Thor stepped through the large, orange sparks of magic and looked back, his eyebrows raised. Walking through the Sorcerer's portal was nothing like travelling via the Bifrost or even by using one of the Seidhr's magical methods. This was much more like walking from one room to another with no feeling of magic associated with it at all.
Seeing Carol and the Sorcerer also stepping through, brought Thor back the reason that he'd come here in the first place. His father, Odin.
It took little to survey their surroundings. It was a desolate sort of place. There were no buildings or any signs of inhabitants at all; simply wide expanses of green, some trees way off in the distance and, of course, the cliffs which led directly to the sea beyond.
But of his father, there was no sight.
"You are certain that this is the place?" Thor questioned.
"I am. This is the last recorded place that Odin was," Strange replied. "He said that the solitude was peaceful and without the lights of man, the stars shone brighter, making him feel closer to his home and his love."
Instinctively, Thor looked up. But in the light of day, the stars could not be seen.
"Well, wherever he is, Odin's not here now," Carol commented.
"Yes, I can see that," Doctor Strange replied with a frown. "However, I assure you, this was the last place that he was."
"It's possible that the Dark Magic that I felt was the All Father summoning the Bifrost to return home to Asgard," Thor mused.
"Possible, but doubtful," Doctor Strange replied. "The magic that I felt was being released, not gathered and used. At least that's the best description that I can give."
The All Father release his magic? Impossible, Thor decided. There was nothing that could make that happen.
"There is one way to be certain," Thor decided.
Then looking skywards, he called for his oldest friend.
"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!"
Normally it would take very little time for Heimdall to respond, for the clouds above to gather and for the Bifrost to descend in a rainbow of magic. A minute on a bad day. But the longer that Thor stood there, looking skywards, the more he began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He'd called like this once before and hadn't been heard. He didn't like the feeling then; he didn't like it now.
"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!" he called again.
"You're thinking something's wrong?" Carol stated after, once again, there was no response.
"I am," Thor frowned. "It is unlike Heimdall to not hear my call."
"I'm sorry, Thor, I can't help you here. Norway is one thing, Asgard quite another," Doctor Strange said.
"It is of no matter," Thor replied. "If need be, Stormbreaker can summon the Bifrost."
But even as Thor hefted Stormbreaker in preparation for doing just that, Heimdall appeared.
"Thor," the Gatekeeper of Asgard said.
Something, though, was wrong, different. Thor could see it, feel it. Heimdall wasn't here on Midgard. No, he was still on Asgard. But Thor knew that he, himself was still on Midgard, even though it looked as though he'd somehow now found himself back home.
"Heimdall? What is this? How is this possible?" he asked.
"The magic that courses through me that allows me to See," Heimdall replied. "I have tapped into it to allow you to See what I am seeing."
"Would not opening the Bifrost to bring me home be easier, my friend?" Thor asked.
"I am not the Gatekeeper any longer, Odinson," Heimdall replied. "Those duties were given to another some months ago."
Thor's eyes strayed to the hilt of a very familiar sword that protruded over Heimdall's shoulder.
"Impossible! The Bifrost cannot be opened without the sword that you carry," Thor pointed out.
"True enough, however I have only just very recently ... reacquired it," Heimdall replied. "Before then it was being used by another. Thor, you need to know. The one who we thought of as the All Father ..."
"Is really my brother, Loki," Thor finished. "He's not as dead as he led us all to believe. Again. And on top of that, this time he had Odin banished to Midgard. However, he's not where he was thought to be. I had thought that he had returned to Asgard on his own."
Heimdall shook his head. "I, too, felt the Dark Magic that you are referring to. I'm sorry, my friend, there's no easy way to say this but Odin has passed, his magic released."
Thor dropped to his knees. His father, dead? Surely not! Odin was the All Father. Yes, he slept, more often than usual of late, but still.
"I have seen the proof," Heimdall continued. "A woman has come to Asgard. She claims to be Odin's first born and rightful heir."
Thor's head snapped up. "Odin had but one child. Me."
"I am not so sure," Heimdall frowned. "Her name conjures memories, whispers from long ago, tales of the Daughter of Odin who the All Father had to banish and confine so that she did no more harm."
"Who is this woman? This sister of mine that I know nothing of? What is her name?" Thor asked as he returned to his feet.
"Hela, the goddess of Death."
