58th Avenue in Manhattan was still buzzing with life, even under the cover of night. Neon signs bled colors across the wet pavement, their flickering reflections dancing under the shoes of hurried pedestrians.
Many well-dressed white-collar workers had just left their offices, ties loosened and jackets draped over tired shoulders. In New York, overtime wasn't just common, it was practically stitched into the city's culture. The day's grind often bled deep into the night.
Among them moved a different kind of night crowd, women in heavy makeup, their heels tapping in quick rhythms against the sidewalk, slipping into view only when the sun was long gone.
Luke blended into the sea of people almost too perfectly, appearing like just another office worker heading home. Yet unlike everyone else, his eyes held a spark of excitement. Although he'd been playing all day with his new ability, the thrill refused to fade even after hours of testing it.
As he strolled, his figure shimmered. For a brief second, it seemed to lose its shape, like a reflection rippling across disturbed water. And then, he was gone.
One moment he was there; the next, the spot he'd occupied was empty.
Pedestrians walking nearby stopped mid-step. A few rubbed their eyes, others turned to look around, murmuring in confusion. "What the hell…?" someone whispered. But after a moment's hesitation, the city's rhythm swallowed their curiosity, and they moved on. New Yorkers had learned not to dwell too long on strange sights.
Luke reappeared a few steps ahead, grinning to himself. His new power was everything he'd hoped for, freedom without limits.
The Space Stone, from what he knew, could accomplish similar feats, but its use came at a heavy cost to the body. His ability, however, was different. No strain, no exhaustion, just seamless movement through reality. And deep down, he knew it wasn't just for teleportation. He could feel it in his bones, there were other ways to shape this gift, if only he could imagine them.
…
While Luke played in the streets of Manhattan, far away, something far stranger was unfolding.
He wasn't paying attention, but perhaps he should have.
Jane Foster, the woman Luke had once encountered at a quiet restaurant in New York, stood before the entrance of an abandoned warehouse with her assistant, Darcy Lewis.
The air inside was cold and stale, yet it carried something unnatural. Jane adjusted the device in her hands, its display spiking erratically. "The readings are off the charts," she muttered.
Darcy wrinkled her nose. "Yeah, because we're standing in a creepy murder-warehouse. That's not suspicious at all."
Jane stepped forward, eyes scanning the strange ripples in the air. The spatial anomalies here matched their research perfectly. She reached out as if to touch the disturbance.
And vanished.
In an instant, Jane Foster was gone from Earth.
When she opened her eyes, she stood in a place alien and ancient, a vast cave lined with strange symbols, dimly lit by a pulsing red glow. Her chest tightened as her gaze fell upon a swirling, liquid-like mass suspended in the air.
The Aether.
It had been sealed away here for millennia, a creation of the dark elves, forged from the Reality Stone itself. The weapon could bend existence to its wielder's will, shaping reality from mere thought, and if unleashed, it could smother all light and plunge the Nine Realms into darkness.
But the Aether had a will of its own. It slithered forward, tendrils of crimson light wrapping around Jane. Pain shot through her body as it seeped inside her, threading through her veins, binding itself to her very life force.
Then just as suddenly, she was back on Earth.
…
In Asgard, Heimdall's golden eyes scanned the realms as they always did. He suddenly paused. The thread of Jane Foster's existence had gone dark for a moment, hidden from even his gaze.
He turned sharply toward the Bifrost's control chamber to inform Thor of this unusual occurrence.
Thor didn't hesitate. He hadn't seen Jane in what felt like a lifetime, but thoughts of her had never truly left him. With a twist of Stormbreaker, he tore through the skies and swiftly arrived at the Bifröst in order to be transported to Earth, and upon arriving, he found Jane pale and clearly weakened. Without hesitation, he carried her back to Asgard in search of a cure.
What neither of them knew was that the Aether's reawakening had stirred something far more dangerous.
Across the cold void of space, a massive, jagged vessel drifted into motion. Inside, the dark elves, long dormant, opened their crimson eyes. Their leader, Malekith, stepped from the shadows, his voice low but edged with anticipation.
"The Nine Realms align once more," he said. "The Aether calls to us."
This was their last chance to remake the universe in darkness. And now, they knew exactly where their prize lay, within the walls of Asgard itself.
…
Asgard, in recent months, had become a fortress in constant motion.
Constant wars had flared across the Nine Realms, and its warriors acted as peacekeepers, stamping out rebellions before they could burn out of control.
The dungeons were near full capacity, every cell holding criminals from across worlds.
On this day, the Warriors Three returned from another campaign, leading a column of prisoners through the golden gates. Among them, unnoticed, was a silent figure, skin pale, eyes cold. A dark elf in disguise.
The guards shoved him into a cell, but as soon as the door closed and he was left alone, his hand slipped into his armor, pulling free a jagged, obsidian fragment that seemed to pulse with magma.
The Kurse Stone.
He crushed it in his palm.
Fire raced beneath his skin, molten veins glowing through armor now fusing to his flesh. His body swelled with raw, violent power.
In less than ten seconds, the frail prisoner was gone, replaced by a towering kursed warrior, a living weapon of rage.
His first strike shattered the cell door like paper. The second sent a guard flying into the wall.
The kursed warrior rampaged through the dungeon, releasing prisoners one by one, chaos blooming like wildfire.
And then, the sky darkened. A dark elf warship pierced Asgard's skies, raining fire upon the golden city.
From within Asgard, the kursed warrior, guided by Loki's whispered directions, reached the palace's barrier controls and tore them apart, leaving the royal halls vulnerable.
Odin's newly rebuilt palace shuddered under the bombardment. He had barely finished restoring it after Luke's system's interference… and now, before the walls had even settled, they were breaking again.
But the destruction was only a distraction.
While Thor and Odin clashed with the prisoners and invading soldiers, Malekith himself moved silently through the smoke, slipping past the chaos until he reached the Queen's chambers.
Inside, Frigga stood firm, shielding Jane Foster behind her.
The dark elf's eyes locked on Jane. He had come for one thing, the Aether within her body.
…