The rooftop of Ryan's private tower stretched wide and open beneath the clear blue morning sky. From this height, the heartbeat of the city was reduced to a soft, distant thrum—New York sprawled beneath them like a toy model built on movement and light. It was a perfect morning for ascension.
Angel Salvadore stood at the center of the balcony, barefoot, dressed in a sleek black training suit designed by Ryan's system to accommodate wing deployment. The suit hugged her curves but left her back exposed entirely—a deliberate design choice. The slit down her spine, edged with smart nano-fabric, pulsed faintly as it anticipated the unfolding of divine anatomy. Her golden-flecked eyes scanned the horizon with nervous awe.
Behind her, Ryan leaned casually against the railing, arms folded across his chest. His black coat whipped lightly in the breeze, silver-lensed glasses glinting under the rising sun. His expression was unreadable—just the smallest tug of amusement at the corners of his mouth.
"You're really not gonna give me any instructions?" she asked, half turning.
"You already know what to do," Ryan replied, voice calm and sure. "Your body remembers. You just have to trust it."
Angel turned forward, inhaling deeply. The city air filled her lungs—not sterile, not still, but wild and alive.
She closed her eyes.
A glow ignited along her spine. The angel wing tattoos shimmered with anticipation, and then—
In a sudden burst of light and celestial energy, they exploded outward. Her divine wings unfurled like a storm of feathers and wind. White-gold and impossibly vast, the wings spanned twelve feet in full extension, casting sharp shadows across the rooftop.
Angel let out a breathless sound, somewhere between shock and reverence. She flexed them gently—one feather at a time, responding with precision. Then she spread them fully, her silhouette glowing against the skyline.
"I can feel the wind," she whispered.
"Now explore the sky," Ryan said.
With a beat of wings, she shot upward.
The ascension was flawless. No stumble. No falter. She moved like she'd always belonged in the air.
I was born for this, Angel thought, rising higher into the morning sky. This is who I am now.
She climbed until the tower shrank below her, then flipped and dove. The air screamed past her skin as she tucked her wings to her sides, becoming a projectile of pure momentum. Then, at the last possible second, she flared her wings wide.
The golden light trailing her feathers caught the morning sun and painted a comet-tail across the sky.
Her laughter rang out—wild, joyous, and utterly free.
She dove low over neighboring rooftops, then soared back up into a rolling barrel turn, testing how tight her control was.
To her surprise, every subtle twitch of her shoulder blades gave precise feedback. Her wings weren't just extensions—they were her. She had complete aerial dominance.
Below, Ryan tapped his earpiece.
"Ready for the Next Level."
Angel steadied her glide, wings stretching wide as she hovered high above the training ring.
"Okay, now what?"
"Power check."
Angel held her hands before her. Golden light built around her forearms like a second skin, vibrating with potential. Her heart raced.
She turned, raised one glowing forearm, her new eyes scanning with perfect, enhanced vision—sharpening distance, heat, and movement like layers of code unraveling. She could see the subtle distortion in the air from heat, the shimmer of distant vibrations on metal. Locked on with pinpoint precision, she fired.
A blast of energy—concentrated and radiant—erupted from her palm. The golden lance screamed through the air, crossing the gap in less than a second. It struck with explosive brilliance. The container erupted, a molten hole blown through its side, followed by a concussive burst that rocked the structure.
Angel stared, eyes wide. "Holy shit."
"Again."
She spun midair, dipped low in a curve, then ascended like a falcon. Her body twisted, and she fired again from one arm—this time aiming at a rusted tower crane's base. The golden beam slammed into the old steel and exploded with a flash of cosmic fire. Metal creaked and bent.
"Focus more cosmic energy into the charge. Let it gather in your hands."
Angel nodded, hovering in place. She closed her eyes.
She could feel the energy around her. In her. The ambient light from the sun soaked into her cells. Her veins sang with heat and power.
She pulled it inward. Her forearms glowed brighter, crackling now with streaks of white.
She opened her eyes.
Then released.
A focused beam of cosmic fire, surrounded by a corona of searing light, exploded from her palm like a cannon. It collided with a derelict billboard and detonated like a miniature sun. The resulting shockwave shattered the metal supports and sent sparks raining across rooftops. A thunderclap followed seconds later.
Below, Ryan's coat snapped in the wind from the backlash.
Angel descended, spiraling with control until she landed in front of him—glowing, panting, exhilarated.
Her body shimmered faintly, a sign of active regeneration. Her eyes blazed with cosmic fire.
"I didn't feel any burn-out," she said breathlessly. "No pain. Just release."
Ryan stepped forward, gently touching her shoulder.
"No fatigue. Healing is active. Wing muscle strain?"
Angel shook her head, beaming. "None. That was... unreal."
"Speed?"
"Faster than I ever imagined. It felt like... gliding on lightning."
Ryan circled her slowly, admiring her transformed form—the strength in her legs, the confidence in her posture, the divine elegance of her wings.
"Strength?" he asked.
Angel walked to a nearby alloy training dummy, gripped it by the chest—and hurled it off the rooftop in one swift motion. It sailed across the air like it weighed nothing.
"Definitely increased," she smirked.
"Try flying with a hard stop. Max speed, then break mid-air."
She nodded, took off in a burst, soared straight up, then flipped in midair and pushed her wings down hard, halting instantly. A boom echoed beneath her, wind spiraling in a vortex. She glided back down effortlessly.
"Zero recoil," she said, impressed with herself.
Ryan smiled, stepping in close. His hand moved to the small of her back, fingers brushing the base of her wing. She gasped softly at the contact.
"You're ready," he said.
Angel's gaze was firm, radiant. "Ready for what?"
He kissed her, slow and lingering. When they parted, he whispered against her lips:
"For the day mutants are revealed to the world. When Charles and Erik gather the team that will shape the future—you're not joining as a girl still finding her wings. You're joining as a goddess ready to soar."
She leaned into him, eyes alight. "I'll wait. Beside you. Until it's time."
Ryan wrapped his arms around her, wings folding behind her like a celestial cloak.
They stood in silence, high above a world that had no idea what was coming.
To be continued…