Continuing to pump my Healing into him, I reach out with internal magic to summon the child's laying lower half to us, its wood scraping and bumping against the metal as it drags close. Manoeuvring its broken, bisected edge near the worming, reaching chest of Groot, I regard him with heavy stare and tell, warning, "Look, don't do anything to make this whole situation worse, okay? I think we'd all rather go our separate ways now, right?"
The brown of his eyes hide slightly behind narrowed eyes, his face and body blooming into bush and foliage of floral flourishing, before he gives me a slight nod. Thankful, I breath out a little sigh then tilt my head down to his unmoving legs, asking, "Will this speed up your recovery, kid? I don't know the ins and outs of your species, I'm afraid."
He replies, his inner wood already winding and fusing with the still branches of the brought over bottom, "I am Groot."
The presence of the translator sits against the skin behind my ear, its body-warmed metal a reminder of its function, when I shake my head and say, "Sorry, I don't speak Flora colossi. I'll take that as a yes, though?" Wood slips into wood as we talk, the rubbing and cracking of his healing and mending sounding in my hearing; the timber of an active, lifeful forest coming to mind.
The two halves weave together, braiding to twine and connect, his upper pulling near lower and fusing the two with the friction of grain and creaking grind. The flat of his overlapping, pale wood slowly bend and move to cover the split, Groot now connected back into full form and healed whole. I cancel the channel of my Chi as I find him laying in health, stopping the emission and lowering my hand.
Eyeing the life sprout across him from every crevice, peeking through from inside and growing atop in breaching roots, I nearly fall victim to overwhelming urge. My victory over unnamed strangers to emerge chosen, death allowing me to stand atop its fields, this body I call my own was recreated cell by cell by the power of the Seedbed to become a font of Pure Creation waiting to issue forth.
I've attempted over the years to call upon its power, aiming to create the smallest, simplest forms of arranged matter I could think of. Using my secondary school understanding of chemistry and particle physics, I started by working my way backwards from standard granite stone, composed of nothing but feldspar and quartz, with trace amounts of mica and amphibole.
Despite my clear focus and knowledge of the chemical formulae, my Chi lifting from my skin to swirl before me, no single particle was born through my efforts. Not wanting to be discouraged by the absence of the slightest trace of sand or dust, I moved onto even simpler water and then single atom type oxygen, wondering if the answer lied in complexity.
Finding myself sitting dry and unruffled on the wood flooring of Kamar-Taj, I made the decision to turn away from science and look instead for answers in the spiritual. Peering inwards to perceive the operation of my Chi, I observed close as my second round of tries began, the entirety of my midpoint Qi Stage perception concentrated on sensing any changes or signs.
Repeating the steps taken, I ran through my process while focusing, prompting my Chi to flow out and shape creation, an addition to the makings of It I now call home. My mind blurred, seconds missing as my cognition faltered and time ran unnoticed, I discovered the fracturing of the spirituality wound through the flowing Chi of my channels.
Tiny, imperceptible splits into the formless spirit running entwine with the energy, the aspect of my consciousness guiding circulation, a denial of warning issued from deep inside, the world outside buckling to shrink in pressure and lean. Back cracking as I tasted blood on my tongue, sweat coating skin and brain aching, I ceased instantly, recalling the Chi and rushing my attention back to the surface.
Knowing then the consequences of continuing to try and paint thought onto existence, I put a stop to my attempts for the day, temporarily refraining from trying again. Since then, repeated experiments conducted over many days, when fully healed and with absolute caution in mind, have granted me a certain clarity as to how things currently stand,
I am not yet ready.
Despite the fact of Yi Hye-Rin using my Chi to create Stuart from nothing, a spell forming its body of fucking Vibranium, my own body and spirit cannot withstand to channel that same power without dying. Being not a Sorceress Supreme, able to safely manipulate energies of patrons so far beyond my own standing, I pushed aside any dissatisfaction and looked towards learning the why.
I've found the reason, through introspection of my Self and examination of my Chi, to be the limit placed upon me by the Stage of my internal arts. My Qi being cultivated in preparation for Shen, my being still mortal, I'm unable to take the first, full step into the Dao of Creation; any casting of guided, nascent creation threatening to unwind my very existence.
