WARNING: Graphic descriptions of various wounds suffered in battle. Please be safe.

I think of inheritance, how this rug

was passed on to me through blood,

how this animal gave its blood

so that I may receive the gift of its death

and be grateful for it

Red Wine Spills; L. Ash Williams

TIME: INDETERMINABLE

Sessrúmnir

Isabelle claws her way out of the fog.

Scattered memories slot into place. Her body is sore with remembered pain. Her senses are heightened - all but one; Terrigenesis remains out of range.

Psychedelic colors strobe through a slit between balcony drapes, illuminating a small room. Sounds of despair and the stench of disinfectant emerge from beyond a wooden door. Some sort of an infirmary, then.

Private ward: special treatment procured with guilt.

Her tibia throbs. She probes the patch of skin tentatively. It feels subtly different, but stable enough to walk on. As she rises, her sternum twinges with the echo of formerly broken ribs. It's a miracle she'd stayed conscious as long as she did after a unibeam to the chest.

She hobbles to the balcony and throws open the curtains.

Beyond the curved handrail sprawls the unnamed city of gold. Smoky trails of aurora curve around tall spires. In the distance flickers the dome-shaped forcefield. Asgardian warriors patrol the streets lined with rubble and Chitauri corpses.

The once-orange sky is almost smothered by an ominous kaleidoscope of colors. A large shape emerges from the Dark Dimension - a lifeless hunk of rock, being consumed by creeping vines of extradimensional energy.

The Soul World has no moons. So this must be another nameless planet - a malevolent promise to the Asgardians that their final resting place will not be the orange realm, but an eternity of torment. Psychological warfare against the dead, she thinks grimly.

"Infirmary mandate: if you can walk, you don't belong." Commander Shepard's at the doorway. She lays out a set of Asgardian armor on the bed. "Get dressed. We need you in the war room."

The uniform fits as though it's custom-built. Black leather, with gold chest plating, vambraces, and greaves. The grey-white cloak with hood reminds her of her own S.H.I.E.L.D. ensemble. Impatience battles with hesitation as she steps out the infirmary and follows Shepard to a large atrium, several stories high.

The centerpiece is a gnarled, twisted tree, caged behind curved glass walls. Hanging vines from the green canopy veil the way fire licks down its branches. As though it's been set alight by the orange light beams streaming from the skylight.

"It's an hourglass," Shepard explains.

"When the tree turns to ash, the anchor will become permanent, and Soul World will fall."

War Room

A storm is brewing beyond the doorway.

A circular war table dominates the room. Arched windows look beyond the city, offering a crystalline view of the Bridge. Tony is arguing with a bushy-haired, heavily armored Asgardian.

Isabelle doesn't announce herself; just leans against the door jamb and silently watches the chaos unfold. After a moment, Shepard follows suit.

"... are grateful for your assistance, but never assume we depend on it," the Asgardian is saying. "We haven't forgotten your sins in this war, Stark. You did not end the threat of Thanos to your world; you exiled him to ours!"

"And I've been paying for it ever since!"

"As will Daisy Johnson for her own. Imprisonment is far too light a punishment for the unthinkable destruction she wrought upon the Water of Sights."

Tony takes a step forward. He's a foot shorter than the Asgardian. "Those crones have Their fingers in every pie, Tyr."

Tyr's eyebrows twitch. "Are you implying that the Norns were involved in a scheme that denied Them further pilgrims?"

"We both know that, with the exception of the Asgardians, nobody comes here unless the Norns want them to."

There's a light behind Tony's eyes that only ever switches on when he knows he's got the upper hand. The tiny detail had slipped past the cage Isabelle had built around her memories of him. She catches herself taking in the rest of her features, and hardens her heart.

Her brother's actions had guaranteed that their reunion would not be as happy as they'd both wished. "Don't know about Johnson, but I'm not here on a pilgrimage."

They turn as one, startled.

"Yet even more of you." Tyr scowls. "The king tolerates your presence because we are allied in one goal - to break the anchor. If that changes, you'll find yourself in an adjacent cell to your kind, Inhuman."

Isabelle gives him a tight smile, kicks the door shut as he stomps out. "If you'd displayed half as much loyalty to your family as you do others, Morgan wouldn't be in here."

Tony's jaw sets, then he stalks over to an adjoining room and glares. "She wanted to feel useful."

The room is small; a fusion of a library and study. Open books are scattered on the floor. Her gaze is drawn to the space below the desk.

Legs outstretched, tongue sticking out, Morgan is utterly engrossed in assembling tiny wooden models of skiffs, steeds and other units of war. It takes her a moment to realize that the room has gone silent.

Morgan blinks at her with sleepy eyes that slowly morph into contrition.

Overwhelming relief pulls Isabelle to her knees.

Morgan takes a step forward, then another until she's at arm's length. "I know what you're going to say." Her words are rushed.

Isabelle brushes back tousled hair with trembling fingers. "Oh, you're a psychic now, are you?"

"I'll spare you the hard work - 'Morgan H. Stark, you're grounded for life.'"

She laughs wetly, tugging her into a crushing embrace. Morgan is warm, whole, and alive. "Definitely psychic." Pulling away, she peppers her face with kisses. "What about my rules made them seem abstract to you?"

"Sometimes you have to run before you can walk, Auntie M," she mumbles.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees sincere, sorrowful regret flashing across Tony's features. She leans against her niece's forehead. "You flew the coop, baby bird," she says, locking their eyes together so Morgan knows she's very, very serious. "You terrified me, you terrified Peter, you terrified your mom. In no dimension is that okay."

Soul-orange flickers beneath brown eyes that suddenly well up with genuine tears. "I didn't want to choose. But it was my birthday."

Isabelle shuts her eyes, a thought crystallizing in her mind. Yes. Choice. That's what it all came down to.

Morgan was faced with a choice no child in an ordinary universe would ever be given - the choice between a dead parent, and a live one. In a universe where the Soul World had never reached out to her, she never would've had to make it.

It was her birthday.

And she missed her dad.

Morgan is ushered back into the study. Isabelle refocuses on the war map.

Most of Soul World is untamed nature; snow-capped mountains and clumps of forests. The royal city is the only sign of civilization, nestled almost at the edge of the asteroid.

A network of rivers forms a triquetra interlaced with a circle, with the palace sitting neatly at an intersection. A golden, shimmering line emerges from the palace, bisects the main petal to terminate at a lone, hemispherical structure at the edge of the city, beyond the shielding.

"What do we have?"

"Thanos and his armies have been here since my Snap," Tony says, " - and for the most part, they've stuck to the mountains, unable to gain access to the city."

"When the anchor was formed, the dimensional barrier weakened, and the Dark Dimension poured in." He gestures to the ocean of planets swelling out from the edges of the asteroid. "Thanos took advantage and laid siege. Ever since, they've been attempting to break through the force fields."

"Our only advantage is that, without the Infinity Stones, he doesn't stand a chance against Odin."

"Who is... where, exactly?"

"Securing the city and marshaling Asgardian forces for our final assault against Thanos," Shepard replies. "Our orders are to find a way to break the anchor and send you all home."

"What about the 'window' Morgan was knocking on all this time?"

"Nexus portals. In direct contact with Yggdrasil, the cosmic grid that connects all dimensions together. Unfortunately, it's a one-way trip."

Isabelle stares at Tony. Something nags at her. An unanswered question satisfied with the current context. "How did you get to Svartálfheim?"

There's silence. Tony smiles slowly. "What cinched it for you?"

"You weren't exactly subtle." His superior knowledge of events had firmly demolished the illusion of a hallucination.

He nods, trails a finger down the gold line bisecting the triquetra. "The Gjöll Bridge. It conducts dimensional energy similar to the Bifrost in Asgard."

Shepard gestures to the domed structure. "When Thanos' forces arrived, the Observatory was the first to be attacked. It's been closed and unresponsive since. Only good news is that even Thanos can't use it."

"I was planning on sealing Morgan in the suit," Tony says. "Fly her across the Bridge with Asgardian soldiers to defend her. But it stands out like a sore thumb."

