A chorus of clapping rose from the considerable crowd grouped around the stage. An actor was narrating a play being performed in the middle of a grand terrace to an audience filled with rapt Asgardians. At the head of the makeshift open-air theater, seated upon a massive throne, was Odin, lounging off to one side as he drank a goblet of wine.

  “And destroyed the Aether, ending the Convergence. We mustn’t forget that detail, mustn’t we?” Odin directed from the throne.

  The narrator nodded eagerly but, before he could revise the ending, a murmur rose from the crowd and grew in scale until the audience was positively atwitter. Odin turned, annoyed at the disturbance, and his heart sank.

  Headed straight toward him was Thor. His gaze was trained on Odin as he strode through the parting crowd, all of whom were murmuring about his return… and his appearance.

  “Father, I would have words with thee,” Thor addressed Odin.

  “Thor! Um, son!” Odin sat up straight suddenly, composing himself. “What an… unexpected honor to have you return. You’ve just missed the most marvelous play about the life of your poor, fallen adopted brother, Loki.”

  “It seems I have missed much,” Thor returned pointedly, glowering at Odin.

  “You’re right. We should amend the ending to include Thor’s role in the Great Battle,” Odin said to the royal scribe, who was making notes on the play. He turned back to Thor. “Would you like to see the revisions, my son?”

  “I heard enough already, thank you, Father.” Thor began to approach the throne. Odin waved his hands, and members of the Einherjar, his Royal Knights, escorted the citizens off the terrace, allowing for privacy between the two.

  “It has been far too long since I have seen you, son.”

  “And I, you, it appears,” Thor said.

  “I must say, are you unwell? Because you look rather unlike yourself.” Odin waved his hand at Thor’s haggard, dragon blood–soaked appearance.

  Thor gave a wry smile. “Funny, I was going to say the same about you, Father.”

  Odin shifted uncomfortably in his seat for a moment before suddenly standing and starting to make his way off the terrace. “Please, clean up and join me for, ah, supper. Wouldn’t that be grand?”

  Thor leaped up and landed in front of Odin, blocking his path to the door. “You know my favorite thing about travels? The return home. It’s like Mjolnir. No matter how far I throw it, it shall always return to my hand, even if something is in the way.” Thor lifted Mjolnir high in his hand as though to throw it straight through Odin.

  “Now, wait there just a moment, son—”

  Thor began to swing Mjolnir around his head, whipping it into a faster and faster frenzy until the hammer was poised for release.

  “All right, all right!” Odin cried out. There was a tense beat, and then “Odin” began to fade. When the illusion was gone, Loki stood in its place!

  Thor shook his head in disbelief. “I wanted to be wrong about you, brother. How did you escape death?”

  “By evading its grasp in the first place, of course.” Loki sneered at his adopted brother.

  “Only you would make a mockery of your own sacrifice. I believed you’d changed, Loki. I believed you to be good and decent in the end.” Thor was genuinely upset by uncovering this latest deceit in his brother’s endless list of mischief and troubles.

  “And I believed in unicorns and candy fountains, but some things are impossible, aren’t they? Now, can we skip the sanctimonious lecture about how I fooled you yet again and get to the point I know you’re dying to make, so you can go and shower at the very least?” Loki turned up his nose in disgust to emphasize his point.

  “I nearly died thanks to your treachery and that buffoon you placed at the helm of the Bifrost. Where is Heimdall?”

  Loki shrugged. “Wherever those who their king declares traitors and relieves them of duty go, I suppose.”

  “And where is Father?” Thor asked through gritted teeth.

  “That is the question, isn’t it?” Loki mused, smiling.

  Thor balled his Mjolnir-free hand into a fist. “Now is not the time for tricks, Loki. I have felt something—something dark coming—and we need Father.”

  “Do we really, though? I’ve managed quite well while you’ve been gone and he’s been… off.” Loki was quite pleased with himself as a ruler.

  “Take me to him now or I shall have Mjolnir meet the back of your head,” Thor said, growling.

  “That is one incentive, I suppose. But I assure you, there’s nothing to fear. Asgard is as safe as it has ever been.”