"Is it possible for you to allow me to See her?" Thor asked.
"That is my intention," Heimdall replied.
Thor watched as his friend ghosted through the golden city. It seemed empty, deserted which Thor knew that it should not be. The city was always thriving with a population in the tens of thousands. Finally, Heimdall slowed and crouched down behind a pillar.
Thor's ghostly self stepped out and frowned. Directly in front of him was the head of an enormous statue with a very familiar helmet with two long, curved horns.
"That's new," Thor commented absently.
Unfortunately, it wasn't just the statue of Loki that had been decapitated.
Spreading out from where he stood, covering the great court, were bodies. Hundreds of them. All wearing the golden armour of the Legion of Asgard. Each and every one had been killed, their weapons still in their hands. Clouds of smoke billowed from a pair of ships that had crashed, obviously in the fight as well.
The sight was enough to bring Thor to tears. Here were warriors that he knew, men that he'd fought alongside, all now lying dead, murdered.
"That's her?" he asked darkly, his eyes having risen to settle on the lone female standing amongst the bodies.
"Yes," Heimdall replied, clearly angry.
As much as Thor wanted to stride forth, Mjolnir and Stormbreaker in hand, and to show her just what the god of Thunder was capable of, to avenge the deaths of all those brave warriors, he knew that he couldn't. Not right then at least.
Instead, he simply watched.
The woman, his sister, was looking about the carnage and destruction, a bored expression on her face.
"Legion of Asgard," she commented disdainfully to the bodies about her. "You were supposed to be the best warriors in the galaxy, unbeatable. Instead, all you were were a disappointment. Soft. What you needed was a true Commander. Well, you've got one now. Well, I say you, but obviously not any of you, being dead and all. But your comrades, at least."
The lone, standing Asgardian warrior wasn't one that Thor recognised. In fact, until the man shifted slightly, Thor would have sworn that the man was a statue.
"Heimdall, who is that?" he asked.
"Skurge. My 'replacement'," Heimdall replied sourly. "He is no warrior."
"Hmph," Thor grunted. And then a thought occurred. "Speaking of warriors, where are the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif?"
"Off-world. Alfheim, I believe. The imposter Odin has had them constantly moving between the Nine Realms and rarely ever returning home."
"Loki knew that they'd see straight through him," Thor growled. "If only I hadn't been so blind."
And then a noise caught not only Thor and Heimdall's attention, but also Hela's. All three turned towards an upturned, red-upholstered chaise lounge. A hand appeared from behind it, grasped it and pulled its owner up.
Unsteadily, a figure in green and gold with long black hair hanging and nearly hiding his face emerged.
"Brother!" Thor exclaimed, taking half a step forward at the sight of the blood drenching the front of his tunic.
"Oh, still alive, are we?" Hela asked, sounding quite surprised.
"I am harder to kill than you would think," Loki replied. "Many have tried, none have succeeded, despite what they might believe."
"Really? That does sound impressive," Hela said. "One question. Who exactly are you?"
Loki flicked back his hair revealing a wide grin that Thor knew all too well. Unless he was mistaken, his brother was up to something.
"I am Loki. Prince of Asgard. Odin's son. The rightful King of Jotunheim. God of Mischief. And I hereby declare that you are not the rightful ruler of Asgard."
"You declare? You declare?" Hela repeated incredulously before laughing. "Do you hear that, Skurge? He declares that I am not the rightful ruler of Asgard! This should be good. I am Odin's firstborn. If not I, then who?"
"As much as it pains me to admit it, my brother, Thor is, with Odin's passing, Asgard's rightful King," Loki stated and Thor felt his heart swell with pride and love for his brother.
He still had good in him, despite everything.
"Thor, huh? My brother, I presume?" Hela said. "Well, I don't see him here. And even if he was – I'd ask him one question if he truly wanted to be King."
"What question would that be?"
Hela smirked. "You and what army? Obviously, it wouldn't be this army."
"I think that I know my brother well enough to know exactly what his answer would be," Loki replied.
And then, Thor, from his angle, saw a knife appear in Loki's left hand, curled up so that Hela couldn't see it.
"No, brother, don't do it," Thor whispered.
Loki though, never heeded Thor's wishes even when they were in the same room, let alone on different planets.
"And what would that be?" Hela asked.
"He would say, 'I don't need an army; I can do it myself'."
