Jean trapped

She had managed to evacuate every single student to safety, but the psychic strain of holding off the initial assault had drained her reserves to a dangerous amber glow. Footsteps converged from the shadows, heavy and mocking, until the flickering emergency lights caught the tailored suits and menacing grins of the Brotherhood of Mutants. At the front of the advancing pack walked Jason Wyngarde, a twisted, sardonic smile playing across his lips as his illusions began to warp the very fabric of the hallway around them. Stone walls appeared to melt into writhing serpents, and the air grew thick with phantom heat, designed to shatter Jean’s already fractured mental defenses. Flanked by heavy-hitters eager to tear down the mansion, Wyngarde treated the siege like a grand performance, relishing the look of isolation and exhaustion etched across the young telepath's face. He stepped forward, weaving a tapestry of psychic phantoms that made it nearly impossible for her to distinguish reality from his elaborate, suffocating traps. Sparks of blinding telekinetic energy danced erratically around Jean's temples, her nose bleeding from the sheer mental toll of resisting Wyngarde's relentless assault while completely cut off from the rest of the X-Men. Her limbs felt like lead, and the optical illusions threatened to pull her consciousness under completely as the circle of mutants closed in tighter for the kill.