Following the attack on the Xavier Institute, the estate was a beehive of activity. The obsidian husks of the Cataloguer Drones had been piled like scrap metal on the north wn, where Storm and Jean Grey were leading the cleanup. It was a tactical choice; Ororo could sweep away the metallic husks with a gesture of her hand, and Jean’s telekinesis could realign structural beams far more precisely than a construction crew.

  For the students, the "Lockdown" was finally over. The heavy bst doors of the underground bunkers had hissed open, allowing the younger mutants to filter back into the sunlight. To maintain a sense of normalcy, Hank McCoy—the Beast—had organized mass csses in the unscathed west wing. It was a clever distraction, keeping the students’ minds on biology and literature rather than the terrifying reality that Charles Xavier was still missing and their home had just been a battlefield.

  Ethan Kane walked through the mansion’s polished hallways with the invisible confidence of a ghost. To the passing students, he was just the quiet friend of Amy and Paige, perhaps a bit lost in the sprawling architecture.

  With Amy and Paige safely occupied in the Danger Room under Logan’s watchful, albeit grumpy, eye, Ethan was free to "verify" the situation. Besides his verification, he had another purpose.

  He moved through the residential wing with surgical precision. He monitored the comings and goings in the building, giving him three-minute windows of absolute privacy. He didn't need much time. In Scott Summers’ room, he retrieved a single hair from a discarded training shirt. In Rogue’s room, he found a follicle caught in a hairbrush near the vanity.

  The genetic code of the world’s most powerful mutants was a currency far more valuable than the gold he’d skimmed from Fisk’s accounts.

  He was tucking the sterile containment kit back into his jacket when he felt a sudden, familiar prickle at the base of his brain. It wasn't the aggressive sweep of Jean Grey or the paternal warmth of Charles Xavier. This was sharp, refined, and familiar.

  "It’s a bit cliché to py the burgr in a house of heroes, don't you think?"

  The voice was like silk stretched over a razor bde.

  He didn't flinch as he turned the corner into a small sunlit conservatory and stopped.

  Sitting at a white wrought-iron table, sipping a cup of steaming Earl Grey, was Emma Frost.

  She looked as out of pce as a swan in a storm, draped in a white silk suit that cost more than a Queens bungalow. Her blonde hair was a sculpted masterpiece, and her blue eyes were fixed on him with a terrifyingly amused intensity.

  "Ms. Frost," Ethan said, his voice level. "It’s a pleasure to see you again."

  "My, my," Emma purred, her voice a velvety bde. "It looks like you're far more interesting than I led myself to believe during our st... unpleasantness."

  She was referring to the day Ethan had been "detained" by her Hellfire Club security guards—the day he had tricked her into seeing him as a harmless, ambitious child.

  Ethan didn't flinch. He walked into the room calmly, pulling out a chair. "I wasn't aware the X-Men were in the habit of inviting the White Queen over for tea."

  Emma gave a small, aristocratic shrug. "Desperation makes for strange bedfellows, darling. Scott and Jean reached out. They hope to use the Hellfire Club’s global intelligence network to expand the search for Charles. Apparently, being 'reformed' means I’m the first person they call when they need to get their hands dirty."

  She watched Ethan’s eyes—the way they didn't widen, the way his pulse remained steady. "And you... you didn't even blink at that information. Very interesting."

  She gestured to the teapot. "Sit. Drink. Don’t stand on ceremony. I find I have a sudden craving for a conversation that doesn't involve Jean Grey’s judgmental stares or Logan’s musk."

  Ethan sat. He poured himself a cup, his movements as fluid as hers. "Last time, you tried to peel my brain like an orange," he said. "How did that go for you?"

  Emma’s smile didn't reach her eyes. "You showed me a movie of a mundane, troubled teenager. It was quite convincing. So, how did you do it? Last time, I saw a boy who wanted wealth and a good life. But the boy sitting in front of me now... he feels like a gcier. Quiet on the surface, but deep enough to crush a continent. You’ve now got me wondering how you managed to create a mental firewall that fooled me."

  "You seem to have a soft spot for children, Ms. Frost," Ethan said, his voice level. "You were quite gentle once I pyed that role. You didn't want to break a kid’s mind, so you accepted the surface-level lie I gave you. If you suspected something, you’d ripped into my mind, you might have seen what you wanted; so, I beat you with your own compassion."

  Emma’s teacup paused halfway to her lips. Her expression hardened into a mask of pure diamond. The air in the conservatory grew ten degrees colder. "Careful, little boy. Redemption hasn't made me quite so toothless yet."

  "I'm sure it hasn’t. I apologize as I’m not here to insult you," Ethan said. "If I may, I’d like to ask a question of you. Did a woman named Destiny tell you to come here today?"

  The silence that followed was absolute. Emma set her cup down with a sharp clink. The poise she had maintained since he walked in finally wavered. Her eyes searched his, not with a probe, but with genuine, human shock.

