Author's note- I REALLY like this chapter. Why? Because I wrote it after watching Princess Mononoke (which is a GREAT movie) and the full Merlin mini series that was on tv a couple years ago so I kinda got an interesting frame of mind. Oh yes, I agree with many of you, there IS too much Jean. She's not the main character either. So I've added more X-Men to the mix and things will hopefully be even better. Nightcrawler makes an appearance this chapter, and be on the lookout for Kitty and Jubilee coming in either the next or the chapter after. No Jean this chapter, but Rogue, Logan, Gambit and Storm are here. Oh yes, German peoples, or Nightcrawler fans, please don't slaughter me if I do his accent incredibly, embarrassingly wrong. I don't think anyone has time to clean up an excess amount of blood.
Swear like Gambit- For those of you who desparately want to be able to use the French cuss words in this chapter (or just want to understand what the hell Gambit is saying), here's a handy guide! Merde (which is used in about 9999999999 fanfics) means shit, catin is bitch, and damnent is (unsurprisingly) damn. Oh yes, this isn't a swear word, but un soujourn is like an excursion. This is according to my distant memories of French class (I haven't touched the language since 6th grade), and a handy dandy online English to French dictionary. If it's wrong, you can blame my memory or the dictionary. Your pick.


--Chapter 3: Journeys--


A few hours before Remy had made his terrible discovery, or Jean had awakened with her clouded vision, there were new beginnings stirring even far from Xodus. Ten miles away, deep in the Elfin forest of Raskque, elves with azure skin ran around the river darting in and out, catching fish, hunting small game and picking burgundy-shaded berries from the plants that grew around it in the light of sunset. They sang merrily and laughed joyously, running and frolicking through their woodland home. While fear and uncertainty shook Xodus, in the Elfin Rodrick clan, there was only rejoicing. Their prince was reaching his sixteenth year, the year of his manhood, and there was to be a great feast in his honor.

All were merry except for one, Lady Viola, a younger elf with long, strait hair held into place with a braided strand of her own hair pinned around her head. Tiny, tiny wisps hung in her pale cerulean face, framing it in an elegant way. Two piercing, on the cartilage of her right ear, marked her as an elf of noble birth. She wore a sleeveless top of snake skin and a tan dyed wrap as a skirt. These clothes would have been scandalous to any human, but elves were forest dwellers and wore more primitive clothing. She sat in front of the river under a lilac tree and stared at her reflection in the crisp cold water, clear and fresh, as a river in spring should be. It did not take a poet to see that she was beautiful, in her own elfish way.

"BAMF" a loud noise sounded behind her.

"Go avay Kurt!"

"Vat's vrong, Viola? I just vanted to see if you vere alright! No need for animosity, ja?" Kurt, a young elf who was one born different. His power was known as the transport. With a loud BAMF he could appear in any place he wished.

"You!" the girl sat up and glared at him, "leave me alone!"

"But vhy Viola? All I vant to do is talk vit you and you alvays refuse!"

"Mien Gott! You got some nerve, ja, to come here ant harass me! Aren't you on the bat side of the clan already?"

Kurt paled at this, but decided to stay strong. He had seen the wet shimmer in her eyes and realized why she hadn't been with the others. "Viola, vhy vere you crying?"

"I vasn't crying!"

He stroked his hand over her wet cheek. "That felt like tears to me. Viola, you vere alvays a dear friend of mine. I vought you could tell me anything. Ve're friends. That hasn't changed."

Viola blinked her golden eyes. Kurt had been a good friend of hers since she was a young elf, but then status didn't matter. But now, things were different.

"Kurt...things have changed. You're a...a..."

"Nightcrawler," he finished. He didn't need to hear it anymore. It was enough that he was one born different. That, in an elfin clan, wasn't too terrible, but not too great either. What had brought him to shame was his mother's brink in tradition. Elves were terribly proud of being their own masters, due to a history of living in slavery, and to them there was nothing worse than to work for another creature even for payment. To break such tradition would be blasphemy. Kurt knew this well. That was why he was shunned from the others. His mother, may her name be erased from eternity, had listened to a band humans who were searching for those born different, saying that only when they were banded together could they stop the hate of the commons. His mother jumped on the chance, leaving him, as an infant, to be cared for by the rest of the clan. Therefore, he became an outcast.

By elfin tradition, when he reached manhood, as he already had, he must search for his food separate from the others by only going out at night and sleep in a tiny camp separate from the rest as to not contaminate the other elves with his dangerous ways. The scrounging for food, crawling around blindly through the dark, earned this position the name "nightcrawler", and Kurt was known as thusly.

Lady Viola had his friend since they were very small, but for Kurt, it was always something more. She was kind, beautiful, proud, and gentle. He loved her. But she did not love him. She couldn't love him. He was a freak. A different. A nightcrawler. Besides, her heart belonged to one and one only: the elfin prince. It seemed though, that since he had reached manhood, Viola had done nothing but ignore him. She'd no longer even speak with him, as she'd used to.

"If I am a nightcrawler," Kurt said after a moment of silence, "it shouldn't matter that I know."