  Thor’s face darkened. “We must find Father to ensure that.”

  At the entrance to the Bifrost, Thor and Loki stood ready for the portal to be opened and transport them to wherever Loki was hiding Odin.

  Loki moved toward Skurge and hissed, “I gave you one job! Keep my brother away.”

  Skurge shook visibly. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. But there was . . .” He looked over his shoulder at the decapitated dragon’s head in the corner of the observatory.

  Loki turned to Thor. “Bringing home souvenirs now, brother?”

  “I’m thinking of collecting heads and having them mounted on my wall. Care to join my newest trophy?” Thor retorted.

  “My, my. Such hostility. Asgard was certainly much more peaceful when I was in charge.” Loki loved needling his brother and reveled in the annoyance it caused. Thor, however, merely waved off his heckling today, focusing on other, more important matters.

  “You—Skurp,” he called out.

  “It’s Skurge, actually,” the Asgardian replied.

  “There is something not right in the universe, and I fear it is headed toward Asgard. While we are gone, entertain yourself by performing the task at hand, rather than with wine and women.” Thor was clearly not pleased that Heimdall was missing. “I’ve brought backup for you.”

  Thor nodded to the entrance of the Bifrost observatory dome. Standing there, nearly filling the doorway, were Volstagg and Fandral, Thor’s most trusted friends in life and battle. Skurge’s jaw dropped open. “Two of the Warriors Three? I fought with you at Vanaheim.” He walked toward the duo, hand outstretched. “Skurge. It’s an honor,” he said. Volstagg pulled a mop from behind his back and placed it firmly in Skurge’s hand.

  Fandral looked at the humbled Skurge. “It is time to clean house, I believe.” He nodded to the dragon’s head.

  Volstagg laughed. “And don’t miss a spot. Fandral is very particular.”

  The Bifrost powered up, and a swirling portal opened. “Time to go, brother. Unless you have any other duties to assign?” Loki stepped through it.

  Fandral looked to Thor. “Do not worry, Odinson. We will be here to ensure your safe return. Even if Volstagg has to sit on this cretin to do it.”

  “We fought together,” Skurge muttered sadly under his breath.

  Thor grasped his friend’s hand in thanks and, with a final warning glare in Skurge’s direction, vanished into the Bifrost.

  CHAPTER

  Several rats were scampering over the remains of a carton of discarded rotting fruit, when a pair of feet wearing three pairs of socks and ragged shoes shuffled by, scaring them off. The alley was just off Thirty-Seventh Street in New York City’s Flower District, a name that conveyed far more beauty than what actually met the eye if one looked closely enough into the abandoned and darkened spaces between buildings. The littered alleys held dumpsters full of fruits and vegetables that had been fresh the day before but gone bad in the afternoon heat. By morning, they’d been thrown out and left for the forgotten beggars and animals to duke it out for that day’s meal.

  The man who’d scared off the rats wore tattered clothes and looked as though he hadn’t bathed in days. A torn cloth covered his right eye. He rummaged through a dumpster and found a bunch of bananas, still perfectly wrapped. It was his lucky day!

  He was tucking the almost-fresh produce into one of his many layers when a blinding light overpowered the dawn glow of the alley. When his eye adjusted, he saw two men approaching him. The man quickly glanced down and, spotting an abandoned piece of wood, picked it up and raised it like a sword.

  “Stand and hold, foul ones. I was a great warrior in my day, and I still know how to wield a weapon.” He began to swing the piece of wood at the men, who stepped back, surprised.

  Thor looked at his brother in confusion and spoke in a low tone. “New York? Why here, brother? And why show me this poor lost soul?”

  They were dressed in regular Earth street wear—shirts and slacks—and Thor carried an umbrella. His hair was swept back into a ponytail. Loki’s magic was projecting an illusion onto the duo.

  Loki motioned for Thor to look again at their “attacker.” Thor closely inspected the old man approaching them and spouting gibberish. But the man stood tall for a moment, his hair brushed back, and it was then that Thor saw the telltale bandage covering one eye.

