CHAPTER 18: ECLIPSE

Kitty watched helplessly as the life slipped from Illyana, remembering a time, years ago, when she had felt the same way. Surely there must be something--

Her thought was cut short by a sudden scurrying sound near the doorway, followed quickly by the shuffling sounds of many feet. Rising and spinning to face the door in one smooth movement, she saw them, and her heart froze in her throat.

Hundreds of glowing red eyes blinked to life in the shadows of the room. Slowly, they uncoiled from the darkness as if their forms were derived from it, a roiling cloud of black flesh converging around the X-Men, a sea swimming with horrific faces, razor sharp teeth, all limbs and claws and teeth and fury. Leathery wings scraped and beat as they moved, mouths and noses hissing with fetid breath as they circled closer, forming a tight knot around the four team members. They were creatures of nightmare, the source of screams upon a child's lips in the night, and they seemed… eager.

Demons.

"Oh, yes," Madelyne said dryly. "This is just what we need right now."

Side by side the two X-Men stood, protecting Illyana from the expected initial rush even as Magnus and Madelyne joined the fray. But the demons were not attacking. Confused, Kitty stood her ground, searching her mind for an answer.
 
It came a moment later, in the form of a cold voice from behind her that raised the hair on the back of her neck in a way the sight of a mere demon never could have.

"Welcome, my pretties," Illyana rasped, then cackled madly.

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Logan smelled them long before he saw them, but still he did not move from his post at Jean's side. He had moved her to a spare room, one not so demolished and filled with people. Magnus had hardly had time to argue with him about it since the leader of the team was far too busy trying to save Jean-Luc and Irinee's lives, and for that he was grateful. His reasoning had been twofold; if Jean woke up with any trace of the Dark Phoenix power, he would end it instantly, and privately, as it should be; and on the off chance, that he could not help but hope for, she woke up as herself, she would need time to orient herself.

Right, Logan, he thought dryly. Good reasoning. Almost anyone'd buy off on that. Except that you wonder, somewhere deep down, if all you want is your face to be the first thing she sees when she wakes.

He shook free of the thought, his heightened sense of hearing attuning to the events in Rogue's room down the hall. The demons were there all right, but he refused to stand with his teammates unless they absolutely needed him. Indeed, the very question of the Earth's continued survival now lay housed in the small, delicate body of this woman he stood watch over.

No, he would not leave her side now. In fact, he never had in all the time he'd known her. And he could not help himself from wondering if he ever would.

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In the hangar of the Arizona complex, the other X-Men having run off to help with the final battle as best they could, Ororo alone stepped inside the holding chamber of the Blackbird, features lifting squarely to face off with the Dark Beast, completely composed now as she interrogated the recently captured scientist.

The mad geneticist, for his part, seemed to be enjoying the telling of his tale immensely. His thick, clawed hands rubbed against each other in excitement as he spoke, and he was momentarily more lucid than Ororo had ever seen him.

"Madelyne was a pawn, never meant to be anything more. A distraction, a thorn in Sinister's side while I groomed the Phoenix for his destruction. It was her decision to come to the X-Men. She thought she'd have a better chance of destroying him with your help." Immense, furry shoulders shrugged slightly, as if to say it mattered not to him.

"But why?" Ororo asked, refusing to call him by his given name, refusing to profane the memory of the lovable Dr. Henry "Hank" McCoy that had fought by her side for years.

"Why?" He seemed amused by the question, sharp, white teeth suddenly bared in a feral grin, bushy brows raised high above dark, glittering eyes. "I had supposed you must have figured it out by now. Sinister and I had the oldest of scores to settle. In fact," he went on slyly, lowering his tone conspiratorially, black eyes locking on her icy blue gaze, "I would think that Iyou/I would understand best of all, Storm. After all, were you not the leader of my children when they were slaughtered?"