An idea stirs in Isabelle's mind. "Instead of the suit, we could use a skiff," she says. "I piloted one of those when I first arrived; I can use it to get her to the Observatory."

There's silence. Tony and Shepard share a long look. In the subdued, foggy atmosphere, their features look strangely similar. "Other skiffs could line up in formation," she says, " - or even form a cocoon..."

" - providing camouflage and protection," Tony continues. "I can take the suit, make a big show - Thanos is still pissed at me, while..."

" - Asgardian infantry and cavalry troops can engage the Chitauri." Shepard leans back with a satisfied look.

"This might actually work," Isabelle murmurs.

Tony sighs. "Now if we could only convince our resident gatecrasher to follow the evac protocols, we'd actually get somewhere."

Study

Morgan's indignant words echo through the study. "I'm not leaving!"

Isabelle's patience is frayed. "I'm not asking for permission. I'll drag you out of here kicking and screaming, Morgan; don't test me."

Morgan levels a look full of disdain. "This isn't the ice rink, Auntie M. I'm not a kid here. Only way I'm leaving is if I want to."

Tony's pained grimace is the only confirmation Isabelle needs. He's leaning against the only bookcase, having long since given up on budging the immovable object that is his daughter.

Brown eyes and sheer stubbornness; two traits Morgan had inherited from Maria… who had met her match in a successful millionaire from New York.

Isabelle takes a deep breath. "Your dad's been keeping you away from the action, but you've to be blind not to realize what's happening." Her words are cool, deliberate; designed to arrest the attention of all those present. "But do you know what you've left behind at home?"

"Izzy…," Tony says warningly.

She ignores him. "Your current condition is sending up a flare in all the wrong places. Two barely-of-age superheroes are all that stands between your mom and those who might come calling - ruthless people who will tear through anyone and everyone to get to you."

"Damn you, Izzy," Tony shouts, pulling his white-faced daughter into his arms. "She's just a kid!"

"Weren't you listening? She's not… not here. And as such, she can damn well accept the consequences of her actions!"

"You shouldn't have ever come for me!" Morgan is trembling. "You could've protected them if you hadn't…!"

She breaks off, but it's too late; Isabelle can hear the words just fine. "It was either me or Peter." The surge of guilt tips her over the edge. "Or better yet, maybe your mom would've found a way. Takes a bit to get here without dreams. Maybe she'd have followed your footsteps, walked straight into the lake."

Morgan bursts into tears.

Tony shoves Isabelle hard enough to make her stumble. "We're not Howard," he snarls, eyes hard with anger.

"Sometimes I think he might've been right," she whispers, self-loathing curdling in her belly.

Without warning, Morgan wriggles away from Tony's grip and shoves through the door of the war room, sprinting for the one person members of her family seems to gravitate towards - Commander Shepard.

The soldier grabs her before she can fall on her rear, only to find her arms full of a grief-stricken, traumatized child. "I don't know what to do!" Morgan sobs.

"Oh, so we're consulting strangers now," Isabelle mutters.

"She's not a stranger; she's the smartest person in the dimension," Tony says, with a strange light in his eyes. "Watch."

Shepard has an incomprehensible look on her face. Her jaw works for a long moment, before she sighs and looks Morgan straight in the eye.

"I know what it's like to make a choice between two people," she says bluntly.

Morgan stills.

"Nobody's asking you to do that." Shepard's eyes go distant. "But there is a choice. A choice whether to bear pain... or inflict it on your loved ones."

The child struggles to answer, frowning as she fails to find flaws in the argument. Shepard, despite being an unknown quantity, has understood her niece in less time than it had taken Isabelle herself. When confronted with an impossible choice, Morgan falls back on logic, because facts will not fail her. "I should be the one to fix what I broke. But even if I leave with Auntie M, it'll still remain broken."

"Counter argument: if you leave, it'll be easier for your dad and I to clean up the mess. We can watch each other's backs if we're not too distracted watching yours."

Isabelle bites down on the snarl when she feels Tony's warning grip around her bicep. Despite his actions, her brother hasn't actually lost any brain cells in the afterlife, which is what makes this all the more worse.

Morgan, however, seems ecstatic. She scrubs at her dried tear tracks. "You'll do that?"

"You know I will."

Isabelle watches Shepard coax her niece into an acceptable compromise. "Tony, a minute?" Without waiting for a response, she drags him behind a bookshelf, where she knows she won't be overheard, but can still keep an eye on her obstinate niece.

"You have a minute to enlighten me with some fucking context before I punch Shepard in the face for implying what she did."

He exhales noisily. "Morgan and Shepard tumbled into the Soul World together. In the same instant, right in the heart of Chitauri territory."

Her heart skips a beat.

"The entire dimension went to shit. I flew, but without Shep...," he swallows, " - I wouldn't have gotten there in time. Rescued 'em, but lost the suit in the process. Fair bargain, I figured, until the Chitauri managed to hack through the in-built defenses."

The implications slam into her. Thanos, in possession of an arc reactor. The derivative of an Infinity Stone. "It wasn't her fault. She's just a kid."

"Nobody's blaming her. But I can't think when Morgan's in danger. I made mistakes which almost cost us the war. Shepard was the one keeping her safe back then... compensating for me. It's also why she insisted on getting the suit back."

"And so you felt obliged to return the favor?" It slips out of her without thinking. She prefers to let people stew, but her brother's always had the uncanny ability to yank out her grudges. Another thing she'd forgotten.

"There it is," he nods, a humorless, hard smile on his face. "Go ahead. Let me have it. You know you want to. But let's get this straight - you'd have done the same."

"Choose a complete stranger over my own blood? Tony, even when I was betraying you, I put you first!"

"You were falling into the sea! Shepard's human, but you - !"

" - don't have my powers here! I'm just as human; a worse one because I'm out of practice!"

He rears, genuinely shocked. His eyes flicker across her face, desperate for a sign of a lie. "... I swear to you, I didn't know."

"Would it have made a difference?"

He turns away, crushing her heart in the process.

She puts some distance between them, suddenly abhorred by his proximity. Her skeleton of a life these past few years flashes through her mind; each experience hollowed out with loss. In this moment, with her deepest wish so brutally warped, the verdict of all that grief is what a waste.

She turns to leave, uninterested in further excuses.

But - "There will come a time when you'll thank me."

"I guess that's the day I won't recognize myself," she shoots back. "But okay. I'll bite. Why?"

Tony's eyes gleam sharply. "Because she will be to you what Peter was to me. Legacy."

"When the world's crashing around your ears, Shepard will be the only one you'll reach for. Whatever it takes."

TIME: INDETERMINABLE

Dungeons

Daisy had forgotten the exquisite sensation of loneliness until it slams down on her again.

She suffocates on its bitterness. Her hackles have been up for hours now, in this dreadful realm that has turned everything upside-down. Even the elements that were familiar have turned hostile.

The only silver lining, she thinks, convulsing against the polished floor, is that she can't hurt anyone from within a cage.

She's surrounded on three sides by transparent forcefields, their edges glowing gold. There's no furnishing. Beyond the shielding, braziers throw long shadows against the dim stone corridor. Similar cages line up in a row against the other wall - all empty.

Her vision swims in and out of focus, feedback-looping to her headache. Several moments later, she's stable enough to confirm her initial impression.

There's someone in the shadows. "Here to make sure I don't escape?" Daisy asks.

"Here wondering why you haven't yet," Tony Stark corrects, stepping into the light. The fires illuminate him only partially. "You could resonate with the forcefield, easily phase out of there."

"In here, I'm an impotent weapon. Out there, I'm a destructive pawn. What would you choose?"

"Neither," is the swift, sure reply. "I'd find a compromise."

Daisy laughs humorlessly. "No such thing in my case. I have it on good authority that in another timeline, I Quaked the world apart."

The following silence seems more thoughtful than judgmental. "Why would you want to?"

"I wouldn't."

"Exactly. And you don't seem like someone who would follow orders blindly, especially if they involve such a devastating toll. What does that tell you?"

The answer is obvious. She's no stranger to mental manipulation, after all - HYDRA, Hive, the Norns. "That I had no choice. Someone... or something, was channeling me. Controlling me."

She sighs. "Doesn't change anything. They were my hands."