  Before them stood no ordinary man: This was Odin, king of Asgard!

  Thor’s stomach dropped in sorrow and pity. “I shall never forgive you for this,” he hissed at Loki as he approached the agitated man, his arms held out, trying to calm him.

  “Back! Back, I say!” cried Odin.

  “Father.” Thor’s voice cracked with emotion. “It is I, Thor.” The disheveled man stopped midswing. “Yes, Thor, your son. And this, the other I bring with me, is Loki.”

  “Thor. Loki.” The man mumbled the words, a faint memory stirring as these names poked at something within him, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

  “Yes, Father. And you are Odin, the king of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms,” Thor continued, hoping to reach through the magic-induced amnesiac fog that clouded his father’s mind.

  “Asgard.” This struck a chord with the man. “Asgard,” he repeated. “Home?”

  Thor nearly wept. “Yes, Father, Asgard is your home, and I’ve come to bring you back and place you on the throne as its rightful ruler.”

  The man pushed back a strand of hair from his one good eye as he studied Thor, and a spark of familiarity lit the clouded blue. He dropped the piece of wood, and a tear formed in his eye.

  “Thor? Loki? My sons.” He held out his arms. “My sons!” His voice grew stronger as he embraced Thor. Loki turned away, partly in shame at his actions that had put Odin in this situation, and partly in shock at being called son by Odin.

  Thor held his father gently. The once-formidable ruler was so frail Thor could have carried him with one hand. How far his father had fallen under Loki’s trickery! He wondered how long his father had suffered in these conditions.

  “I’m sorry, Father. I never should have left. But come, we shall return, all three of us.” Thor looked pointedly at Loki as if to say, Don’t even think about disappearing your way out of this one. Thor was helping to steady his father, who was gazing into his eyes.

  As Thor was holding Odin, he felt the power of the All-Seeing One slowly reach Odin even in his weakened state.

  “Tell me, my boy. What has you frightened so?”

  “A feeling, Father. A darkness I cannot escape. I feel it has chased me, or I it, across the Realms for months now. I went to Muspelheim, thinking that the fire demon Surtur was the cause, but he knew nothing.” Thor looked into his father’s eye, hoping there would be some flicker of knowledge or recognition.

  Odin pushed his son away and grabbed his head, crying out in pain and falling to the ground. It seemed Thor had probed too deeply into long-buried memories and caused his father such pain.

  Thor turned to Loki, apoplectic with rage. “You cast him out, made him forget who he was. Now he cannot remember even the stories he told us as warnings!” Thor’s face reddened. “Tell me, Loki, was this necessary? How could even you do something so foul?”

  Loki shrugged, trying to remain calm. “I did what I thought best. Maybe you wouldn’t have done the same, but you never cared for the throne anyway.”

  “Stories. The throne.” Odin was struggling to right himself. Thor rushed to his father’s side. “Hela.” The word hung in the air like a shadow, chilling all three men in the alley to their bones.

  “Hela? She is but a myth, Father. Stories told to frighten children.” Thor helped his father to his feet.

  “Odinson.” Thor looked at his father as Odin called him the name he felt he’d run from most of his adult life. “You are the Odinson. It is you who must return to Asgard, and quickly.”

  Thor shook his head. “No, Father. You are the rightful one to be seated on the throne. I am no king.”

  Odin grabbed him. “You must become one now, my son. This place, Asgard… all of the Nine Realms need the Odinson to sit on the throne. Asgard needs its king, my child, and that is you.”

  Loki cleared his throat. “If I may, Asgard has flourished quite well under the reign of its current king. I don’t see—”

  Thor’s steely look silenced Loki. Turning his gaze back to his father, he said, “This darkness I have felt and Hela, are they connected?”

  Odin swatted at invisible foes that plagued his now-damaged mind. “The Odinson is needed on Asgard,” he uttered at last. “If the darkness is coming, it will need protecting.”

  “Then we shall protect it together, the two of us, Thor and Odin,” Thor said, lifting his umbrella. He struck it to the ground, and suddenly he and Loki were dressed in their Asgardian clothes and armor. His father remained in tatters. “Come, Father. It is time to return you to your place.”

