The last thing the X-men expected to see, sitting at the breakfast table, was the tableau framed in the doorway. Celeste, wearing Logan's shirt off both shoulders and buttoned crookedly, held Wolverine's hand. She carried a tattered bit of denim over one arm. He laughed at something she said, and she smiled. She turned to enter the room, but Logan pulled her back into his arms and kissed her.

Long moments later, they walked through the room with bright eyes and reddened lips. She paused dreamily at the table, and caught Rogue's eye. "Well,"she couldn't hold back her silly grin, "you did say he'd know what to do."

Celeste trailed after Logan, following him to his room. He headed for the shower, asking prettily if she'd like to join him. Celeste wandered out onto the balcony, where she fished a cigarette out of her jeans pocket. Climbing up on the railing, she hooked her feet on the bars and stared off into the forest. She listened to the water running and didn't allow herself to listen to her conscience.

Until he came outside, dressed again in jeans and flannel, his hair still wet, his eyes filled with peace. He looked as he had before, on that autumn afternoon in the wilds of Canada.

Celeste decided that the best thing she could do would be to give him a part of his past back. It would be her last gift to him.

Logan watched her flick the ash from her cigarette, wondering what had happened to make her so pensive. He sniffed at the air and scrutinized her posture. Pensive and defensive.

"Logan," she whispered, "I have something to tell you."

#Princess-I must speak with you...#

Silence fell over them both as the last echoes of that message faded. "Princess?"

Callie nodded solemnly. "That's part of what I had to tell you." Focusing on the origin of the voice, Celeste vaulted from the railing and traced it to Charles's study. The rest of the X-men came out of the woodwork, wondering at the cause of this grim procession.

"What's up, sugah?"

Callie shook her head. "I don't know."

"I heard something. . .Princess?" Jean questioned. She had picked up that much.

Celeste nodded, then smiled and shrugged sarcastically. "What can I say? I'm heir to an empire of magic crystals and fairy dust."

Before another word could be said, a pool of golden ambience split the air above Xavier's desk. A shadowed form hit the polished surface and sat back on his heels.

"I have a message for the Princess." He stated officially. Celeste inclined her head regally, as she had been taught to answer all summons. "I am she."

He jumped from the table to kneel at her feet. "Your Highness," he bowed his head.

Celeste took the letter, her throat constricting anxiously. Her mother would never contact her here unless something was terribly wrong; otherwise, there were too many questions. She turned the letter over, about to break the wax seal. She looked down at Gregor's bent head. "You may go now."

"I'm sorry, my lady, but I have been instructed to remain and record your commands."

"My commands?" she glanced down at the letter, "Doesn't my mother-" What she was looking at finally registered. The seal on the vellum card was a perfect yellow rose, the flower of death.

"Oh, God," She moaned as she tore open the letter and read the words of her greatest fear. Her mother was dead. The throne was vacant. Her people had no queen. "Rise, Gregor." she wheezed.

He got to his feet, tears in his eyes. "Your Majesty," he bowed again, "What are your orders?"

"I want the killer. " She clutched the edges of the table, searching the room for a focal point. She would not pass out. She must ask him...Her eyes met Logan's where he leaned against the door, arms crossed over his chest. He seemed to be taking it rather well. She focused on him, and swallowed hard. Without looking away, she asked her servant, "Did you see her? Did you see her body?"

He nodded shortly, his voice as emotionless as necessary. "Her Majesty Illyana was entombed three hours ago in the royal vault."

Celeste forced air from her lungs. "Was she. . .headless?" Her knees began to buckle. Her hands, clenched together behind her back, grew white with strain. Logan moved close, wrapping his arms around her waist in support.

He nodded gravely. "She was beheaded by a sword. We have no other course but to suspect that the killer wielded the-the Charon Sword."

Oh, God. I can't stop this and I can't change it. . .Oh, God. . . "Who was the last documented owner of the Sword?"

Gregor cleared his throat delicately. "I believe it was Soamna Thepis, Your Majesty."

Celeste pulled away from Logan and turned her back. A sharp scent stung Logan's nose, and he breathed in deeply. Fear. A fear so intense and shattering that his muscles weakened. When he was satisfied that he had gained control, he looked up. Celeste was staring at him, paler than he had ever seen her.

"I can't do it," she choked on tears she refused to shed, "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you can't do it?" Gregor took a step forward and spun her around, gripping her shoulders tightly. He abandoned all servile attitudes and hissed, "I need you. We need you. We need our queen."

"I can't defeat him!" Celeste's voice grew shrill as she was assaulted with emotions from the four corners of the room.

