You don’t even feel the moment it happens — not at first.

One second you’re on the cold marble floor of Selene’s lair, breath coming in ragged gasps, clutching the wound she gave you when the fight went bad. Her laughter echoes around the chamber, low and cruel, bouncing off the massive obsidian pillars and the crimson velvet curtains that frame the place like a stage. Candles burn in strange, bone-like sconces along the walls. The smell of incense and blood fills your lungs until you almost choke on it.

Then there’s a spark — not physical, not seen with your eyes, but felt like a jolt down your spine. Your fingers go numb. Selene stumbles back with a strangled cry, eyes wide, her fangs bared.

And you realize something’s wrong.

You didn’t touch her for more than a second, barely long enough to push her away — but now, there’s something inside you. It writhes, searing-hot, ancient and dark, flooding your veins until you almost collapse under the weight of it. You can feel it settling, rooting, like a parasite and a blessing all at once. Your breathing hitches.

Selene’s knees hit the floor. You’ve never seen her like this. She looks fragile now, pale hands clutching the floor as if it can hold her upright. Her eyes burn into yours, furious.

“You… little… thief,” she hisses, her voice rasping like broken glass.

Your heart lurches. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t even know you could do this. It’s like someone handed you a nuclear bomb without warning. When you take a step back, the candles nearest you flare as though bowing to you. Power crackles at your fingertips.

You stumble toward a shattered mirror propped against the wall. Your reflection looks wrong. Your pupils are blown wide, dark as Selene’s, your skin luminous in the half-light. There’s a pull deep in your chest, a whispering — no, a chorus — promising you eternity, promising you dominion, promising that you could burn the world or hold it in your palm if you just said yes.

You shove the thought away, clutching your head, feeling like you might scream.

Selene’s voice cuts through the haze: “Give it back.”

But you can’t. You don’t even know how. Your stomach twists with guilt and dread. What if it never leaves you? What if it corrupts you, turns you into what she is? What if the X-Men find out — will they see you as a danger, a weapon to be contained, just like they always feared Selene was?

Selene staggers to her feet, still weak but glaring at you with a hatred so sharp it feels like claws on your skin. “You have no idea what you’ve taken, child,” she says, almost spitting the word. “It will eat you alive before it ever serves you.”