CAJUN CINNAMON
Book One of the Annwn Ryu Cycle

Chapter XIV
"The End of the Beginning"

Cayanne sat alone in the corner of her room, staring into the shadows.
It was near three in the morning, silent and almost eriee, and there was rattling inside her head, much like ghosts trapped in their crypts, scrabbling at ancient stone.
She clamped her hands over her ears, trying to not hear, not listen. It was all strange, foggy, as if the speakers spoke a language she almost grasped, but eluded her still.

It must be soon. The first voice was light but sharp, like sun burning against sand. Are we causing this?
No. the other voice was dark and soft, filled with a kind of longing sadness. It is a deeper thing.
Still, she cannot maintain the Other. Quiet, yet filled with strength, this voice carried a tinge of weariness. If only I had known...!
What would you have done differently? the first was curious.
A pause. Nothing, I think. I was granted too much joy, and I carry it still. Yearning, then. Soft petals of pain. Yet to let the Other fade - what then?
It returns, and we begin. Eagerness from the first. All of us, once more...
Wait. Firmly. There is only so much I may ask of a soul. Gently, but firmly, brooking no dissent. You both were ripped untimely from your lives, yet I - I am ready. One touch, one moment, that is all I ask. Then I must -
No! The dark-soft voice spoke then, understanding. You will....
It is my time. Sternly. You burn with desire for Return. I am ready. Strength from the love I have known, it prepared me, and I am ready. How much can we ask? Three lives might be too many. How many burdens can we place on the innocent?
But wasn't it a gift? The burning voice was hesitant now.
Gift, yes. Given freely, suffered willingly, offered without price or debt. But there is more to this than just a gift. There is much more. I see a future, and it is a worthy one. A bright one. Shall I stand in it's way?
But we...
You will have your time. That is your right. My time is but a fleeting moment remaining. That shall be my only petition. It is time to set free, my friends, not hold fast. I must abide by my destiny.
You have more courage than I. The bright voice was a tad chagrined.
Than us. agreed the sad one.
No. My path is the easier one.

"Arrêtez-le, arrêtez-le, ARRÊTEZ-LE!" Cayanne's voice bounced off the walls and shattered the silence, as she struggled to force the alien, swirling thought-image-emotions from her mind. But now other thought-sounds clamored, rattling against her mind, some soft, others loud, a thousand claws against her mental barriers, tearing, burning.
There was no other choice. She knew what she had to do.
And she was ashamed.

Hank entered the MedLab and froze in horrified disbelief. His mental shock brought Xavier's telepathic presence instantly to his side, and both stared in horror.
Cayanne was in a heap on the floor, blood oozing slowly from her mouth. She looked like a child then, small, fragile - and lost. So very small.
Stryfe came barrelling in the door then, narrowly missing slamming into the blue-furred mutant, closely followed by Remy and Marie.
Cayanne! his mental shout made Xavier's psychic "ears" ring.
The body came up a bit, propped on a trembling arm, then went back down.
Remy dropped to his knees, gathering his daughter into his shielding arms, face drawn, focused....
No more....the fading thought-image was drenched with nightmare. Flickers of drowning yet living, blood. Agony. Terror. Laughter.
Claws tearing. Violation. And a horrible, twisting hunger.
Soulless husks falling.
Need to flee. Heal.
Kill. Feed. An almost-lust that surged within the words, an almost-definition of need.

