Nolan raised an eyebrow and glanced at Charles Xavier. "Good to see you’re doing well. Transferring your consciousness into your twin’s body worked better than I expected."
Charles gave a faint smile but stayed quiet.
"Was that Illyana I just saw?" he finally asked.
Nolan nodded. "She goes by Magik now. Or, more formally, the Queen of the Borderlands. We made a deal I brought Piotr to see her."
"Why not just bring her back?" Logan asked flatly.
"Because according to magical law, she’s not allowed to return to Earth," Nolan said simply. "She’s now classified as a dark sorcerer."
"Magic law?" Ororo frowned.
"Kamar-Taj law," Nolan clarified. "We protect Earth from dimensional threats. That means we set the rules when it comes to interdimensional magic."
He wasn’t posturing. The authority of the Sorcerer Supreme wasn’t theoretical. It had been carved in blood and time, forged by generations of masters defending Earth from unseen horrors.
And now, Nolan wore that mantle.
"Since when do sorcerers get to make international policy?" Bobby muttered.
Before Nolan could reply, Charles’ voice echoed telepathically through the group.
"Let it go. He’s not bluffing."
As a member of the Illuminati now, Charles had access to Stark’s files, SHIELD intelligence, and... Nolan’s involvement with Earth’s magical infrastructure.
He knew the mystic underground was real. He’d searched for them before and failed. Now he knew why.
Nolan was their tip of the spear.
"Do you need anything from us?" Charles asked.
"No," Nolan replied. "Magik already paid her price. My part was simply to bring Colossus."
"Then... thank you," Charles said, though he was surprised.
Nolan sensed the unspoken thought and responded casually, "I’m ruthless when I need to be. But if I say I’ll do something I do it. And I don’t play both sides. That’s for cowards."
Piotr took a deep breath, still overwhelmed. Nolan opened another portal.
Colossus stepped through and there she was.
She rushed forward, and the moment their eyes met, they both knew. Blood called to blood. Sibling to sibling.
"Illyana..." he choked out.
He embraced her tightly, tears falling freely. "After all these years... I finally found you."
Illyana smiled through her own tears, holding her brother like he might disappear again.
From the side, Mordo watched silently, torn. Earlier, he’d overheard Illyana speaking with Wanda. She hadn’t chosen the dark arts.
She’d been forced, enslaved, and manipulated. Learning magic had been the only way to survive.
Could he forgive that? Could there be context in corruption?
Mordo’s faith had always been binary. Light was good. Dark was evil. But maybe... not everyone had the luxury of choice.
Though shielded by mystic barriers, Mordo felt Nolan’s awareness brush his thoughts he’d sensed the internal struggle.
Nolan didn’t say anything. But the message was clear:
"Don’t let ideology blind you. Not every sinner asked to be one."
Nolan himself had never cared about moral purity. He judged by intent by how a person wielded power, not by where it came from.
Dark magic was a tool. Like a scalpel or a sword. Dangerous, yes but not inherently evil.
That’s why he’d made the deal.
He didn’t care to "redeem" Magik. She wasn’t his enemy. Not unless she made herself one.
"Alright," Nolan cut in, ending the emotional reunion. "The deal’s complete. I delivered your brother."
Illyana’s eyes flicked to him suspiciously. What would he do with her blood?
She knew the risks. No mage handed over personal essence lightly. Blood, hair, and bone were tools in curses and rituals.
But if Nolan had wanted to harm her, he wouldn’t need such theatrics.
She sighed and flicked her fingers. A droplet of blood floated toward him.
Nolan’s armor opened slightly and sealed it in a sterile container.
He turned to Piotr. "One last question. Are you staying here... or with her?"
He had just reunited with his sister but the X-Men needed him. Mutants were at war, and the school was vulnerable.
"Why can’t she come back with me?" he asked.
Ororo stepped forward, voice cold.
"Yeah. Why can’t she?"
"She’s a dark sorcerer," Nolan repeated. "I’m not going to say it a third time."
Charles stepped in again. "Can’t there be an exception?"
"Rules are rules," Nolan said. Then he smiled. "Unless, of course... you’d rather challenge me."
His words weren’t aggressive but they carried weight. If they pushed this... it would be war.
And in war, there were no equal sides. There were winners and losers.
"If you want a fight," Nolan said evenly, "and you lose, you don’t get to negotiate anymore. You get conquered. And I don’t think you’ll like what that looks like."
Charles exhaled deeply. "...We don’t want that."
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