"True," Viola sighed, "true."

"Can you tell me? Maybe I can help, ja?"

"There is nothing you can do! At the prince's manhood ceremony, there vill be an announcement of his engagement!"

"And he vill not marry you?"

"No. He vill marry Amelia."

Amelia was an elf of an ancient warrior family line.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not!" Viola screamed.

The rage boiled up in him. It was hard enough to listen to the elf of his dreams ramble on about the one whom she loved. Now she accused him of not caring. He cared. More than she'd ever know. "You're right. I'm not. I'm never good enough for you."

"Kurt! Get your head out of the gutter! You're a nightcrawler! Act your place!"

"Right. Go ahead and step on me too, ja." ::BAMF::

"Kurt! Come back!" Viola called.

::BAMF::

"Viola, please listen to me. I love you!"

Viola glared at him. "You are a fool, Kurt. A real fool! Mien Gott! You're a nightcrawler lusting after a lady of the elfin court. You can sit around pretending you give a damn about me, but I know vat you're really after, you different monster!" She pushed him into the river, in a burst of furry. She hardly knew why she was so angry. Kurt had done nothing wrong. But she was so stressed, and he was a nightcrawler. She could be mad at him because he was there. That was the way the world worked. She needed to reason to be angry at him, and he could not dare to speak against her.

With a splat, he hit the freezing, rushing river and was dragged along by the current. He had hit his head on a rock, and was rather dizzy.

He could hear Viola back at the bank, screaming and calling his name, but for some reason, she didn't seem to matter anymore. He realized that he had spent half his life dreaming about someone who only cared about herself. ::BAMF:: He teleported to the camp where he stayed by himself. He knew why Viola had pushed him in. Although it was half from shock due to his confession, the other half was to release the stress she had accumulated with the problem of the prince being married. Suddenly, the elfin clan felt extremely cold, and it wasn't just do to the breeze against his wet skin. He was sick of being picked on because of some mistake his mother had made. The next day, Viola would pretend nothing had happened and be his friend again. She would take advantage of his friendly shoulder to lean on, and his good listening skills.

He changed into dry clothes and then walked over to the main camp. Sighing, he took his place next to an elder elf, Rosard. He was the oldest in the tribe, and wise beyond years. His hair had long since turned white, and the blueness of his skin had steadily faded.

"She rejected you again, no?"

"Ja. She did."

"She'll reject you every time."

"I don't care anymore."

"So it finally hit you!

" 'bout as hard as that stone in the river ven she pushed me in!"

"She did? Schweinehund!"

"Ja."

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

"Ja. Me too."

"You'll be leaving now?"

"Vho said anything about leaving?"

"Vell, I thought it vas a given. I thought you saw that all they do is blame stuff on you. There's nothing for you here, Kurt. You're a good kid. I'd hate to see a good kid go to vaste."

"But if I go, they'll all say that it vas because I vas a bad seed. I vould never be able to come back if I left."

"Vhy vould you vant to come back? Vhy do you care vat people who mean nothing to you think of you?"

"But how can I leave everything I've ever known?"

"It'll not be easy. But if I vas you, I vould have left years ago. Elfin clans are all rules and tradition. No creativity. I vould leave now, now that I see this. But I'm too old."

"So you vant me to live your dream for you, is that it" Kurt was shocked.

"Is that really to much to ask from he who fathered you ven no one else vould?"

Kurt sighed. Rosard had been his foster father since his mother had abandoned him. Kurt looked up to him for advice and knowledge. Of course, running away would be better for him in the long run. As long as he stayed with the clan, he would be like a punching bag, something for people to take out aggression on. If all Rosard wanted before the goddesses came to reclaim his soul was to know of the world away from the clans, then surely Kurt owed him that one tiny favor. He shut his eyes and began to walk back to his camp.

"Kurt! Vhere are you going?"

"To pack. I leave at dawn."

***

Remy LeBeau stared at the note. In the dim light, he looked her words, scrawled in hurried, messy cursive, in black ink. He noticed that some parts of it had run slightly. She had been crying. Rogue crying? He couldn't believe it. Lady Rogue was strong enough to escape when she needed to, and she cried over a little thing like that note. It was touching. He didn't know long he had sat there, just thinking. The reality of her leaving hadn't hit him yet. Now, he was still in shock. Never, never, in five thousand hells had it occurred to him that something like this would happen.

Lost in thought, he didn't hear the approaching foot steps. He didn't hear the creaking door. Suddenly, his hands were pinned behind his back.

"Lovely night, isn't it?" a feminine voice asked.

"Merde!" he muttered, "La catin!"

"Don't think your harsh words can scare me, thief! Don't think I don't know who you are! You came back for her didn't you?"

" 'Ello, Lady Raven, it is such a lovely night that I think I'll jus' go for un petit soujourn!" He tried to rise from the chair to no avail.

"Not until you lead me to the girl!"

Remy struggled and finally broke out of her grip, and rushed to the window, leaping outside and ricocheting down the walls of the estate. Unfortunately, when he landed, he noted that he was surrounded by several of Lady Raven Darkholme's guards.

