The Long Waking Dream
Part 4
by Magik

   Kitty Pryde was in her room, sorting through the odds and ends of her 
junk and trying to figure out what course of action she should take to 
help Illyana. There was that itching at the back of her mind that told 
her everything was fine and okay. Somewhere, somewhen maybe, Illyana was 
alive.
   As her brown eyes flited across a picture of her and Pete, she 
stopped folding her clothes and just drifted away. The ache in her heart 
stretched down a long way, past her heart and into her very soul, her 
being. It hurt so much but there was no way that the pain was going to 
control her life. No way in hell.
   There was a small coo as Lockheed flew into the room and landed on 
Kitty's shoulder. "H'lo Lockheed," she addressed him as she reached one 
hand up to stroke his purple scales. "Don't worry, buddy, `Yana will be 
back soon. I promise."

   In Moira McTaggert's lab there was a bright flash and the pungent 
smell of brimstone as Kurt Wagner teleported in. He was carrying a sword 
in his forked tail and held a cross in one of his hands.
   "Wha' tha bleedin'?!" Moira cried out with a start. "Kurt, boyo, wha' 
do ya think ye're doin'?"
   For a moment his yellow eyes glazed over with unsteadiness and then 
he looked around the room. "Was ist das?" he asked in German.
   "Speak English, boyo," Moira reminded curtly and turned back to her 
computer.
   Nightcrawler smiled gleefully and spun Moira's rolling chair around 
so that she was facing him. "Fraulein," he said with another smiled and 
then kissed her. "Drake." With that he disappeared in a puff of 
brimestone and light. 
   Moira held a hand to her face as the events that had just transpired 
slowly became clear to her. His fur hadn't tickled the way Kitty and 
Rahne descriped it. The fur had scrathed and hurt. "Wha's goin' on 
around here?" she inquired quietly before turning back to her computer.

   Rahne Sinclair lifted her nose to the air and inhaled. There was such 
a strange smell in the air today. It was of brimstone and magic. The 
only thing she could think of that reminded her of the smell was Illyana 
Rasputin when she had been Magik. But Illyana was dead and Rahne had a 
cold so she turned back to human and forgot all about the strange smell.

   Piotr Rasputin woke from his dream with a start. It was the wrost 
dream that he had had in weeks of restless nightmares. This dream had 
been about his sister.
   But it hadn't really been his sister as much as a girl who was VERY 
much like her. So like her that you would think they were the same 
person.
   He ran a large hand through his tangled black hair and stared at the 
painting in front of him. It was a poor attempt to copy the style of 
Picasso but in every wild stroke of color he saw a part of his sister's 
face.
   The dream clung to him, pulling at him with the tendrils of sleep. 
The dream of the girl with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Only this 
girl was pure and alive with white magic. He dismissed it as just 
another fever dream, caused by the cold he had picked up from Rahne, and 
went upstairs to get some tea.

   Illyana fell to the ground in a heap. The effort of conjuring so much 
so soon after her rebirth had exhausted and drained her. "All for 
naught," she whispered dryly. "None of them saw. None believed. My 
brother...didn't believe."
   And the world around her cried out in a voice only she could hear, 
~Be strong, Mistress. Be strong. Don't worry. You will get through to 
them, someday.~
   The eyes, so bright and blue, turned to look out at the world of 
Limbo, the world that had created her. It was a beautiful place now. As 
beautiful as the strong, sure soul that survived within Illyana Rasputin 
but it was not home. She knew this deep in her heart. Her home was 
somewhere else. It was somewhere that she could not reach at this 
moment. 
   "Okay," she rasped. "Fine. I'll rest and then I'll try again."

   In the shadowlands, which existed at the back of Limbo, the demon 
stirred and moved and changed its shape with each evil laugh that 
drifted from its lips. It had already seen the sun and breathed the 
air. But when the child was free, then it would be free forever.