely, "but I don't think it can see."

Charles sighed softly, intrigued. "And why do you think that is?" he asked, his voice patient.

"I don't know," she replied, her tone distant, almost as if the answer was just out of reach.

"Yes, I suppose some things are just beyond our understanding," he said thoughtfully.

Just then, the door swung open, and three people walked in. Cecily recognized Hank immediately but didn't know the other two.

"Alex! It's good to see you!" Charles said, greeting him warmly and shaking his hand.

"You too," Alex replied, pulling Charles into a quick hug. "You look well. It's been a while."

"It has. Not too bad yourself," Alex responded with a smile.

"Thank you," Charles said.

Cecily turned her attention back to the snake in her hands, focusing on its smooth scales.

"This is my brother, Scott," Alex said, wrapping an arm around him.

"Hello, Scott. Welcome to the School for the Gifted," Charles greeted.

"Yeah, it doesn't exactly feel like a gift," Scott replied, his tone a mix of skepticism and frustration.

Cecily examined the snake again, noting its eyes. "Its eyes are red," she whispered, her brow furrowing.

"It never does at first," Charles said gently, his voice filled with understanding.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"The first step in understanding one's power is learning its extent," Charles explained, his tone encouraging. "Only then can we begin the process of teaching you how to control it. If you choose to stay, I promise that by the time you're done here, you'll be able to return to the world and play a stable, productive role in it." He had invited Cecily along, believing that being outside would benefit her.

"Why don't you take your bandages off so we can assess what we're working with here?" Charles suggested to Scott.

"Alex, would you help him? Line him up and face him in the right direction, as it were?"

"There's a target just across the water," Charles continued. "When you open your eyes, try to hit that."

Scott slowly removed the bandage from his eyes but hesitated. "You can open your eyes, Scott," Charles said gently. "There's nothing to be afraid of. It's quite—"

Before Charles could finish, Scott's eyes snapped open, and uncontrollable red beams shot out, splitting the large tree in front of them in half with a deafening crack. The tree groaned, and then fell to the ground in two pieces.

Charles watched calmly as the tree collapsed. "My grandfather planted that tree when he was five years old," he remarked, almost to himself. "I used to swing from the branches of it. I think that was probably my favorite tree."

"Does this mean I'm expelled?" Scott asked.

Charles turned to him with a reassuring smile. "On the contrary, Scott. It means you're enrolled."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Cecily awoke to the unsettling echoes of another one of Jean's nightmares reverberating through the mansion. Quietly, she made her way toward Jean's room, careful not to alert Hank, who stood watchfully at the door.

"I saw the end of the world," Jean said, her voice trembling.

"I could feel all this death," she continued, her eyes wide with fear.

"It was just a dream," Charles reassured her, though Cecily sensed the deeper truth beneath Jean's words. To her, dreams were rarely just dreams.

"No, it felt real," Jean insisted.

"I know," Charles replied gently. "Your mind is one of the most powerful I've ever encountered. It can convince itself of things..."

"No, no! It's not just the mind-reading or the telekinesis; it's something darker, something growing inside me—like a fire. I thought I was getting better."

"You are," Charles assured her. "You will. You just have to be patient."

"No, no! You don't know what it's like to be afraid to shut your eyes, to be trapped inside your own head."

"Oh, I think I do," Charles said, his expression solemn. "It wasn't so long ago that I was plagued by voices myself—all their suffering, all their pain, their secrets."

Cecily stepped forward, her voice steady. "It is rare for the future to be changed; you never know when the exception might be."

Charles turned, surprised. "Cecily, I thought I told you to go back to bed."

She glanced around at Hank and then back at Charles, her voice barely a whisper. "You didn't tell me."

Charles sighed, realizing Cecily wasn't going anywhere. Her presence seemed to ground the room, even as Jean's anxiety simmered.

Jean looked over at Cecily, her eyes still wide with fear. "You know what it's like, don't you? To see things... before they happen."

Cecily nodded slowly. "Sometimes." She hesitated, glancing at Charles before continuing. "Sometimes, they're warnings. Sometimes, they're inevitable."

Charles regarded Cecily momentarily, a mixture of concern and understanding in his eyes. He knew she had a habit of finding her way into situations like this—always observing, always hearing more than anyone expected.

"You should be resting," Charles said, his tone soft but understanding. He didn't send her away, though. "We'll talk later. Why don't you stay with Jean for a while, help her calm down?"

Cecily nodded gently. "Okay," she whispered, stepping closer to Jean with a quiet resolve.