And with that, Loki struck, the dagger aimed at Hela's torso, just under her ribs. The blade never reached its target, though, being parried by lightning-fast reflexes that pushed Loki's hand aside while simultaneously thrusting home Hela's own knife straight into Loki's stomach.
"NO!" Thor screamed.
Loki's body convulsed even as Hela held him upright. Blood began leaking from Loki's mouth even as his eyes widened. And then Hela simply stepped back, withdrawing the knife with her and letting the body crumple to the ground.
"You will pay for that!" Thor promised his sister, despite the fact that she couldn't hear him.
"Well, that was anticlimactic," Hela commented. "Come, Skurge, we have an army waiting for my return to raise from the dead."
"Thor! Thor!" Heimdall called urgently.
Reluctantly, Thor tore his eyes away from the goddess of Death as she began striding towards the palace.
"Thor! You need to get help. The Lady Sif and the Warriors Three at the very least," Heimdall implored. "Anyone else you can think of. Hela needs to be stopped before she murders us all."
"And you, my friend?" Thor asked, noting that Heimdall's eyes were focussed on Loki's body, a slight frown on his face.
"Have no fear, I have no intention of facing her without you," Heimdall replied. "I will be ensuring the safety of our people."
"Good," Thor nodded.
Then, after taking one last look at his brother, he nodded to Heimdall. "Send me home."
ooo00ooo
Harry soared on his Lightning Bolt just above the treetop, his head on a swivel as he took in the scenery around and below him. This was a part of Paradis Noir that he hadn't ever really explored. And why would he have? This was dragon territory. The three Peruvian Vipertooths that he'd relocated to the island had made this part of it their home.
Which was perfect for what he wanted.
An island, lightly populated at best and only by those he trusted; hidden by magic, protected by the most powerful wards from not one but now two Most Ancient families, one of them being particularly ... inventive with their choice of wards. And in a location on that island, deep in a part that none went to, and guarded by a trio (so far) of the most dangerous predators on the planet. And that was before he even instigated his final protections.
Finally, he saw exactly what he was looking for.
Banking to the right, he flew straight towards the caves in the side of the hill.
His landing, however, didn't go unnoticed. Almost the second that he swung his leg off of his broom, a great head emerged from one of the larger caves.
§Speaker, what do you here§, the Vipertooth asked.
§Just visiting§, Harry replied. §I promise not to stay long. Is there anything that you are in need of§?
The dragon seemed to consider the question, even looking up in the sky for a minute before turning to face him once more.
§The herds are getting low§, the Vipertooth replied. §And some more of our kind to share our good fortune would also be good§.
Harry nodded. He'd noticed that the flocks and herds weren't looking as plentiful as they had been. And it definitely wouldn't be a strain on the island's resources if he was able to bring a few more Vipertooths to the island. It'd also help in adding to the protections for his plan.
§I'll see to it, my friend§, Harry promised.
§Our thanks, Speaker§, the Vipertooth said before retreating into her cave once more.
With that, Harry slipped into the cave that he'd chosen. The fact that he had to duck his head and keep his elbows tightly tucked into his side didn't bother him at all, in fact, it made him even happier in what he was doing. Finally, at the very back of the cave he dropped to his knees. A wandless lumos in the form of a ball of light allowed him to see what he was doing.
From one pocket on his belt, he pulled out his father's Invisibility Cloak and spread it out on the ground in front of him. And then, from a different pocket, he pulled out a small, metal box. This he opened to reveal the glowing orange gem that was the Soul Stone.
Harry stared at it for a moment, wondering at the bizarre circumstances that had brought the Stone to him not once, but twice. If he believed in such things, he'd say that it had been ordained that way. But then, on second thought, considering how much of his life before he'd turned eighteen had been ruled by a prophecy, who was he to say that it wasn't?
Picking up the Stone, he transferred it to the very centre of the Cloak. But it was at the exact moment when the Stone touched the Cloak for the first time that he felt it, saw it.
His vision was filled with an image that was instantly recognisable: a white marble tomb sitting beside a lake, the corner of a castle high up on the cliffs off to one side.
Harry gasped and broke the connection to the Stone, dropping it and leaving it lying there in on the silvery Cloak.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" he asked incredulously.
The slightly terrifying thing was that he suspected that he already knew exactly what he'd just seen and why. He just hoped that it didn't mean what he thought it meant.
ooo00ooo
"Alright A-holes, get your game faces on, we're coming up on Xander in three ... two ... one!"