Stark hums. "Our first encounter with the Maximoffs, Wanda showed me a vision. Chitauri, streaming through a portal to Earth. All the Avengers dead, except for me. Because I didn't do more."

Daisy rises, walks over to the forcefield. The energy hums, inches from her skin. "Your worst fears, manifested."

"That's what I thought. Then she did it to Thor. Showed him Ragnarok, the destruction of Asgard. The Infinity Stones. Not Wanda's usual bag of tricks, mind you."

"Partially accurate, prophetic visions; with no larger context," she says slowly. "Warning us... of an apocalyptic threat. But tricking us into thinking that it was our fault. You think the Norns were speaking through her."

Something that feels suspiciously like hope stirs in her chest. "What would be your compromise, Mr. Stark?"

"I'd recognize that the convulsions are a road map. Follow the instructions, and you won't bring the palace down around you."

After a moment, she closes her eyes. Her senses tunnel, until all she can make out is the hum of the forcefield. She clings to it like a lifeline as every cell in her body starts to quake. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she shoves.

The field crackles, singeing every exposed portion of her skin, setting her alight. She barely has time to wonder if she's burning alive before she's tumbling to the floor.

Outside the cell.

Trembling, she pushes herself to her feet. Alien laughter rings in her mind, cold and layered, and she instinctively braces herself for another bout of seizures.

It never comes. "The Asgardians aren't gonna be happy."

Stark shrugs. "They might not admit it, but we need your skills to win this fight." He smirks. "Help me with a little project, and you might earn your way to some answers from the only expert on visions and time travel."

Daisy straightens. Coulson had given her the confidential files on the Time Heist. She'd maintained a healthy dose of skepticism after going through them. But now she wonders whether that hadn't been a defense mechanism instead. "I wouldn't put a lot of faith in my Quakes right now."

He smiles grimly. "Not those skills."

Training Ring

Redundancy mixes bitterly with pre-battle anticipation.

Isabelle, on the verge of insanity from the lack of action, finds the next best thing. It takes her four tries, but she finally locates an empty training ring.

Scattered around are various mannequins for ranged attacks or close-quarters training. Floors are lined with padded dirt. There are hundred-ton free weights and other equipment that could possibly fill in for Asgardian cardio workout regimens.

Very little she can actually use, but the ring provides ample targets in lieu of her brother's face.

She's whaling on a dummy, her body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, when she feels an unwanted presence behind her.

"You should take it easy," Shepard says. "Medi-gel isn't a miracle worker."

Isabelle doubles her pace. "Thanos isn't gonna let me take it easy," she grits out.

"He isn't gonna just stand there and take it, either. Or do you prefer training with dummies than against someone who can actually fight back?"

She stills, fisting the straw-filled target with bruised knuckles. Her lungs burn as she twists.

The Commander has ditched her armor in lieu of off-duty spacer outfits. The casuals make her look surprisingly young, but no less stronger for it. Even in a place that holds little but the dead and lost, she looks whole.

While Isabelle, who's actually alive, is left incomplete in more ways than one. "What gives you the right to test me?"

"I saved your life. I'd like to know my investment isn't gonna be a liability on the field - ," mid-sentence, Shepard grabs her arm and slams her into a nearby pillar, " - just because she relies on her Terrigenesis a little too much."

Isabelle reaches for her collarbone, shoves her away. The next few moments pass in a flurry of near blows, neither gaining the upper hand. Shepard is just fractionally faster, blocking her every strike but taking no advantage of the openings.

But this goes deeper than basic S.H.I.E.L.D. - now Alliance - training, deeper than the N7 logo on her casuals. The Commander is almost too good, as though someone is feeding her answers for an exam through a hidden comm.

As though she's been trained to spot Isabelle's every move.

That, more than anything, convinces Isabelle that she's grappling with the future. Her future. "Who am I to you?"

She takes advantage of the hesitation to rain down a few blows, giving just enough leeway for an answer.

Shepard brings as her arm is twisted backwards. "A mentor. You trained me, encouraged me to join ICT." She slips from her grip, retaliating with a kick hard enough to make her go crashing backwards. "But is that really the question you want to ask?"

Isabelle evades her attacks, locking her in place with a forearm to the throat. "Fair enough. Who are you to my brother?"

Shepard kicks out her knee, slams a palm on her collarbone. "A fellow soldier. An ally. We've fought a lot of battles together."

"He fought a bunch of battles with Steve Rogers too." Isabelle trades the ensuing jabs for a harsh hit to the solar plexus. "He wouldn't have done for him what he did for you."

Shepard falters. A multitude of expressions cross her face in an instant. "Agent Collins," she says carefully, " - this isn't a competition; you have nothing to..."

Isabelle's rage soars to apoplectic levels. She'd been fooling herself with the dummy. "Is that what you think this is? Envy?"

She leaps into the air, launching a powerful kick that catches Shepard in the jaw. "My niece is stuck in a dimension that's hostile to her every breath."

Shepard bounces back quickly, scrambling to avoid her strikes.

Grabbing a nearby staff, Isabelle forces the Commander further into the defensive, her swings far more vicious than appropriate for training. "Even the good guys would happily toss her out if they could only get to the door."

She uses the momentum of Shepard's retaliating punch to toss her to the floor. The staff descends, halting inches from Shepard's neck.

"But, judging by the state of my ribs, the biggest threat to Morgan is one I never saw coming."

Slowly, the Commander raises both palms in surrender. Her breathing is harsh. "Even this far back, you put your family first."

Something in Isabelle's chest loosens at the affirmation. At least in this, she hasn't failed in her future.

But Shepard looks as though she hadn't quite meant to say that. "You have no reason to believe me, Agent Collins. But I assure you... Tony Stark will never allow Morgan to come to harm."

Isabelle tosses the staff and stalks to the exit.

"Yesterday, I'd have agreed with you."

Tony Stark leads Daisy deep into the palace, past frantic preparations for war. Chambers stacked with armor sets, a smithy billowing heat from a large crucible pouring molten silver into a circular basin, swords clashing ferociously. The atmosphere is grim and overworked.

"Doesn't look like there's anything here that could use hacking."

"Don't be fooled by appearances," he says. "Asgardian tech is far superior to ours, even though their culture hasn't progressed beyond imperialistic monarchy. So their inventions are mostly designed for warfare. Elegant but simple. But that's not why I need your help."

He gives her a quick rundown on the Chitauri hijacking of the Iron Man armor, followed by Shepard and Collins' liberation of it.

Confusion battles with trepidation. "But what were the Chitauri doing with the suit in the first place? Can't have been just for the power source; they could've easily detached the arc reactor."

They step into what would've been an assembly room in another life. Iron Man stands dull and inert on the platform. The audience seats have been replaced with several rows of humming machines, making it a cramped affair.

They're not the usual blocky, uncomplicated designs from Earth, but a strange combination of steampunk and Asgardian elegance. Pipes carved with twisting patterns lead back to smooth, crystalline power sources. Endlessly rotating gears in the shape of Nordic runes are bathed in swirling golden vapors.

Despite the sheer otherworldliness of the machines, she recognizes the placement immediately. "This is a server room. What for?"

He walks over to the armor. "Chitauri are organic-synthetic hybrids, right, enhanced by cybernetics? You notice anything weird about the ones here?"

The stragglers she'd encountered. "They were individualistic. As though they were thinking for themselves."

"As opposed to following centralized commands from a single brain; the Mother Ship. But Thanos learned his lesson after New York; he didn't bring it to the Battle of Earth."

"So he's the one giving them orders here. A poor substitute, I'd think."

He snaps his fingers, grinning. "It is. He's exploiting their organic nature, riling them up, trying to stoke their desire to escape. But what is the defining trait of Chitauri?"

"They have no self-preservation."

"Exactly. He didn't anticipate losing. He didn't think he'd be stuck here. But he is - with an army that he doesn't know how to control. So he tried the next best thing - creating an artificial hive mind by linking the suit's internal systems to the Chitauri horde."

"You're capitalizing on that. You want to be the next Mother Ship. Hence the servers; you're trying to crack the command code."

