You don’t remember the exact moment the world shifted. One step you were walking across the stone courtyard of the Xavier Institute, and the next, your foot landed on something that felt like glass, and the air rippled. You stumble, breath catching in your throat as your senses betray you—trees stretching taller than skyscrapers, then shrinking into bonsai twigs; the ground beneath you swelling like a breathing lung, then flattening out like a mirror.

You turn, but the path you took is gone. No mansion. No laughter from students in the distance. Only a warped canvas of reality: rivers flowing upward into the sky, birds flickering in and out of existence mid-flap, your own shadow stretching into a grotesque silhouette before snapping back into place. You feel dizzy, like the world itself is mocking your ability to stand on it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The voice is soft, almost gentle, but something in its tone makes your pulse pound harder. You spin around and see Kevin. His form wavers, phasing between solidity and transparency, like he can’t decide whether to exist here at all. His eyes glow violet, pools of loneliness ringed by something far darker.

You swallow, throat dry. “Proteus.”

He smiles, thin and weary. “You know me. Good. Saves me the trouble of introductions.” He steps closer, and the space warps in rhythm with his movement. The ground beneath your feet bends like rubber, forcing you to shift to keep your balance. “I imagine they told you I’m dangerous. That I burn through bodies like matches, bend reality until it screams and all.”

“They weren’t wrong.”

Your instinct screams to fight, to run, to call for backup. But your powers tremble at the edges of your nerves, uncertain if they’ll even work in this twisted dimension. You clutch your fists, steadying your breath, and notice the expression on his face. He isn’t sneering, isn’t threatening in the way villains usually are. He looks tired. Starved.

“I don’t want a fight. I just… want company.” His eyes almost roll with an emotion that makes you falter. Desperation. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, to walk through a world that feels like clay under your fingers?"