"I am Groot."
"You can say that again."
The silence in the Benatar was deafening or perhaps suffocating would have been a more apt description. Not a word was spoken or a breath taken as the entire crew stared out of the forward window.
Xandar had always been a beautiful world, much like most inhabited planets throughout the galaxy. Blues, greens, browns and copious clouds of white were the norm. Were supposed to be the norm.
Not any more.
What once had been a living, breathing, planet was now a dead, barren ball. Instead of the rich vibrant colours that you'd expect, Xandar now was all but invisible, black with only a trace of purple set against the black of space. Only the fact that the angle of the system's sun was positioned just right made it somewhat easy to see the planet at all.
And as for the once multitude of lights that orbited the world, all the ships and satellites and space stations ... they were gone, as dark as the planet below where they once orbited.
"My god ... we're too late," Peter stated flatly.
"The planet's completely dead," Drax said. "How could this happen?"
"The Infinity Stone," Rocket replied. "It had to be; there's no other way."
"Thanos won," Gamora said. "He's got the Power Stone."
"What about all the people?" Mantis asked.
"Scan the system, see if you can find something, some sign of life," Peter ordered.
For lack of a better decision, they flew on, directly towards what was left of the planet.
"Surely the Nova Corps aren't all gone!" Rocket said.
The answer to his question came only a couple of minutes later when the Benatar flew into the remnants of a fleet of destroyed ships. Whole dead ships, half ships, pieces of metal, wings, engines, they all floated past like a macabre parade. And then they saw the first of the bodies. Xandarians floated in space, ice crusted, some with missing limbs. Others were half-hanging out of their destroyed ships. But there was no doubt that not one had survived.
And as the lights from the Benatar hit them, they recognised the uniforms.
"I think we know the answer to that question, Rocket," Gamora said grimly.
"How could anyone destroy an entire planet? Kill the entire population? I thought that Thanos was only sadistic enough to kill half the population," Drax stated.
"I'm guessing he's upped his game," Peter replied. "Or else this is punishment."
"Punishment for what?" Rocket asked.
"For refusing to give him the Power Stone," Gamora replied. "There's no way that the Nova Corps would have surrendered the Stone without a fight."
"I am receiving a signal," Mantis interrupted. "It's a distress beacon."
"Someone survived this mess?" Peter asked rhetorically. "Where?"
"Bearing two three nine mark one. Distance: nineteen thousand kilometres," Mantis replied.
"Bringing us around," Peter replied.
Eight very long minutes later, they found the vessel. It was the only one with a modicum of visible power – a dull glow through one of the viewports and a crackle of energy coming from its engines.
"Quill, that engine's very unstable," Rocket stated. "She's either going to blow or completely shut down in the next few minutes."
"Well, which is it?" Peter demanded. "We do not want to be near them if they're gonna explode."
"It's a coin toss," Rocket shrugged.
"I am Groot," Groot interjected.
"Well, I know we have to rescue them and we're gonna. We just need to make it quick," Peter replied.
"I am detecting two life signs," Manits said. "One of them is very weak."
"Rocket, take the helm," Peter ordered. "Get us docked. Gamora, Drax, let's get those two over here and away from whatever that ship's doing asap."
The three of them quickly gathered close to the rear hatch, their stomachs slewing with how Rocket was moving the ship into position.
"We're attached! Go!" Rocket yelled back at them.
"How long?" Peter yelled even as he slammed the button to open the hatch.
"Two minutes. Tops!"
The three of them rushed into the small ship. It was a fighter with barely any room in the hold where they'd entered. A glance forward was enough to see the tops of two heads sitting in the pilot's seats.
"Dey!" Peter exclaimed, recognising the older of the two as he came up beside him.
"This one's unconscious," Gamora stated, kneeling beside the co-pilot – a teen, by the look of him.
"Come on, Dey, we gotta get you out of here," Peter told him.
It was only when he was awkwardly trying to help Dey to stand that he realised that the older Xandarian had a vicious slice across his stomach, a piece of metal embedded in one side of it. Rivers of blood poured from him and Dey yelled in pain at the movement.
"Don't worry, Dey, we'll get that out of you and fix you right up," Peter promised, hoping that what his senses were screaming at him was completely wrong.
