Hela stirred.
Her fingers curled into the soft, warm earth beneath her, the sensation foreign after the cold and blood-soaked void of deep space. The thick weight of exhaustion had faded into a light fog of soreness that clung to her limbs, and for a moment, she wondered if she had simply been destroyed, unmade by that celestial being's presence. But then she heard it—laughter.
Light, high-pitched, innocent.
It wasn't mocking. It wasn't cruel.
It was… joyful.
She opened her eyes, and the breath caught in her throat.
Stretching in every direction was a forest unlike any she had ever seen. Trees with emerald leaves that shimmered like glass reached high into a sky the color of lilac and honey, beams of golden light pouring through the gaps like rivers.
Strange flowers the size of her head bloomed in clusters, their petals opening and closing in rhythm to the breeze.
Vibrant vines hung lazily from the branches, swaying like dancers, and the air…
The air was alive.
Tiny critters with too many eyes and too many tails skittered along the forest floor, some translucent, others glowing with internal bioluminescence. Fairies—real, delicate-winged fairies—zipped through the air, trailing glittering pollen behind them as they weaved in and out of the trees.
Birds sang unfamiliar melodies, and somewhere nearby, a waterfall murmured like it was sharing secrets with the wind.
She sat up slowly, disoriented by the sheer peace of it all.
And then she saw them.
Two girls, both young—at least in appearance—racing after a massive black panther whose coat shimmered like obsidian under moonlight.
The creature bounded through the foliage with impossible grace, playful but swift, allowing the girls to keep up just enough to believe they might catch it.
The smaller girl, barely up to Hela's waist, had chaotic, multicolored hair that danced with streaks of white, gold, and black. Aurama. Hela recognized the name from Lady Death's murmurs.
The other girl looked slightly older and far more composed, though her giggles betrayed a deep delight. Verity.
And then, as her eyes traced the edge of the clearing, she saw him.
Darius.
Floating, as if the very laws of gravity bent in his presence—not because they must, but because they wished to. He wore robes now, regal yet relaxed, a deep celestial blue embroidered with soft gold that shimmered when the light touched it.
His long white hair, previously wild and untamed, was now being gently braided strand by strand by a young woman sitting beside him—one who radiated power on a level that made Hela's breath hitch.
Harmony.
Hela didn't know her, but the sense of raw, omniversal presence was unmistakable. She was one of his kind.
"You're awake!"
The shout startled Hela.
She turned her head just as a blur of motion barreled into her leg. Verity looked up at her with wide eyes filled with wonder and curiosity.
"You were sleeping like, forever! Wanna come play with us? Zuri doesn't bite!" she grinned, pointing toward the panther that had doubled back, now purring and rolling in a bed of moss while Aurama tried to climb onto its back.
"I…" Hela hesitated.
Something about this place made her feel disarmed. Unrooted. There was no screaming, no agony, no blood or stench of death.
"Just for a bit?" Verity asked, already tugging at her hand. "It's fun here. Papa said you needed rest."
That name. That man.
The memory of her loss struck her like a hammer to the chest, but it didn't bring with it the anger she expected. It brought… emptiness.
She glanced at him again. He hadn't looked her way once. His eyes were closed, a serene smile on his face as Harmony continued her careful work on his braid. He was still and calm, exuding a quiet strength that made even the birds sing softer around him.
Without thinking, Hela rose and allowed Verity to pull her along.
And for a while… she played.
She didn't know how to, not really, but Verity's laughter was infectious, and Aurama's unflappable confidence made following her lead simple enough. They climbed trees that weren't trees, rode on the back of Zuri as the giant cat dashed across bridges of light, and drank glowing nectar from hanging fruit that made her lips buzz.
And all the while, Darius simply floated there—watching, without watching.
Eventually, the girls moved on to chase butterflies the size of carriages, their laughter fading into the forest, leaving Hela alone again. She sat on a stone covered in soft moss, trying to piece together her thoughts.
She had never been brought low like that before.
Never.
And yet… she didn't feel humiliated. She wasn't dead. She wasn't even scolded.