As evidenced by separate incidents proving my status as the Dao Child, the first being the burst of creation issuing forth upon my breakthrough to Qi Proficient, I'm certain that I can, eventually. Heightened by Hearthlight ritual and the now flowering Groot before me, anticipation and want have built inside me as the years have passed, days feeding into the next, feeling the potential of infinite birthing swim through me with every revolution.
Giving in a little to the urge, I reach out and shake a hand to Groot as he lifts himself upon his elbows, indicating for him to take it and offering, "Here, let me help you up." He stares at my outstretched hand with obvious hesitation, bracing his weight on one arm, then tentatively extends out the other through the grown covering; dark wood parting the bush.
Gripping his stickish palm, his fingers long and spindly, I pull him to his feet with ease, lifting him off the ground with care not to injure him further, unsure of the extent of his mend. He rises with the rustle of wind through leaves and a sound of sudden startlement, a little, high croaked leaving him as he comes to a stand before me, the crown of his head equal with the bottom of my chin.
I look him over with curious gaze, taking in the greenery covering his frame and momentarily following the drift and fall of pinkish petals, before catching his eye and wondering, "Have you gotten taller, lad?"
He turns his head up to face me, his eyes peeking through his shrubbery helm to find my own, before looking down to see what I mean. He steps back in surprise, almost tripping over his own feet as he mutters with a tone of shock in his voice, "I am Groot?"
Having a guess as to the meaning of his words, I simply reply, "...Right." Watching as he stabilises, I continue, giving over, "That's probably my fault." Thinking on the visible, certain anatomy of his kind, I theorise the plant-like biology of his species to be seemingly more receptive to the life-filled properties of my Chi than most.
That thought causing a flash of inspiration to spark in mind, recent experiences mixing with the memory a friend now lost, an idea of a future plan forms. The enhanced neurons of my cultivated mind bouncing and firing, I push the concept below my overall awareness, leaving it to perfect under my greater consciousness.
Keeping on, I reassure, "No harm will come from this sudden spurt, at least from my end." Probably. Hopefully. "I don't know about how your people handle stuff like this, though." I tell, before making clear, "Physically, I mean."
Groot nods at my assurance as he steadies, lifting up a hand to initiate a lengthening of his digits, his arm growing and twisting to thread together. Seeing his actions, Groot testing his raised body, I guess him to contain some form of genetic memory, passed down to him by the original Groot and the line of his ancestors.
Turning the gold of my irises, I capture his visage in the reflection of my eyes and shine Revelation over him, his unguarded history coming to me all at once, his life an open book. Parsing his biography near-instantly, the major events the crest and the minor the trough, I search for the answer to my question.
The film of his life rolling to the final segment, his current thoughts summarised by his testing, I fail to finding what I'm looking for. Disappointed, thinking that form of inheritance to be fucking fascinating, a truly alien society more than interesting to my unadventured self, I leave the river of his time to gaze at him with mundane sight.
"Groot," I call, getting his attention, "come with me, if you would." He stops his feeling about, his arm returning to standard size as the flora over him retreats inside to hide away. The odd leaf sticking out of gaps, a green-petaled flower jutting from the upper hollow of his head, I turn from him after asking, moving to make my way back to the prone Rocket.
Knowing he's to follow after me, his options small while under the threat of my control, the difference in our standings established by the bodies below my feet, I crouch down to the raccoon. Wanting this entire affair to end soon as, to be over with as little continued conflict as possible, I place a hand on the leather vest over his chest and notify the beside Groot, "I'm saving his life here, so don't be overreacting, please."
Not waiting for him to confirm his understanding, any hostile response from him waylaid by the potential deaths of his fellows, his concern for Rocket in particular preventing him from taking action, I summon Sun-Kissed. Its fire flowing forth from under the skin of my hand, billowing in windless breath, I pour it down into the body below, pushing it through his armour to the pressed fur, past his flesh and bone to the guarded, beating heart.
The flames wrap around the engine of his life, beating in time with the pump of blood, soaking in to suffuse muscle and seek, acting on information Revelation divined. A metal mass, an item of synthetic and organic composition fused into one chamber, stands out as foreign, the miniaturised technology the object I hunt.
Egocentric magic climbs my placed arm to reach my hand, narrowing in gather to concentrate into thin needle under my palm. Spiking it into his flesh, I guide it past his ribs to find and coat the device, a claw of grooved feelers closing against every side, then gently tug. The unconscious Rocket twitches as the item fights the draw, its imbedded hooks pulling the attached muscle along and tearing the walls of its mass to leak blood.
