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[sub][i]"Second soul, and second one off the sinking ship, is Sekem: energy, power, light.
The director gives the orders, Sekem presses the right buttons."[/i]
William S. Burroughs, [i]The Western Lands[/i][/sub]
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[i]#03 The Inner Light[/i]
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[i][color=darkblue][b]The Xavier Institute, Earth[/b][/color][/i]

The campus grounds of the Xavier Institute were verdant and vital, a paradise of carefully manicured lawns, trees, and gardens. A pair of men strolled abreast through the grounds, keeping company with students strewn about reading, eating, or playing about on the lawns. Digestive exercise was best after lunch, Logan had insisted. Xavier had already gone along with his old friend's insistence that they share their lunch outdoors, and so he didn't see the harm in rolling alongside him through the campus grounds. The men chatted idly, returned errant footballs to sporting students, or simply enjoy each other's company in silence.

Xavier did have one complaint, however. "[color=lightpink]Logan, must you smoke that thing on the grounds?[/color]" He asked, withholding his annoyance. His companion looked back at him with interest, and took another pull on his dark, dense cigar. The smell of the thing made Xavier's eyes water. "[color=lightpink]I don't want the students to pick up your nasty habits. They look up to you after all.[/color]"

Logan blew a smoke ring up into the air, then looked back to his friend. "[color=yellow]Chuck, if outta all my nasty habits, this is the one they pick up,[/color]" He stretched languidly, like a predator with a full belly, his back and elbows cracking. "[color=yellow]We got nuttin' ta worry about.[/color]" He puffed on his cigar, content.

Their repartee was disturbed by a sudden flash of golden light that appeared before the two men. Logan was quick to act, claws drawn and ready to pounce before the light had subsided. A few students jumped up after, ready to either run or join the fray. When a man emerged from the portal of light, Logan advanced, tensing himself to strike if provoked, before recognition set in. He recognized the aged, bearded visage before him. It had looked much the same for decades, not unlike Logan himself. Still, he was not used to seeing him in a suit, as opposed to a wizardly costume.

"[color=yellow]My 'pologies Doc, didn't know we were due for a visit.[/color]" Logan said, claws retracting as his fists lowered. Kent Nelson simply advanced unflinchingly toward Xavier, sparing Logan a polite nod.

"[color=lightpink]My, Kent, this [i]is[/i] a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?[/color]" Xavier asked, extending a hand to his old associate. While his voice was as genial and unwavering as ever, he could not help but feel Kent's anxiety, and he was troubled by what could be so worrying to Doctor Fate.

"[color=yellow]How's the magic biz, Doc?[/color]" Logan asked, his chewed-up cigar clenched between smiling, fanged teeth. "[color=yellow]Pull any quarters outta excitin' new places?[/color]"

As Kent took Xavier's hand, he greeted the men properly, "[color=gold]Charles, Logan, I'm glad to see you're both well.[/color]" His voice was tense, despite his pleasantries, and Logan then also knew that there was something wrong. "[color=gold]Forgive me for being brusque, but I've come because I need your help.[/color]" He looked from Charles, to Logan, and then back to Charles. "[color=gold]If we could speak privately, just for a moment.[/color]"

Logan said nothing, but looked to Charles, who looked straight back at him. The two shared a glance, and Logan sighed and turned on his heel. No telepathy necessary. "[color=yellow]Well, guess I'll take a walk while you boys talk shop. Don't take too long or you'll hurt my feelin's.[/color]"

[color=lightpink]|[i]Kent, what the devil is going on?[/i]|[/color] Xavier asked telepathically, as there were still students within earshot, looking on curiously. His demeanor was cool as ever, but he colored his broadcasted thoughts with alarm and concern.

[color=gold]|[i]I have a problem... of a highly personal nature.[/i]|[/color] Kent was unsure of how best to describe the issue to Xavier, not sure of how to express magic phenomena to the scientifically-minded mutant. Telepathic communication was oftentimes more confusing than speech, as unfocused thoughts could come across as an indecipherable stream of consciousness. [color=gold]|[i]I believe someone- or something- is tampering with the past. My past.[/i]|[/color]

[color=lightpink]|[i]I see. And you want me to check if your memories are real... Or if they have been tampered with as well?[/i]|[/color] Kent was already relaxing his many mental defenses, slowly allowing Xavier access to the deeper recesses of his mind.

[color=gold]|[i]Yes. You're the only person who can help me, Charles.[/i]|[/color] Charles Xavier was likely the only telepath on the planet powerful enough to sift through Kent's burdensome library of memories, or determine if they were implanted, other memories suppressed. More importantly, he was a good man, and Kent Nelson trusted him.

[color=lightpink]|[i]I will try. Come closer. Is there a particular memory I should start with?[/i]|[/color] Kent knelt before Xavier, who placed a hand on the other man's head.

[color=gold]|[i]Only one you need to check at all. Seventeenth of May, Ninteen-sixty. It was the late evening. Sunset.[/i]|[/color]
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[i][color=darkblue][b]Tell el-Muqayyar, Earth[/b][/color][/i]

Kent Nelson had not been this excited since he was parachuting behind enemy lines in Tunisia. That was twenty years in his past, and he had left the world of weapons and warfare behind. He was now a scholar, an explorer of history, and his triumphs were discoveries, rather than victory in battle. After months of hard work, his greatest triumph was now at hand.