It was sheer psychic hell.
Xavier felt the presence of Logan, a strong, steady pulse of life, crouched in the door, feral eyes on the shattered body of the teen-ager. Not moving. Unreadable.
Marie got to Remy in time to wrap both arms around him, seeing tears on his shocked, frozen face.
Stryfe cursed, started toward the trio, stopped suddenly. His eyes widened a little, sensing something - moving. Flickering, whirling, slowly forming. The shadows strained with the effort of soon-birthing...
Cayanne gave a howl unlike anything human. Her body arched, bones straining against whatever was happening.
Marie gasped, grabbing the girl's arm, pulling the hypodermic free as she began to sieze uncontrollably, body thrashing as her internal struggle took itself onto the playing field of her body.
"Cayanne." Remy was holding on, impossibly, refusing to let go, murmering in Acadian, black eyes glowing with garnet sparks.
Xavier struggled to block the mental images, to force back the tide, but it overwhelmed his senses, fed on his power, tore frantically at his sanity.
Images of bodies, bloodied bodies, carved in ways too unspeakable for any coherant thought, rocked obsenely on chains. Many too small to be anything but children. Men moved among them, taking notes on metal clipboards. Distant, fading mewling sounds as life was torn violently away.
A symbol on the metal door. Blurry. Almost focused.
Howls. Animalistic, primal, crazed with rage and pain. Blood. Need.
Small hands covered with blood, hunger, twisted flashes of black and red and grey.
The symbol was covered with a bloody handprint, fading, fading....
Jean's mental presence added it's strength. Strangely, Remy was suddenly there as well. Logan hovered near, a sense of uncertanty, flicker of feral power against the concious strength of his mind. Stryfe and Nathan's presence, oddly fused at that moment, flooded into the mix, and they were holding back the demonic strength of the nightmare, shielding the too-shredded barriers of Cayanne's exausted conciousness, holding back the madness that the girl tottered on the edge of.
Jean's mental voice was augmented by fire-presence, the Phoenix, and something answered.
Primal. Ancient.
White-star eyes blazed open, claws unsheathed, and the darkness flooded away from the shadow-form of a four-legged, winged image-form, which beckoned once.
The Phoenix uttered it's trademark, fiery cry.
Then was a ball of fire, burning in the oddly graceful, taloned claw-hand.
My Heralds, attend me.
Then the fire became many.
Blue-white, steady, liquid.
Ozone-tinged white.
Loam-scented green-gold.
Eyes blazed, flickered awake, joined their sisters' cry.
Something burned.
It screamed, horribly, tearing loose of it's wound, defying form, defying sanity.
The Dragon growled, paced forward, eyes burning.
My Heralds. Strike.
Fire. Ice. Wind-laced lightning. Steady gold-flecked green. Claws of many types of fire.
It screeched, red-blood eyes wild, and was torn loose, mind-blood oozing as the thing was flung away by the combined mortal minds, away from it's former habitation, away from the physical locale, away from them all.
The Dragon sank back under the mind-awareness, folding it's wings about itself, odd no-voice saying, My Heralds, return.
Heralds? Jean's conciousness. Confused. Scott's bond with her soothing her aching mind.
Remy's emotion-image was to Cayanne. Of safety, warmth, a room with a fire, simple and almost rustic. His arms around her. Marie sitting with them. Calm, steady, almost-sleep, encouragement. Unquestioning love. Comfort. Soothing.
Cayanne moaned unconciously, eyes opening momentarily, head too heavy to lift.
Non. she almost whimpered, too shaken to be clear. Non...must hold on....
No. Xavier coaxed Jean and Remy free of the battered mind, eased the feral strength - how? later! - of Logan back to his own body, sensed the careful withdrawal of Stryfe and Nathan, focused on the girl. "No, Cayanne." his voice was verbal now, feeling the agony of those vandalized, savagely brutalized shields. "Listen to your father." His gentle voice was soothing, gentle. "You have done nothing wrong..."
Remy murmered soothingly, rocking her against him.
Failed. Bleak despair. Can't. Agony.
"I must be gettin' old." Logan's voice startled them. "Somethin' said can't."
Needed....
The older mutant rubbed his ear meaningfully, eyes on Cayanne.
Can't...
"You did good, kid."
Cayanne swung a feeble fist in his general direction, and everyone felt a vauge sense of relief as Logan nodded solumly, affording her what her shaken composure needed most - dignity. "Don't ya ever say that 'bout yerself again. Hear me?"
Cayanne's eyes, silver-flicker on ebon, focused briefly on him. She looked away, but her shoulders were no longer slumped.
"Gumbo, get her outta here."