The fire of my Dao burns away the seeping ichor as I keep the strength of my extraction consistent, healing any and all damage caused by my removal of his looming threat. Amassing it over the area of placement, a converging covering to support my next move, I rip my hand away from his body, Rocket's back arcing up in pained reaction.
Red splatters the green of my robe as a weakening spurt of blood shoots from burning hole, the forceful exit already near-closed. Rising up from the resting body, I come to a stand and turn to face the anxious Groot, my hand raising to show. Fingers pointed up, the small bomb floating between drawing his gaze, I explain, revealing to the boy, "This here's a kill-switch, apparently."
Reaching out, I grab his arm before he can react and pull it to me, placing the switch in his own hand and saying, "It's harmless without activation by its controller, so you don't have to fear being unravelled or anything."
His eyes widen at my description, his wood paling further, but he keeps his hand stable. Smiling at him, I look down to the out genius and tell, "Make sure to pass it over to Rocket when he wakes. He knows what it is, and, more importantly, who made it, so it's up to him to decide how he uses his newfound freedom."
He replies, anger blatant, "...I am Groot."
I huff, a little of his meaning conveyed through his tone, "That you will, I'm sure."
One Guardian now sorted, I raise Rocket from the ground with a cast of telekinesis and tap his head, disrupting his Chi and ensuring his cooperation. Moving off, hearing Groot trail along, I haul him along towards the sleeping Drax, his face-down snoring muffled and broken. Leaning to peer at the site of the stab, a brow raises in slight admiration at the smooth skin showing through torn cloth, his natural regeneration having already healed his thigh.
Repeating the poke of Chi, I pass off Rocket to Groot and swap the target of my spell, the dense Drax putting a small strain on my control. Pressing on, I tow him within reach of sprawled Mantis and check her condition, wondering as to the status of her mental self and curious if Sun-Kissed can restore it to a previous state, to how it was before this incident.
Washing its fire over her anyway, refreshing her body and possibly her mind, I crouch down to flip her over. Sliding my arms under her to support her back and the crease of her knees, I push off to stand, lifting her in princess carry. Carefully holding her weight, I adjust her position to be more comfortable, then sling her over my right shoulder, her head and hair hanging behind.
Sister now in hold, I lead my procession towards her brother, the... lone casualty of this battle. Stopping before the pool of his life, the blood gradually expanding to crawl near my toes, I slowly raise the veil of my meditation and stare. I wait for any reaction, any feeling previously cloaked and forced down beneath the water, to assault me, a wellspring stoppered.
My heart growing heavy, my throat beginning to tighten as an emerging sickness swims in stomach, I exhale out a steady breath. The cooling corpse before me lays still on its front, arms pointing over its head with fingers curled in clutch, its wide-eyed face turned to accuse; dead, blank pupils looking through me.
A hollow sits in my chest, an echo of cold air rasping out in search of warmth, a hole opened upon reaping. Need, hungering across my body, shoots in creep out from my spine, cutting through in claw and over my back, a calling anxiety prompting a single, underlying emotion,
Guilt.
I find myself going to cycle my Chi, a refreshing of my mind and body of all things negative, when I stop. Like an addict in need, I cannot lean on the cleansing of Chi to bury my emotions beneath the waters, allowing myself to feed the already secreted affections pushed way down inside. That way the follow of demons and deviation, a shadow retreading the steps of life taken, I fear now the folly of my avoidance.
My eyes closing, my grip on the thigh of Mantis digging, I step atop the mirror my sea and stare down into its depths. My reflection rippling, I conjure the held dear memory of a day once spent in comfortable company, an orange dawn of fading day enjoyed beneath the eaves of homely courtyard.
Young Sarah leans back on her hands, enjoying the rising chill of the evening wind as the voice of her master speaks beside. Her eyes closed and a smile upon her motherly face, she teaches as she's learned to do, a wisdom born of simple life told to the timeless daughter beside,
'We all walk the same earth, disciple.'
Her words lingering in my ears, a longing for home aching my very soul, I cut an opening into the bag of all things bad, a trickle rising from the still sea to ripple its surface. The neglected parts of me dripping in drops to irrevocably touch my mind, returning to me in whole, the suppressed aspects of the woman named Sarah Worthington finally welcoming the light, I open my eyes.
Lines of heat running down my cheeks, I meet the gaze of murdered Peter with new realisation, my mouth opening to issue clear voice, an echo of lasts words spoken, "...I'm sorry."