Radio imaging technology had been a godsend for archeologists like himself. Radar that had been developed to detect German planes could now be directed into the ground, and used to map out subterranean chambers that were hidden from view. Kent had the distinct privileged of being the first archaeologist to use this exciting new technology on the ruins of Ur, deep in the valley of Sumer. Iraq's recent revolution had thrown the country into an uproar which had still not subsided, and so it was difficult for foreign scholars to gain access to these treasured ruins. Kent knew a few expatriate friends living in the region, old army friends, who pulled enough strings to allow him access, and the opportunity had been more than worth it.

Radio imaging had been fruitful, there were chambers hidden beneath sand and cave-ins, waiting for Kent to uncover their secrets. He was not alone, however. His wife, Inza, and son Khalid had both joined him on the expedition, and he could not have been happier to have them with him. They (and a team of Iraqi workmen) had toiled for weeks to clear away the sand and debris, nothing but hard work with shovels, buckets, and pulleys. Kent worked until his hands bled, and the sun turned his skin from pink, to red, to dusty brown. Khalid worked with him, a strapping lad of twenty, he had taken the semester away from University at Oxford to share in his father's quest for discovery.

After what felt like endless weeks of toil, they had finally broken through to the lower chambers of Ziggurat of Nammu. The flooded chambers had been cleared away, and they could access the chambers adjoining them, as well as study the cultural remnants that had been buried in the sand. The sun had already dipped behind the lip of the Euphrates river valley, and Inza worked by lantern light, cataloging artifacts and taking charcoal rubbings of inscriptions. Kent and Khalid worked nearby, shoveling a bank of sand away from a door by torchlight. At first they thought it would lead into an antechamber, but the radar told them that there was nothing behind the wall. Either it was a closet, a coffin, or a door to a room completely filled with sand, they were determined to find out.

Once the door was clear, Kent called his wife over to join them. Khalid took up a crowbar to try and pry the stone door loose, and Kent held his wife tenderly about the shoulders. He wondered in that moment if he was the luckiest man alive, to be there with his loving family, in the midst of a historic discovery. The passageway opened, the stone door thudding to the floor, and blinding, golden light poured into the dingy chamber. Kent could do nothing but try to shield his eyes from the oppressive light, falling to his knees as the light seemed to carry weight, or pressure. The only thing besides the light that Kent was even conscious of was a strange voice calling out in a language he did not understand.

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After the voice subsided, the oppressive nature of the light changed, becoming less harsh and punishing. Kent was no less blinded, and still on his knees, but he no longer felt the need to shield his eyes, and no longer felt a weight pushing him down. The voice called again, this time in English, though with a strange accent and meter.

[h2][b][center][color=gold]I am NABU, Lord of ORDER. Ancient, and most WISE among Lords. Why have you come, and disturbed my eternal solitude?[/color][/center][/b][/h2]

The voice was otherworldly, it made Kent's teeth rattle in his skull, but it carried no trace of anger or malice that he could detect. He felt in that moment much like an ant under the searing gaze of a magnifying glass. "[color=gold]I am... a historian! A scholar![/color]" He yelled into the light. "[color=gold]I have come seeking knowledge, discovery. I seek the truth![/color]" He wasn't sure why he was yelling this sort of thing back at the godlike presence, but it felt like the right thing to say, and it [i]was[/i] the truth, so he felt there was no harm in what he told it.

The light died down at last, leaving only a glowing, golden aura emanating from the doorway Khalid had opened. It was inviting, dancing rays of golden light entrancing to watch, but Kent's attention was elsewhere. Inza and Khalid were nowhere to be seen. The only trace of them were their clothes, crumpled on the floor where they had been standing. Khalid's clothes had a discarded crowbar haphazardly dropped on them. All else that was left in the chamber was sand, twirling and settling about the room. As he was already on his knees, Kent dropped to all fours in shock. Just like that, it had all been ripped away from him. It had taken less than an instant, seemingly, and he wasn't even aware of it happening.

The golden presence called back to Kent, wordlessly, inviting him to its realm. He looked up at the portal, channels of tears cutting clean streaks across his dusty cheeks. There was much to be done, he knew now. Slowly, he got up from the ground, dusted off his pants and his hands, and strode straight into the portal to meet his Fate.
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Kent and Xavier both opened their eyes, the awoken memory both fading from them like a dream after waking. Xavier was silent, graven-faced. Kent's eyes stung, but he blinked back his tears, standing back up to face his friend. Finally, after tense moments of consideration, Xavier said, [color=lightpink]|[i]It's not a false memory, Kent. That night in the ruins, that was real. That was you.[/i]|[/color]

Kent sighed. He was relieved by Xavier's analysis, but less than he thought he would have been. This still meant he had a very significant problem. [color=gold]|[i]Thank you, Charles. This means more to me than... Well, you know what it means. I have to go.[/i]|[/color]

[color=lightpink]|[i]Of course. Be safe, my friend.[/i]|[/color]

With a final nod goodbye, Kent Nelson vanished in another flash of light. Logan came swaggering back not long after, finding Xavier still in the same place, deep in thought. He took his cigar from his mouth to tap off the ashes, and asked, "[color=yellow]So, what did the good Doctor want from you?[/color]"

"[color=lightpink]He just needed to touch base with reality.[/color]" Xavier said, his stoic countenance back in place.

"[color=yellow]Man, who doesn't?[/color]" Logan chuckled, before chomping back down on his cigar. He flinched, finding that his stogie suddenly had the taste and hardness of metal. He spat it out, finding that a roll of quarters in a wrapper had taken the cigar's place. Logan grumbled something about magicians being sawed in half, Xavier said nothing, and the two men continued their afternoon stroll.