He taps the arc reactor. "A reverse hack. Battlefield-testing is essential, though - if I do it now, they'll just adapt."

"Plus they'll put up defenses against you." It's been a while since her hacktivist brain faced a challenge of this caliber, further amplified by the time crunch and the pressure of a life-and-death situation. She's become far too reliant on Quaking her problems, she muses ruefully. "They'll trace it, regardless. You'll be painting a target on your back."

He shrugs.

Well, she'd tried. "How far along are you?"

"Not far," he admits. "Thought it'd go better with two brains. Got any ideas?"

The band around her lungs loosens slightly. "A few, yeah."

Glasislundr

The grove's red-gold canopy almost blocks the sight of the Dark Dimension, but isn't enough to hide Isabelle from her shadow. "In what must be a shocking contrast to my brother's beliefs, I don't need a chaperone," she says acerbically.

"We're gonna be fighting together," Shepard murmurs. "I'd rather we iron out any potential kinks now." She gestures to her healed leg. "The medi-gel worked better than I'd hoped."

It's easier to maintain civility when in want of answers. "You deployed it from your omni-tool. But I didn't recognize it as one of Tony's designs."

Shepard snorts. "Biogenetics isn't really his forte. Though he loves the fact that it technically breaks a dozen genetic modification laws."

"A military contract, then." Her brother's danced across the grey area where product benefits collide with regulations far too many times. "There's something familiar about it."

"It's based on tech you've seen - and Agent Clint Barton has felt - before."

The answer arrives with a rush of memories. "Regeneration Cradle," she sighs. "Helen Cho. Synthetic simulacrum of living tissue."

"With a few modifications," Shepard leans back, arms folded across her chest. "Anesthetic and clotting agents, plus a small dose of vibranium to give the healing process a kickstart."

Isabelle doesn't know how to feel about a benevolent consequence of the ULTRON Offensive. "Shuri must've liked Helen's work with Vision," is all she says, finally, and looks over. "With access to Cradle-based tech in the future, death-rates should be at an all time low."

Shepard stiffens.

"How did you kick it, Commander?"

There's a brief pause. "My ship was attacked by something we've never seen. Ripped through the shields like a knife through butter. Most of my crew made it out." The 'I hope' hovers unspoken between them. "I… was spaced."

Isabelle internally recoils from the horror. But there's very few places to run to when the sky itself gapes open into the multicolored expanse of space. So she goes for the tried-and-true method of deflection. "You seem awfully blasé about sharing future details. Aren't you worried I might change something?"

Her voice sharpens, oozing contempt. "Or are you hoping that I do?"

"Doesn't work that way," Shepard smiles tiredly. "If it did, this conversation; hell, our very encounter would risk my existence and our relationship in my past. And your future."

"I don't..."

"Collins. The reason I'm able to be so free with you... is because this conversation has already happened to you from my time. You always knew it would happen."

Bile rises up her throat. "Are you saying that I knowingly sent you to your death?"

"I'm saying you couldn't have stopped it. You tried, believe me." Shepard laughs humorlessly. "I resented that for the longest time, but only now do I get what you were trying to protect me from."

Isabelle hopes that, when the time comes, she would face her own fate with such quiet, dignified certainty. But she knows herself too well. Especially when it's not just her life on the line.

Time is fickle. A phrase forming the backbone of all her decisions since she heard it. It's never been so apparent. The Blip had raised so many mysteries, and here - in a world where reality doesn't break if the future decides to have tea with the past - she might just solve them.

Server Rooms

They're deep in Iron Man's guts, rewiring circuits and redirecting the damage done by the Chitauri for their own counterattack.

Stark makes a sound of annoyance. "Spit it out, Agent Johnson. Your silent over-analysis is killing my groove."

Daisy leans back. Her forehead is beaded with sweat. "How did you solve time travel? I mean… time can't be changed. That's why prophecies always come true. How did you get around that?"

"You've done it now, Johnson." Collins is leaning against the wall. Daisy hadn't even heard her come in. "Brace yourself. Doctor Stark is in town, and he's gearing up for a lecture."

His mouth ticks upward. He wipes the grease off his fingers. "Tell me what you know of time."

"It's an illusion," Daisy replies promptly. "A way to make sense of the fourth dimension. 3-D people are stuck in a 4-D 'line' that they can't deviate from. The timeline's fixed, its future prewritten."

"A user-friendly explanation, but not inaccurate." He activates the gauntlet hologram. A yellow line erupts between them, stretching on to infinity. "4-D is what some beings like the Norns can glimpse. They're able to see what's coming - fate, destiny, whatever you want to call it - because it can't be changed."

"Then how…?"

"Because your understanding is limited. You're considering only the fourth dimension. You neglected the higher ones."

"Like 5-D? 6-D?"

He nods. "If our 4-D timeline is a 'line', then think of 5-D as a plane. What's a plane in this context?"

Collins swipes across the hologram until it resembles dried spaghetti strands, laid out next to each other. "An assembly of parallel timelines."

"Or parallel universes," Stark shrugs. "Same difference. All these universes have one thing in common. A - substratum, if you will. The Quantum Realm. My method had me tap into the Realm and jump into the timeline of another universe, not my own."

"So you could jump at any point in any parallel timeline without affecting your own. What about the Soul World?"

"This realm…," he spreads his arms wide, encompassing the bizarre living mythology they are plunged into, " - is evidence of causality. A time loop. Everything happening has already happened and all that."

"Which is why," Collins interjects, staring unblinkingly at her brother, " - Shepard's situation is fixed. No matter what we do, she'll die."

Some unknown expression crosses his face; it's there and gone in an instant.

"Yeah. It's…" he shakes his head, clears his throat. "I can't work that problem - no one can."

Daisy scrubs a hand down her face. "So… people from a parallel universe will be bound by the same laws, right? They won't be able to affect their timeline, but they can affect any others, including ours."

"Scary to think about when you put it that way."

"Why does that work?"

Again, it's Collins who answers. "Basic thermodynamics. The universe - every universe - is an isolated system. Its predestined path can only be changed when an external force acts upon it."

"In this context, the external force being… the Avengers," Stark says.

He rises, extending a hand downwards. Daisy reaches for it absently and lets herself be pulled up. "I'll take it from here, Agent Johnson, if you need to digest all that. You've earned it."

She nods and makes her way towards the exit, leaving the two siblings to their own devices.

"You have too much time on your hands," Isabelle tells him.

"It's an eternal siege, Izzy-bee." She closes her eyes and begs for patience. Even dead, her brother's a nuisance. At least Johnson hadn't heard. "We might not be lacking for resources, but Odin's version of 'entertainment' leaves much to be desired."

She can't confront him directly. He'll shut down faster than she can say 'time travel'.

No, this requires a delicate hand. "What's 6-D?"

"Consequences of our actions," he says sheepishly. "Plus some inaccessible and completely unrecognizable territories."

The expression's genuine; he's not pulling off the Stark-signature move of staving off uncomfortable conversations. No, he hasn't even gotten to where she is now.

Dr. Stark had always been malleable. "Elaborate."

Hook.

"6-D is the point of divergence we initiated," he explains. "My Time-Space GPSes tunneled through the Quantum Realm, breached a timeline that wasn't my own. That very action, in that very instant, veered their timeline wildly off the rails, compounded by our mucking about. A cube, in our analogy."

"Which created a branched timeline," Isabelle finishes, leading him to just where she wants him, " - with a completely unpredictable future."

Line.

Tony snaps his fingers. "See, that's the part that remains a mystery. Did the Norns of that timeline, that alternate reality, predict our breach, predict the branching of their timeline before it happened? Or did They have to… I don't know, adjust to the changing times, changing destinies? Does destiny even exist in that timeline anymore? Did They become redundant?"

"I think I can answer that."

Sinker.

He looks incredulous.

Even Morgan knows better than to fall for the bait.

"Fourteen million, six hundred and five."

He stumbles back a step. "Oh, well done," he breathes. "I didn't see that one coming."

"No, but Strange did." She straightens. "Let me guess; the Time Stone allowed him to spiritually tap into a parallel, identical universe, then simulate divergences based on his choices. And in all but one, you lost to Thanos."