Gregor's desperation. The X-men's combined confusion, anger, and empathy on her behalf. Xavier's sadness at the loss of his friend, her mother, and the desire to help the young queen. Logan's aura was brightest. He was angry. Logan wanted to kill Soamna Thepis because he frightened Celeste.

"What do you mean you can't? You are the most skilled warrior ever to fight in a war. Why get scared now?"

"I'm not scared!" she yelled back, "I just know it can't be done, that's all!"

"How do you know?!"

Celeste's eyes narrowed on the floor at her feet. Her fists clenched painfully. "He raped me!" Celeste's eyes grew wide at her outburst, and she slammed both hands over her mouth.

The room was silent for a long moment. Logan's rage grew to a volcanic heat that assaulted Celeste from all sides.

"What?" At that moment, Callie couldn't have said who the ominous hiss came from, Logan or Gregor.

"I have orders for you," she raised her face to them. Her eyes were hard, brilliant-and tearless. The eyes of a queen. "Tell my people you saw my eyes fill with tears; that my heart is broken at the loss of my mother." She took a deep breath. "And as for Soamna Thepis-

Bring me his head, and I will scalp it. Bring me his body, and I'll crucify it. Bring me his blood, and I will drink it."

"One more thing, Your Majesty," Celeste glanced up sharply at his sarcastic use of her title, "Your sister is looking to kill you."

The queen sneered at the mention of her sister, Ana, the one who was filled with hatred and jealousy because she would never wear the crown. Ana was also bitter because her sister was far more beautiful than she, she who had given up her beauty in a rash decision to become a living representative of the Plant Kingdom. Her skin was as brown and course as the bark of an oak, her hair was green, thick and jagged with thorns, and it would only worsen as the years passed. Her skin peeled at certain times of the year, as bark might from a tree. She could rarely touch someone without giving them poison ivy, and her serpentine eyes were crimson, the color of autumn leaves. Ana's vanity never allowed her peace.

"So what else is new?"

"She's raising an army."

"She's WHAT?!"

"She's raised a small band of misfits who also have a problem with you taking your mother's throne."

Celeste paced back and forth silently for a moment before throwing her hands up in disgust. "Flamin' hell! I can't do anything right!" She fell silent again before she stopped to sit on Charles's desk and put her head in her hands. Finally, she raised her eyes to Gregor; the hard, brilliant eyes of a queen. "Hunt her down and kill her. Use any means possible. I don't care if you have to feed her to the werewolves, just get the job done."

"Your people are going to have a problem with a queen who can't do her own dirty work."

"I don't give a damn what their problem is!" She shook her head, realizing the duality of her statement. "If you can't carry out my orders, than come to me and I will finish it. Right now, I will carry out my mother's last request. It is no business of theirs."

"I see," he said stiffly, "and was last night part of her 'request'?"

Claws burst from the Celeste's knuckles, four short claws that curved four inches beyond her fingertips, curving inward to single deadly point. They scraped across Gregor's right cheek and caught in his hair. Callie pulled his head back hard, so that she could look into his eyes. "I've killed men for far less. Little boys like you bleed easily."

She pulled his face closer to her. "No one takes what is mine. My sister will never wear my crown. No one takes what is mine!"

She threw his head away from her and slid off the desk. In a flash of glittering indigo light, Celeste appeared in a black body suit. It was skintight and left her shoulders bare. A band of intricately wrought gold went around her head, a huge scintillating jewel in the center of her forehead. It flashed in the dimness like a candle flame. At her hip, a sword was supported by a loop from her belt, similar to Rogue's. The sword was clear and fragile-looking and hollow in the center, filled with a bubbling scarlet liquid. On her middle finger, she wore several thin rings of the metals of the earth. On the ring finger of her right hand, she wore a gold ring inset with a drop of petrified amber. Inside the little droplet, a tiny flame burned eternal. On her left hand, she wore a silver ring with a large blue stone, filled with water.

Xavier recognized her jewelry. He had seen her mother wear them many times.

Celeste raised the flat of the sword to her forehead. "No one takes what is mine. I swear it on the Sword of the Empire."

After considering her for a long moment, Gregor nodded solemnly and disappeared in a flash of white light.

Celeste shoved the weapon back into its loop and turned to leave. The X-men watched mutely, trying to assimilate all that had happened in the last ten minutes. Gambit stared at the sword, the liquid inside swaying as she walked.

"Chere?" She stopped, turning her head to face him. "What's in de sword?"

She smiled. "Saint's blood."

Her laughter remained long after she had left the room.