  "That crone," Emma whispered, her voice losing its silk. "She did come to me at my Massachusetts Academy. She said the path to mutant survival wasn't in the Hellfire Club or even in Xavier’s dream. She said I would find the 'Architect' of such a future here today—the person who could help me achieve the future I want for my students."

  She leaned forward, her gaze boring into his with a mocking look. "I expected a titan. A messiah. Not a boy who collects hair samples in his spare time."

  "I'm not a messiah," Ethan said calmly. "And I'm not a hero. I'm a man with a pn, and the situation for your kind is about to turn untenable. And Charles’s dream of everyone holding hands and singing didn't save a single one of your Hellions, now did it? Magneto and Charles are two sides of the extreme in the argument, and to achieve such a dream is simply impossible for the likes of two old men stuck in their ways. I may be able to help you achieve such a dream, in exchange for a price."

  Emma smirked, though it felt forced. "And what could a supposedly all-powerful 'Architect' need from me? I’m now just a teacher with a history of bad decisions."

  "I need an ally who understands pragmatism," Ethan replied. "I'm going to have to spend a staggering amount of resources to ensure mutantkind doesn't go extinct. If I’m to waste my time on that, I want the White Queen at my side. Someone who isn't afraid to get blood on her white silk."

  "Bold," Emma said. "But, you're not really my type, kid. Besides, why should I trust a child who lied to my face?"

  Ethan smiled—a cold, predatory expression that looked entirely wrong on his young face. "Read my mind. Right now. No tricks. No 'movies.' I’ll show you exactly what I'm pnning. Once you see that, make your decision."

  Emma hesitated, then closed her eyes.

  The mental bridge formed instantly. Ethan didn't give her a house or a library this time. He gave her a vision.

  She saw Mars—not the red, dead rock of the present, but a terraformed paradise. She saw the "Genesis Pn," the blueprints for a mutant colony among the stars where they would never have to fear, neither humans or a Sentinel again. She saw the impending arrival of the Exemprs—beings of pure conceptual power that would treat Earth like a pyground.

  And then, she saw the darkness. Ethan showed her the warning from Destiny: that he would die in the 'Secret War.' He allowed her to feel the weight of his own foreknowledge, the burden of knowing the world was a clock ticking toward zero.

  As Emma tried to dive deeper, curious about the "how" and "when" of his knowledge, Ethan snapped the connection shut. It wasn't a struggle; it was like a vault door smming in her face.

  Emma gasped, her hand flying to her chest. She looked at Ethan as if seeing him for the first time. The arrogance was gone, repced by a deep, unsettling wariness.

  "Mars?" she breathed. "You're pnning to move an entire species to another pnet?"

  "If I have to," Ethan said. "But I can't do it alone. I will need the political weight of the Hellfire Club and the educational structure of the Massachusetts Academy. I need allies who look at the world and see a chessboard, not a charity ward."

  Emma leaned back, her mind racing through the tactical implications of what she’d just seen. "You’re a monster, Ethan Kane. A very small, very efficient one, but a monster nevertheless."

  "I've been called worse," Ethan said.

  "And what if I refuse?" Emma asked, her eyes regaining their spark. "What if I tell Scott what you’re doing in his bedroom?"

  "You won't," Ethan said simply. "Because you love those kids of yours more than you love Scott’s approval. And you know that I am the only one in this house who isn't blinded by hope."

  Emma pondered in silence for a long moment. She looked out the window at the students pying on the wn—Jubilee, Chamber, M—the children she had vowed to protect after the tragedy of the Hellions.

  "You said you know the future," Emma said quietly. "Do you know mine?"

  Ethan stood up, preparing to leave. He gave her a small, enigmatic smile. "I might. But information like that isn't free, Ms. Frost. Join me, and perhaps one day I’ll tell you. Who knows, maybe at my side, you can get that redemption you’re so desperate for. I hope to hear from you soon."

  He turned and walked toward the door, leaving the White Queen alone with her cold tea and a vision of a red pnet turned green.

  As he stepped back into the hallway, N.E.A.R. chimed in his ear.

  "Ethan, the San Francisco group has just crossed the Nevada border. They will be back in New York within the hour. Peter Parker sent you a message. He is requesting a meeting at the b tomorrow morning."

  Ethan adjusted his colr, his expression returning to the bnk mask of a student. "Good. It’s time for X-Men to get their beloved Professor Xavier back. Now I have a few pieces to py. I’ve also got Emma Frost. Looks like an alliance with Destiny is a worthwhile thing. And N.E.A.R.?"

  "Yes, Ethan?"

  Ethan walked toward the danger room, “Inform that person to meet me at the hangar in an hour. I’m sure at least one of them will require medical attention. Also, see if there is any footage of the incident. If there is, make a copy and delete the original. They finished quicker than I thought. What about the other prisoners?"