"What exactly are we dealing with here?" Captain Rogers demanded, leaning forward.
"Nick Fury, speak plainly!" Tony's voice cut through the tension. "What do you mean 'Earth could be torn apart?"
"Are we talking about another alien invasion or something worse?" Bruce Banner asked, glasses glinting under the helicarrier's lights.
The Avengers, despite their differences on countless other matters, presented a united front when it came to planetary threats. Earth's destruction would leave them homeless—and more importantly, purposeless. What good were Earth's Mightiest Heroes without an Earth to defend?
Observing their serious expressions, Nick Fury allowed himself a slight nod of satisfaction. He had their attention.
"Tony," he began, purposefully indirect, "did you notice how our clear skies suddenly filled with storm clouds? Any theories about what might have caused such a dramatic atmospheric shift?"
Rather than answering directly, Fury employed his favored Socratic approach—letting others reach his desired conclusions seemingly on their own.
Tony Stark raised his hand to his ear, activating his neural interface with JARVIS. Information streamed directly into his consciousness as his artificial intelligence assistant delivered a comprehensive analysis of recent atmospheric anomalies over London.
His expression darkened perceptibly.
Stark Industries maintained substantial investments in the Vientiane World—the wizarding dimension where Lockhart had established his power base. The Four Founders' Industrial Complex had become a cornerstone of magical-technological integration. Consequently, Tony had been among the first non-magical individuals to learn about the schism between Lockhart's forces and Asgard.
The news had surprised him enough to send a direct inquiry to Lockhart, but the Supreme Sorcerer's response had been characteristically cryptic—just one dismissive sentence suggesting the matter would resolve itself without intervention.
Tony had respected Lockhart's privacy and ceased his questioning, but now found himself wondering how Asgard had so quickly established an alliance with S.H.I.E.L.D. His inner monologue cursed Fury as an opportunistic "chicken thief" for swooping in to secure Asgardian cooperation.
"Thor, God of Thunder," Tony announced to the room, drawing all eyes. "JARVIS confirms this weather anomaly was generated by Thor and several individuals from the Ancient Academy." He paused meaningfully before adding, "With S.H.I.E.L.D. providing operational support."
The team's collective attention swiveled back to Fury.
"Correct," Fury confirmed without hesitation. "S.H.I.E.L.D. and Asgard have formed a strategic alliance to address an existential crisis facing our planet."
He allowed his expression to convey appropriate gravity, continuing, "We've obtained intelligence indicating Earth was targeted by an incredibly powerful cosmic race eons ago."
"They're attempting to use our planet as an incubator for their offspring."
Johnny Blaze, the Ghost Rider, couldn't suppress a derisive snort.
That's it? he thought. Earth was constantly under observation by demonic entities from multiple planes of existence. Hell's legions perpetually sought entry to the mortal realm, hungry to devour human souls. Compared to those nightmares, aliens wanting to reproduce seemed almost benign.
Fury noted Blaze's dismissive reaction and continued with measured precision: "This race is extraordinarily powerful. Based on limited intelligence, we've identified them as the Celestials."
"What?" Johnny's contempt vanished instantly, replaced by unmistakable alarm. "Fury, are you absolutely certain we're dealing with Celestials?"
"I am," Fury confirmed, his single eye fixed on the Ghost Rider.
Every Avenger now focused intently on Johnny Blaze, recognizing his reaction as significant.
Johnny inhaled deeply, accessing ancestral memories imparted through his Hellfire bond. The Spirit of Vengeance within him stirred uncomfortably as he spoke.
"Listen carefully," he began, his voice unnaturally grave. "If we're truly dealing with Celestials, we face a threat beyond conventional comprehension."
"Their species possesses one defining characteristic," he continued. "They are born gods."
He paused, allowing the weight of his words to register before clarifying: "Not 'gods' in the sense of Asgardians like Thor—powerful aliens with extended lifespans and remarkable abilities."
His eyes briefly flickered with hellfire. "I mean true cosmic deities who embody and control fundamental aspects of reality. They exist on the same ontological tier as Mephisto and the archfiends of Hell's deepest circles."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Every Avenger recalled their encounter with Mephisto during the Dimensional Invasion Crisis—merely an avatar of the true demon, yet nearly sufficient to defeat them entirely. Only Lockhart's timely intervention had prevented catastrophe.
If that had been merely a projection of Mephisto's power, the true entity's might was terrifying to contemplate.
"Now I understand what Fury means by 'crisis,'" Johnny continued, his expression darkening as inherited memories revealed the Celestials' birth process and their glorious, terrible history.
"The Celestial host is numerically small," he explained. "But each Celestial's birth requires the sacrifice of an entire planet."
The room grew deathly quiet as he elaborated: "If a planet is an egg, then a Celestial is the cosmic phoenix that hatches from it. The moment of its birth is simultaneously the moment of the planet's complete destruction."
Silence engulfed the conference room. The implications were staggering.
After several moments, Tony broke the tension. JARVIS had found limited concrete data on Celestials in accessible databases, so he addressed Fury directly: "Cut to the chase, Nick. What's our current situation?"
Fury, accustomed to Stark's directness, responded without taking offense: "Johnny's assessment is accurate. We have confirmed intelligence that Earth was seeded by Celestials in primordial times."
