Chapter 62

  Arc 5 - Ch 15: Hallway of Possibilities

  Date: Friday, June 3, 2011.

  Location: Asgard

  The moment Loki ceased his relentless assault and Gungnir's beam faded, Tyson's remarkable healing factor sprang into a. Throughout the onsught, his body had been fighting to repair itself, a desperate battle against the devastating power of the divine on. But the sheer iy of the energy that had poured from Gungnir's tip had been overwhelming, inflig damage at a rate that outpaced his incredible regeive abilities.

  As his broken, ravaged form plunged into the cold, dark waters that surrounded Asgard, the urgency to breathe rimal, instinctual drive. But in his current state, drawing breath was impossible. One of his lungs was simply gone, obliterated by the searing beam of Gungnir's power, and without a diaphragm to trol the flow of air, Tyson could do little more than sink into the abyss.

  Just days earlier, swimming had been an effortless task for him, his powerful muscles propelling him through the crystal-clear waters of Monaco. But now, with half of his body reduced to nothing more than adamantium bohe simple act of staying afloat became an insurmountable challenge.

  The dense, heavy metal of his skeleton pulled him downward, dragging him deeper and deeper into the murky depths of Asgard's waters. The darkness closed in around him creating a suffog b of darkness.

  But even as he sank, as the icy water filled his lungs and the pressure of the depths threateo crush his remaining ans, Tyson fought against the pull of oblivion. His survival instinct was strong, refusing to be extinguished, and he g to that with stubborn tenacity.

  Deep within the shattered remnants of his torso, Tyson's healing factor worked to repair the extensive damage wrought by Loki's attaew cells formed at an astonishing rate, knitting together into a patchwork of fresh, pink tissue that slowly began to take shape. His heart was the first tee, the vital an ref itself from the i. Muscur walls knit together, weaving a plex tapestry of cardiac muscle that gradually coalesced into a plete, beati. came his lungs, one of them entirely missing, the other a tattered ruin of charred flesh and exposed bronchi.

  But even as the delicate tissues of his respiratory system began trow, Tyson's body was already w to rebuild the intricate work of blood vessels that would supply them with oxygen. Capilries, veins, and arteries sprouted from the newly formed tissues like delicate tendrils, threading their way through the regeing flesh.

  As his vital ans solidified, taking on a mnizable shape, Tyson's nervous system began to extend outward from his core, sending tendrils of eleical impulses rag through his body. Sensatiouro his limbs in a rush of pins and needles, a tingling burn that was almost worse than the pain of his injuries.

  But even as he regained feeling in his extremities, Tysohat he was far from whole. His muscles barely g to the adamantium skeleton by sparse tendons. Slowly, painfully, those muscles began tee, growing outward from the tendons like new shoots from a tree.

  Tyso a surge of hope fre to life. With each passing sed, he could feel his strength returning, his body knitting itself back together with a regeion rate that was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

  But even as his physical form began to mend, Tysohat he was far from safe. The waters of Asgard were deep, and the weight of his adamantium skeleted him down into the lightless depths of the abyss.

  Tyson's body finally healed enough to allow him to begin swimming upward. The darkness of the Asgardian waters pressed in on him from all sides, but he refused to let it e him. With powerful kicks of his legs, his muscles strained as he propelled himself towards the surface. The cold water rushed past him as he asded, his enhanced senses pig up the subtle ges in pressure and temperature. His lungs, now fully formed and funal, burned with the need for air. But Tyson knew he couldn't take a breath until he broke the surface. He focused on the rhythmient of his arms and legs, pushing himself harder with each stroke.

  Tyson's enhanced vision began to detect a faint glimmer of light above, giving him a renewed burst of energy. He increased his pace, his powerful muscles w in perfect harmony as he cut through the water with increasing speed.

  The light grew brighter, and Tyson could make out the shimmering surface of the water above him. He was close now, so close to breaking free from the watery depths that had nearly cimed his life.

  With a final, desperate push, Tyson broke through the surface of the water, his newly formed lungs gasping for air.