"The case," Dey panted, one arm feebly waving at a black case strapped to the wall behind his pilot's chair.
"It's not important," Peter argued.
"The case," Dey repeated, his voice almost panicky this time.
"I've got it," Gamora promised.
"Right, Gamora's got it so let's worry about you now," Peter said as he half-carried the mortally-wounded man after Drax and his burden.
As soon as they'd passed through the hatch back onto the Benatar, Gamora slammed the hatch closed.
"We're in! Go!" she yelled up towards Rocket.
As carefully as he could, Peter lowered Dey to the decking.
"Mantis!" Peter yelled.
"Quill!" Dey said, his hand clutching at Peter's sleeve.
"I'm here, Dey," Peter replied.
"It was Thanos," Dey said feebly. "He got the Power Stone. Used it on the Planet."
"I know, we saw," Peter said grimly.
"He's not done," Dey continued. "He wants them all. Asgard. Earth. Nowhere."
"Earth?" Peter repeated, rocked backwards by the unexpected word. "He knows there's some on Earth?"
Dey nodded before his head rolled sidewards to face his fellow Xandarian.
"He's the last of us now," Dey said. "The last of the Nova Corps. The case. It's for him."
"Hey, now, none of that," Peter contradicted. "We'll get you fixed up."
Mantis' eye, however, caught his attention and he frowned at her headshake.
"Corps ... man Rider. The case," Dey repeated before devolving into a series of wet coughs that left his lips blood red.
Dey's eyes then found Peter's and there was distinct panic in them.
"You ... aren't ... complete ... dicks," Dey managed before his entire body simply stopped and his chest settled as the last of the air in his lungs escaped.
Peter closed his eyes, his head dropping at the man's death.
"No, buddy, we're not. I'm sorry we couldn't get here sooner," Peter replied softly as he closed Dey's eyes for the last time.
Straightening, he turned to the unconscious teen still laying on the deck.
"How is he?" Peter asked.
"He'll live," Gamora replied.
"Good. Get him settled in a bunk somewhere and then join us in the cockpit," Peter ordered.
Peter climbed into the Benatar's cockpit and looked at Rocket.
"Which is closer? Asgard or Earth?"
"What? Asgard? Earth? Why would we want to go to either of those places?" Rocket asked.
"Because they're both closer than Nowhere and we're not complete dicks," Peter stated.
ooo00ooo
Heimdall stole across the great courtyard, his eyes peeled for any that could see him. Finally, he reached his destination and crouched down behind the lounge.
He stared at the bare patch of ground for a minute, a frown on his face.
"Enough games, Loki," he said.
Suddenly, the man in question materialised before his eyes even as the dead facsimile disappeared from the other side of the chair where Hela had left him.
"How'd you know?" Loki wheezed, one hand covering the wound in his chest.
"God of Mischief," Heimdall replied simply. "You're also right-handed, not left. And you're becoming predictable. Now, let's get out of here. That wound needs seeing to."
"For once, I'm not going to argue," Loki said, lifting his arm and gesturing.
Heimdall grasped Loki's forearm and hauled the man to his feet. Then, together, with Heimdall mostly supporting Loki's weight, they made their way from the field of bodies that surrounded them.
ooo00ooo
"Mister Potter?"
Harry didn't turn or take his eyes from the expanse of white that he was starting at. He didn't need to. He knew the voice, had known it most of his life.
"Professor," he replied.
"It's Minerva, Harry, I remember having that discussion with you on multiple occasions," she mock-scolded.
Harry inclined his head slightly, conceding her point.
"May I ask what you're doing here?" she asked.
Taking a breath, he raised his head, turned and looked at her.
"Preparing myself for doing something that I don't want to do," he replied.
"As bad as that, is it?" she asked.
Her hand on his arm drew him back and away from the tomb. At her gesture, he sat beside her on the bench provided.
"Would you perhaps like to tell me about it?" she asked. "I may not be your teacher any longer but I'd like to think that I can still provide some guidance to my past students."
Harry smiled wryly at her offer.
"I'm not certain that you can help," he said.
"Tosh, Mister Potter," she scolded. "Any problem can be solved. And even if I don't know the details, that doesn't mean that I can't help."
Harry laughed. He couldn't help it.
"I've missed you, Minerva," he said. "Thank you."
"I've missed you, too, Harry," she said, patting him on the arm. "Now, let's work out this problem of yours."