A chill ran down Ororo's spine, in cold contrast to the burning anger that suddenly ignited in her heart. There could be no mistaking the Doctor's meaning. The death of the Morlocks had ever been an unresolved conflict in Ororo's soul. She had been their leader, their protector, and she had failed them all. She had let them die. No matter that she had not been there when it first happened. Had she been fulfilling her duties of leadership to them, she would have been there, might have saved them. But the X-Men had been first among her duties, first among her loyalties, and so she had left the Morlocks to fend for themselves, leader of them only in title.

"Your children?" she asked carefully, managing to keep all emotion from her tone. All those years of practicing as the untouchable, unreachable goddess, she thought wryly, a tendril of sadness snaking into her heart.

"I created them," he answered, drawing himself up proudly. "They were beautiful in their terror, weren't they?"

"They were twisted! Malformed!" she replied angrily, the first bit of emotion beginning to overtake her. "You consigned them to a fate, to a life of hiding, of abnormality far beyond that of most mutants; a life without ambition or hope, rife with unhappiness. This, you would call beautiful?" Her voice was rising dangerously.

His mouth twisted in an insidious smile. "Is that why you did not stay with them?"

The question pierced her heart, as it was meant to, deflating her anger like a balloon, and she could not find the words to argue, suddenly.

He went on as if nothing had happened. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Sinister's creations were sent to destroy my own, and so I sought retribution against the man himself. I knew, as Madelyne did not, that the X-Men would never go after Sinister without provocation, so I cloned his children, the Marauders, to attack your Alpha Flight base. If you would punish me for any crime, let it be that. Not for the creation of my children, whom I cared deeply enough for to avenge their deaths. Deaths that you, and your X-Men, let go unpunished.

Ororo was stunned by the man's use of words. But even more than that, she was saddened and sickened by feeling the truth of them in her own heart. She had left the Morlock's behind thoughtlessly, and perhaps she had done it because it was as he said. She had always been a child of nature, her duty always to the beauty of the earth with which she was connected. The Morlock's were outside the natural order of the earth, created by science as they had been, and they had been hideous beyond all reckoning. She had become their leader only out of necessity to neutralize the danger they posed to the X-Men. Had she ever cared for them? It seemed not, as she thought on it now. Perhaps she had taken leave of them so abruptly and totally because she could not stand to look upon their twisted visages, could not bear to feel their implicit "wrongness". She, the unreachable, untouchable Goddess, had turned her nose up at the very people over whom she had ruled, those who had worshipped and needed her. She was reminded of the stories of the petty Greek and Roman Gods, of their indifference to those who cried out in supplication. In that instant, she understood that she was no better than they had been depicted.

Oblivious to her inner turmoil, or perhaps delighting in it, the Dark Beast hummed a jaunty tune beneath his breath.

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The four X-Men stood locked in place as Illyana spoke, hardly daring to believe what they had heard.

"Darkchilde…" one of the demons hissed, a twisted limb rising out of the mass in supplication. "Come home with ussss now."

"NO!" Kitty shouted, suddenly released from her horror with the demons words. She made as if to launch herself at the horde, determined to kill every one of them with her bare hands rather than see Illyana swallowed up by their dark embrace. And was brought up short by a hand, strong as steel upon her shoulder.

"No, Kitty." Illyana's voice now, quiet and resigned. She wavered on her feet as she stood, but she did not let go her grip on her friend.

"Illyana….you can't," Kitty said, uncomprehending, so confused that she was unable to explain why Illyana couldn't do that.

"I must. They are here for me, you see." She waved a hand toward the horde, which trembled and shivered in the delight of her attention. "And if I do not go, here they shall remain, and the walls between this world and Limbo shall grow ever thinner, merging the two worlds completely at its end. You know as well as I that would spell disaster for all of human-kind."

"But…you are dying…and we can fight them! We beat them back into Limbo once before!"

Illyana shook her head, sadly it seemed. "Only because I sacrificed my power to close the gate forever. And now that I exist within the mortal world again, my powers reclaimed, the gate opens once again. It has been slowly deteriorating since I was cloned into life by Sinister. A little flaw in his design." She smiled without humor, cornflower blue eyes filled with bitterness. She could not escape her destiny. Never, in any life, or form or design. And so she embraced it.

