The X-Men had never truly liked Scott Summers.

He was their leader, the one who made the impossible decisions no one else wanted to make. To them, he seemed cold, detached, and impossible to understand. Even Jean’s relationship with him had always been rocky, years of breaking apart and finding each other again without ever quite bridging the distance between them.

Then Scott started changing.

He grew harsher, more abrasive. His temper flared over the smallest things, and every attempt to reach him only ended in another argument. The mansion had become tense, everyone quietly wondering what had happened to their leader.

Rogue finally snapped.

The argument escalated until her fist connected with Scott’s jaw, sending him crashing into the wall. His ruby quartz visor shattered, and for a heartbeat everyone froze.

Then his face split apart with it.

Scott’s skin peeled away like a mask, revealing a mass of writhing black tendrils beneath. The creature shrieked as it struggled to hold his form before abandoning it completely, twisting into something no one recognized.

Logan’s claws slid free.

“What the hell are you?”

The creature only laughed, its voice fractured as though several people were speaking at once.

“You… never knew. Never saw.”

Jean instinctively reached out with her telepathy, only to recoil. There was no human mind to find.

“Where’s Scott?” she demanded.

The thing tilted its head unnaturally.

“The one called Scott Summers died… months ago. Left behind. Alone.”

Silence swallowed the room.

“But he returns.”

Its words became increasingly difficult to understand, breaking apart between rasping breaths.

“He… fought… for so long. One man can only keep… a god… waiting… for so long. He resisted. Delayed the inevitable.”

Storm frowned. “A god?”

The creature smiled.

“His War comes. He rises… as a Horseman.”

No one moved.

“Horseman of… Apocalypse.”

The name meant nothing to any of them.

Hank exchanged a confused glance with Storm, while Gambit quietly lowered his cards. Even Logan looked genuinely uncertain.

“What the hell is an Apocalypse?” Jubilee whispered.

The creature only laughed again, a horrible, rattling sound.

“You’ll learn… soon enough.”

Its body collapsed in on itself, dissolving into black ash before anyone could stop it.

The mansion was silent.

Rogue stared at her bruised knuckles, horror replacing every ounce of anger she’d felt. Jean couldn’t tear her eyes away from the empty space where the creature had stood, while the rest of the team struggled to process the impossible.

Months.

They had followed it, argued with it, trusted it to lead them.

And the real Scott had been gone all along.

Finally, Storm broke the silence.

“We need to tell Charles.”

No one argued.

Because if anyone knew what a Horseman was—or who Apocalypse might be—it would be Professor Xavier.

And for the first time in a very long time, the X-Men were terrified of what their mentor’s answer would be, and how he would react to his beloved protégées apparent death.