  But even as he savored the sweet taste of air on his toysohat he couldn't rest, couldn't allow himself the luxury of even a moment's respite. He had to keep moving, had to find his way back to solid ground. He struggled to breathe, eahation painful, burning from the water that had filled his lungs as they regeed.

  He sed the surrounding waters, searg for any sign of nd or structure that might offer him a ce at salvation. And then, a short distance away, he saw it.

  A pilr rose up from the depths, supp the Rainbe. He began to swim towards it. Each stroke, each breath, was a battle against exhaustion but Tyson refused to give up. As he drew closer to the pilr, he could feel the thrum of power that emanated from the structure. Reag out, he grasped the pilr's base, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth, slick surface. His adamantium cws extended, digging into the deerial with ease.

  Slowly, painfully, Tyson began to haul himself up the length of the pilr, his muscles screaming in protest with every inch he gaihe climb was an arduous test of will and endurahat pushed him to the very limits of his newly regeed body. But even as his lungs burned and his vision swam with exhaustion, Tyson refused to give up. He had e too far and had eoo much to let himself fail now. And so, with a final, desperate heave, he dragged himself over the lip of the pilr and onto the shimmering expanse of the rainbe.

  For a long moment, he simply y there, his chest heaving with the effort of drawing breath. The surface of the bridge was solid beh him, a wele respite from the waters that had nearly cimed his life. As Tyson y there, his body slowly finished knitting itself back together.

  Then, his body vulsed as he y on the pulsating surface of the Rainbe. His newly regeed muscles tensed and rexed in rapid succession, each spasm bringing with it a fresh wave of disfort. He rolled onto his side, his body instinctively curling into a fetal position.

  A violent cough wracked his frame, sending shockwaves of pain through his still-tender flesh. Water spewed from his mouth in a forceful stream, spttering onto the iridest surface of the bridge. The taste of brine lingered on his tongue. As the coughing fit subsided, Tyson found himself gasping for air once more. His lungs still struggled. Each breath was a scious effort, his diaphragm w overtime to draw in the oxygen his body so desperately craved.

  Another wave of nausea hit him, and Tyson barely had time to push himself up onto his hands and knees before his stomach rebelled. He retched violently, his body expelling what felt like gallons of water in a series of painful heaves. The acrid liquid burned his throat and nostrils.

  As he vomited, Tyson could feel his body w overtime te itself of the seawater. His enhanced healing factor kicked into overdrive, accelerating the process of clearing his system. Water seemed to seep from every pore, his skin exuding a fine mist as his body worked to expel the excess fluid. The process was far from pleasant. Tyson's alveoli, the tiny air sa his lungs, tracted and expanded rapidly, f out the water that had filled them during his near-drowning experiehe sensation was akin to having his chest squeezed in a vice, each breath bringing with it a fresh wave of disfort as his body fought to clear his airways.

  Even his sinuses weren't spared from the ordeal. Water trickled from his nose in a steady stream, mixing with the tears that had formed in his eyes from the strain of vomiting. His enhanced senses, usually a boon, now worked against him as he became acutely aware of every drop of liquid leaving his body. Tyson's ears popped as the pressure equalized, the st remnants of water draining. The sudden crity of sound was almost overwhelming, the hum of the rainbe now seeming as loud as a r waterfall to his sensitive hearing.

  Finally, after what felt like ay but was likely less than a mihe violent expulsions ceased. Tyson colpsed onto his side, his body trembling with exhaustiohere, panting heavily, as the st few droplets of water seeped from his pores.

  After a few moments of recovery, Tyson steeled himself for the iable step. He reached up with a trembling hand, his fingers closing around the ornate hilt of the dagger protruding grotesquely from his eye socket.

  Gritting his teeth, Tyson braced himself for the excruciating pain he knew was ing. His jaw ched tight, and the muscles in his neck stood out as he gathered his ce and his resolve. With a yell that echoed across the shimmering expanse of the rainbe, he yahe dagger out in a siion.