"Think of what you're saying!" Kitty pleaded desperately, knowing already that she had lost the argument.

"Come, Darkchilde….," another demon hissed, impatiently it seemed. "Home, where we sssshall heal you and you will reign assss our Dark Queen, asss it alwayssss ssshould have been."

Illyana's eyes flashed red, and a chilling smile twisted her lovely features.

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Every fiber of his being sang with unimaginable pain, and for a moment, he reveled in it, stood in awe of it, experiencing it fully. He had never known pain like this in his long, long life. It suddenly occurred to him that this was what it felt like to die, and following that, the rapid, almost surprising realization that although he had lived for centuries, he was not yet ready to yield to death.

Calling forth the considerable might of his own telekinesis, he hit Rogue with the force of an asteroid striking the earth.

She passed through the wall behind her effortlessly, and then another, and another, and another before she caught herself, reversing her trajectory. All premise of using her power seemed to leave her now as she flew at Sinister, fists striking at him like hammers in her animalistic rage. At once amused and awed by her tactic change, he watched as she unleashed the force of her rage against his telekinetic shield. And even within the shield of protection as he was, he could feel the force of the blows as they fell, could feel the weakening of his power as she raised her telekinetic ability against his. This was madness, he thought.

Sinister lashed out with an energy surge that should have fried her where she stood. Instead, she merely smiled, the energy pouring over her own telekinetic bubble, redoubling her efforts at breaking through his shield. Would nothing stop her, he wondered? And as she continued to steadily pound against him, alternately tearing at him with fists and powers, he began to realize that she had no upper limit. In the fullness of her rage, the Phoenix had been unstoppable. It was only her humanity that had weakened her, that left her vulnerable. Staring into her hatred-filled face now, he saw only the goddess.

He had but one chance, and it was a gamble, indeed. Sinister did very little without forethought, and over his many years, he had had time to plan for nearly every contingency. The risk to himself was great, but so was his need. He only hoped that he could confuse her enough to allow him the chance to strike at her, finally and fatally. There was no time to deliberate. He closed his eyes, willing himself from his body.

In seconds, his body disintegrated before the Phoenix's wondering eyes. Perhaps she would think she had won, he thought, vaguely amused. She had no way of knowing that his body was programmed to discorporate upon the exit of his mind. It was a failsafe that had saved him several times, leaving his mind free to inhabit another clone, and giving his opponent the illusion of victory.

The Phoenix stared at the pile of dust that had been Sinister, perplexed the sudden turn of events. For a moment, she indeed believed she had succeeded…but then, she felt him. His presence removed from her, blocked by distance and layers of separation, but there. Still alive. She howled with rage.

"You seek to deceive me Sinister. To escape me on the very plane that is my province! Let this be your downfall, then!"

With that, Rogue's body fell to the floor, empty and lifeless.

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Kitty stood, watching the sudden transformation in her friend with removed terror. She was afraid, for a moment, that it might fall to her to end it if Illyana was overcome by her evil side, now. A tremor of relief shuddered through her as the moment passed, Illyana's eyes becoming blue again as they focused on her.

Illyana shrugged sadly at Kitty, her expression at once forlorn and resigned. "I must go. I was molded to rule them, and if I do not go to them, shutting the gate behind me as I enter Limbo, they will claim me in the end, anyway. Better that I should go like this, of my own free will, still balanced by the good in my soul, than be resurrected as a dead, unfeeling thing by the Techmode virus. And that they would do, since it obviously still runs rampant in Limbo." Blue eyes flashed red for a moment, then reverted.

"No…" Kitty whispered this time, feeling utterly defeated to the depths of her soul. Illyana collapsed then, and Kitty caught her friend in her arms. Illyana clasped Kitty close in a brief hug, tears streaming from her eyes.

"I have to go, Kitty. Now, before death claims me." Pulling her head from Kitty's shoulder, she held her friend's gaze for a long, sad moment, then reached out to take the forefront demon's clawed hand.

