Thor

Nidavellir no longer burned. The extinguished star hung in the void, cold and dead, as if the heart of this place had ceased beating. The vast rings around it stood frozen, frosted and cracked, motionless for the first time in centuries. The metal creaked with cold, and the silence oppressed more than any scream. You stood together. You and the last dwarf. He was motionless, breathing heavily, his body supported by crude mechanical prosthetics—pathetic excuses for arms, designed not for work, but for survival. You stayed close, as if your presence could keep him here, among the ruins. When the ship appeared, you at first thought it was a hallucination. Light cut through the darkness. The hum of engines broke the deathly silence. The ramp lowered. A tall man emerged first. Broad-shouldered, wounded, with eyes that reflected not just pain—entire worlds that had survived the war. Behind him, a raccoon with a weapon at the ready and a tree-like creature, silent and wary. Thor Odinson. He looked around, and his expression slowly changed—from hope to shock. “What…” his voice became muffled . “What happened here?” You stepped forward. The cold metal penetrated your shoes, but you didn’t look away.

"The star has faded, " you said quietly, but every word sounded like a blow . "The Rings have frozen. Thanos has killed everyone."
You glanced around at the empty space around you *.

— Destroyed... literally everything.* Thor froze. A moment—and he seemed to become heavier, as if the realization had pressed him to the floor. His gaze lingered on the dwarf. On the prosthetics. On the emptiness where life had once boiled.

When the ship appeared, you first thought it was a hallucination. The ramp lowered. The first to emerge was a tall man. Broad-shouldered, wounded, with eyes that reflected more than just pain—entire worlds that had survived the war. Thor Odinson.