The X-Men met in the Professor's office, joined by Stryfe and Nathan.
"What the hell happened?" Marie's voice was shaky. She had just left Remy curled protectively next to Cayanne, who was more unconcious than asleep. It had taken more than an hour to ease the shaken Cajun father into sleep, and sitting there stroking his hair, his head in her lap, being with them both, had been more important than anything else.
"Something was there." Jean felt sick as she acknowledged the demonic presence. "It was..." She shivered, grateful for Scott's protective arms tightening around her.
"Vile." growled Stryfe, eye glowing briefly. Nathan glanced at him.
"Yeah." said Logan, startling them. He glared back. "What?"
"How could you hear it?" Xavier said, verbalizing what all the telepaths were wondering. "You are not a telepath, Logan."
"Nah." He shrugged. "Least of the problem."
He did have a point.
Hank spoke up. "Cayanne came very close to an overdose." he said, softly, sadly. "I badly underestimated the level of her addiction. Psychological addiction." Everyone was listening, now. "On some level, she belives the drug gives her the strength to hold her shields. However, it is still a damnable toxin." His fist uncharateristally slammed into the table. "One that came very close to killing her!"
"How do we treat it, sugah?" asked Marie, coming over to sit next to the blue-furred mutant, one hand on his.
"By makin' Cayanne realize she don't need it." Logan's rumble was dark. "And we start back a ways." He shoved off from the wall, staring at Xavier. "Right now, we push her body to get the toxin out. Sparrin', workin' out, leave that t' me. Let Byron deal with the problems she ain't gonna talk about." He tapped a finger sharply on the exausted Professor's desk. "Start teachin' her 'bout not bein' scared of what she is."
"I can aid her with the telekenetic aspect." said Stryfe, eyes daring any dissent. "I am, after all, rather experienced with it."
Nathan, for once, didn't snap back. Instead, he said, "I'll help with the telepathy."
"Leave the rest to her Dad." advised Logan, popping a cigar into his mouth, not caring who disapproved as he lit it up. Taking a drag, he continued, staring at Marie. "And her Mom."

Hank was so gentle with Cayanne that he saw a flicker of hurt in her normally unreadable eyes. She was helping him clean the lab, and apparently remembered the terrible vunerablity a few days ago.
The scientist put down the beaker and stared at the girl a moment, then smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Cayanne." Did she understand that he couldn't bear to see the suffering she had endured? That he felt responsible?
"Not yer fault. Just de way youdealin' wit it." Her grin was suddenly back as she stared up into Hank's eyes. "Don' worry, mon ami. I may'a gone down once, but I ain't out!"
The mutant known as Beast smiled suddenly then, seeing the girl was not shattered - bruised, perhaps, even shaken, but still herself, still whole - filling him with a strange joy, and relief. "Never that." he replied, voice full of emotion.
Cayanne grinned.

The phone rang insistantly for almost four minutes before Bobby got to it, managing a half-asleep, "Professor Xavier's School for the Gifted...who?" He didn't understand the rapid speech, wasn't sure of what was being said, but managed, "Hang on a sec."
He turned and staggered, still sleep-clumsy, down the hallway and banged on Logan's door. "Hey, Wolvie! Phone!"

Bobby saw Logan's eyes close after a few seconds, but the older man's Japanese remained steady.
The words were comforting, soothing, but there was an undercurrent of something - sadness. Deep pain.
When he hung up, the older mutant stared at Bobby a moment, then turned wordlessly and headed back to his room.
"Wolvie?" The young man poked his head in the door. "Are you okay?" He was suprised to see Logan staring silently at a photograph, then the startlement on the older man's face.
When he lifted it, Bobby saw the photo - Logan, his Japanese friend Yukio - and the transparent, almost-faded image of Wolverine's adopted daughter, Akiko.

The Other is gone. The calmness hid pain. Now the way is clear.
When? Eagerness in both the sad and bright voices as they blended together.
Soon. Sadness. Remember your promise to me. The leader must recieve my message. He must know, else so much will fail. I will not cause suffering.
I remember. The sun-touched voice was firm. And we will. He will know the truth - but why?
There is too much hidden, and one shadow easily may cast itself upon another. The truth must shine.
His name....? The sad one had difficulty remembering. Perhaps it was the shame, but then, there was so much, and so many.
Scott Summers.