I embrace the sting of raw emotion with a cleansing heart, feeling the stretch of new path at long last showing, the way forward cracking further. The station of my standing within overall reality clicking into place with jolt inside, an instability previously unnoticed now known, I lift out a steady hand.
The magic casts with an ease never before felt, the blue of inner spirit overlapping with cultivation of my existence, fusing with the constant flow of green Chi. They mix to become a formless air, a colourless energy operating apart from the skin of the world, weaving its way between its layers to cojoin and borrow.
The metal beneath us quakes as the strain of carrying Drax vanishes, an unfelt swell pulsing outwards in a warping wave to wash over the near station. The flaps of my robe upturning weightlessly, my hair lifting upwards, the gravity around loses dominion as I feel myself attempt to leave the floor and rise.
My feet staying earthbound despite the sudden surge of inner power seeking to uplift, a rune of Heavenly connection in the depths of my eyes conveying shackle, I target Peter. The bed of blood quivers outwards from its pool beneath him, the surface cresting and creasing under invisible force to clear a space around him.
I manipulate it to leave the ground in swirl, a circular, rotating wall forming before us to enclose its source. The smallest movement of will sees it contract inwards, the bounds of the ring shrinking to a centre location. It swims up in wind to then split into ribbons, a spiral of Celestial blood breaking open to point downwards.
Their tips revolving around one another in descent towards the body below, they separate once more to find their way inside, streaming into individual openings. Colour returns to the pallid skin of the corpse, a hue of fake life showing on his face, when Sun-Kissed appears over him to bathe his body. Its fire restoring him to unmaimed completion, I float Mantis off my shoulder and turn to the scared Groot, saying, "You must think me disgusting."
She drifts over to hover above her brother before gently turning and spinning to lower, coming to lay beside him on her back as I continue, "Some self-important villain displaying empathy to the remains of the hero I killed, correct? A pathetic woman showing some semblance of humanity in order to lower your guard and trick your mind? Surely, a fake display of sadness meant to create sympathy within you and confuse your emotions, no?"
Drax glides past us to join the others, dropping beside Mantis with a staggered break in his snoring as the boy replies, his voice quiet and subdued, "...I am Groot."
I gently lift Rocket from his arms despite the clear protest threatening to issue from him, coasting his father overhead to then lower onto the chest of Drax, speaking, "I am who I am, Groot. What's done cannot be undone, and for that I apologise all the same, but I do not regret."
Not anymore.
I step to side, looking him in the eyes as I reveal his lying team beyond, "The universe is a dangerous place, as I'm sure you well know by now." I smile, the expression dropping slightly as his fear becomes obvious, "You are young, only a few years on from your sprouting. You'd best spend time with those you love now, before you lose them later."
My sight shifting to their distant, downed ship, I finish, "I need to grab something over yonder, please look after your family while I'm gone." I summon Purpose to appear between us, telling it to guard, then, "Please, don't try anything while I'm gone. I'd rather not have this all carry on."
I step past him, starting my walk away as his hesitant footing rounds Purpose towards the Guardians. Wiping my face and spelling away the staining blood, I cross the distance towards the ship, its burning marking destination, and reflect on the events of the day so far. Without a doubt the single most hectic day of my life, one filled with parallel birth and death, I speak aloud my feelings, summarising, "...I wanna go home."
"A wish shared by most, Lady Sarah."
I calmly glance unsurprised in direction of the voice, having detected his approach long before his arrival, and greet, "Thor."
He rounds a tipped over crucible to join me in my walk, his canopy cape brushing the ground as he comes to accompany me in journey. We move in silence momentarily, enjoying the peace in each others presence, when he turns his head to look at me from his lone eye, speaking uncertainly, "There is something of a difference in you, friend."
I stare forward, the ethereal of my inner permeating my whole to touch under and brim, an exchange with the ever-present mysticism. The cracks upon me and through me feeling as though they wish to separate and fall, a second body born from blood and bone moving against my skin in follow of spirit, I reply, "Had a little breakthrough, I think."
He hums in thought as we close in on the Benatar, the light of divinity showing in his gaze as he peers, then, "You feel like kin."
His words bringing me up short, a resonation sounding silent deep inside, the memory of face peeking, I look up at him and wonder, "Don't you Æsir need to hang yourselves from a tree before you start acting all cryptic?"
