Chapter 2

Rachel's POV

I woke up this morning with the sense that something bad was going to happen today. I went all day waiting for an attack, flunking a math test in the process because I could not focus on anything else.

I didn't realize the threat was going to come from my body.

It was startling at first to get in the shower and have blood reenact the field trip to Niagara falls. It got worse when I realized Mom wasn't there. In hindsight, I could have gone to Aunt Ro and saved both Dad and myself from the embarrassment.

And naturally, the night could only get worse from there. It's just my luck. Exhausted from my venture into womanhood this evening, I fall asleep fast. But that means more time for nightmares to sneak in.

Shadowy figures chase after me. Darkness is everywhere, and every time I try to turn, another shadow reaches for me. I run and run, but the darkness is everywhere. Shadows are everywhere. They grab for me with claw-like hands, trying to get something from me. I don't know who or what they are, but I know they're dangerous. They want something from me. Something deadly.

The harder I try to get away from them, the more shadow figures are insistent on chasing me. Soon I am engulfed by the darkness. I'm suffocated by it. I scream and push against the darkness, but where I should be able to see my hand in front of me is only inky black. I fight and fight, but it is a losing battle. I have to give up. I take one more inhale, certain death is near-

My eyes fly open, and burn with salty tears. I tremble in my sweat-drenched sheets, wiping my eyes. Almost immediately, there is a light knock on the door and my mom slips in, the light from the hall flooding into the room.

"Come here," she whispers as she sits on the edge of my bed. Her arms widen to hold me, and I sit up, burying my wet face in his chest. She tucks my head under her chin, and rubs my back in soothing motions. I'm free to cry in her arms, and I do, sniffling into the fabric of her nightgown.

A few minutes pass with only this, then she asks, "do you want to talk about it?"

The answer is no. I don't want to, and I don't know how to. How am I supposed to explain the dream when it wasn't a dream? It was just darkness and danger and fear and emotions I couldn't place. Overall, I have been left with an overwhelming sense of dread.

"I don't know," my voice cracks through the thick emotion. "I just…. Feel like something bad is going to happen."

Her hands pause in rubbing my back for a moment before she asks; "Like what?"

"Darkness."

As vague and disturbing as it sounded, it was the only thing I knew to explain.

"That is… good to know," My mom says hesitantly after realizing I am not going to elaborate. "Is there anything else you're sensing? Or is it just darkness?"

She understands that this wasn't just a nightmare. As a fellow telepath with precognitive dreams, she has had nightmares foretelling the future since her powers manifested. As a kid, it was the first indicator of my powers. It wasn't until my Telekinesis came in that we knew I fully took after my mom. It was the lesser of two evils, honestly. I either inherited uncontrollable optic blasts or the responsibility of sensing when bad things were about to happen.

Still, sometimes I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse. A ten-year-old shouldn't be cursed with visions of their parents dying a week before it happens. Even now, that fucked me up for good.

"Have you had any dreams?" I ask her, hoping maybe she's had something that would add on or explain more of the threat from my dream.

She thinks for a moment before she slowly shakes her head. "Not recently, no. My dreams have been very subtle lately."

"That's not helpful," I grumble. I sit up from leaning against her and rub my teary eyes. "I just don't know how to interpret it. I usually see actual things. Visions. Not… nothing!"

"Just because we've been blessed with the gift of foresight doesn't mean it is useful," she tells me. "And just because it was a bad dream doesn't mean something bad is sure to happen. You are not going to like this, but some studies indicate that hormones from a period can be the cause of nightmares. Maybe that is all it is. We will hope for the best but prepare for the worse. That's all we can do with something like this."

"But how am I supposed to prepare when I don't know what I'm preparing for!?" I ask, exasperated. As fun as it would be just to blame my period on this all, most of my nightmares are from past experiences. Like my parents being killed, my entire timeline being destroyed, Vulcan's torture, or the other traumatic things I've been through. Any other time, it's foretelling something big and bad.

Rarely are my nightmares just generic ones that everyone occasionally has. And when they are, I don't wake up screaming and crying from them.

Using that criteria, I know that this isn't just a simple nightmare, and I know my mom does too. She has been through it too much not to. But it is her job as a mom to calm me down. I know she is not trying to dismiss my concerns, and she has no way of helping me solve what is going to happen. Not with the vague information my dream gave me.

"I just don't like knowing what is going to happen," I say, sniffling.

Not to trauma dump, but most of the things I am working through in therapy are from things that I was not prepared for. And no, they wouldn't have messed me up any less if I had known about them beforehand, but maybe I could prevent this future from being so shitty if I can prepare. Does it seem logical to be able to prepare for and prevent everything that happens in my life? No. Does this make me a control freak? Maybe. But when I manage to save my family from the same attack that killed them in my timeline, then it won't matter how little logic I seem to have right now.

Just as long as at the end of the day, everyone I love is alive and safe, nothing else matters.

"It is not your place to prepare for every impending risk of an apocalypse, Rachel," my mom says. "You are thirteen. I know you have been through a lot for your age, but that does not mean everything is on your shoulders."

"But if I just know what is going to happen, then I can-" I start to argue but she cuts me off.

"You have done enough already, Rachel. You do not need to continue the hero streak."

I find myself pouting. "It's not a hero streak, it's my responsibility!"

"Rachel-"

She stops in her tracks as a scream echoes through the hallway, startling us both.

"Ororo," my mom gasps, rising from my bed. I'm right behind her and we race into the hall, beating my dad to Uncle Logan and Aunt Ororo's room. Inside, Ororo is backed against the wall, clutching Kendall to her chest and looking like she just saw a ghost.

Logan is attempting to calm her, but she is only spiraling into a panic attack. "He's here," she cries.

"Who's here?" My mom asks.

She looked towards my mom with the most fear I have ever seen in anyone's eyes before and spoke for words, her voice cracking with emotion.

"Ananasi, The Shadow King."