She had been… spared. And worse yet—accepted. Across the clearing, Darius opened his eyes.
"I thought you'd try to run," he said without turning.
Hela didn't respond right away. She wasn't sure she had a response.
Harmony continued braiding, humming a tune Hela didn't recognize.
"You brought me here," she finally said, her voice quieter than she meant.
"You needed a break."
Hela scoffed, but there was no venom in it.
"You mean I needed to be put down."
Darius finally looked her way. His gaze wasn't cruel or cold—it was simply knowing.
"You fought because you thought it was the only way to matter," he said. "But power is not about destruction. It's about choice. And you've never had one until now."
Her hands clenched. "I don't need your pity."
"You're not getting any," he replied. "If I pitied you, you wouldn't be here."
Hela looked away, jaw tightening.
"You're not weak, Hela," Darius said, floating down to the ground, feet touching the earth with no sound. "But you were trying to use your strength the wrong way. Death isn't about conquest. You should know that better than most."
She stared at him for a long time. "You think you understand me?"
"No," he said simply. "But I understand being lost. And angry. And tired."
Silence settled between them again.
Then, his gaze shifted to the heavens. To Earth.
His smile faded. Hela followed his eyes, and though she couldn't see what he did, she felt it. A ripple. A disturbance.
A war.
Far above Earth, the sky had erupted in flames. Ships blotted out the stars. The combined forces of Thanos and Darkseid had finally breached the planet's outer defenses, and for the first time, the heroes of Earth had decided to take the fight directly to the enemy.
Iron Man, battered but unyielding. Thor, lightning crackling in his veins. Wonder Woman, blade drawn, eyes aflame. Superman, his cape torn, fists glowing with the sun. Captain Marvel. Doctor Fate. Green Lantern. Spider-Man. The X-Men. The Titans. The Justice League.
All of them.
Rising, falling, bleeding, fighting.
"This is their moment," Darius said quietly.
"And what about us?" Hela asked.
Darius smiled faintly. "Our time will come. But for now, we let them shine."
He turned and looked at her one more time.
"You have a place here, if you want it. I'm not forcing you. But… maybe stop trying to die on someone's sword and figure out what you're really supposed to be."
He floated back up toward Harmony, who welcomed him with a chuckle and resumed braiding. Hela stood there in the clearing, alone again, but not unwanted.
And for the first time in a thousand years, she didn't feel like a weapon.
She felt… curious.
Maybe that was enough for now.
=
=
=
The skies above Earth had darkened with the machinery of war. Stars were blotted out by the invading fleet—the combined might of Thanos and Darkseid's armada.
Earth's defenders were scattered, stretched thin across continents and space, scrambling to hold back the tide that threatened to engulf their world.
Explosions rippled through the upper atmosphere, flashes of cosmic firepower colliding with desperate countermeasures.
From New York to Wakanda, from Latveria to Themyscira, the Earth trembled under the shadow of extinction.
And yet, high above it all, in a place untouched by time or war, Darius reclined peacefully beneath the shade of an ancient golden tree. Its leaves shimmered like galaxies, and its roots dipped into the soil of eternity.
Beside him, the ever-energetic Aurama raced Zuri, the great black panther, across the lush grounds. Verity, calm and observant, sat perched on a floating rock, sketching little creatures that danced in and out of dimensional pockets like playful sparks of starlight.
Darius smiled at the peace of it all.
But that peace was not meant to last.
With a quiet sigh, Darius leaned back and turned his gaze skyward. His eyes—one glowing with starlight, the other brimming with cosmic power—pierced through layers of reality like thin veils. Through those eyes, the entire battlefield unfolded.
He saw Iron Man reeling from a blow delivered by an Apokoliptian general, he saw Captain Marvel collapsing under a cosmic barrage, he saw even mighty Thor being overwhelmed by a battalion of outriders and Parademons.
The war had gone on long enough. [A/N: Its been what? 10 chaps?]
He closed his eyes for a moment, not in frustration—but in decision.
