Long before light ever appeared, darkness already existed.
And within that darkness, the Dark Elves were born.
A thousand years ago, the most brutal of their kind—Malekith—sought to plunge the Nine Realms back into eternal night.
The Dark Elves' sacred relic, the Aether, was an ancient weapon capable of annihilating everything in existence. With it, Malekith intended to fulfill his monstrous ambition.
It was King Bor, ruler of Asgard and Odin's father, who personally led the war that shattered Malekith's plans. The warriors of Asgard wiped out the Dark Elves, the evil weapon known as the Aether was believed destroyed, and from that day on, the Dark Elves' home—Svartalfheim—became a land of death.
----
Closing the book, Clara removed her glasses and rubbed her sore eyes.
The lenses she wore could automatically translate Asgardian and other alien scripts into readable text. They were incredibly convenient—but like most electronic devices, they were brutal on the eyes.
She had planned to step outside and walk around to ease the strain, but instead overheard guards and maids whispering excitedly about whether Thor's Earth girlfriend could become the future Queen of Asgard.
What?! Thor went to Earth?!
And nobody told me—or took me along?!
Her head full of question marks, Clara followed the directions given by a maid and hurried toward Thor's location.
...
After Jane Foster returned from the pocket dimension, something was clearly wrong.
Not only did she now possess a strange rain-repelling effect, but when the police tried to take her to the station, they were injured.
It wasn't that Jane attacked them—
It was the energy shockwaves erupting from her body.
The same force that injured the officers also placed an enormous burden on Jane herself.
Without hesitation, Thor called for Heimdall to open the Rainbow Bridge and brought Jane to Asgard.
This act sent Odin into a fury.
That his son—the future King of Asgard—had fallen in love with an Earth woman was something Odin had reluctantly tolerated.
But bringing her into Asgard itself?
That crossed the line.
"You treat my words as wind in your ears, do you?" Odin thundered.
The moment he arrived, he saw the Earth woman exchanging tender looks with his son. His voice turned colder, heavier.
"She is ill," Thor replied firmly. He knew his father would be angry—but he could not abandon her.
"She is mortal. Mortals fall sick," Odin snapped.
"She does not belong in Asgard, just as goat meat does not belong on a royal banquet table."
Being dismissed so utterly ignited Jane's temper.
"And who do you think you are?!" she shot back.
"I am Odin, King of Asgard and Protector of the Nine Realms," Odin declared proudly.
"I'm—" Jane faltered, suddenly awkward.
Oh… Thor's father. No wonder the temper was legendary.
"I know who you are," Odin interrupted coolly. "You are Jane Foster."
Of course he knew. Thor spoke of her so often—her kindness, her brilliance—that Odin had long since grown tired of hearing it.
"Father," Thor protested, "there is something inside her body that I don't understand. Why is Clara allowed to stay in Asgard, but Jane cannot remain here for treatment? They are both from Earth!"
Thor felt his father was being unfair.
"Another Earthling?" Jane muttered, startled. "And it sounds like a woman."
"Don't misunderstand," Thor said quickly. "She's my colleague's daughter. Just a child."
As if summoned by name, Clara finally arrived at the healing chamber.
"Hi, Thor! Did you go to Earth?" she asked brightly.
"Did you help me leave a message for Tony?"
"…Sorry, Clara," Thor said sheepishly. "I forgot."
His mind had been entirely on Jane—he had completely forgotten to ask Darcy to notify Tony Stark.
"Guards," Odin commanded coldly, "escort her back to Midgard."
"No! Father, you can't!" Thor cried, panicked.
"Midgard? Earth?" Clara perked up. "You're opening the Rainbow Bridge? Then send me back too!"
"Go back to your room," Odin snapped at Clara, then turned to Jane.
"Guards—remove this woman."
"Don't touch her!"
A sinister red shockwave erupted, blasting the guards away. Jane collapsed weakly onto the stone bed.
Clara stared at Jane in shock.
That energy—
She knew it.
She had felt it before—when she saw the Tesseract, Loki's scepter, and the silver sphere in that dark room.
This again…
This wasn't illness.
Odin probed Jane's body with divine power and immediately understood.
The red substance flowed within Jane, actively rejecting Odin's magic.
"The virus is protecting her," one healer said hesitantly.
"No," Odin corrected grimly. "It is protecting itself. Come with me."
Then he turned sharply to Clara.
"And you—go outside and play. This is a matter for adults. Children should not meddle."
Clara pouted.
She could tell—Odin didn't want her to know what was happening.
Fine. I'll find out myself.
She turned and headed straight for the Royal Archives.
...
Odin brought Thor and Jane into a grand hall where a projection of Yggdrasil, the World Tree, hovered in the air. The books here were ancient relics—no ordinary person was allowed inside.
From one of the tomes, Odin identified the substance inside Jane.
It was the Dark Elves' weapon—
The Aether, created by Malekith himself.
"The Aether is a fluid that constantly changes form," Odin explained.
"It can turn matter into dark matter. It seeks a host, feeds on their life force, and was meant to plunge the universe back into darkness. After a long and bloody war, my father Bor achieved victory—ushering in thousands of years of peace."
"How did he do it?" Jane asked quietly.
"He exterminated the Dark Elves."
The answer was drenched in blood.
Peace built upon genocide—terrible, yet seemingly unavoidable.
"Does the book say how to remove it from my body?" Jane asked.
"No."
Odin had no intention of saving Jane. If her death severed Thor's attachment, so be it. And truthfully—he didn't know how to remove the Aether anyway.
One problem hadn't even been resolved before another arrived, leaving Odin deeply irritated.
...
Deep within Asgard's prison, Loki sat slumped on a sofa, utterly listless.
His mother had come to visit again—but this time, she wasn't here to persuade him to repent.
She was here to praise someone else's child.
"I can hardly believe it," Frigga sighed dramatically.
"She's only fourteen, yet so independent! Losing her mother didn't break her. Even with a father who refuses to acknowledge her, she lives happily. Being near her feels like basking in sunlight."
As she lavishly praised Clara, Frigga discreetly watched Loki's expression.
Over the past few days, she had deliberately mentioned her greatest worry—her youngest son, imprisoned and unrepentant.
It had been Clara who suggested a solution:
cold detachment.
Act as though he no longer mattered. Let him realize he was not irreplaceable.
Frigga found the idea… compelling.
She had loved Loki fiercely all his life. And what had it brought?
Only greater extremism.
Under similar hardships, another child grew upright and optimistic—while her own son spiraled further into chaos.
He was spoiled, she concluded bitterly.
Loki finally couldn't take it anymore.
"So wonderful?" he sneered. "Then take her as your daughter!"
"Well…" Frigga mused thoughtfully, pacing.
"Thor and her father were comrades-in-arms, so calling her my daughter would be awkward…
But a granddaughter? That could be considered…"
Loki panicked.
Granddaughter?!
Was his mother planning to abandon her son for a new grandchild?!
"Mother, listen to me!" he burst out.
"Earthlings live barely a hundred years! She's cute now, but what about when she grows old? Wrinkled, white-haired, toothless! Do you really want an old woman calling you 'Grandmother'?!"
"Well…" Frigga frowned. "That is a concern…"
Outwardly troubled—
Inwardly, she was laughing.
It worked.
Loki cared.
Unbeknownst to him, Clara already knew Loki was the mastermind behind the Battle of New York—knowledge she would gain much later.
If she'd known at the time, she might have stabbed him with the scepter blade without hesitation.
What began as a strategy to make Loki suffer more had accidentally struck directly at his greatest fear.
And it was devastatingly effective.
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