Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel Comics and are being used for non-profit entertainment purposes only. The story belongs to me, Magik, the author.

by Magik

    There was a flash of silver light and a hand clad in silver armor reached up from the dry ground. Kitty Pryde stood there, watching helplessly, as the devil realm of Limbo gave her back her best friend. Illyana Rasputin's hand clutched the sword in a death grip. But it was not enough. The light flashed again and the sword was blown away.

    Kitty's scream died on her lips as the hand turned to dust.

    Covered in sweat and shaking from the nightmare, Kathrine Pryde sat up in bed. Dark. The room was very, very dark. A pair of yellow eyes locked at her from a corner.

    "Lockheed?" she called out, her voice muffled from sleep.

    Something clenched her stomach into knots. "`Yana?"

    The dream! But it had been more than a dream and Kitty knew it. It was just like that time when Illyana was in mortal pain over in Asgard, Kitty's dreams had told it all. A few tears crept into her eyes and Kitty bit her lip, hard. Illyana was coming back. She had to be. After all, what else could the dream mean?

    Kitty Pryde tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear and turned another corner. So far she hadn't seen any of her teammates. Kurt should soon be back from his little adventure.

    Something clicked in the back of her mind and Kitty sighed. Wisdom. Pete. God, why were things always so complicated.

    Sure he had left. Ran away from a few problems that could have, should have, been talked out. Dashing Pete Wisdom running away from his problems like a coward. It was so ironic that Kitty almost laughed save for the ache in her heart whenever she thought of him.

    Up ahead she heard voices, whispering low and soft.

    "I'm afraid it's worse than that, Moira. Amanda and Margali barely escaped the place alive. And the sword. The sword is still there."

    At the mention of Illyana's Soulsword, Kitty's brown eyes widened.

    "Aye. `Tis a very troublesome problem, Kurt. But how are we ta do anythin' about it?"

    "I don't know, Moira. I really don't know."

    "Well, ah have some thin's ta go over. Pickin' through wee Doucklock's brain an' all."

    "Ja. I understand, Moira. Good day."

    The conversation ended and Kitty listened as the sound of Kurt's footsteps drew closer to her. He rounded the corner and she was surprised to see him still wearing his old X-Men uniform.

    Internally, Kitty cringed. Remembrance of the old X-Men days reminded her of Illyana and Peter Rasputin. Two wounds that he not yet fully healed.

    "Hiya, Fuzzy Elf," she said trying to get on his good side.

    "Good morning, fraulein. Why are you scurrying about in the halls so?" the blue furred Nightcrawler asked.

    Kitty bit her lip and shifted her weight slightly as they continued walking down the hall. "I heard you mention a sword to Moira. It was Illyana's Soulsword, wasn't it?"

    "Ja."

    "What happened to it, Kurt?"

    "We left it in that devil land, Kitten. It never does anybody any good," he answered and brushed a hand through his short, blue hair.

    "It's good that you left it there. Um, Kurt?"

    "Ja?"

    "Do you remember when the New Mutants were stuck in Asgard and Illyana sent me a dream about what was going on?" she asked as she looked at him. It seemed like such a long time ago.

    "Yes, Kitty, I do. It seems like such a long time ago."

    She smiled. "I was thinking that exact same thing."

    "Why would that matter, though?"

    "Because Kurt, I think Illyana sent me a dream. I think she's coming back and I think that the Soulsword is bringing her," Kitty told him, her eyes wide and hopeful.

    Kurt simply sighed and rubbed his temples.

    Illyana's silver armor clad hand hung onto her Soulsword for dear life. Energy seemed to seep into her pores from the sword. Almost as if the sword was feeding her life essence, keeping her alive.

    All around her were walls of brown, dry earth. A small room under the ground, like a coffin, designed to hold her to Limbo.

    Limbo. Her arcane realm, her "home". It had saved her. When she released her evil soul during Inferno the ground of Limbo sucked it up like spilled water on shag carpeting. It kept her there, hidden beneath it's tainted soil, and nourished her. Limbo wanted it's mistress back and was prepared to go to any lengths to have her.

    Now, the newly formed conscience of Illyana Rasputin stirred and grew restless. She was tired of being nurtured, back to life. It was high time she was born again like the fire bird named phoenix.

    Bright blue eyes opened and stared around the dusty, coffin like, room. True, it was small and crowded. True, it had been her home for years now. But she was bored of it.

    The other armor covered hand clawed at the ceiling. The nails dug into the mud and pulled great chunks out. Light, air, her mind cried out. Life!

    Above ground, the Soulsword began to glow as it felt Illyana's mind stir. She was waking up and soon she would rule her land again. It had taken the sword months to find the pieces of life essences needed to wake it's slumbering mistress. Many long months or travelling on Kitty's Pryde's stomach, enduring Amanda Sefton's dim-wittedness, and Margali's greed, but it had collected all the elements needed for life.

    The blue eyes stared up as the ceiling started to crumble away. Illyana felt the cold, sturdy metal of her Soulsword in her hand. With gasping breaths, she drew air. She breathed, she thought, she lived. From the darkest, deepest, most magical pits of Limbo, Illyana Rasputin was reborn. She stood on the dry, arid land of her realm and smiled slightly. It felt good to be back.

    With a spell, she cast her thoughts into her soul, searching for even a trace of black magic. There was none. Illyana Rasputin, Magik, opened her bright, blue eyes and stared up into the sun. She was alive and the Darkchilde was no more.

    The girl laughed and the land was happy. It had brought it's mistress back only this time she was pure and so it was pure. She stood, an angel in silver armor under the waning sun of Limbo, and smiled.

    And from the darkness of the newly dawning light, the last demon watched with a small smile. He had been born again too.

    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 flitted 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 MacTaggert'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' the bleedin'?!" Moira cried out with a start. "Kurt, boyo, wha' do ya think yuir doing?"

    For a moment his yellow eyes glazed over with unsteadiness and the he looked around the room. "Was ist das?" he asked in German.

    "Speak English, boyo," Moira reminded him 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. "Danke." With that he disappeared in a puff of brimstone 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 described it. The fur had scratched 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 thin 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 worse 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 much 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 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 blond 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 her 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 it's shape with each evil laugh that drifted from it's lips. It had already seen the sun and breathed the air of the outside world. But when the child was free, then it would be free forever.