  The pain was intense, a white-hot agony that seemed to sear through his skull like a bolt of lightning. It was a sensation beyond description, a feeling of pure, unadulterated torment that threateo overwhelm his senses and drag him down into the depths of unsciousness.

  Blood and other viscous fluids poured from the ruined socket in a grisly cascade. But even as the pain reached its peak, even as the world seemed to spin and tilt around him, Tyson could feel his remarkable healing factor kig into overdrive. The regeive process began at once, cells rapidly dividing and multiplying to repair the severe damage that had been doo his eye.

  Within moments, a new orb started to form, sprouting from the optierve, and weaving into the delicate tapestry of Tyson's visual cortex. Muscles and ligaments took shape, anch the new an firmly ihin the socket.

  And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the process was plete. A fully funal eye, identical in every way to the ohat had been so brutally taken from him, now stared out from Tyson's face.

  As Tyson leaned back against the cool, solid surface of the rainbe, his chest heaving with exhaustion and relief, he became aware of a presenearby.

  Looking up, he found Amora the Entress.

  She stood over him a gown of green silk that g to her curves like a sed skin. Her golden hair framed a beautiful face, but it was the expression on that face that caught Tyson's attention. There was a look of unmistakable resped admiration that shone in Amora's eyes.

  Gone was the air of superiority and fidehat Amora wore like a cloak, repced by a softening of her features that bordered oender. Her posture was less imposing than usual, her shoulders rexed and her head tilted slightly to one side as she regarded Tyson with a gentle gaze.

  "Losing an eye in defense of Asgard is held in the highest regard among our people," Amora spoke, her voice filled with a reverehat Tyson had never heard from her before. "You've earned a fitting reward iurn."

  Tyson, still reeling from the ordeal and the lingering echoes of pain that thrummed through his skull, looked up at Amora with an expression of incredulity. For a moment, he wondered if the Entress had lost her mind.

  But as he searched her face, Tyson saw only siy and vi. Amora's expression was serious as she focused on the dagger that y discarded on the surface of the bridge.

  Her voice took on a tone of quiet awe as she spoke. "Loki's dagger," she murmured, her words almost a caress. "It's an Uru on. Like Mjolnir, it was fed in the heart of a dying star. Though it rapped a powerful soul like Thor's hammer, it could have. A powerful sorcerer imbued it with the power of the Infinite Bde entment."

  Tyson's brow furrowed as he tried to process the implications of Amora's words, his mind still foggy with the aftermath of his struggle. But as he listened, he forced himself to focus on the Entress's expnation.

  "You create a sed bde to dual-wield while holding it," Amora tinued, "And if you throw it, the dagger will reappear in your hand, with the thrown one dispersing shortly afterward."

  Tyson's gaze shifted down to the ornate on lying discarded beside him, his fiwitg with the sudden, irresistible urge to reach out and take it up. Holding the ornate dagger, he tur over, iing the intricate carvings and jeweled hilt.

  "If it return to its owner's hand when thrown, how did I end up with it instead of Loki?" he asked, looking back up at Amora.

  Amave a shrug, the movement causing the golden bangles on her wrists to jingle softly. "I only assume that once Odin's legendary spear was returo his grasp, Loki felt he no longer needed a sedary on," she mused. "As magnifit as that dagger may be, it is no match for the power of Gungnir. With such magical items, sometimes i and will are the most important aspects. The dagger's abilities are remarkable, but if Loki no longer wished to wield it, he could easily relinquish its bond." She paused, her emerald eyes thoughtful as she gazed at the dagger. "Perhaps the act of setting it aside was symbolic. He had set himself upon a new path, and in doing so, he left his previous life behind, the dagger discarded along with it."

  Tyson ran his fingers along the ft of the bde. A on that could be endlessly recalled. At the least, it would make him more than a melee threat.

  But Tyson's attention was drawn away from his new loot by a more pressing .

