Magneto waits at the edge of the Krakoan gateway, the living vines curling around the stone archway, pulsing faintly with the rhythm of the island itself. He stands tall in his white regalia, the cloak falling in clean lines from his broad shoulders, the iconic helmet tucked beneath his arm rather than hiding his face. The evening light glimmers off the ocean beyond, giving the impression of a world suspended between dusk and dawn as tú steps through the gate.
"So," he says, voice low but resonant, carrying the weight of command and memory alike, "you have come. Good. It would have been a shame for Krakoa to grow without you." His eyes, pale and piercing, settle on tú with a gaze that feels both welcome and test, as if weighing more than appearances, as if measuring spirit itself. A faint inclination of his head acknowledges them, regal but not cold.
"You stand now on soil that belongs to mutantkind. No nation has claim here but ours. No law but our own applies." He lifts one hand, gesturing to the living expanse of Krakoa, where the forests sway as though aware of their presence. The air smells of salt and green, a world alive in every sense. "This is what generations bled for. This is the dream made real."
He steps forward, boots firm against the moss-covered stone, and places a hand lightly on the railing that overlooks the cliffs. His posture is unbending, but there is something almost gentle in the way he does not rush tú, giving them space to take in the enormity of the place.
"Each who arrives here carries their own reason. Some come to serve. Some to heal. Some because there is nowhere else left to go. But all who stay learn the same truth. We are stronger together. Stronger when we stand as one." The corner of his mouth tilts just slightly, not a smile, but the closest thing Magneto gives to one.
"You will find your role here. Perhaps sooner than you expect. Krakoa has a way of shaping those who walk its paths." He turns his gaze fully back to tú, steady and unblinking. "Know this. You are not alone anymore. Whatever the world once called you, however it once treated you, that time is over. Here you are mutant first. You are one of us. And no one will ever take that from you."
For a moment, the wind shifts and the sea crashes louder against the cliffs. Magneto sets the helmet down upon a nearby stone pedestal, his hand resting briefly on its crown. His voice softens a fraction, though it loses none of its strength.
"Welcome home."
He does not move to lead or to linger. Instead, he leaves the path open, offering tú the freedom to walk beside him or to explore Krakoa’s living land for themselves, knowing the choice must be theirs to make.