"We lost," he corrects. His fingers run through his hair. "We had this conversation, right? I'm pretty sure we did, under a black hole."

"Sure. But I'm referring to another conversation. With him. During the funeral. Wanna know what he said?"

"If I say no, you gonna let me escape with my dignity intact?"

"He said - 'Tony Stark's story is not yet finished.'"

There's a thick pause. "The one sentence guaranteed to make you stay," he wonders. "A mystery you couldn't afford to not solve."

"A mystery I buried in the dark. Until Morgan dug it up. Because I know my part in this, Tony. I ignored the dreams, so the Soul World opened the window for her, knowing I'd follow. But how did she find it in the first place?"

Another long pause. "Soul World released the Decimated - you, Pete, the others - because you didn't belong. But the ones who used the Soul Stone - well, it demanded a price from them. Kept our souls in reserve."

"For what?"

He shrugs. "All I know is, after my Snap, I woke up in a waystation. It was empty."

He swallows. "I was already starting to regret everything. Wanting out." His face then transforms with sheer awe. "And suddenly, there she was. Morgan or her soul or whatever. Older, wiser, and god... so beautiful."

Isabelle's throat is thick.

"She...uh, she assured me she was okay. Told me I could let go. Move on. So I did. Ended up here, with the Asgardians and Thanos." He smiles mirthlessly. "From the fire, back into the frying pan. But better having him here than on Earth."

She finally gets it. "You moved on... but she didn't. The Soul World reached out to a version of her that had accepted your death to get you to accept it, too. But the connection was formed... to all versions of Morgan, across all times."

He turns away, but not before she catches the self-loathing in his eyes. Tony Stark has a heart, alright - one that has always belonged to his daughter. Of course Morgan had reached for it.

"And Shepard?" Isabelle asks. "Where does her story come into this?"

"That's her to share. What I can tell you is this: The Soul World is embroiled in a war that's gonna spill over into the real world sooner rather than later. And Shepard's smack dab in the middle of it."

"Nothing could be worse than what we've faced."

Her self-serving mantra for all these years dies a slow death in the face of his disappointment. "Thanos left us with half, Isabelle. What's coming is coming to take it all. An endless cycle of death and destruction, wiping the slate clean every time."

Isabelle exhales shakily. "Then the last place you should be is here."

Because beneath that anger is a yawning maw that threatens to swallow her whole. She's been calling it grief. But grief peters out, eventually. It has to. No, this was instinct, tattooed into her DNA like Terrigenesis.

The Soul World had hidden one and revealed the other. "Tell me you didn't feel the same when I was Snapped."

"That was never supposed to happen!"

"Neither was this!" She grabs his arm. "Strange confirmed it, Svartálfheim confirmed it! The Soul World is confirming it, right now, in front of me!"

Rough, calloused fingers wrap around her wrist. He makes a motion as though to pull her away, but he can't quite get there.

She knows the feeling.

"You can't be torn like this," he says. "Or I won't be the only one you lose."

"How am I supposed to move on when you keep showing up with your ugly mug?"

He snorts. "Maybe I should stop."

"Don't you dare." She finally makes herself release him, takes a few steps back. They need some breathing room. "You know, if I'm right - even Shepard's story doesn't end here."

His expression doesn't change - there's no sign of that fleeting look she'd caught earlier. "Guess she'll be proof of concept, then."

He's wised up. She's not solving that mystery tonight. "If she gets out before you."

But apparently, the universe has no problem deepening it. His eyes flash. "Trust me."

"I'm not leaving until she does."

April 12th, 2027

Stark Residence

If there's one thing Gabe is certain of, it's that the accident had taken far more from Robbie. Lower-body paralysis is infinitely better than having the very devil ride your bones.

But he also knows that if not for the Rider, his brother wouldn't be alive right now.

The gratitude is sickening.

With a series of gestures, Gabe unleashes a whirlwind of crimson belts of energy. They wrap around the Rider's limbs, immobilizing him.

The Rider roars and struggles. But he's facing the indomitable will of Cyttorak himself. He's not getting out of those bands anytime soon.

Gabe yanks harder, digging his feet into the ground.

It's then that he sees it - flames licking up the cracked portions of the Ghost Rider's skull.

Of Robbie's skull.

An eternal remnant of the event that had ravaged both their lives.

Cyttorak's will is rallied by the sorcerer's resolve. As Gabe's crumbles, the Rider roars. Fire explodes, streaking across the bands to slam into him.

Gabe is tossed through the fence of Pepper's vegetable garden. His robes are on fire. He rolls hurriedly, but freezing blisters are forming where the flames had licked at his skin. Hellfire.

The Ghost Rider has given up on lenience.

As he watches, a change comes over Spider Man. His suit's lenses narrow, switching from blue to a demonic red. Six segmented appendages erupt out of his back. His attacks turn vicious, violent.

Peter has never looked more like a spider defending its brood than at this moment.

But the lethality of his attacks only serves to infuriate the Ghost Rider. Gabe knows this, because he understands the Spirit of Vengeance on a deep, instinctual level, better than even Robbie can claim.

How could he not, when sorcerers and Ghost Riders are two sides of the same coin, both fighting to protect the world from the same evil?

The very evil now encroaching into this realm through Morgan Stark's soul.

At the heels of the horrifying realization of what he has to do comes a wave of crushing despair.

Because, despite everything, it's still his brother in there. His brother, who had harmed him, who is even now pounding away mercilessly at Spider-Man. At Peter, whose worst crime is only that he loves, and is loved.

Something Gabe can no longer claim.

But his brother isn't behind the wheel anymore.

It's that thought that centers him, prompts him into a sprint. Lightning flashes, followed by the Rider's thunderous roar as he snags Peter in mid-air and throws him at the roof of the lakehouse.

Gathering his magic within his core, Gabe dives under the Hellfire chain, slips in close, and slams his palm on the Rider's chest.

Time slows down to a crawl. The force of the spell yanks at his own soul. But he's been bracing for it, so he quickly adapts to the sudden, honey-consistency of his surroundings.

With a series of brutal strikes, he drives his opponent back.

The Spirit stumbles to his knees, staring at his gloved hands.

Outside, in the rain, Robbie's body falls in slow motion. Rendered lifeless by Gabe's spell that had shoved the two of them into the Astral Plane.

There's a long pause. "The anchor's dangerous."

The voice is like gargled glass and coal. The Rider rises, slowly revealing his true visage, when not camouflaged by his host.

It's Robbie, but Robbie as he would've been immediately after the accident. Bleeding, with vacant eyes, his flesh like a macabre tapestry. Hellfire seeps out of his copious injuries; the only thing keeping him whole.

Gabe swallows his repulsion. "Well aware. I'm just as prepared to do what's necessary. But only if it becomes necessary."

Faster than he can blink, the Rider moves, slamming him to the ground. Flames lick at Gabe's flesh, promising an agonizing death. "I could kill you here, now."

"When you're done, better turn your gaze inwards," Gabe snarls. "You don't want to be on the other end of Robbie's vengeance."

"He won't survive without me."

"He's with me on this, though, isn't he? Robbie won't let you back in. Because he knows we won't stop, and this is the only way you will."

Respect glimmers momentarily beneath the hot rage. "Ah. But I have never needed a host to travel to other dimensions."

With that, he shoves him away with a fiery blast.

Blinking the stars out of his eyes, Gabe only glimpses the tail-end of the infernal portal the Rider disappears into, following the trail of the anchor.

He's kneeling beside Robbie's prone corpse when Peter finds him. "Where did he go?"

Gabe tells him.

And stumbles under Peter's shove. "What's stopping him from killing the anchor from the inside?" he snarls, still raring for a fight that, hopefully, will never come.

The rain hides Gabe's tears. "The same woman we're all putting our faith in."

TIME: INDETERMINABLE

Soul World

Johnson is waiting outside the server rooms, shrouded in an aura of deep discomfort. "I owe you some answers."

"Not interested in 'em." Isabelle attempts to brush past.

But Johnson's fingers wrap vice-like around her bicep. "Tough," she growls. "It's not a coincidence we've both been dreaming about this place. This is bigger than us, especially when it involves your family."