Following me over the wreckage as I move under the length of ship to the open boarding ramp, Thor laughs in response. Walking up it to enter the messy interior, a wing on either side leading to closed doors, I nudge aside the scattered items and stand before the centre table. Running my sight over the body of the ship, the living quarters and home of the Guardians, I cast out my senses.
The mundane fades from my perception as the magical starts to glow, telling of its position ahead and calling, a connection between us. Thor trails as I round the table to cockpit before us, taking the right opening towards its location and stopping before a seat. The sloping glass nose reflecting the flickering of fading fire, I look from the clear monitors before the chair to the square consoles in front.
Finding a small, round pad, indented in the centre with prongs reaching up to hold, I reach out and pick it up to pull the shaped metal from its clutch. Rolling it between my fingers, I feel the magic contained within, Revelation seeing the strings linking us. Sighing out, the bullet a record, I go to place it in my ring for later examination, when Thor hovers over my shoulder and asks, curious, "This is what you sought, Sarah?"
It vanished from sight, stored away safe in frozen time, as I answer, telling, "Aye. It's what the Guardian used to find me." The fact of me of all people being divined by another mortal sorcerer, especially with what I've comprehended of the Dao of Divination, truly unsettles me. I know where I stand within the grand scheme of things, my middling level of strength nothing in face of gods and more, but still.
One incident after another has given form to a caution and reminder, an admonition and warning to never be to so assured in my own ability. Beyond the power of sorcery and cultivation exist an infinite myriad of classifications, be they cosmic or mutant; knowledge that I would do well to consider, to remember,
There are more paths in heaven and earth than comprehensible.
Turning to him, I pat him on the arm and nod my head in gesture to exit, "Come on, I need to send this place on its way."
I lead him out, Thor keeping silent and asking no more of what he saw, until we stand outside a ways away, in the vicinity yet out of harm's way. Eyeing the reach of the ship, calculating the span of its wings and the length of its tail, I thrust out an adorned hand. The broken and dispersed makeup, hull and torn components all, slide and roll to gravitate inwards to pile under their source.
Having gathered all that I believe belongs to the craft, I visualise the site of its new landing, drawing on the memory of their previous sighting, then spin out my still held up fingers. The familiar ring of sparks appearing to a point beneath the core, the magic opening with a smooth cast, I quickly expand it out to encompass the entirety of the ship, a white landscape showing on the other side.
A blast of freezing wind rustling us, chilling my cheeks and making me blink, we watch as the Benatar falls through to descend from view. A thump journeys across space from unknown distance, travelling along the wind of alien planet to sound in our ears, a splash of disturbed snow jumping to fall at our feet.
Shelter settled for the waiting occupants, I move to close the gate as Thor remarks, brushing the melting powder from his pauldrons, "I remember you saying you were uncertain about creating a portal that large, no?"
I smile at him, replying, "People grow, you know?"
He chuckles, then questions, "What now?"
I look behind to the way we came, Purpose providing constant updates on the situation, and tell, "Now... I send that lot packing. After that? I'm going back to earth." I start to walk back, reminding, "We've disturbed the Dwarves for long enough, don't you think?"
Thor answers, turning to tag along, "It's as you say."
Groot shifts to face us as we close, keeping his family in his vision as he eyes us, his body language guarded. I lock sight as I pass by Purpose and take it in hand, clutching its grip and keeping it out, gentle force issuing to billow from me. I coast it along the floor to bury his feet and wrap around the Guardians, then change its bearing.
They all begin to float up, the horizontal team unreacting while Groot flinches. Spinning open a second portal, this one standing for one to walk through, a pure vista greets us. I walk forwards, pushing the team to the portal in the same motion, and look to Groot, wondering as to his thoughts and his feelings.
An unwilling partner to bounce off of, my inability to understand him allowing me to vent without fear of hearing his judgement, I leave him some final words. Sending on his team ahead of him, laying them atop the snow to sink in cushion, I comfort, "The chances of us encountering each other again are slim to none, so don't grow afraid that we'll ever fight again, okay?"
He says nothing, his head turned and attention fixed beyond the portal. His disregard ignored, I inform, "I've left you all refuge on the other side, Groot." I drift him from one realm to another, lowering him to stand beside on thick covering, the press of his weight crunching the undisturbed, then say, my hand starting to spin,
"Stay safe."