"A divine embryo has been cultivating within our planet, preparing to be born using Earth's very essence as nourishment."
"Is the birth imminent?" Bruce Banner asked, his question oddly phrased but capturing everyone's urgent concern.
Fury shook his head, prompting collective sighs of relief throughout the room.
However, his next statement immediately rekindled their anxiety: "We have no definitive timeline for incubation completion."
His tone grew colder, more clinical. "However, the matter of the Celestial embryo has escalated. Without careful handling, we risk attracting the attention of the full Celestial host—against whom Earth would have no meaningful defense."
Tony recognized Fury's manipulative tactics—creating fear to justify extreme measures. "Cut the dramatic performance, Nick," he interrupted. "We understand the stakes and can form our own judgments."
"Indeed," Fury continued smoothly. "I was getting to the critical point. As some of you may know, Karma Taj and Asgard have severed diplomatic relations."
"The schism centers on how to address the Celestial embryo."
"Asgard proposes inducing complete dormancy in the embryo—essentially placing it in stasis to minimize potential negative consequences."
"Karma Taj, conversely, advocates for direct intervention—eliminating the embryo entirely to eradicate the threat at its source."
"These diametrically opposed approaches have created the current division."
The Avengers began discussing among themselves, with several voices favoring Karma Taj's more permanent solution.
"Root cause elimination makes sense," Clint observed.
"Solve it once and forever," Natasha agreed. "No lingering threat to Earth."
Johnny Blaze remained conspicuously silent, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation, considering possibilities beyond the immediate solution. Tony likewise refrained from immediate comment, his brilliant mind racing through potential scenarios and consequences.
Then Fury's quiet voice cut through their deliberations: "We must consider the broader Celestial collective."
His words landed with terrible weight: "If they discovered Earth had destroyed a Celestial embryo... what might follow?"
The question hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
In the silence that followed, a subtle shimmer appeared at the far end of the conference room—barely noticeable at first, then impossible to ignore. The air rippled as if reality itself were being gently parted.
A perfect circle of golden sparks erupted from nothingness, expanding into a portal that revealed a sophisticated chamber beyond. Standing in the doorway was a tall figure in elaborate emerald robes embroidered with runic symbols that seemed to shift and move of their own accord.
Gilderoy Lockhart stepped through the portal, his once-vapid celebrity smile replaced by the stern countenance of a man who had seen beyond the veil of ordinary reality. At his throat glowed the Eye of Agamotto—a powerful magical artifact that housed the Time Stone, one of the six Infinity Stones that had shaped creation itself.
"I believe I'm qualified to answer that question, Director Fury," Lockhart announced, his British accent crisp and authoritative.
Thor rose immediately, hand instinctively reaching for Mjölnir. "Sorcerer Supreme," he acknowledged tensely.
Lockhart raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I prefer 'Supreme Sorcerer.' Never been one for American word order." Despite the light quip, his expression remained grave.
Nick Fury's hand had moved subtly toward his sidearm—a futile gesture against someone of Lockhart's capabilities, but instinctive nonetheless.
"I would have appreciated an invitation to this discussion," Lockhart continued, conjuring a chair with a casual gesture. "Particularly when it concerns matters in which I hold considerable expertise."
"The Celestials," he continued, sitting down gracefully, "do not forgive. They do not negotiate. And they certainly do not show mercy."
His gaze swept around the table, making eye contact with each Avenger in turn. "If we destroy their embryo, they will come for us. Not immediately, perhaps, but inevitably. And when they arrive?"
Lockhart waved his hand, and a miniature holographic representation of Earth appeared above the table. With another gesture, the image shattered into cosmic dust.
"But there are worse fates than destruction," he added softly. "For wizardkind and muggle alike."
Tony leaned forward. "So you're saying Asgard is right? We should just... put it to sleep and hope it never wakes up?"
Lockhart's eyes, which had seen the death of universes through the Time Stone, fixed on Tony. "I'm saying, Mr. Stark, that there is a third option. One that neither Asgard nor your organization has considered."
He opened his hand, revealing a small crystalline object that emitted a soft, pulsating glow. "The Philosopher's Stone was never merely about immortality or transmuting lead to gold. Nicolas Flamel was more clever than history gives him credit for."
"What exactly are you proposing?" Fury demanded.
"Transformation," Lockhart replied simply. "Not destruction, not dormancy—but rebirth. We change what the Celestial embryo becomes."
For the first time since Lockhart's dramatic entrance, Thor spoke. "Such magic would be unprecedented. Beyond even Asgardian understanding."
"Indeed," Lockhart acknowledged with a slight smile. "That's precisely why Odin fears it. And why we must proceed regardless."
The Avengers exchanged glances, caught between cosmic powers they barely comprehended and facing a choice that would determine Earth's fate—and perhaps the fate of multiple realities.
Lockhart's voice softened, almost nostalgic. "You know, in my previous life—before I understood what power truly meant—I once claimed to have defeated many dark creatures. Those were lies, of course."
His expression hardened with resolve. "But this? This I can do. This I must do."
Outside, thunder rolled across London's sky as if in response to the collision of wills taking place within the helicarrier. The clouds darkened further, magical energy and alien technology creating patterns in the atmosphere that hadn't been seen since Merlin walked the Earth.
The battle for Earth's future—and perhaps its very existence—had begun.