"damnent!"

***

Lightning at midnight had awakened the Lady Rogue. The rain had pounded down in droplets that could soak your hand. She had hugged the blanket closer to her and pressed into the ground, praying that somehow she could push herself deep down, away from the rain. The dirt was sopping with rainwater, and she shivered in the night air.
Her body longed for warmth. Sighing, she rolled over next to where Sugah knelt down in sleep. It wasn't great, but the giant creature gave off some heat. Rain splashed around her, soaking the blanket and chilling her to her bones. There was nothing she could do. She knew that only a fool would seek shelter under the nearby trees, due to the rages of lighting, and there was no dry place other than the sheltering trees. Due to exhaustion, she eventually slipped into a restless, feverish sleep.

***

She was a tiny form sitting on a clouded silver day-break mist. Pale with a hint of a silver glow, hair that curled in many chocolate ringlets past her buttocks, and silver-cerulean eyes graced her figure. Sage-like, silver glinting, beautiful, wild. She was the foam on the sea, the thorn of the rose, the glint of rainbow in a perfectly white pearl. She was the change. The catalyst. It was never easy, but all things must change. Flowers fade. Friends change. Technology advances. They all march on into entropy. It all changes. We can't do anything about it. Even she couldn't completely do something about it. Change happens for everything: deity and mortal; plant and animal. No one can avoid it.

Pensively, she looked down at the rain-kissed earth below. Her sister had been at tireless work. Perhaps soon the hard slaps of rain would turn into caresses of sunlight. She looked piteously at Rogue. The poor thing! There was nothing she needed more now than to be caressed. Perhaps all that would change too...someday. Prophesy, heart, and soul willing. Hopefully the rain would let up soon.

But with the true oracle gone, it was doubtful her sister would clear up anytime soon. Lightena had quite a temper at times. The catalyst shifted her gaze to where her sister sat on a pile of storm clouds, watching her handy work.

"What will you do?" the young Catalyst asked with interest, "You cannot keep punishing the world like this."

"I will not rest until this blasphemy is righted."

The two watched from perches of morning mist and storm clouds. Unspoken, they were both afraid. For years, all had worked like clock work, but now, now, things had exploded into strange depths. Even the holy ones were afraid. There was nothing to do now but watch and wait. Both of their contacts with earth, the fourth and the fifth, were in grave danger.

***

Steel cold bars and strong icy chains surrounded her. Hard unforgiving stone, and bare, empty blackness. This is what she awoke to. She didn't know how long she had been asleep. All she knew was that she was not where she was when she fell asleep. Where had she been? It was clouded in the mists of her mind.

She tried to stand up, but it was in vain. She had been chained to the wall. A caged bird who wanted nothing more than to fly.

Not completely alert, due to the sleeping drug, it took her a few moments for it all to sink in.

Stone walls. Steel bars. Strong chains. Pitch-black, devastating darkness.

"In the name of the goddess, how did I get here?" she wondered.

She remembered very little. Faded pictures she couldn't quite reach. Where was here? Where was Logan?

***

"Leme get this strait, bub!" The Captain of the Guard thundered at the messenger, "Y' askn' me to get mixed in this oracle fluff and find d' girl who doesn't want a part in it either?" He sat on a table in the royal stables, polishing his sword so that it gleamed bright in the sunlight of the afternoon.

"What I am asking you to do, Sir Logan, is to find the Lady Rogue and bring her home so that she can fulfill her duty to society! And don't you let anyone hear you call the great oracles fluff! That would be blasphemy worth execution!" The outraged messenger from the House of Miracles look horrified as he stared at the muscular, massive, yet short captain of the king's guard.

"Listen bub, I only believe in one god, and that's this!" He said protruding a single claw from his hands.

"You believe in strength over the five great deities?" cried the messenger who was beginning to fear the captain immensely.

"It don' let y' down, and ya don't have to pray to get it."

"Are you saying that you will not help us find the fifth oracle?" the messenger was furious.

"I'm not helping you walk 'round like a fool, dat's what you mean!"

"You ought to be usurped from your station and exiled for such blasphemy!" the man screamed in disgust and stomped out of the stable. Sir Logan could barely contain his laughter.

*Logan, you really did give him a scare*

"I hate it when he does that," Logan muttered, still not used to King Charles Xavier's thought speech.

*Be careful, I'm not sure how many more people you can afford to annoy. At lunch the other day, the Lord of Cyclops was none too happy with your flirtations with the future wife of his son. I know what you're thinking, that it doesn't matter. But ever since the discovery of the fourth oracle, you've been acting too friendly with her. Don't think I haven't noticed.*

"Don't mention Ororo!" He growled.

*It's hard for you to admit it, I know.*

"I don know what you're implying, majesty, bu' I kno I it's not true."

***

Back in the throne room, the king laughed heartily. Soon, soon, Logan would ride again. It was a shame. It would have been good to have him for the council. Knowing those who would be coming, there was, as sure as he was alive, to be fire and brimstone.