  As he looked down at the dagger in his hands, his eyes noticed the surge of activity below him on the Rainbe. Stilting energies streamed across the length of the bridge, pulsing and throbbing with power. The colors shifted and danced, a kaleidoscope of hues that dazzled the eye. And at the far end of the bridge, where the energy seemed to verge and trate, Tyson could see the Bifrost observatory, the great mae that trolled the flow of transport between the realms. It was active, its great gears turning and its meisms whirring with a deafening roar that echoed across the vastness of space.

  At that moment, Tyso a sudden, overp sense ency wash over him.

  Loki had activated the Bifrost.

  "It's not too te," he said, his voice rough and ragged with the strain of his ordeal. "I stop this."

  With a grunt of effort, he braced himself to climb to his feet, to charge headlong into the fray.

  But before he could rise, before he could take so much as a siep, Tysohe gentle pressure of Amora's hand on his shoulder, holding him back with a touch that was uedly tender.

  "I watched your battle," the Entress said softly, "You're no match for Loki. Not as you are now."

  Tyson opened his mouth to protest, tue that he had to try. But before he could utter a word, Amora produced her sg mirror.

  Through the mirror's ented gss, Tyson watched as Thor approached Loki. The two brothers locked in a tense frontation that seemed poised on the brink of violence. He could see the anger arayal etched into Thor's features, and the cold, calg glint in Loki's eyes as he regarded his sibling with a mix of pt and malicious glee.

  "Let me go," Tyson pleaded, his voice thick with desperation and urgency. "I o help, to ge the oute of their fight. I have to prevent the destru of the Bifrost, or at least save Thor and Loki so Odin won't have to."

  But Amora's response was not what Tyson expected. Instead uing to dissuade him, the Entress simply pced her haly on his face, her fingers softly stroking his cheek in a gesture of surprising tenderness.

  Tyson's gaze dropped to Amora's hand. He realized his clothes had been shredded by the bst from Odin's spear, leaving his skin exposed where the Entress had held his shoulder.

  But there had been no involuntary pull of her life forto his body.

  fusion flooded Tyson's mismatched eyes as he searched Amora's face. Her firailed lightly across his cheek, the caress agly teyson's breath caught at the ued gentleness. Longing swelled within him, warring with his bewilderment.

  "How..." he started, his voice rough with emotion. But she pressed a fio his lips, hushing him. Her hand slid to cradle his jaw as she gazed at him with an expression he couldn't this moment, all pretenses had fallen away. She was unguarded, stripped of her usual defenses. And Tyson found himself leaning into her palm, sav her touch as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

  "You showed me enough that I realized how to ter your touch." Amora remarked with a hint of pyfulness, "Perhaps not the wisest of moves on your part."

  Her tone grew more serious then, her expression s as she leaned in closer, her face mere inches from Tyson's own. "I know not why you seem so certain about the oute of a fight that has yet to e to blows. But, as I said, you're no match for Loki, not as you are now," she murmured, her breath warm and sweet against his skin. "However, you have my attention, for what you could be."

  There was a weight to those words, a sense of promise and possibility that sent a thrill of excitement rag through Tyson's veins. He could feel the power that radiated from Amora, the magic that swirled around her like a cloak of shimmering energy.

  And as he stared into those fathomless emerald eyes, as he lost himself in the depths of her gaze, Tyso a flicker of something else, a spark of e that went beyond the physical, beyond the exge of words and gnces.

  "I see you," Amora whispered, her voice low and intimate, filled with warmth. "Now you o see… See yourself… See what you could be."

  And with those cryptic words, the Entress leaned forward, her lips parting slightly as a stream of are sylbles flowed from her mouth. The nguage was a and powerful, resonating with a deep magic that seemed to thrum through the very fabric of Tyson's being.

  As Amora's lips met Tyson's, as the soft, sweet pressure of her kiss sent shivers of pleasure rag through his body, he felt the world around him begin to blur and shift. Colors bled together, sounds faded into a distant hum, and the solid surface of the Rainbe seemed to melt away beh his feet.

  And then, in a blinding fsh of pure, radiant light, everythi white.

