The branches of Yggdrasil glow like veins of light across the void. The stars shimmer, each representing a newly discovered realm. The golden lights flicker to red where Odin's envoys have vanished - silent, unanswered.
Valaskjalf - Odin's High Hall
Inside, light from thousands of floating glyphs washes over marble and gold. Ravens wheel above. Beneath the throne, a vast mirror of water reflects the stars. The Allfather stands before it - his single eye shining faintly with the reflection of other worlds.
Frigga is beside him, silent but tense.
Frigga: "You sent greetings, and they returned as ash."
Odin: "Aye. Their gods did not answer. Their kings spat upon the Bifrost's light."
Odin raises Gungnir, and with it, the mirror ripples. Visions of alien skies appear - worlds teeming with strange divine orders. Floating cities made of jade, burning temples of black flame, oceans that speak in thunder.
Odin: "Some realms know only hunger. Others - pride. And some -" he looks upward, to the world's tree "dare call themselves Heaven."
Thor walks up the hall, armor glinting with starlight. Behind him, Sif, Hróðmar and Eirik. Their boots echo on the marble.
Thor: "You summoned us, Father?"
Odin: "Aye. The time for greetings has passed."
The mirror shifts, showing the landscapes, distant, unknown.
Odin: "You will go, my son. Not for war… not yet. Go, and see what stirs in these lands. Take Sif, your warriors - and Heimdall shall open the way. Learn if their world hides fear, or power."
He lowers Gungnir, and the mirror's image splits into seven glowing threads - dimensional paths, each leading to a new world. One burns brighter than the rest.
Odin "But remember - these realms are not as Midgard. Their gods are old and their laws strange. Step lightly, my son… or risk shaking the roots of Yggdrasil itself."
The mirror's glow flares, becoming the swirling rainbow storm of the Bifrost. Thor's team as they walk into the light, their figures stretching into silhouettes before vanishing into a cosmic tunnel.