His rules were clear. This was their war, not his. He had set those boundaries himself, shackled his own omnipotence, refused to be the great hand that flattened conflict the moment it arose, that was Harmony's role.
But the game had dragged on far longer than he intended. Heroes were falling, the universe inching closer to chaos not of natural order but manufactured destruction.
"Verity," he said gently.
His daughter looked up from her sketches, her expression one of innocence. "Yes, papa?"
"I'll be intervening now."
Her golden eyes darkened slightly. "Should I—"
"No." He smiled faintly. "You remember what I told you. You're not to fight. Not yet."
She gave a soft sigh of understanding and set her sketchbook aside. "As you say."
"Aurama," he called out, his voice a gentle echo across the garden.
From behind the great tree, Aurama peeked out, panting slightly, her cheeks flushed with exertion.
"Yes?" she asked, eyes sparkling. "Did I win the race?"
"Zuri says she let you win," Darius chuckled.
"Liar!" she yelled playfully at the retreating panther.
Darius rose to his full height then, his robes flowing like living silk in the windless air. The air around him shimmered subtly. He turned to his niece with a curious look. "How would you like to help some heroes?"
Aurama gasped. "Really?! The Earth ones? The ones with the flying hammers and glowing fists and loud quips?"
"The very same," Darius replied.
Her face lit up like the stars. "I won't let you down!"
"I know you won't."
With a single step forward, the air cracked open in front of him—no portal, no spell, just a subtle unraveling of space that revealed a stretch of void behind it. And from that void stepped the goddess of death herself.
Hela.
She stood tall and regal, her raven-black armor still laced with cracks of cosmic fury. Her eyes gleamed with impatience, her hands itching to rend something—anything—apart.
"You called?" she said with thinly veiled hunger.
"You want war," Darius said casually, "and there's a whole fleet of warships parked right above Earth waiting to be dismantled. Seems like a good match."
Hela arched an eyebrow. "You're offering me them?"
"I can't interfere directly," Darius explained, stretching lazily, "but I can point the right weapon in the right direction."
A cruel grin spread across her face. "And you want me to play executioner."
"No," Darius replied, his voice carrying weight. "I want you to clean up. Be as brutal as you wish—but spare the innocent. Leave the heroes alone. They've earned the right to finish what they started."
Hela's grin widened. "Fair enough."
Before stepping into the void once more, she turned back briefly to Aurama, who was bouncing on her heels in excitement.
"You're coming too?" Hela asked, amused.
Aurama nodded eagerly. "I'm the sidekick!"
Darius smiled to himself. "Careful. That sidekick knocked over Olympus by accident last week."
Hela just chuckled. "This should be fun."
With a flash of white light, both Hela and Aurama vanished from the garden and reappeared far above Earth's stratosphere, right in the heart of the battlefield.
Explosions greeted their arrival, as did the scent of ozone and the chaos of warfare. Thanos's fleet spanned thousands of kilometers in every direction, twisted metal and void engines spinning between cities of death and command ships.
Darkseid's legions of Parademons buzzed through space like swarms of furious hornets, shredding satellites and ripping through Earth's last lines of resistance.
Hela extended her arms wide. A cruel light danced across her skin. "Let's begin."
Without hesitation, she shot forward like a bullet from the abyss, her blades spinning to life. Within seconds, the first ship fell—sliced clean in half by a ribbon of shadowy steel.
Then another.
Then ten more.
Hela moved with lethal grace, teleporting from corridor to corridor inside ships, appearing in the midst of alien battalions and leaving only blackened, lifeless bodies behind.
She was vengeance. She was fury. She was death made beautiful and absolute.
Aurama, meanwhile, danced between blasts of cannon fire, giggling as she kicked apart missile arrays and tossed Parademons into each other.
Unlike Hela, she wasn't interested in killing—just in breaking stuff, and boy was she good at that. Her tiny fists sent shockwaves across warships. Her laughter was louder than the alarms echoing in Darkseid's dreadnoughts.
On the other side of the cosmos, still seated beneath his tree, Darius leaned back again and watched.
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