  — Rogue Rept —

  The blinding whiteness enveloping Tyson began to dim. As the light receded, a new enviroook shape around him. He found himself standing in a long, expansive hallway, its walls and floor all a stark white. Directly in front of him stood a rge window that drew his attention. Tyson curiously approached the window with cautious steps, his footfalls eg strangely in the eerie silence of the hallway.

  As he peered through the gss, a sight greeted his eyes that he hadn't expected. It had been a year, but he reized this room. Its walls and furnishings remaiark and ical in their simplicity. There, in that room, Tyson saw the figures of Anne Marie, Rogue, and Victor Creed, Sabertooth, their forms as vivid and tangible as if they were still alive. On a nearby couch sat Jason Stryker, his posture rigid and unmoving, his eyes staring bnkly ahead as if lost in his own inner world.

  The White Room.

  Or at least that was what Tyson dubbed it. The space was a mental struct within his own mind where the psyches of those whose life ford memories he had absorbed resided. The sight was a reminder of the unique and often burdensome power that Tyson possessed, the ability to absorb not just the memories and skills of others, but their very esseheir plete personas.

  His brow furrowed as he gazed at the familiar white expanse before him. He had been desperately trying to reach this pce through meditation for months, but the metaphysical door had remaiubbornly closed to him.

  Yet now, somehow, he found himself here in this hallway, with a window providing a tantalizing glimpse into that unreachable space.

  He had first discovered the White Room with Professor X's help during his brief time attending Psychic css at the Xavier Institute. The st time he had mao cross the threshold into the White Room was at Alkali Lake when the Beckies… err, the Stepford Cuckoos had assisted him with their psychic abilities, granting Tysoing access.

  But this time, there were no powerful psychics assisting him. What had enabled him to bypass his mental blocks this time? Why was it different? This hallway and window, instead of the basketball court at the Institute where he had arrived previously.

  Frustrated, Tyson released his adamantium cws with a snikt and scratched at the window, but to no avail. Not even a mark appeared on the smooth surface. It seemed that regardless of how he had arrived in this hallway, he still did not have direct access to the White Room. The window remained an imperable barrier, keeping the secrets of his psyche tantalizingly close yet sealed away behind an unbreakable pane.

  Tysoracted his cws, resigning himself to the fact that answers would not e easily. There had to be a reason he was here now, able to see but er the White Room.

  Turning his attention away from the window, Tyson noticed that the hallway was lined with a series of doors. Each door was closed, with featureless surfaces, broken only by the presence of a small viewing window set at eye level.

  With a sense of hesitayson approached the first door. As he peered through the window, he saw the figure of a nondescript man, a pid shirt, jeans, and a trucker hat. The man's features were unremarkable, his expressioral, as if he were little more than a background character in the grand drama of Tyson's life.

  Unsure of the man's identity nifice, Tyson moved on to the door. As he gazed through the viewing window, a jolt of surprise ran through him, his breath catg in his throat.

  Ihe room beyond, he saw the unmistakable figure of Logan, Wolverine. He was short, but his body was a pact mass of muscle. His face sported iic mutton chops and stubble.

  Stepping back from the door, Tyso a sense of unease wash over him. Logan should not be in this mental space.

  Pushing those thoughts aside, Tyson moved on to the door, his curiosity overriding his trepidation. As he peered through the window, he saw another familiar face, though one he had only entered briefly. It was the man from the bar in ada, the one he had insulted aen in a fistfight after his frontation with Logan.

  Moving on, Tyson came to the door in the hallway. As he gazed through the window, he felt his breath cat his throat once more.

  Illyana.

  She was as beautiful as ever, with her long ptinum blonde hair and bangs, with two long strands framing her face.

  But it was the obje her hand that domihe room, that truly caught Tyson's attention.

  The Soulsword.

  Illyana's mystical on was a maion of her soul.

  As Tyson gazed upon Illyana's face, he felt a rush of emotions sweep through him, a tangled knot of feelings that he had been studiously ign siheir st meeting. There was affe there, but there was also a sense of uainty, jealousy, longing, and a host of other feelings, that Tyson forced down.

