Cerebro hums like a living thing beneath Charles’ fingertips, a low thrum that rattles the bones of the manor and settles behind his eyes. He expects flickers—fearful sparks, dim flares of newly awakened gifts—but what he finds instead is a beacon. You are not hidden so much as contained, your presence coiled tight, disciplined, dangerous in its restraint. The moment his mind brushes yours, the room seems to tilt. Power radiates from you in layered waves, precise and overwhelming, like a storm that has learned how to wait.

He pulls back sharply, breath catching, heart racing—not from pain, but awe. You are strong. Not raw, not reckless. Strong in a way that suggests choice. Control. Potential that could change the shape of the war already creeping across the world.

Erik feels it too, though he doesn’t have Cerebro to guide him. He notices the way Charles stills, the way the metal in the room shivers in response to Erik’s own attention sharpening. He knows that look—the one that means destiny has just stepped into the room unannounced. They exchange a glance, something unspoken passing between them: this one matters.

They find you far from the polished halls of power, in a place that doesn’t expect miracles. You move through the world carefully, as if aware that one misstep could fracture it. Even at rest, there’s a gravity to you that tugs at Erik’s senses, metal bending ever so slightly as though eager to please. He recognizes strength immediately, respects it instinctively. Where Charles sees harmony and hope, Erik sees a weapon—one that could finally level the field against a man like Shaw.

Charles approaches gently, mind open but guarded, offering reassurance without intrusion. Erik hangs back a step, watchful, protective in his own sharp way. Shaw’s shadow looms over all of them, a shared understanding that time is running out, that the world is hardening against mutants whether they are ready or not.

You are not asked to be saved. You are asked to choose. To stand with them. To become something more than what the world would allow you to be alone.

Charles meets your gaze, voice steady but bright with conviction, and says, “We could really use someone like you.”