A pause. "Talk fast."

Johnson tells her.

Destroyer of Worlds. A massive accusation.

No wonder Johnson had jumped on the anchor bandwagon. Whether there's some truth to the convenient case of mistaken identity is a whole other mystery Isabelle isn't ready to tackle right now. "If you're looking for answers, you're not going to find them in me, Johnson."

"I'm not trying to." Johnson takes a deep breath. "There's something you need to see."

Nexus

The shoreline cave is different from the one she'd found after being thrown from the Leviathan.

It sits along the boundary line where the tide pools open out into the sea. Arched ceilings and smooth rock walls give way to a vastly different tunnel offshoot.

Thick floor-to-ceiling pillars of blue crystal gleam in the shafts of light that slip in through the cracks in the ceiling. Similar growths erupt into shards of stalactites and stalagmites, earning the chamber the title of the most alien structure in this entire realm. "What the hell is this place?"

Johnson curls up at the base of one of the pillars. "The nexus portal Shepard and Morgan fell through. The Norns mentioned 'windows to the world'. I put two and two together."

"You mean...?"

"Yup. They're Terrigen crystals. You know the Asgardians use them for the construction of the Gjöll Bridge?" Johnson laughs humorlessly. "Turns out there's a lot we don't know about our heritage."

The memory of her own Terrigenesis, blurred by the weight of decades, teases her consciousness. Isabelle suppresses it violently. "How did you find it?"

Johnson taps at her shimmering support. "I can hear the vibrations. Portal itself is inactive, but the crystals...," her expression turns distant, " - always sound like an old, forgotten song."

Isabelle makes her cautious way across glassy floors to sit on a sheared, flattened crystal. "How is it you have your powers, while I don't?"

"Does it look like I have my powers?" Johnson gestures vaguely - presumably indicating the convulsions. "I'm out of phase with ambient frequencies. Half-in, half-out. Besides, it's not cookies and cake. You're just dreaming. I'm... a little further along."

Isabelle can practically taste the foot in her mouth. "Well, if that's true, then you've got the short end of the stick for an afterlife."

"I'll put that in the suggestion box." Johnson laughs wetly, then shakes her head. "I thought if I made my exile here a little more permanent, I could completely remove myself from the Destroyer equation. But the Norns don't appreciate that idea."

"Yeah, in my limited experience, They seem to enjoy forcing us into unpalatable scenarios." F.R.I.D.A.Y. had debriefed her on Quake's disastrous mission in the Spaceport. The Norns miscalculated by imparting their future when their target's already weighed down by the guilt of failure.

Or perhaps that had been the intention.

"So you can imagine how I feel asking you for a favor." Johnson grimaces. "It's already there in my bones, Collins... what I'm capable of. What I could so easily turn into. I'd be unstoppable - almost."

Isabelle straightens uneasily. "What are you asking from me?"

"When - if the prophecy comes true, and I become a monster... you're the only one who's gonna be able to put me out of my misery. I'll crush anyone else."

"… while I'm built to withstand substantial pressure."

"Consider this - it might not even be that much of a hardship."

Isabelle huffs, unamused. It will be no different, she tries convincing herself, to all the other times she's been forced into triage mode for the greater good. But she's never been issued an assisted murder invitation. "… only if you agree to do the same if the Destroyer turns out to be me."

Johnson smiles tremulously. "Best case scenario - it's a random asshole, and we get to team up and kick some ass."

"Oh, we don't need to wait for that, Agent Johnson," Isabelle says, rising. "I'm steering, and I need someone manning the skiff's weapons. Care to volunteer your services?"

"Enthusiastically."

At the threshold of the crystal's chamber, Johnson hesitates. "...Collins, that limited experience - was it Maximoff?"

Isabelle closes her eyes. "Yes."

"What did she show you?"

"Myself. Drowning the world."

Above the Gjöll Bridge

The soul-orange heaven has been haunting her dreams for years. But it's infinitely better than the bursting motley of shapes that make up the sky now.

Gravitational fields of Dark-consumed worlds cause tidal surges to beat against the Gjöll Bridge. The structure is only a dozen miles, cutting across a planar asteroid, but the Observatory is indistinguishable behind Dormammu's creeping onslaught. Even the Chitauri have retreated, their silhouettes vaguely visible in the distant, dark fog.

On the allied side of the forcefield, Einherjar march down the Bridge in precise formation. Odin, regal and resplendent on his eight-legged horse, leads them.

Isabelle feels invisible amidst the squadron of identical skiffs and Valkyrie forces assigned to cocoon her. But she knows better than to believe that will hold true in the chaos of battle.

Despite the entourage, she's glad that she will have somewhat trusted personnel aboard her vessel who are just as hell-bent on making sure Morgan reaches her destination safely.

Johnson is double-checking the weapon controls. By the stern, Shepard is consulting Morgan on the best tint for the lights on the back of her armor. They all look up at the rapidly approaching sounds of repulsors firing.

"Tell me you have something to counter the fact that we are outnumbered two to one," Isabelle says into her comms.

Red-and-gold streaks across the sky, circling above the fleet like a bird caught in an updraft, before dropping in a low arc. Tony rolls as the armor peels back in mid-air. The deck shudders as he lands in a three-legged crouch, and the now-empty Iron Man shell shoots away.

"Good news, bad news," he says, rising. "Good is that each cousin species - Chitauri, Gorilla, and Leviathan - have three different command codes. I was able to crack all of them."

"Bad news is they're temporary measures," she guesses. "Their cybernetics will eventually evolve to counter your virus." When he grimaces, she quietly adds, " - three cyber-strikes better our odds, Tones."

Unconvinced, he turns away. "Shepard, the Observatory is sealed shut. I'm transferring an advanced decryption program to your 'tool. Should get you through."

A motion in the corner of her eye makes her look down. It's Morgan, who's blinking rapidly, her cheeks alarmingly pale.

"What's with the jitters, little miss?" Tony asks, kneeling. "You know we're gonna win this!"

"I'm not scared of that," Morgan gestures disdainfully to the Chitauri army hell-bent on tearing her apart. "I'm scared of Mom."

He snorts. "Oh, yeah, you're on your own with that one." His eyes widen. "Hey, maybe your aunt can act as a buffer."

Isabelle folds her arms when her niece turns to her hopefully. "This is me buffering. I am on pretty thin ice, too, if that's comforting."

Tony taps his daughter's chin. "Remember the assignment I gave you?" Her eyes widen, and she nods slowly, fear replaced with restrained excitement. "Got anything for me?"

Morgan's eyes flit between the three of them. She takes a deep breath, visibly swallowing her nervousness.

"Ironbird."

Isabelle's chest tightens. Shepard's hands still for a brief moment before she resumes checking her weapons.

Tony's the first to recover, his shock morphing into fierce pride and joy. "That's perfect," he says, fingers flying across his gauntlet interface. "Couldn't have done better myself."

A notification materializes across Isabelle's visor -

HVT Callsign: Ironbird.

Battle for the Soul World

The Einherjar are eerily motionless, mirroring their king. Pegasus wings beat steadily in sync. Skiffs hover in mid-air, humming evenly.

Thunder roars in the Darkened sky. From within the purple fog emerge the Chitauri, scattered in loose formation. Leviathans swim above in slow, unnerving strokes, surrounded by thousands of airborne Chariots. Leading the horde on one of the massive beasts is Thanos.

With a surge of satisfaction, Isabelle notes the absence of a gauntlet.

Above her, the apex of the dome forcefield rips. Golden light trails down like gossamer strands.

Thanos raises his double-edged sword. There's a breathless pause. Then he brings it down in a devastating arc.

The chains of restraint shatter.

With a triumphant roar, the enemy surges across the Bridge.

"Draw!" Odin commands.

On the skiffs, every Asgardian nocks a blazing arrow. Taut bowstring, straining muscles. The shield rolls downwards like waves.

"Loose!"

A storm of arrows blots out the unnatural sky. Each finds its mark without fail. Scores of Chitauri fall. The Bridge's brilliance is lost in splatters of green blood.

The final wave of the forcefield retreats.

Odin raises his spear. "For Asgard!"

His thunderous oath ripples across the army.

