Marcus and the Ancient One spent considerable time discussing the intricacies of dimensional authority and the potential risks of his planned invasion. The conversation yielded valuable intelligence about dimensional travel, the nature of cosmic entities, and most importantly, the specific locations where he might find the Flame King and Blood Lord in their home realms.
Their strategic planning was interrupted by the brilliant flash of rainbow light that announced the Bifrost's arrival. The massive column of energy deposited both Odin and Thor onto the Greenwich battlefield, the All-Father's expression grave as he surveyed the aftermath of the convergence event.
The moment his feet touched Earth's soil, Thor immediately turned and walked toward Jane Foster, who had been waiting anxiously among the other civilians. They hadn't seen each other in over a year, and now that the cosmic crisis was finally resolved, the Asgardian prince was clearly eager to make up for lost time.
Odin watched his son abandon his duties for a mortal woman, and his weathered features tightened with disapproval. The sight of Thor prioritizing romance over responsibility was clearly a source of ongoing frustration for the king of Asgard. However, when Odin turned his attention to Marcus and the Ancient One, his expression shifted to something far more serious.
"You mentioned that something I sealed has begun to stir," Odin said without preamble, his single eye fixing on Marcus with laser-like intensity. "I assume you're referring to..."
"Do I really need to spell it out for you?" Marcus interrupted with a heavy sigh. "The one sealed on that remote island—she's your daughter, isn't she?"
Marcus had recognized the death magic signature immediately. Beyond Thor, Odin had another child whose existence had been carefully hidden from most of the Nine Realms. Hela, the firstborn of Odin, had once been his greatest weapon in the conquest that brought the realms under Asgardian rule.
During those ancient wars, Hela had served as Odin's executioner and chief enforcer. Her mastery over death itself had earned her the title of Goddess of Death, a designation that perfectly complemented her ruthless efficiency in battle. She had swept across entire worlds, leaving nothing but corpses in her wake as she helped her father build his empire.
Even Mjolnir, the hammer that now served as Thor's primary weapon, had originally belonged to Hela during her days as Asgard's most feared warrior.
"How do you—" Odin began, then turned sharply toward the Ancient One. "What exactly did you tell him?"
The accusation in his voice was clear. The existence of Hela was supposed to be one of Asgard's most closely guarded secrets, known only to a handful of individuals across all the realms.
"I told him nothing about your family history," the Ancient One replied calmly. "But the death magic emanating from your daughter's prison is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. We both felt it the moment the convergence began affecting dimensional barriers."
She gestured subtly in the direction of the distant island where Odin had bound his firstborn daughter centuries ago. "The seal you placed on her is weakening, whether due to the cosmic alignment or simple entropy. The question is what you intend to do about it."
With their prompting, Odin finally focused his mystical senses on the specific energy signature they'd detected. It took only moments for him to locate the source—the heavily warded island where he'd imprisoned Hela after her bloodlust had grown beyond all reason or control.
The death magic seeping from that location was faint but unmistakable, carrying with it the promise of far worse to come if the containment continued to deteriorate.
"You're right," Odin admitted, his voice heavy with centuries of regret. "The seal is indeed compromised. But the question of what to do about it is..."
He trailed off, clearly struggling with emotions he rarely allowed himself to feel, let alone display. For all his power and authority as ruler of Asgard, this particular problem had no easy solution.
Odin had personally bound his own daughter when her endless hunger for violence and death had transformed her from a weapon into a genuine threat to all life in the Nine Realms. The decision had torn at his heart, but the alternative—allowing Hela to continue her rampage unchecked—would have meant the extinction of countless civilizations.
"I understand your hesitation," Marcus said, recognizing the internal conflict written across the All-Father's features. "She's still your daughter, regardless of what she's become. That kind of bond doesn't just disappear because someone becomes a monster."
The observation hit closer to home than Odin was comfortable with. No matter what Hela had done, no matter how many innocents had died by her hand, she remained his child. The thought of simply reinforcing the prison that kept her contained felt like abandoning her entirely.
"You have a choice to make," the Ancient One said, her tone gentle but firm. "Either strengthen the seals that bind her, or accept the consequences when they inevitably fail. But understand this—if Hela breaks free and begins killing innocents on Earth, I will take whatever measures are necessary to stop her."
The warning carried the weight of absolute certainty. As Earth's Sorcerer Supreme, the Ancient One had a responsibility to protect the planet and its inhabitants. Hela's personal connection to Odin would not grant her any special consideration if she posed a threat to human civilization.
"That would include permanent exile to a dimension where she can harm no one," the Ancient One continued. "I'm not interested in taking sides in Asgardian family disputes, but I will not allow Earth to become a battleground for your daughter's bloodlust."