Celeste's false laughter faded as she stalked down the hall toward the Danger Room. Damn it. She has always found a way to destroy my happiness. For a whole eight hours I was happy, a normal human being allowed to drink and smoke and sleep with whatever Canadian I felt like. Dammit! She swore violently. She was blaming her anger on her mother, taking petty stabs at a dead woman. What's really burnin' my biscuits is I am too weak to defeat the man who murdered my mother; the man who raped me. I'm tired of being weak. Logan's face flashed before her eyes, now further beyond her reach than when she had dreamed of marrying him as a girl. Now, she had a responsibility to legions of unicorns, faeries, mermaids, elves, werewolves, and a few happy-go-lucky vampires brave enough to live on the edge of the Lux Empire. Now, she had a whole monarchy.

Reaching the Danger Room, Celeste shut the heavy metal door behind her. It was mad of some kind of metal alloy, possibly adamantium or steel, so she couldn't seal it directly. It wasn't a metal from the Earth, it was man-made. But she'd be damned if that was going to stop her now. Ripping the Empire sword from it's hilt, she jammed the tip into the crease of the door. It began to glow with the strongest aura she could project: bright indigo. No weak green-gold would do this time.

She glanced up at the window of the control room high above. Glass. Sand and lightning. Earth and Air. With a thought, it glowed an opaque, jewel-bright purple-blue.

Now, she would find out what she was made of.

Back in the study, the group was still gathered, silent and thoughtful.

"Ah don' get it, Charlie," Rogue argued. "Why's she here in the first place?"

Charles sighed. "She wouldn't say. All she told me was that her mother had seen something in her dreams and that she was here to make sure nothing of it came to pass."

"Dis dream, she what Gambit interested in," Gambit said after several long moments.

"Celeste told me little. She said only that she had sworn to her mother that she would prevail, and that I would know when this 'event' came."

"So what?" Logan growled, "We supposed to sit around waitin' for the ax ta fall on one of us...or all of us?"

Charles shook his head. "Celeste was determined to win the day. She had a personal stake in this one."

Storm was the one to pose the obvious question. "What personal stake is this?"

"Wolverine."

Logan's eyes narrowed. How th' hell could a slip of a girl he'd met only a week ago have a vendetta for keepin' him alive?! Then again, she'd said she loved him. Maybe she wasn't right in th' head. Maybe she was lyin'. Logan wasn't sure, but he didn't particularly care for either option.

Finally, Cyclops spoke his piece. "As the X-men and as friends, we have the duty and privilege to cover each others' backs. What makes her think we can't take care of it this ti-"

The group looked up as a brilliant flash lit the skies and illuminated the dim room in stark relief for an instant. The foundation trembled beneath their feet. Storm slid to the floor, her hands clutching her skull. She shrieked as the Earth began to quake. "No! What is happening? The air itself--No!" Her point was demonstrated as one of Beast's scientific-looking gadgets, a thermometer on the window, shattered.

Jean was next. She doubled over in pain, as she had just reached out to Celeste. Yes, Celeste was definitely the cause of this. "The Danger Room. Now!"

Twenty seconds later, Charles, Jean and Wolverine were in the control room, trying alternately to break the glass by telepathy and brute strength. Storm was sitting perfectly still, in the chair beside them, attempting to combat Celeste's manipulation of the Air, at least. She could do little for the earthquake registering 6.7 in the Richter scale. Gambit, Rogue and Cyclops were below, dealing with the more physical blockade of the door.

But Celeste wasn't in the mood to let them inside.

She was fighting Sabretooth, who was, this time, solely a figment of her imagination. She had changed beyond human form, with claws and fangs, both dripping blood. For a moment, Wolverine was mesmerized by her eyes, gleaming a golden silver in the gloom she had made.

Celeste and "Sabretooth" retreated to their corners. Breathing hard and covered in the illusionary blood of her chosen adversary, Celeste was becoming playful. Surrounded by the hot, coppery smell of his essence, a bit of her rage had calmed. Just a bit.

Dimly, she sensed the bright auras of the X-men behind and above her, but she cast of their oppressive shadows and snatched a sword from thin air. Thy had no business here. She chose that moment to look up, straight into the eyes of her lover. No, not even him.

With a lone cry to the four winds, Celeste opened her senses as far as they would allow. The smell of the metal katana in her hand, the ivory hilt. She could even smell the stale molecules of air between the folds of the blade, which had been folded more than a hundred times. Millions of animals trampled the dirt and sand and rocks of the Earth, a billion people breathed the Air, caps of threatened to melt under the hole in the ozone, ice fields cracked ground together at both the poles. The plates of the Earth shattered and ground together, rivers of fire and ash shot high from inactive volcanoes.