  He lingered outside the door, just looking at her.

  Tearing his gaze away from the window, Tyson forced himself to move on, to put those feelings aside for the moment. There would be time to unpack the plexities of his retionship with Illyana ter. For now, there were other doors to explore, other facets of his own psyche to front and uand.

  As Tyson moved on to the door, he was met with a sight that stood in stark trast to the previous rooms. Peering through the viewing window, he found himself face-to-face with a demon. The grotesque creature could only have inated from the hellish depths of Limbo. It was a small, misshapen figure that stood barely three feet tall with sickly grayish-green skin, mottled with darker patches. The texture of its hide was rough ahery, yet, even more uling in its alien wrongness. The creature's head was disproportionately rge pared to its stunted body and dominated by a pair of bulbous, yellow eyes. Its mouth was a wide, gaping maw filled with jagged, razor-sharp teeth. The demon's arms were long and thin, almost spindly in their proportions, ending in cwed hands.

  Shaking his head at the disturbing reminder of the horrors he had faced in Limbo, Tyson moved on to the door. As he looked through the viewing window, he found himself staring at an even more powerful and fearsome demon, ohat dwarfed its smaller terpart in both size and sheer, terrifying presence.

  This demon stood tall and imposing, easily over seve i. Its form was avian, with the head of a bird of prey perched atop a thick, corded neck. The creature's beak was sharp and curved, designed for tearing and rending flesh. The demon's wings were expansive and bat-like, with membrahat were a dark gray. They flexed and stretched with a leathery rustle, while its legs were muscur and powerful, ending in taloned feet. He remembered fighting this demon; it was capable of letting out a pierg, disorienting screech.

  It was then, that revetion dawned on Tyson with a crity that was both uling and enlightening.

  His power ran far deeper than he had previously believed. This hallway ository for the remnants of those he had absorbed through Rogue's abilities. Eae locked away yet preserved within the depths of his own psyche. The order of the rooms, and the entities they tained, seemed to map out a ology of those he had entered and absorbed, a living record of the lives he had touched and the essences he had taken into himself.

  Motivated to further firm his burgeoning uanding, Tyson moved to the room, his steps quiing with a sense of purpose. As he peered through the viewing window, his theory was substantiated once more.

  Inside, he saw a tall, lean figure exuding an air of demonic grad power. The entity's skin was a deep, vibrant red, and its face was angur and sharply defined, with high cheekbones and a strong, chiseled jawlihe figure's eyes were yellow, seeming to tain a knowledge and power. A tail, long and sinuous, swayed gently behind him, its tip flig bad forth with a hypnotic rhythm.

  Tyshe figure instantly. Azazel, the demonic mutant who had invaded Limbo. It was disturbing seeing Azazel seemingly alive, give time he had seen the demonic mutant, Illyana had blown his brains out.

  As Tyson tinued his journey down the corridor, each door he approached and peered through became a window into a different moment of his past, a vivid reminder of the lives he had intersected with since his arrival in this world.

  There was Mystique, the shape-shifter with blue skin and yellow eyes who had lured him out of Xavier's institute.

  Then came Jean Grey. Even inside his own mindscape, he could feel her immense psychic power; proof of her incredible gift.

  More demons from Limbo followed. Eae was a unique and terrifying refle of the horrors Tyson had faced during his time hunting alongside Illyana. Though he did snort at seeing the 'fart demon' again.

  Bobby Drake, I, appeared . Tyson remembered the day Bobby had shook his hand on a dare, hardly able to stand his touch for a few seds.

  As Tysressed further down the hallway, he found himself fronted by a series of soldiers. A grim reminder of the invasion of the institute and the lives that he had forever altered, or taken during that terrible flict. The sheer number of them setting, and Tyso a surge of disfort and unease as he was forced to front the toll his as had taken, iy, and within his psyche.