The implicit threat made Odin's jaw tighten. He understood the Ancient One's position perfectly—she was being more than reasonable by offering advance warning rather than simply acting when the time came.
"I understand your duties to Earth," Odin replied formally. "But she is my daughter, and my responsibility. If anyone is to deal with Hela, it should be me."
Yet even as he spoke the words, the pain in his voice was obvious. For centuries, he had wrestled with the question of what to do about Hela. Every option seemed to lead to tragedy, either for her or for countless innocents who would suffer if she were freed.
"I've spent lifetimes trying to find an alternative," Odin continued, his usual commanding presence diminished by the weight of parental anguish. "But as long as she remains consumed by bloodlust, as long as the killing is all she cares about, I cannot risk releasing her."
The seal would hold as long as Odin lived, powered by his own life force and reinforced by his unwavering will. Only if Hela's power somehow exceeded his own, or if she managed to overcome the madness that drove her endless hunger for violence, would she ever taste freedom again.
"Let me see her," Odin said finally, his decision made. "It's been too long since I've checked on my daughter's condition."
The three figures dissolved into streams of light—Marcus wreathed in void energy, the Ancient One surrounded by golden magical radiance, and Odin blazing with the power of Asgard itself. They streaked across the sky toward the coordinates Odin provided, leaving the cleanup of Greenwich to the various government agencies that were already swarming the area.
Behind them, the remaining Avengers watched their departure with a mixture of awe and unease.
"Are any of these people actually human anymore?" Steve Rogers asked, shaking his head as the lights disappeared into the distance.
The casual display of power they'd just witnessed—particularly the heat waves Marcus had generated during his battle in the dimensional space—was beyond anything conventional human technology could hope to match or defend against.
The island where Hela had been imprisoned was surprisingly beautiful, a lush green paradise that seemed completely at odds with its sinister purpose. As the three figures materialized on its sandy beaches, Marcus immediately frowned at the contradiction between what he was sensing and what he was seeing.
"This is strange," he muttered, extending his mystical senses to probe the area more thoroughly. "I can definitely feel death magic emanating from this place, but everything here is thriving. Usually, exposure to necromantic energy kills plant life almost immediately."
Indeed, the island was a botanical wonderland. Ancient trees stretched toward the sky, their branches heavy with fruit. Flowering vines covered the rocky outcroppings, while exotic birds called to each other from hidden perches. It looked like something from a travel brochure, not the prison of one of the most dangerous beings in the Nine Realms.
"The island's condition is directly tied to the nature of the seal I placed on her," Odin explained, his gaze distant as he surveyed the landscape he'd created centuries ago. "This place serves as both prison and anchor point for the magic that contains her. As long as I live, my life force sustains not only the binding spell but the very ecosystem that maintains it."
The revelation made Marcus nod with understanding. The lush vegetation wasn't thriving despite the presence of death magic—it was thriving because it was part of the spell itself. Every blade of grass, every flower, every tree root was woven into the mystical matrix that kept Hela contained.
"Clever," Marcus admitted, genuinely impressed by the elegance of the solution. "But I'm sensing something else here, something that might change the entire dynamic of this situation."
Both Odin and the Ancient One turned toward him with questioning expressions.
"I think I might have a way to help your daughter," Marcus continued, his eyes beginning to glow with void energy as he focused on the death magic permeating the island. "These death energies... they're not just byproducts of her imprisonment. They're an integral part of her power, and I might be able to extract them."
The suggestion caused Odin's single eye to widen with something that might have been hope.
"If I could drain away her connection to death magic entirely," Marcus explained, "she would be transformed from a goddess into something much closer to a normal Asgardian. Still superhuman by Earth standards, but no longer driven by an insatiable hunger for violence and killing."
The possibility had never occurred to Odin. Throughout all his centuries of searching for a solution, he had focused on containing Hela rather than fundamentally changing her nature.
"The process would strip away her divine powers entirely," Marcus warned. "She'd lose her immortality, her ability to create weapons from thin air, her dominion over the dead. In essence, she'd become mortal—or as mortal as any Asgardian can be."
For most beings, such a transformation would be considered a fate worse than death. To fall from godhood to mortality was a price few would willingly pay.
But for Odin, the father who had been forced to imprison his own child, the prospect was nothing short of miraculous. A mortal Hela could be rehabilitated, could potentially learn to live without the constant urge to kill and destroy. She might even be able to rejoin Asgardian society someday.
"Even if she lost her divine power entirely, she would still be my daughter," Odin said, his voice thick with emotion. "And as King of Asgard, I have the knowledge and resources to help her rekindle her divine spark someday—assuming she proves worthy of such power again."