Chapter 22 : THE WORTHY MOMENT
The palace gates loomed ahead, but Loki feet carried him back toward the Bifrost.
He couldn't leave. Not now. Not when Thor faced death and the outcome would determine everything that came after. The walk back to Heimdall's observatory felt shorter than it should have—urgency compressing distance, fear warping time.
"You returned." Heimdall's voice carried no surprise.
"I need to see."
"I suspected as much." The Gatekeeper gestured toward the viewing apparatus. "Watch, then. And hope."
The image materialized in the air between them—Midgard rendered in shimmering light, a small town burning under the Destroyer's assault. Smoke rose from collapsed buildings. Cars lay overturned like discarded toys. And in the midst of the chaos, four Asgardian warriors fought a battle they couldn't win.
Sif moved with desperate grace, her blade striking the automaton's hide again and again without leaving a mark. Volstagg charged with the fearlessness of a man who'd accepted his death. Fandral and Hogun flanked, looking for weaknesses that didn't exist.
The Destroyer swatted them aside like insects.
"They're going to die." Loki voice came out hollow. "All of them."
"Perhaps." Heimdall's golden eyes remained fixed on the scene. "Or perhaps something else will happen."
Thor stepped into view.
He walked through the evacuation lines, past the mortal authorities who tried to stop him, past the fallen warriors who called for him to flee. He walked toward the Destroyer with nothing but his mortal body and a purpose that burned brighter than any weapon.
What is he doing?
He's going to sacrifice himself.
The Destroyer paused. Its faceplate—that terrible visor of fire and darkness—turned to track Thor's approach. The automaton recognized its target. All other concerns became secondary.
Thor stopped twenty feet from the machine that would kill him.
"Brother."
The word cut through Loki like a blade. Thor was speaking to him—or to the Loki he believed had sent this weapon. Speaking to an enemy who wasn't there.
"Whatever I have done to wrong you, I am sorry." Thor's voice carried across the burning town, captured by Heimdall's sight. "But these people are innocent. Taking their lives will gain you nothing."
I didn't send it. I didn't—
But he doesn't know that.
"So take mine." Thor spread his arms, offering himself. "Take my life, and end this."
The Destroyer's faceplate opened fully. Fire gathered in the darkness within—energy sufficient to vaporize armies, concentrated into a single devastating strike.
Thor didn't move.
The blast came.
Loki watched his brother take the impact square in the chest. Watched him fly backward, broken and burning. Watched him land in the dirt like something that had never been alive.
"No."
The word escaped before he could stop it. His hand gripped the viewing apparatus so tightly his knuckles went white. Every instinct screamed at him to act—to do something, anything, to change what was happening.
He can't die. The timeline needs him. Frigga needs him. I need—
I need my brother.
Jane Foster ran toward the body. Mortals gathered around the fallen god. The Destroyer turned away, its mission apparently complete.
And then: a sound.
Loki heard it through Heimdall's magic—a whistling that cut through the smoke and chaos, growing louder by the second. Something bright streaked across the New Mexico sky, moving faster than any mortal technology could track.
Mjolnir.
The hammer tore itself free from the earth where it had rested for days. It flew—not fell, not drifted, flew with purpose and power—toward the broken figure in the dirt.
Thor's hand rose. Reflexive. Reaching for something that had defined him for centuries.
The hammer found his grip.
Lightning erupted.
The explosion of power blinded the viewing apparatus for a moment. When the image cleared, Thor stood in the crater where he'd fallen—no longer mortal, no longer broken. Armor blazed around him like he'd been forged from the storm itself. His eyes crackled with electricity that had nothing to do with the weather.
The God of Thunder had returned.
"Worthiness achieved," Heimdall said quietly. "The All-Father's enchantment is satisfied."
Thor raised Mjolnir toward the Destroyer. Lightning gathered around the hammer's head—power that dwarfed anything the automaton could produce.
The strike was almost anticlimactic. One moment, the Destroyer stood as an unstoppable force of destruction. The next, it was scrap metal scattered across a ruined street.
He did it.
He actually did it.
Loki released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His legs felt unsteady—the accumulated stress of the past hour finally catching up with his body. He gripped the viewing apparatus for support while his heart remembered how to beat normally.
"You were afraid for him." Heimdall's observation carried no judgment.
"He's my brother."
"The old Loki would have hoped for his death."
"I'm not the old Loki." The words came out more sharply than intended. "How many times do I have to prove that?"
"Perhaps forever." Heimdall's golden eyes finally left the viewing apparatus to meet his own. "The universe has a long memory. You have been the God of Mischief for centuries. A week of different behavior does not erase that history."
"Then I'll spend centuries being different."
"Will you?"
The question hung in the air. Loki didn't have an answer—not one that would satisfy an immortal who'd watched empires rise and fall. All he had was intention, and intention meant nothing without action to back it up.
In the projection, Thor was saying goodbye to Jane Foster. The mortal scientist looked at the god with an expression that mixed wonder with loss. She knew he was leaving. She knew their worlds were too different for the connection they'd built to survive unchanged.
She'll see him again. The timeline ensures it.
But she doesn't know that. And he doesn't either.
Thor pressed something into Jane's hand—a promise, perhaps, or a memory. Then he stepped back, raised Mjolnir toward the sky, and let the Bifrost take him.
"He's coming," Heimdall said unnecessarily.
"I know."
"He believes you sent the Destroyer."
"I know."
"What will you do?"
Loki straightened his posture. Smoothed his robes. Composed his expression into something that resembled calm confidence, even if his heart hammered against his ribs.
"I'll tell him the truth. And I'll hope he's learned enough humility to listen before passing judgment."
The Bifrost's light intensified. Rainbow energy swirled into a column of power, tearing through the dimensions to carry Asgard's crown prince home.
Loki stood his ground and waited for his brother.
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