And she caused it all. This brief glance was allowed her before the barrier loomed before her, golden and deceptive. This time she would win. She would learn to control it all, to heal the wounds that humanity had inflicted the planet, in this realm and all the others, too.

And so she felt the other realms, creatures more than human running to help, to stop, to destroy. Ruthlessly, she slammed the doorways shut in their faces. this time, she would win.

She screamed and threw herself against the barrier. Sabretooth had disappeared, no longer needed. Her real nemesis was here, in the physical world. No longer a thing of her mind, taunting her by staying just beyond her reach, but something real and touchable. This time, she would win, or die.

"This time, she will win or die!" Jean repeated. "She's not planning on surviving. Logan, you've got to reach her-she'll listen to you!"

Wolverine looked down at the slip of a girl who was determined to take everything and be done with it, now or never. His eye was caught by the katana in her hand, which she was now using to slash and claw at the seemingly transparent wall that stood between her and the power to destroy the man who had murdered her mother. He recognized the katana, though. It had been one of Master Ogun's prize possessions, once.

Celeste was tiring. She screamed in vain and threw herself against the wall one last time. Her strength waned and exhaustion spread over her like a warm blanket. Her head pulled up, and she looked again into Lagan's eyes. For some reason, perhaps because she willed it so, he didn't seem so very far beyond her anymore.

Celeste collapsed to the floor. The instant her eyes drifted closed, the psi-lock on the door vanished and the window shattered, exploding outward in a shower of glass. The door crashed open and Wolverine leaped blindly to the floor, intent on getting to her first. The Empire Sword fell from the door with a smack and slid across the floor to stop beside its mistress's sprawled form.

Celeste held onto consciousness until she felt Logan's hands on her, lifting her from the floor gently and cradling her in his arms. Her fist clenched convulsively on the katana before it struck the floor with a ringing clang.

"I'm so tired of being weak," she sighed brokenly before going limp.

"Believe me, darlin'," he murmured, " 'weak' ain't how I'd describe what just happened."

"Everything seems to be in order," Hank smiled reassuringly to Logan, who stood beside the pale form on the examination table. He had only set her down once, to lay her on the table, and he had yet to let go of her hand.

"Then why ain't she awake, Hank?"

"Well, Logan, it's quite simple, really. You see, in order to facilitate that amount of metaphysical energy..." He trailed off in the face of Logan's glower, quickly switching to layman's terms, "She's physically and mentally exhausted. She put herself in a trance, in 'limbo', to aid her healing factor. She'll be out for a few hours, at least."

"Well, why didn't ya say that th' first time, you son-of- mmmmph!" Logan swallowed his expletive, which had come out of nowhere. He opened his mouth to apologize, but was stopped by Beast's smile.

"Quite all right, Logan. I understand. Now go put her to bed."

He sighed. "Thanks, Hank."

Without putting much thought into it, Logan strode into his bedroom and laid her down on his bed. After tucking the covers around her, he stood up and scrutinized the whole picture. She was too pale, to drawn, and too little in the middle of his bed.

Logan groaned and rolled his eyes at himself. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Nope, darlin'. I definitely ain't too far beyond yer reach. I'd say I'm too close fer comfort."

Quickly, he stripped and climbed into bed with her, wrapping an arm around her to pull he back against him. Since his face was buried in her hair, Logan missed the satisfied smile that slid over Celeste's face.

Celeste cracked open an eye. Her muscled quivered from overuse, her head was filled with the entire cast of Riverdance doing an encore, and if she didn't know better, she'd swear her tongue had been carpeted.

Hoping against hope, Celeste turned over. Nah. The bed was empty, although she knew he'd been there. Pale, faded flashes of violet shone on the sheets. Barely visible, they were evidence enough that Logan had wrapped her in his aura. She squinted through gritty eyes, trying to judge their age. How long had it been?

Then it hit her. A wave of sharp scent wafted up from the front hall. Fear, determination, anger, her mind frantically tried to sort it all out. Blood...there was blood, too. Celeste forced herself to inhale it. Animal blood, fierce and beholden to nothing but its instincts.

Logan's blood.

She had failed. She had failed to protect him, just as she had failed to do her duty to her mother. And worst of all, the tears that welled in her eyes would not fall.

The scream that filled the bed chamber was one of a spirit reborn. An angel baptized in blood, a fey creature with a demon heart. It promised the redemption of a goddess and the vengeance of a queen. It screamed for justice. It screamed for love. "Logan!"