The magic swirls to a close with a snap, its dancing light ceasing as sparks tap the ground and fade, the image of those beyond vanishing from sight. My shoulder sag as their presence within Nidavellir departs, my hands atop my hips as I lean forward and exhale, asking Thor behind, "Lets return home, hey?"
A quiet murmur leaves him, barely audible to my hearing, "If only I could."
I reverse my position, hands sliding to support my lower spine, then bend back to crack my vertebrae. My eyes closing as I look upwards, relishing in the feeling, I absent-mindedly query, "What do you mean?"
Silence meeting my words, no response given, I open my eyes in concern and begin to look his way, when, "Tell my friends I'm sorry."
Alarmed now, I turn fully to face him, my pulse quickening as I spin to meet him, only to still, finding where he stood empty. "Thor?" I voice to the absence, confusion forming first before worry instantly overtakes.
Panic beginning to set in, I operate my senses at full force, pushing them to their limit and more, spreading them far and wide. The taste of grass upon my tongue and the smell of bloodied iron in my nose, an unnatural quiet in my ears and a lingering flat upon space in my eyes, I tighten my grip on Purpose and shout, incensed beyond measure,
"Fuck!"
I sprint, pushing off the floor with hurried strength, my Armour coming back into play at full force to enhance. Choosing the quickest route to my target, I shift course towards the cold stations absent their masters, then whip out my arms, palms facing forward as force begins to gush forth, yelling, "Piss off!"
I barrel through, rock and metal flung aside in chip and break, my body a blade parting the stone sea in pursuit, unstoppable. The barrier atop my skin as buffer, the bound encircling to bounce away all that barricades, I charge through in mimic of the avatar of Cyttorak, a beast of irresistible force. The blue and silver of my destination peeking through from its station, I lower my stance and quicken, closing the gap with haste.
I emerge from the sea unscathed, breaking through to open space absent obstruction, and skid to a stop in a near-tumble, my shoes scraping against the ground. Shoulder smashing into a large pipe to brake, the fixture denting inwards and warping, I push off and rush onwards, running under a cold forge to meet the steps.
Jumping their length to touch the landing zone, I dash to our ship and fiddle in search of the switch, my fingers touching on the slight outcropping and pulling. I wait impatient for the panel to pop out and extend, slapping away the released steam as the door slides away to show the interior. Hopping the two steps, I race to the open cockpit and lean over the leading pilot seat.
The voice of Thor playing in mind, a memory recalled to aid, I follow his small lesson and press six buttons in sequence, the structure starting to vibrate. Engines primed, I flick the final switch, a metal toggle above, and stare at the soft, blue light below, the signal of success, relieved. The Grandmaster's ship rising gently to hover, I leave the cockpit to stand in the personnel area, my palm gliding over the air in spin, a third portal forming under vessel.
Expanding it to ring us, a psychic nudge sees the cabins elevation control push forward, the ship following in command to lower in place, passing the border of the portal. Arriving in the small hanger of the Statesman, the second ship missing, my expression hardens at the red, beating light rotating over me, Purpose communicating its own agitation.
With it accompanying, I move to leave the ship through the still open door and step upon the hanger, the pulsing, silent alarm periodically illuminating the darkness. My augmented Detection covering the ship, my unease deepens at the lack, finding only a few souls grouped together in the Bridge. Speeding off from my pause, I reference my mental map to leave the area, retracing my steps.
Turning the paths, the hallways and rooms I pass empty of travellers and residents, doors wide and contents clearly searched, I slow to a stop before the final exit. Pressing up against the wall, I gather my Chi in ready, magic fizzing on my fingertips, then carefully peek around. The soft, overhead light of the Bridge revealing familiar figures standing before glass wall, one enemy, the other ally, I step round and show myself.
I make my footfalls clear, not intending to hide my presence and surprise the two, leading to them turning to find me. The dark-skinned woman on the right, her face tight and troubled, relaxes in an obvious manner as she lays eyes on me, before she straightens and gets straight to business, "Sarah. Where's Thor?"
I shake my head to her, my lips pressed as I reveal to the surviving Valkyrie, "I've no fucking clue." My sight glancing to the man, I glare at his pale face in consideration, an inkling as to him being the cause, before fighting to ignore him and question instead, "What's happening, Brunnhilde?" I point my sword to where I entered, my reason clear.
Her answer making my heart drop, I close my eyes and change tracks, the dreaded day finally come,
"Knowhere has fallen."