A swell of silver and gold bursts into the Bridge, fiery and bright against the drabness of the Chitauri. Iron Man arcs through the air, repulsors thinning the horde. Isabelle depresses the tiller.

Ironbird launches forward, tightly cocooned by the other skiffs.

Ironbird

The armies clash in a pandemonium of light and noise. The air fills with a volley of blue bolts. Valkyrie blades flash amidst wingbeats. Isabelle weaves and rolls, the skiffs following her seamlessly even as they return fire.

A deep, whale-like groan resounds through the air - Leviathans, breaking formation, diving towards the Bridge. Laser cannons surface from beneath armored plates. Iron Man zooms away as brilliant projectiles rain down on the Bridge, vaporizing Einherjar and Chitauri alike.

At first, she thinks the target is Odin himself.

But then Shepard grabs her arm. "The Bridge is a conduit," she yells. "It draws power from the city to activate the portal!"

Isabelle's eyes hone in on the familiar outline of the Observatory. Growing larger by the second.

"Skiff ammo won't penetrate the Leviathan shell," she says, thinking furiously.

An idea takes shape in her mind. She's terribly aware of Morgan - curled up against the stern, so very vulnerable. But they need that Bridge.

"Deploy the cavalry," she orders. "Get them to neuter the Leviathan."

Shepard relays the message via comms. In unison, the winged mounts peel off to engage with the humongous Leviathan. The skiffs tighten the cocoon until she can see nothing beyond but the grey mass of the Chariots.

The next few moments are harrowing. Her vision narrows until all she knows are the tight banks and curves. Splinters of blasted skiffs slice against her armor, her skin, leaving behind thin trails of blood.

Her escorts fight well, but without the Valkyrie, they're forced into defense. Dozens of Chitauri break through the cocoon. Johnson takes out some, but a few leap from their burning cruisers onto the Ironbird.

Shepard leaps into the fray, tossing away her marks in staccato bursts.

One Chitauri attempts to dart to the stern, where Morgan is curled up. Isabelle's hand lashes out, driving a dagger deep into the seam of a cybernetic helmet. Hot blood spills down her fingers when blade meets jugular.

Her visor displays Morgan's spiking heart rate. She curses the Norns for exposing her niece to this horror. Her hands slip against the tiller as she steers through increasingly risky maneuvers.

"Tony, we're getting hammered out here," she cries into her comms.

His voice is staticky. "A little," - repulsor blast, " - tied up here, sis!" Clang of metal against nanite shield. "Damned Gorillas," - sweep of an unibeam, " - with their blasted chains!"

"Trigger the Chariot countermeasure; point them at the apes!"

There's no response. But a moment later, a perceptible wave sweeps across the Chariots. Chills trickle down Isabelle's spine as they pull out from their relentless assault and head towards the Bridge.

Without hesitation, they open fire on their own troops. The Gorillas stagger, then retaliate by swinging their chains high, snagging and dragging the Chariots.

Iron Man flies out as the Bridge disappears in a deluge of blue pulses.

"Nice thinking," Tony says, looping over the battlefield and firing repulsors into the scattered Chitauri. He's still adjusting to flying the suit without a fully-fledged A.I. Best he managed was a voiceless combat system shuffling through thousands of gambits per second.

His HUD zeroes in on the Leviathans; the laser cannons are nothing more than sparking metal scraps. "Looks like the space whales are defanged." Howling their triumph into the sky, the Valkyrie turn to rejoin the significantly diminished escort.

Which is when Dormammu finally comes to play.

From the nightmarish ocean, a multicolored monstrosity of an arm reaches out. Crashing through a dozen boats, it snags some of the pegasi in its massive fist and drags them flapping and screaming into its depths.

Almost simultaneously, a violent tremor runs through the Dark planetoids hanging in the sky. Tony is struck by a sudden surge of deja vu. Horror fuels his primal scream.

"Izzy!"

Shattered fragments of asteroids rain down the battlefield, their targets indiscriminate. Tony flies through the pillars of wreckage, his suit completely blinded by the billowing dust. His repulsors pulverize several tons of rocks, search for Ironbird in the sooty haze.

Static crackles in his comms. " - ony, can you hear….?"

Relief floods his veins. He clears the feed. "Yeah, I got you, come again?"

"There's a fucking Leviathan in my way!"

Tony's HUD snaps to a large, serpentine shadow in the murk, rapidly swimming towards the scattered escort detail. From personal experience, being swallowed whole by a space whale is only marginally preferable to being battered down by planets.

"Into the belly of the beast," he mutters, activating the second countermeasure. His swarm of code brute forces its way through Leviathan firewalls.

He's torn between watching it and the slow progress of the skiffs. That's why he doesn't notice the hazard alert on his HUD until the double-edged sword almost cleaves him in two.

Thanos has finally caught on.

Couldn't have come at a worse time. At least there's no monologue now. Just brutal swings of a massive sword, carving deep grooves in Tony's armor.

Easily avoidable strikes… if he'd had even a fraction of F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s parallel processing.

With a rueful smile and a silent apology to Izzy, he prioritizes cyberwarfare suites over evasive maneuvers.

The sword descends. Tony releases the second countermeasure.

Everything goes black.

Ironbird

The Leviathan in front of her banks so sharply Daisy trips.

Violet light glows beyond rippling metallic scales. The serpentine creature twists in mid-air and cants upwards.

Its shadow plunges the murk to near pitch-black. It drifts directly above them - just in time to screen Ironbird from the meteor shower.

Daisy curls into a ball, but nothing gets past the Leviathan's shuddering body. For a brief moment, she almost feels sorry for it. Then Collins turns sharply, avoiding the final twitch of its dying tail.

The sky is still falling, despite the Leviathan's sacrifice. Daisy's stomach protests as Collins weaves them through increasingly dangerous twists and turns. And then, finally, they're in the open, away from the Chariots, or the constant deluge of worlds, or the pervasive storm of dust.

"Tony!" Collins screams.

Daisy's eyes snap to the Bridge. A disconcertingly slack red-and-gold figure, being brutally assaulted by a purple blur. There's no rhyme or reason to it - Thanos has gone full berserk on Stark.

Collins moves, but Shepard's there, yanking her back. Daisy's torn between watching them and the horrifying brawl on the Bridge. So she drops the ball on her situational awareness.

Two seconds. That's all it takes.

Lime green tendrils erupt from the ocean, lunging like cobras, at the same moment Collins breaks free from Shepard. Daisy's wordless warning dies as excruciating pain blooms in her abdomen.

Her flesh sizzles where Dormammu has impaled her. Instantaneous cauterization, she muses distantly, as it coils around her torso and yanks.

Daisy goes rolling towards the bow. She grabs the edge, screaming as the malevolent dimension plays tug of war with her body.

Shepard leaps forward, omni-blade slashing. Collins jumps to the tiller, trying to steer away from Dormammu's grasp and towards the Bridge. But they are too many, too strong.

One tendril slams into Shepard, sending her rolling towards the stern. Towards Morgan, who huddles there, terrified. Another, thick and powerful, knocks Collins aside and coils around the skiff.

With a deafening crunch, it snaps Ironbird in half.

Daisy falls into the abyss.

She hits the water.

The sick wrongness of it floods her mouth, the hole in her belly. It tastes… empty, destroyed, sapping away at her strength. The surface is nowhere to be seen.

Something grabs her, and Daisy thrashes blindly, clawing and biting and Quaking, but it's everywhere.

And then, in her harlequin surroundings - a flash of darkness. A blinding pit that seems to draw everything towards it. In the snapshot of a second, she traces the outline of a wing.

Desperate, she reaches out. A strong grip pulls her behind in a seamless move.

The Pegasus bursts out of the water. Powerful muscles coil underneath mutant-black wingbeats as Daisy empties all the water in her lungs. Blood pours out of her abdomen in rivulets. "Ironbird?"

"On the Bridge," Collins grits out.

Commander Shepard is bent low over a pegasus of her own, one arm curled around Morgan safely, another clutching the reins. As Collins guides their ride past the remnants of Asgardian air support, Shepard's steed curls in its pearl-white wings. Hooves hit the Bridge hard. Both immediately break into a gallop.