  Jubilee followed. Even here, her youthful, vibrant energy shown. It was a wele trast to the somber weight of the soldiers' presence.

  came the Lizard, sharing a cell with Dr. Curt ors. Tyson found it iing that they appeared as separate entities within the same room. Perhaps it was representative of the duality of ors' nature. versely, he noted, Illyana didn't share a space with Darkchylde, her demoni that Tyson had retly kissed. It inferred that Illyana's Darkchylde form wasn't separate from herself, it art of her. That, or Darkchylde would have a room further down the hall. He'd soon find out.

  A random thug from the Hand was . Tyson recalled toug him to learn Japanese when he had been ambushed aed by the ninjas.

  Followed by Justin Hammer, Ivan Vanko, and Jasper Sitwell.

  And finally, at the st two doors, were Lady Sif and Amora the Entress. Tyson ied both rooms but found himself drawn to Amora, the Asgardian sorceress whose magic had both opposed him and seemingly brought him to this pce deep within his own mind.

  But there was something different about Amora's presence, something that set her apart from the ures Tyson had entered.

  As he approached the door, she turowards him, her eyes met his with a lucidity beyond what the others had demonstrated.

  Amora rose to stand before the door. He khat whatever Amora had to say, whatever role she had to py in this strange jourhrough the recesses of his own mind, it would be pivotal to his uanding of himself.

  "Is this an illusion, entment, or some other trick?" Tyson asked, his voice tinged with skepticism. He had experienced Amora's power from both sides, her having used it on him, and using her own power on her in turn. It seemed only natural to questioruth of what he was experieng.

  Amora's reply came clearly through the door as if the gss separating them did. She spoke with a quiet assurahat cut through Tyson's doubts. "No," she said in a rich voice filled with a fidehat bordered on the absolute. "This is Enha. This is your power boosted by my magic."

  Tyson's fusion alpable, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of her words. "I don't uand," he admitted.

  Amora's response revealed the depth of their e. "When you used my power, bined with your illusion, you showed me everything," she expined, "I saw your past, your life, your power. The way you saw me when you absorbed my life force, was how I saw you. But there was more, including this hallway… Even if you didn't sciously know about it."

  Her words held a note of reverence, a reition of the incredible potential that y dormant within Tyson's mind. "You didn't even realize the depths of your power," she tinued, "Within you lies powers beyond Loki, beyond Thor, and perhaps even beyond Odin."

  Tyson's response was one of disbelief. "Beyond Odin?" he repeated. The idea that he could possess power on such a scale was almost beyond prehension.

  But Amora's revetions tinued with each word painting a picture of untapped mysteries and hiddehs within Tyson's psyche. "Beyond this hallway, and the White Room, there are two other areas that were closed off, not just to you, but to me as well," she expined, her voice carrying a tone of wonder and intrigue.

  "The first, I imagine, tains the memories from before you woke up in that truck. Why those memories are locked deeper than this hallway, I am unsure." Her admission of uainty only served to underscore the enigmatiature of Tyson's mind and power.

  "The sed is perhaps more unbelievable," Amora tinued, "It holds a e. A dormant e, but one heless." She paused as if to emphasize the gravity of her words. "Oher end is a vast well of power, one so deep I couldn't gauge it. The only sense I receive is one of a vast well of power, a e that felt like an all-ing fire, capable of burning the os itself…"

  Tyson absorbed the enormity of her words. The description could only be ohing.

  The Phoenix Force.

  The idea that he might be lio su immense itity was less surprising to Tyson than it was to Amora.

  He khat the Phoenix Force was ected to Jean, who he'd touched multiple times previously. If he remembered right, Jean wasn't the only person who'd been a host of the Phoenix For the ics. The true nature of his e, whether it was a sting bond, an indication of future potential, or merely an echo from his enters with Jean, remained uain.

  For now, he decided to set those thoughts aside, to focus on the more immediate situation at hand.

  Turning his attention baora, Tyson posed a crucial question, "What now?" he asked.

  "Now, you choose a door," Amora said, "Whichever door you open, you will gain access to that remnant for a few minutes."

  "This is the power I grant you," Amora tinued, "A taste of your true potential, a glimpse into the depths of what you could bee."

