The Fall of Hela — A Daughter's Last Choice
The cliffs remained silent, the sea beneath like obsidian glass, unmoving. Hela's jaw clenched as centuries of rage, betrayal, and power battles coiled in her chest. Her knuckles whitened, blades of shadow still at her sides, but… the arrogance had faded.
Before her stood Daniel — the true embodiment of Death. No mask, no metaphor, just the inevitable force that closed all stories.
Thor's hammer pulsed faintly with stormlight, his eyes watching his sister with caution, but also — strangely — hope.
"You know the truth now," Daniel stated, voice low but clear as eternity. "Your father chose dignity. You can too."
The green fire in her eyes dimmed, not extinguished, but tempered by something older: understanding.
"You're offering mercy to me?" she asked, voice softer now, the venom drained by harsh reality.
Daniel shook his head slowly, his silhouette merging with the creeping shadows. "I offer no mercy. I offer inevitability… dressed in peace."
The distant echoes of Reapers still lingered behind him, faint whispers curling on the wind — the quiet reminder that even gods fall.
For the first time in millennia, Hela's shoulders dropped, her weapons dissipating into mist. The weight of battles, of being Odin's discarded heir, crumbled.
"You're him… the one Odin spoke of in his final days." Her gaze sharpened with grim clarity. "The one who doesn't kneel to thrones… because thrones crumble before you."
Daniel didn't deny it. "I buried kings, titans, and cosmic architects. You're not the first… won't be the last."
Hela took a slow breath, her voice quiet. "I won't be caged… not again."
"No cages," Daniel confirmed. "Only choice."
She turned toward the cliffs, eyes scanning the horizon — the place where Odin faded, the place where legacies unraveled. Her heart, blackened by war, betrayal, and exile, ached in a way no blade ever could.
"I'll walk his path," she whispered finally, the tension breaking like a snapped bowstring. "Not because I lost… but because I'm tired of pretending I never would."
Daniel nodded once — not triumphant, but respectful.
The Reapers receded, their shadows dissolving, the sea stirring softly beneath.
Thor exhaled, the storm easing around him, watching his sister's proud silhouette drift toward the unseen realm beyond life.
No screams. No violence. Just quiet resignation.
The Goddess of Death… walking away from war, choosing dignity — following her father into the veil.
Daniel turned to Thor, voice steady. "Legacy survives… when pride dies."
Thor said nothing, only watching the sea, the weight of gods heavy on his shoulders.
And Death… walked on.
Author's Message — From the Shadows to the Readers
Hey — to everyone following this madness, first, thank you. I know this story's brutal, heavy, full of dialogues, betrayals, and that raw energy we crave — but writing this isn't a walk in the park.
This universe, these characters — it's passion and work colliding.
But here's the truth: keeping this alive daily, delivering 5 to 9 chapters, burns more than caffeine and stubbornness.
If you're loving it — vote, comment, share. You're the fuel for this dark, philosophical, chaotic ride. The book? It's almost fully written, this is just the raw, day-by-day drop for you all to devour.
But keeping that pace? Yeah, I need your help.
So if you want this universe — with Daniel reshaping destiny, teaching gods their place, training Wanda, facing Thanos and beyond — to keep expanding…
Support. Vote. Comment.
Every interaction tells me to keep going. Otherwise, well… even this story might face the Reapers, right?
Let's defy the end — together.