Immortal X-Men #13: The Decline And Fall Of The Krakoan Empire

Kieron Gillen and Lucas Werneck have granted readers a pure flake of genius. The tension in this story is absolutely unmitigated. The atmosphere is reminiscent of the constant whine of a dental drill or the slow, torturous drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet in the middle of the night. There is debate, speech that is full of sound and fury which signifies absolutely nothing, punctuated with a few odd preludes to a violence that could, potentially, provide a brutal sense of catharsis but which is never permitted to reach the breaking point. The promise of violence reverberates like the sound of thunder over a parched land, when the rain refuses to fall.

The air is a flurry of dying, rotting leaves and impotent shouts. And there is nothing that can stop this teeter from devolving to a fall.

Aside from the perfect marriage of narrative and art (those leaves, those tears, that spatter of blood) this story serves to tie together the threads of all the other X-Books (including some, like Legion of X, which would be better absolutely forgotten, being utterly unworthy of the honor of sharing this story) building the tension and raising the stakes in a way that is almost tantric in its agony.

When the crash comes, it will almost be a relief.

It is difficult to praise it more fully without giving away spoilers, so I will mention that Doug’s voice is absolutely perfect, as is Irene’s. Emma is brimming with bitter, agonizingly self-aware venom, Xavier is overcompensating (in a way that is profoundly dangerous to literally everyone else on earth), and Exodus’s faith has been shattered. There is a terrible sound, when a knight of such strength finally drops to his knees and allows the sword to fall from his hands.

As I mentioned, Lucas Werneck is operating on a virtuosic level. Those leaves, like ashes, drift, and fall. David Curiel’s colors are deep, somber, the practically breathe decay upon the page. It’s brilliant work.