Harry thought for a moment, trying to decide where to start.
"You knew the professor quite well," he began, nodding towards the tomb.
"I'd like to think so," she replied. "We did work together for over four decades, after all."
Harry nodded at that. "I'm pretty certain that Dumbledore intended for the power of a particular object to die with him. However, due to a bizarre set of circumstances, it ended up living on and fell to me. Years ago, I thought that I'd given him his final wish, breaking that power but now I'm not so sure."
"His wand," Minerva stated.
Harry stared at her. "How'd you work that out?"
"I am not stupid, Mister Potter," she replied. "You placed it in his tomb with him, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Harry replied, his eyes drawn back to the tomb once more. "And now I have to decide whether to leave it where it is or ..."
"Mister Potter. Harry," Minerva said. "While I don't know exactly why you feel that you need that wand, I am certain that it could not be in any safer hands than yours. That is, if you decide to take it."
"His tomb's been violated once before," Harry reminded her.
"I remember," she said grimly. "This, though, would not be a violation. If Albus was here, you know what he'd say, don't you?"
"I do," Harry replied before his mouth turned up in a wry grin. "Something along the same lines as my friend Peter's often said. 'With great power comes great responsibility'."
"Indeed," Minerva agreed.
With that, he stood and pulled his wand. Channelling his power and his resolve, he waved his wand, breaking the enchantments that bound the lid of the tomb to the rest of the marble. A simple levitation charm lifted it up and away.
And then Harry looked in upon the remains of his old Headmaster. But it wasn't the body that held his attention. Instead, it was the sight of the wand laying on the man's chest, exactly where Harry'd left it all those years ago.
But there was one distinct difference.
This wand wasn't broken.
It was whole.
Fixed.
Waiting.
Slowly, hesitantly, Harry reached in. His hand paused, hovering above it. And then, all at once, it descended. The instant he grasped the handle, a strong pulse of magic surged into his hand, up his arm and straight to his heart and core. Golden-orange sparks shot out of the wand the instant that it cleared the tomb.
For good or ill, Harry knew that he was now the Master of the Elder Wand, just as he was the Master of the Soul Stone and the True Heir of the Invisibility Cloak. He just hoped that what he'd just done was worth it and didn't come back to bite him on his ass.
ooo00ooo
Having already seen the way that Odin had tried to erase every trace of her existence from the great Throne Room, Hela was prepared for the Treasure Room. As expected, it looked clean, sterile. And there was no access to her own personal vault.
Not that that would a problem for her. Hidden though it was, she still remembered where her Vault lay.
First, though, she was going to need a little something special to revive her army. And Odin, as always, thoughtful father that he was, provided. The Eternal Flame.
Scooping up a handful of the flames, Hela stared at it as it danced on her palm, a slight smile playing about her lips. Yes, this, she knew, would do perfectly.
Having solved that problem, Hela then turned to the more pressing one. Conjuring a large axe, she hefted it and began striking the floor. Once, twice, thrice and the cracks that had appeared after the first blow shattered the floor, creating a massive hole that led directly to her vault.
"Want to see what true power looks like?" she asked Skurge, her loyal but dim-witted follower.
Without waiting for an answer, Hela let herself fall backwards into the hole that she'd just created. Over and over she spun as she fell deeper and deeper down.
Finally, she landed in a crouch, the only light being provided by the handful of flames which she still held.
Slowly, Hela walked forward and around, taking in the sight of what was left of her magnificent army. Thousands upon thousands of Asgardian warriors, now all dead, lying on their tombs. And then she saw him, her pet, her beloved wolf, towering above any and all even in his death.
"Fenris, my darling, what have they done to you?" she asked rhetorically.
They may all be dead but they weren't forgotten. At least by her and soon not by anyone in the galaxy.
"With the Eternal Flame," she intoned, "you are reborn!"
Raising her fist, she cast the flames in her hand down into the floor where they shattered apart in ancient magic, releasing a cloud of vivid, poisonous green that spread out to every part of the room.
Hela watched in satisfaction as the magic imbued the bodies that surrounded her, filled them and brought them back to life. One by one, dozen by dozen, hundred by hundred, her warriors arose, awaiting her command as they'd done in their past life.
"I've missed you," she told them and, as Fenrir padded towards her, she amended her statement. "I've missed you all. It's time to begin our work once again."