"We shall meet again, Katya." A weak smile from Illyana, lost in the sudden glimmering white light from a teleportation disc. There was a moment when Kitty could see Illyana's silhouette, illuminated from behind by streaming white light, and she reached out her hand, every fiber of her being pleading for a reprieve, crying out in her mind that this could not be happening, it just couldn't. It seemed to her that Illyana reached out a hand as well, though it was impossible to tell with the white light filling her mind. And then the portal snapped shut, taking all the demons with it.

Just like that, she was gone.

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The landscape twisted and moaned all about him, nightmarish in its form. Once, the astral plane had been a place of shimmering beauty, but that had been before the Shadow King had come. The devastating psionic energies he had released upon his escape had torn and damaged the plane beyond recognition. It now resembled something far more like Dante's depiction of Hell.

Soulless faces swam through the landscape; their mouths open in muffled screams of terror and pain, eyes so wide it seemed the delicate lids had been ripped from them, leaving them to stare open and blindly upon the horrors that now comprised the plane. They moved like mercury all about him, seeming to merge and converge seamlessly, eyes and endlessly open, screaming mouths blending in a sea of macabre dance. Every now and then, a scrabbling, clawed hand broke through the surface, searching blindly, for what, it alone knew.

They were little more than fragments of memory, Sinister knew, residue leftover from the horrible deaths of all the telepath's years before. They were not minds of and unto themselves, yearning for release. No, these were ghosts; the last terrified screams of the dying captured forever like so many flies in amber. Their suffering and rage had been such that it had scarred the very plane that ultimately ruled them.

And then there were the great gaping holes, filled with eternal blackness, and shot through with lightning that somehow did nothing to illuminate the darkness. Even the restless phantoms did not stray near these ominous voids, as if in fear that even their own tiny awareness might be swallowed up forever.

It was almost overwhelming to Sinister; the howling of the wind and lost souls in concert, the very plane itself crying out in pain of being torn asunder. But it was merely the suddenness of having it thrust upon him, and it took only seconds to orient himself. After all, Sinister was no bleeding heart; the cries of those about him fell on deaf ears. He had evoked much worse from his own lab subjects.

No sooner than he had righted himself, a fiery presence exploded into existence on the plane.

His own form here was gigantic against the ever-shifting landscape. But even so, he was nothing compared to the great, glowing bird of fire that loomed over him, screaming its wild call for vengeance.

An instant to realize that he had not evaded her wrath by escaping here, and then she was upon him.

Fiery talons rending and tearing at him in terrible, beautiful agony, a moment of pain so searing, so deep, it was almost sweet, and then he felt himself begin to unravel. Falling endlessly backward, slow motion, as if through time, an eternity locked in her terrifying embrace, astral bodies pressing together as intimately as if they were lovers, her essence filling his every sense, losing himself in her as he had never done with any woman while in his mortal shell. She was Jean, she was Rogue, she was mother, lover, goddess. Surrounding him and swallowing him with her deadly grace, suffocating him with her unearthly beauty. And he realized he was being seduced into death. And he realized that he was enjoying it.

The instinct to survive flared within him, the need to struggle, but he could not escape the encirclement of her arms, like steel, crushing him. A flash of lightning in the corner of his fading awareness, and the blackness reached up to devour him, like an animal eager to feed. What lay beyond the madness of this landscape? He was about to find out. Stubbornly, he dug his heels in, refusing to die alone if he must die at all, and he crushed her against him with his own embrace, determined to take her with him into the unknown.

She screeched her defiance, thrashing about to disentangle herself from him now, too late, too late.

Sinister chuckled with dark triumph in his last conscious thought, the cord of his mind at last breaking free of its moorings, unraveling out into the darkness of the void around them. The Phoenix saw its silver strand stretch and then break, spinning off into the nothingness, tossed about like a leaf in the wind, insignificant. And then she herself began to come undone, the nothingness tearing at the edges of her fiery form, tiny wisps of fire peeling off before being extinguished forever.

Rogue's scream of anguish was cut off abruptly as the fiery bird suddenly ceased to exist.

The cold wind rushed by, the plane now eerily silent save for the moans and howls of the shattered minds that made up its mass.