Thor looked at her, something burning in his blue eyes.
It was not anger, but grief.
The kind of grief that left nothing but emptiness and ashes after losing an important part of one's life.
"Last night, the night sky over Asgard split open.
It wasn't the light of the Bifrost, nor was it any known method of teleportation. It was a black fissure, like a scar.
A man walked out of that fissure. He called himself the God Butcher—Gorr."
When he spoke that name, several blue arcs of electricity danced across Stormbreaker's blade.
It was not because Thor was summoning lightning, but because Stormbreaker itself had reacted to that name.
An instinctive, biological fear.
"Heimdall spotted him immediately." Thor's voice began to tremble.
"Heimdall raised his greatsword and stood at the entrance to the Bifrost, guarding it as he had guarded Asgard for thousands of years.
He said to that thing, 'You do not belong here. Leave.'"
Thor closed his eyes.
"Gorr did not answer. He simply walked toward Heimdall, one step at a time.
His pace was slow and steady, as though he were walking through his own garden.
The black longsword in his hand—the one he called the Necrosword—gleamed dimly beneath the starlight.
Heimdall swung his sword. Its edge struck Gorr.
But Gorr vanished, then appeared behind Heimdall.
The Necrosword pierced into Heimdall's back and burst through his chest."
Thor's voice broke.
"Heimdall fell."
The study fell silent once more.
This silence was deeper and heavier than before, like a massive boulder pressing down on everyone's chest.
Hela's green eyes narrowed slightly, and her finger lightly tapped the windowsill.
It was not an expression of unease. It was how she concealed some disturbance deep within her heart.
She did not like Heimdall. She never had.
That big