  He looked to Loki, who nodded.

  “Skurge, the Bifrost, if you will,” Thor called out. “Oh, and we have company,” he added, looking at his father.

  The energy from the Bifrost beamed down and covered the trio, and in an instant, they were whisked out of the alley in New York City. The rats scurried from the shadows and began fighting over the bundle of fresh bananas Odin had left behind.

  In the storm of the Bifrost, Thor helped Odin as they raced toward Asgard. Loki was ahead of them, trying to not think of the many unpleasant punishments his brother and father must have in mind for him for when they returned to Asgard. So deep in thought was Loki that he failed to notice the subtle tremor that rocked the Bifrost slightly.

  Looking ahead at his brother, Thor wondered if perhaps he was seeing one of Loki’s illusions. Could the Bifrost actually be shaking? Before he could ask, he saw black tendrils suddenly wrap themselves around the Bifrost before him. He looked back, and more tendrils were quickly creeping through, gaining on Thor and Odin.

  “Brother!” Thor called out a warning, but Loki turned to him a moment too late. The tendrils seemed to be moving through the Bifrost and cutting off the trio from their destination. One dark talon from the tendrils reached out for Loki.

  It found its mark and hit Loki square in his helmet, knocking him to the Bifrost’s edge. Loki struggled to stay conscious, but everywhere he looked, there seemed to be darkness.

  Loki fell from the portal.

  “No!” screamed Thor as he watched his brother being thrown from the Bifrost into the blackness of the cosmos below. He let go of his father briefly as he struggled to spot Loki. There was no sign of his brother.

  The Bifrost shook again. With a sense of dread, Thor turned back, too late to act. The black tendrils had made their way up and now grasped Odin.

  “Father!” Thor’s cries seemed to be swallowed by the darkness that was covering the Bifrost.

  “You are… the Odinson. . . .” His father’s words hung in the air as Odin was pulled from the Bifrost and hurled back toward Earth.

  With a roar, Thor hurled Mjolnir at the dark tendrils to drive them back. His trusted hammer cut through the blackness, revealing that Odin was no longer there. Before it could return to Thor’s hand, the dark tendrils closed around Mjolnir, and it, too, vanished.

  Thor was alone and weaponless on the Bifrost, his father and brother both missing and darkness closing in fast upon him. He adopted a fighting stance as best he could, ready to attack his unseen foe with his fists if needed. “Come at me, then! Do your worst!”

  As if answering his dare, the Bifrost shook with a great heave, and Thor was knocked off course. The darkness that had been plaguing him for months seemed to form before him as one last tremor hurled him off the Bifrost.

  He fell into nothingness, watching the darkness retreat from the Bifrost as his own darkness began to overtake him, and he lost consciousness.

  In the Bifrost observatory, Skurge, who had been left alone to clean after Fandral and Volstagg had activated the Bifrost for Thor, paused in his mopping to look back at the Rainbow Bridge. To his surprise, there was no sign of anyone. He shrugged and was about to turn away when he saw the most terrifyingly beautiful figure begin to appear from black tendrils at the far end of the Bifrost and advance toward him.

  CHAPTER

  Thor’s eyes snapped open. He felt heavier than normal, the air thicker, dusty. He was not on the Bifrost nor on Asgard nor Earth. Even before looking around, Thor knew this place felt different from any world he’d ever been to.

  Sitting up slowly, he took in his surroundings. The desolate landscape was littered, quite literally, with debris: Broken pieces of ships, wheels, cracked weapons, and other trash were piled everywhere. Thor glanced up and gasped. Where there should have been stars or a clear sky were instead hundreds of wormholes filling the air. Occasionally, more debris would fall through one of the holes and crash to the ground. A broken spaceship came spilling out of a wormhole nearby, and he watched as strange aliens hurriedly made their way in its direction. Scavengers, he thought.

  Looking above him once again, Thor saw that the smaller wormholes were dwarfed by one massive wormhole, this one a deeper color than the rest and occasionally lighting up as if electricity was coursing through it.

 

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