Feeling lighter, Sylvie began to hum. She didn't know the proper melody, but it felt right at the moment.
As she turned to walk, a faint gray fog rose behind her, silent, cold, and ephemeral.
Four tiny, glowing points appeared briefly on the back of her left hand, blinking once like stars in a void.
Sylvie didn't notice. Her focus had already shifted and her guard lowered.
The mist thinned and vanished, the strange sigil on her hand fading with it, as though it had never existed at all.
When Sylvie turned back, everything in the room was exactly where it had been.
Unaware of what she had already been marked she began gathering the ritual offerings placed in the corners of the room.
Asgardian magic was ancient and refined. But even it had its rules and taboos. Leaving food in ritualistic patterns would raise suspicion, especially if discovered by other sorcerers or Heimdall's gaze.
Sylvie swept up some delicaies, munching on some of the honeyed fruit and grilled meats. She won't waste any of this. After all, this bounty was probably gathered from across the Nine Realms. It would be a crime to throw it away.
Satisfied, both stomach and mind soothed, she restored the table to its original arrangement.
Then, by pressing the rune, she dispelled the magical curtain that is supposed to hide her room from scrying eyes. But she did not know a crow, no a raven had seen almost everthing.
'The Sefirah Castle wasn't real, not here, not in this world.'
The pressure she had felt was gone.
Now she could finally focus.
"Magic," she whispered to herself with a determined smile, looking out at the golden spires of Asgard.
Not the parlor tricks and illusions of Loki in the TVA's hallways. No, true magic, the kind that bent the fabric of the world, shaped fate, whispered to the stars.
She would learn it all. She had to.
One day, she would become a sorceress strong enough to rewrite the rules.
Pulling open the door, she offered the waiting maids a grin. "Could you help me with the food? There's a bit too much for just one person."
Having confirmed she bore no connection to a Serfirot, Sylvie felt a great weight lift from her chest.
After sharing food with the maids, she politely excused them from her chambers. The moment the door shut, she let her facade drop.
Ever since transmigrating, Sylvie had been under immense pressure. She had arrived in this world just moments before meeting Queen Frigga, without inheriting a single memory from her predecessor. No context, no instincts, nothing to guide her.
For all she knew, one wrong move would label her a soul-eating demon.
She had to play her role carefully, minding every word she spoke to Frigga. After all, she didn't even know how the original "Sylvie" used to act.
That night, after attempting the ritual (and watching it fail miserably), all the exhaustion she'd bottled up came crashing down like a tidal wave. She collapsed into her bed, falling asleep like a log.
.....
The Next Day
A full night's sleep did wonders. Sylvie woke feeling refreshed for the first time in days. But what greeted her made her heart leap to her throat.
Queen Frigga was sitting quietly by her bedside.
Sylvie jolted upright, blinking rapidly. "M-Mother… What… are you doing here… at this time?" she stammered.
Sunlight filtered softly through her windows.
'It's already morning… But since when has she been sitting there?'
Frigga's calm smile gave nothing away. "Nothing. I just came to look at my daughter," she said gently.
Sylvie froze. Her face remained neutral, but her inner thoughts were spiraling.
'Do normal parents stare at their kids while they sleep? Seriously?'
Then Frigga added, "Child, we need to have your check-up at the medical bay."
That set off alarm bells.
'Why now? Why not yesterday? Is my cover blown?'
Still, Sylvie didn't resist. Holding onto a thin thread of hope that this was all routine, she obediently followed Frigga.
As they walked through Asgard's gleaming bridges and golden hallways, Sylvie couldn't help but be awed.
If she hadn't been so focused on keeping a poker face to hide her fear, she might have openly gawked like a village bumpkin seeing the city for the first time.
Asgard, as it had been shown in the movies, was merely a shadow of what Sylvie now saw with her own eyes.
It wasn't just a floating landmass in the void of space, it was a realm steeped in dignity and ancient power. The sun blazed brilliantly in a cerulean sky, casting golden rays over snow-capped mountains that rose like timeless sentinels in the distance. The Rainbow Bridge arched magnificently across the horizon, a gleaming pathway of energy visible even from the palace courtyard.
This… this was the seat of the one who ruled the Nine Realms.
Sylvie was beginning to understand what it truly meant to be the ruler of the Nine Realms.
Now and then, exotic birds flew near her, chirping curiously as if to tease. Sylvie swatted at them lightly, not wanting to test whether these otherworldly creatures shared the unfortunate pigeon-like habit of defiling heads with their droppings.
Had she really believed those movies had shown her the truth? Now she felt like a fool, an audience member tricked by directors and producers who themselves could never have imagined such splendor. The richness and divine artistry of Asgard couldn't be captured by any CGI effect.
She, too, had once been a mortal. But this was not a place for mortals.
....
It wasn't long before they reached the Medical Bay.
While Sylvie had been lost in her thoughts, Frigga had silently led her across bridges and causeways, through marble halls and floating lifts. Eventually, they stopped in front of a dome-shaped building that stood apart from its surroundings.
A rune glowed softly above the entrance.
Sylvie didn't know the runic language of Asgard, but somehow, she understood the words written: Healing.