Disclaimer: Some are Marvels, some are mine. No money, no charge.

Veil choked on the dusty air around her and then turned to gaze at the world again. The shadows were hanging around her body, clinging to her, pulling at her. After shaking her head violently, she caught Lawrence watching her, concern etched on his face.

He was so naive, so convinced that when her powers finally finished maturing that she would be able to carry the dark shield around with her, that she would once again be able to walk under the sun.

He was so stupid.

The powers were building inside her. She could feel them growing, stretching, and evolving. And she knew. She knew what would become of her when she reached her full potential.

In the end, she would become a dark creature, a girl composed of shadows, only shadows. She would run through the night like a nightmare, unable to speak or see. When life was finished with her, when this mutation reached its peak, her life would be over and only the power would life.

The power.

Veil hated the power. The power, the shadowy darkness, had killed Christina James. It had kidnapped her from her world of bright city lights and sunshine and turned her into a long-clawed, green haired monster.

A slow tear trickled down Veil's cheek as she sighed and rolled her purple eyes toward the sky, watching the stars for some sign of the god that Lawrence kept going on about. It must be nice to have such a rock available as the one provided by religion. All of Veil's rocks had disappeared.

(Then she saw Lawrence out of the corner of her eye.)

Well, all but one of her rocks had disappeared.

Drew walked among the covered corpses of the days dead. Each one had slipped through her fingers. Each one could have been saved if she'd been faster, more powerful. Each one had died for the dream.

Drew wasn't part of the dream. She was its grim reaper.

With a shaking hand, she brushed the smooth locks of hair away from her face and began to record the names of the dead. It was her daily chore. It was a past time she used to make herself feel closer to the people she worked besides because they felt the deaths of their friends and they grieved.

Their angel, their healer, the girl with the big blue eyes and the soft light blond hair was locked away from emotion. However, she did try to break the walls away from her heart. Yes, she tried very hard.

After walking through the rows of bodies, Drew stopped and drew the sheet off one of them. The man lying under it was small, with hair the color of blackish blood and skin that still had a slightly yellow tint although he was dead. She allowed her fingertips to brush along his cold cheekbone.

"Lukas," she whispered into the quiet of the night. "Goodbye Lukas. Was it a good fight? No one expected you to go. They wanted me to save you so bad. However, you were gone already. You were gone, Lukas. You swore that you'd never leave."

Lukas just lay there, his eyes closed, his hands folded across his chest. Not that Drew expected him to jump up and grab her hand and try to make her laugh but she didn't like seeing him so dead, so still.

He had been a world bender. The great Lukas who needed no codename and didn't want one. The man of barely twenty-five who would grab his leather jacket and race out onto the battlefield to move the ground of the seas of just the air around the enemy. The great Lukas who had fallen when he turned around to smile at his friends.

One of the Sentinels has stabbed an energy lance through his back. And the other warriors? They had cried, they had screamed, they were still mourning.

Nevertheless, Drew felt nothing. Well, she felt very little. She always felt very little. Lady Elizabeth said it was a defense mechanism, a way to keep herself from getting hurt, like the way Veil insisted that Christina was dead or the way Storm didn't think about who was dead but who was fighting. Just a way to keep herself sane.

The blond haired mutant looked up at the sky and then back at Lukas. "You left, Lukas. You broke your promise. Don't worry. I forgive you and, one day, they'll forgive me." She covered him with the sheet again and started to leave, still tallying the dead in her mind.

Psylocke sat on the windowsill, her eyes focused ahead of her and her mind reaching out to talk to Wolverine. Through his eyes she saw the boy, Hector, touch Melissa. Melissa screamed and then compiled. The mission was going well. Perhaps a little too well. Maybe it was all a trick.

~I see the mission is going well, ~ she whispered into his mind.

Her old friend growled slightly. ~Better than I wanted it to. I had hoped that we could convince the girl. You know how I feel about mind control, darlin'.~

~Yes, Logan, I know. But it was necessary for Hector to...~

~Look, Betts, I'm not arguin' that he didn't do what he had to. I just wish there had been some other way. We know what it feels like to have our minds controlled, our lives controlled. I'm surprised you're takin' this so lightly.~ His voice was harsh as he spoke to her of ethics and morals. This man who had killed many people, who had slashed first and asked questions later. He had been given redemption for his actions, how could he hold so much against her?

Elizabeth sighed and paused, thinking, before she spoke again. ~I am doing what I have to, Logan. I will not lose my husband, or my friends. There are many things I cannot allow, like the deaths of the young ones here. The children we have gathered to fight alongside us. Children like Drew and Veil who have nowhere else to go and have lost so much for their powers. Melissa is the key, my friend, and I would have taken over her mind myself if it meant saving the world.~

~Sorry, Betts. Tell Ororo I love her and that I'm okay,~ he told her, his voice less gruff, less preaching.

Now Betsy allowed herself a small smile as she replied, ~I will do that, old friend.~ Then she cut the link and saw the war torn world around her. To think that only a few years ago, this had been so far away and now it was resting at their feet.