"Your existence has warped the Sacred Timeline," the woman in black said evenly. "Countless impossible branches have appeared. At first, we thought you were another time criminal. We were preparing to dispatch a team to hunt you down when suddenly… instructions came from the highest level."
Lock narrowed his eyes. "Highest level? You mean the Time-Keepers?"
The woman's lips quirked faintly. "You truly do know. No—there is only one. A single being. Those three so-called Keepers were nothing but mechanical puppets."
Lock's expression hardened. In the timeline he knew, Loki had uncovered that truth—only after storming the TVA itself. Even the agents had been deceived for eons.
The woman drew a breath. "The Guardian feared you would misunderstand. So he revealed himself to me, just to tell you his name."
Her eyes flickered gold. "Kang."
Lock's thoughts turned dark. Kang the Conqueror. To hold the multiverse in chains for millennia, to dictate fate itself—such a being could not be simple. Even Odin, a god-king whose shadow spanned realms, was bound by the Sacred Timeline. Compared to Kang, Odin was an ant treading a leash.
The agent's voice sharpened. "The Guardian has made an exception. From this moment, anything tied to you will not be considered a violation of TVA law."
Lock's heart leapt. For so long, he had held back—half out of fear of losing his prophetic edge, half out of dread of the unknown powers beyond time. At last, he had permission to breathe free.
He forced calm into his tone. "Then thank Kang for me."
But the woman did not smile. "That isn't the true message."
Her eyes widened. Golden beams erupted from her pupils, and when she spoke again, it was in a deep, resonant man's voice.
"Lock. Forgive me that I can only appear this way. Because of you, the Sacred Timeline has loosened. And those imprisoned within it—ancient, terrible beings—are stirring. They scent the river of time. They search for the source. If they find you, they will come in numbers beyond imagination."
The golden voice rolled like thunder.
"You are not yet strong. If they reach you, you will fall. Your soul-mark will be stolen, and with it, all hope of stability. The Sacred Timeline would shatter into chaos, birthing an era of devastation."
Lock clenched his fists. "What do you want me to do?"
"Grow. Fast. You must seize strength for yourself. We cannot aid you—our Bureau is already a target. If we touch you too often, they will trace us to you. And understand this, Lock: alive, you are hope. Dead, you are a prize. If you fall, even your corpse would serve those who would unmake everything."
The light died in her eyes. Her ordinary voice returned. "That is all, sir. Goodbye."
She turned, stepped into the glowing cube, and vanished.
The instant the cube winked out, a pillar of divine light struck the square. Odin and Frigga appeared at his side.
"Prince Lock," Odin rumbled. "What transpired just now? For three seconds, your presence slipped beyond my senses."
Three seconds to Odin. Ten minutes to Lock. The TVA's craft with time was as dangerous as it was subtle.
Lock met Frigga's gaze. "The unpredictable power you warned of—it has already shown itself."
Her face paled. "Then Asgard's fate truly cannot be changed?"
"No." Lock shook his head. "I was told otherwise. I was given leave to change it—but with one condition. You must not look into the river of time again. If you do, your memory could betray me to those searching."
Frigga's lips parted in awe. Odin's stern face cracked into something rare: joy. Even the old king could not restrain his grin.
"This title of yours was not given in vain," he said. "To be allowed to alter Asgard's destiny—that alone is priceless."
"It is enough," Frigga whispered. "As long as Asgard becomes even a little better, I will be content. I will not pry again."
Odin turned back to Lock, eyes glittering. "Thor tells me you seek to shatter your limits. I have thought of a way. Dangerous, perhaps. But it may grant you what you desire."
Lock's gaze sharpened. "What way?"
"Come with me."
At Odin's summons, Thor and Sif joined them. Together, five figures descended into the vaults beneath the palace—the treasure house of Asgard.
The chamber was vast, its vaulted ceilings lost in shadow. Ancient relics gleamed in dim light, each steeped in power and history. Even Sif, battle-hardened, stared wide-eyed as though a child at a festival.
They passed first a colossal gauntlet of gold: the Infinity Gauntlet.
Lock slowed, frowning. Fake? Or not?
Thor puffed out his chest. "Of course it's real! Nothing fake sits in Asgard's vault."
Odin's face was unreadable. "It is real."
Lock smirked faintly. "Strange. I heard otherwise."
Thor's fists clenched. "Tell me the fool who said so—I'll smash his teeth in!"
"Silence," Frigga chided.
Odin's voice softened, conspiratorial. "I lied to Hela. If she believed it genuine, she would scour the cosmos for the Stones and plunge us into ruin. So I bound it, locked its power. To all but me, it is no more than a trinket."
Lock's brow lifted. Cunning old wolf. No wonder even Hela failed to break free while he lived.
They moved on. The Casket of Ancient Winters sat cold and gleaming, but Lock paid it little heed. Relics upon relics blurred past until Odin halted before a basin of living fire.
Flames danced without fuel, eternal, golden-red, and alive.
Odin's voice grew solemn. "Prince Lock. This… is the Eternal Flame. And it is the key to breaking your shackles."
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