  Tyson's mind raced with the possibilities that y before him. Each door represented a u of skills, abilities, and experiehe decision of which door to open was not oo be made lightly, but rather a strategic move that could provide him with the tools he o face Loki.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Amora spoke again, "Oh, and remember, I boosted your power, not theirs," she said, her voice low and intense. "You won't have to worry about another psyche overriding your personality."

  Her assurance was signifit. He would retain his sense of self regardless of the door he chose.

  "I see you and I see what you could bee," she said, her voice filled with a quiet iy. "You've seen me. Imagine what I could bee with you by my side, what you could bee with my help… What we could bee. Together."

  Her words hi a partnership that could trahe boundaries of their current selves and unlock a realm of shared potential and mutual growth. It was a vision of a potential future where he was no longer alone, where he had someone who uood the depths and plexities of his power, who he could touch, who could make him greater than he imagined.

  "Do not fet this moment and what I have done for you and shown you," Amora tinued, her voice softening with a note of siy that caught Tyson off guard.

  "I do not ask for pensation beyond your positive sideration in future dealings."

  With that, Amora resumed her p the room, settling bato the fabric of Tyson's psyche.

  The choice, it seemed, was now his to make.

  Standing in the corridor, surrounded by doors that represented echoes of his history, Tysohe weight of Amora's words settling over him.

  Each door ath, a possibility, a ce to bee something more, if only for a short time.

  Behind the Ses

  - Some of you may not like how quickly Tyson healed early in this chapter. What we see Loki do with Gungnir in Thor is not dissimir from what Jean does in X-3. Wolverine healed from Jean's disiion iime deep enough for the adamantium to be visible in the se. Sabertooth is a mirror-match fan but should scale higher, sidering that Victor used to hunt Logan every year. I tried to keep Tyson's healing factor in lih that.

  - I may have taken some liberties with the entment on the dagger. There are times we see Loki throw his daggers, and then shortly afterward has them once again without us seeing him retrieve them. This be seen in the first Thor during the battle in Jotunheim. On occasion, during the ics, Loki wields Laevateinn, a short sword that he magically summon. Laevateinn is seen wielded by Kid Loki during the Loki series and is mentioned in hology. The entment on Loki's dagger is how I interpreted the on's i: as an early MCU reimagining of Laevateinn. Additionally, it would make sense. If Thor is given a on, Loki as the other son of Odin would receive one simir. Also, o dissimir from the on wielded by He in Ragnarok.

  - The st time Tyson was in The White Room was Chapter 21, whi-story was about ten and a half months ago. He ’t ehe White Room without outside help, because Xavier locked the door. This time, due to the nature of Amora’s help, he ended up in a differeion of his mind.

  - Those of you who read the ics, or were inspired to look at Rogue's Marvel wiki might have expected something like this would e up eventually. I've dropped some hints about this previously. Particurly with Illyana, and Tyson's e to Limbo. In Arc 3 Chapter 6 (Chapter 36) Azazel said to Tyson, "That fragment of Limbo that now resides in you… It's like a bea, calling out to me." In Arc 5 Chapter 3 (Chapter 50) Illyana said to Jubilee, "There's a piee inside him, a sliver of my dark soul that I passed to him... I don't care what he says, he's wrong. There is a piee inside him, I feel it. I've always felt it… Remember, you took that train ahe institute and were attacked by Mago. How did the Professor know you were gone? Because I told him. Everyone else fot, even Tyson. But how did I know you all were go's because I sehat shard of Limbo, that fragment of my soul that still resides within him. It never faded."

  - In X-Treme X-Men Issue #13, Sage unlocked Rogue’s ability, allowio use the powers of those she’d touched in the past. Amora has power-boosting abilities, so here I had it fun simirly, but with different limitations. Where Sage unlocked all ue's power, she still had to deal with the myriad of overwhelming Psyches… I wrote Amora's boost as the opposite. Tysos one previously unlocked ability, without the psyche affeg him.

  Question for Readers

  Who will Tyson pick? Who would you?

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