To whom it may concern,
If you are reading this, my dear successor, it means that I, Charles Francis Xavier, founder and headmaster of "Xaviers' School for Gifted Children", am no more. And while I would wish to be able to address you by name, we both know that in the war we daily fight in, survival is never guaranteed, at least not for the individual. So, while I hope that I did know you closely and had the chance as well as the pleasure to coach you and to gently ease you into the hard but also very rewarding work of leading this particular school as well as the X-Men, I am certain that even if I did not have such luck, you will doubtlessly do well. Because even if I am aware that I do not know every single student or former student of my school as well as I would have liked, I know that every single one of you has a good and brave heart, regardless how carefully you try to hide it sometimes, and that you will do your very best to lead your fellows and charges in these difficult times.
But perhaps, my dear successor, this letter will help ease some of your worries.
You may have already wondered why I have made certain that you receive this letter separately from my will and any other documents that by now should be in your care. You probably also wonder why I insisted that you read it alone instead of sharing it with your colleagues and friends who doubtlessly want nothing more than to ease your burden and to help you along.
Fact is that right now, in the times I am actually writing this letter, I myself am uncertain how its contents would be received. The world at large is still struggling with the discovery of the genetic mutations that make us, me and all under my care, so special and at the same time so frightening to them.
My charges are still young, still fragile, may it be physically or psychically, and each day we hear of new atrocities committed by both sides in a war that should have never been. And, despite their brave faces and courageous attitudes, I can see and sense them faltering. I know that they ask themselves if they have made the right choices, if they stand on the right side and if they will survive to see another day and if they do, if it will only be on the cost of another's life, an enemy's, an innocent's – or a comrade's.
I fear that even if I tried to explain the intentions of the precious gift granted to us, they would not understand. They would ask for more and grow resentful of a being just like us, a being that wanted to help us keep our courage. I admit, that for a short time, I did ask myself the same questions and felt the same pain and anger as they would certainly do – but other than my charges I have had the privilege to delve into the mind of our unlikely ally and see not only his motivations for contacting me at all but also understand his reasoning for only granting us help – a help that we have to work our hardest to deserve, that is – instead of a short-cut like "protection from all harm" that may possibly even do us more bad than good in the long term. Because who would ever accept us as equals if we would be magically protected from injury and death instead of suffering and hurting just like all humans do?
But I see that I have gone too far ahead.
I dearly hope that my explanations will make more sense to you, my dear successor, once you have read all about the events that transpired not so long ago, and that you will understand my reasoning for keeping quiet about the information I am about to share with you.
Please, after reading this letter, think carefully if your comrades are ready for the revelation that not only other realms beside our own exist, but that there is also such a thing as "magic" and that our fate is not uniquely tied to our planet or our species alone.
If you feel that they can handle the knowledge contained in this letter, then I encourage you to share it and let them rejoice at the news that hope will never be completely lost as long as they hold true to themselves. But if you feel that they would not understand, then I ask you to keep quiet until you think them ready to accept the truths written down here.
By now I can almost imagine the annoyance you must feel at reading my ramblings, always hinting at hidden secrets, as well as your startled face at my mentions of magic, realms and other species.
I assure you, not much longer now, my dear successor, just a few more lines about the interesting character you owe your gratitude for having to read these lines at all.
Let me tell you about a man, pale-skinned and dark-haired, tall and slender, who can either let the world glow with his laughter or freeze your heart with his smile. Let me tell you about a younger brother, a shadow to golden light, never quite seen but dearly missed when absent, even if his peers do not recognize it yet. Let me tell you about a god of guarded smiles and contradictions, a god of outcasts, just as strong and fragile as we are. Let me tell you about a being who understands us better than he himself is aware right know.
And while I pray that he will never realize just how alike we really are, something tells me that the day will come that he will return. And I dread this day, for his sake and ours.
While writing these lines I have already decided to look out for him all my life and I ask you to do the same once I have passed.
Do not make the fault of looking for the man I will describe later on, because he has many faces and other than Raven he is not limited to human appearances alone. Look out for his eyes instead, brilliant green eyes of the likes you have never seen before, changing color and intensity according to his moods and thoughts. Believe me, there is no mistaking those eyes, once you know to pay attention to them.
Look out for him, for we outcasts have to stick together.
And now, finally, we have reached the end of my ramblings and the beginning of my tale.
So let me tell you about Loki, the Norse god of mischief, and how he pulled my own trick on me…