Awareness trickles down Daisy's spine. She twists, blood soaking through the fingers pressed against her abdomen. Reverent awe seeps in through the shock settling in her mind.

On the Gjöll Bridge, Odin - mounted on his eight-legged steed - raises his spear to the heavens. Cosmic energy streams into the mass, disintegrating falling meteors and shoving back the relentless encroachment of the Dark Dimension.

A distant blast of repulsors sends her hope soaring. She squints into the slowly clearing, orange sky and sees the last Leviathan, swimming lethargically in the air. And above it - two figures, fighting.

One is red and gold.

There's a pack of Gorillas blocking the path to the Observatory, still frenzied by the earlier friendly fire, but slowly regaining context. "Tony," Collins whispers. "We need that final countermeasure."

Only the Pegasus hears her, and impossibly, puts on a burst of speed. Daisy's death grip tightens.

At the very last second, a change ripples across the Gorillas. Some jerk away, shake their heads, then turn against their own. The Bridge once again descends into chaos, monsters tearing into monsters - so Collins digs in her heels.

The horse leaps into the air, soars above the Gorillas with wings unfurled, then lands with a thud and gallops forward without missing a beat.

Gjöll Bridge

Dormammu retreats to the edges of the asteroid and waits there like a cosmic gaping maw.

Riding into his domain, they're immediately plunged into an overpowering malevolence. The Odinforce shelters their group from the fate countless had suffered. Large masses of worlds break apart against an invisible shield, enormous spikes erupting from below are forcibly redirected.

And beyond it all, Isabelle can feel the omnipotent rage of a dimension denied.

Every instinct wants to turn and flee. It's only her unflinching steed that keeps her on the golden path. She grips the reins tight and keeps her eyes on the prize - the Observatory, the light at the end of a very dark, very terrifying tunnel. "Now would be a good time to run the decryption, Commander!"

"I'm trying!" Shepard yells. The glow of her omni-tool flickers in the gloom.

The dome-like structure is motionless and dull. Circular doors are sealed tight. "Shepard!"

"Something's wrong! I can't get a signal!"

The dimension shudders in laughter.

Suddenly, Johnson's hands reach for the reins. "Keep going," she whispers in a strange voice. "We'll get you through."

For a moment, Isabelle doesn't understand. Then she feels it - stronger, more immediate than the Odinforce. A tremor skittering down her skin, sinking into her bones. Then another, and another until her cells feel like they're going to shake apart.

Across from them are Shepard and Morgan, hurtling towards their destination… without the benefit of Johnson's ghostly abilities.

"No!"

Just when they're about to slam headlong into the Observatory, Shepard's steed neighs and rears away from the doors.

Isabelle's black Pegasus leaps into the air, soars with wings unfurled.

And Johnson reaches true intangibility and phases them through.

Observatory

Isabelle feels the thud of the landing in her teeth. The horse rears and screams. Her grip loosens, and she's flying through the air, and has just enough presence of mind to break her fall with a roll.

She takes stock of her surroundings.

Light emerges from beneath the central raised platform, illuminating the gold spoked wheels lining the curved walls. At the entrance is Johnson, pinned beneath the wings of the pegasus' motionless form. Past the apex window, the sickening visage of the Dark Dimension waits.

Instinct rears, and she rolls away. A fiery chain slams next to her. She barely recognizes her disfigured, leather-clad attacker before being forced to dodge several rapid-fire strikes.

"It's time to pay for your sins," the Ghost Rider rasps.

She's not surprised to see him. There's a karmic justice to this, as though the universe is coming full circle. It had been Robbie Reyes who had told her of anchors - on the very same day Morgan had first shown symptoms of being one. "You were waiting for us. You knew we would bring the anchor right to you."

She aims a low kick, which barely staggers him. He retaliates with a hard smack that sends her crashing to the entrance.

Almost immediately, the door begins to spin in its hinges. Shepard's decryption program must have finally gotten through.

"Commander," she whispers into her comms, " - the Observatory is a trap. No matter what, do not come in."

Beside her, Johnson abandons her attempts to wriggle out from under the pegasus' dead weight in favor of Quaking the Rider to the wall. The expected recoil sends her convulsing just hard enough to phase through the pegasus' body.

Isabelle's eyes catch on a silver sheen near the platform - a sword with a gold crossguard. Shoving herself to her feet, she rushes forward. She reaches it before Rider can, brings it up just in time to thwart a devastating blow.

The next few moments are harrowing. "You think killing the anchor will make a difference? This realm is tearing itself apart!"

"A small sacrifice to ensure that the Dark Dimension never gains a foothold on Earth."

"Dormammu isn't the worst threat here." His words sharpen a memory already at the forefront of her mind: Robbie Reyes' reaction when he'd learned of the Decimation. His face - half scorched and snarling - had looked much the same as it does now. "But… you already knew that, didn't you?"

She chambers her leg and delivers a hard kick.

Vulnerabilities don't need to be true to be exploited. "No, this has never been about keeping the world safe."

Out of the corner of her eye, she spots the door's panels slowly peeling back. "To think," she snarls, " - that the Devil would rather kill the messenger than face his most hated foe."

A great force slams into her. The sword gets knocked off, clatters down the platform. Isabelle hits something hard, a fierce pain screaming down her back. There's a chain wrapped around her torso, and a leather-gloved hand against her chest, pinning her with ease.

"You should know better than to play with Hellfire."

Isabelle screams. Vicious fire scorches her chest, licking at her throat and chin. Blisters bubble and burst on her molten skin. Deeper than physical agony, it sears the innermost parts of her, until all thoughts flee her mind except the singular desire for a merciful death.

Something white shatters against the forearm holding her aloft.

She collapses, choking on the stench of burning flesh. Her torso feels raw, and her heartbeat is horribly erratic. It had barely lasted five seconds, but the Rider had ensured it felt like an eternity.

"Do you know who I am?" Shepard's voice is unsurprising.

Wisps of frost still cling to her omni-tool - remnants of a Cryo Blast discharge. Isabelle's teary eyes flicker to the doorway; thankfully, Johnson had grabbed Morgan before she could take more than a couple of steps. Their faces are frozen in identical expressions of horror.

The Rider cocks his head, apparently not too bothered by his snap-chilled arm. "The future."

"Not one you'll see if you destroy the anchor today."

"There's no mercy in vengeance."

"I'm not asking for mercy." Shepard steps forward, snatching the sword from the floor. "I'm asking you to switch targets. We have a common enemy. Thanos could use a little Hellfire. You get rid of him - you don't have to worry about breaches."

His gaze slowly roves over them, lingering on Morgan, who has temporarily shrugged off her trauma to glare back defiantly.

Shepard shifts. "Vengeance alone never has the full answer, Ghost Rider."

There's a long, tense moment of silence. Then, with a snap, he coils his chain around his torso. The fire retreats into a slow, simmering flame.

He strides to the entrance, pausing only to kneel by the pegasus' corpse and cradle its head. Hellfire races down the Rider's arm through the horse's veins, setting its mane afire.

Isabelle chokes on a wheeze as black wings burst into semblance of skeletal life. Hellfire blazes deep within Pegasus's hollow eye sockets, and the creature snorts as it pulls itself to its feet.

Mounting seamlessly on his undead steed, he meets Isabelle's gaze one last time. "Never let this happen again."

And with that, the Rider blazes away into the darkness.

Morgan immediately wriggles free and sprints towards her. Isabelle grabs her and holds on tight, even when her chest protests. "That's the second time I haven't wanted you to come to my rescue, Commander."

"You're welcome," Shepard mutters, raising the sword high and plunging it into the platform socket.

Lightning ricochets around the chamber. The chamber spins rapidly, its apex rotating and aligning itself forwards, into an unknown infinity. A beam of pure light shoots out. Isabelle doesn't flinch away from its blinding intensity.

The portal is blue - the color of home.

Shepard marches over to Johnson, hoisting her up with ease. Isabelle takes longer to rise, leaning more on Morgan than she probably should. Her nerve endings scream; black dots her swimming vision.

But, in that final moment, when the light seizes Johnson and Morgan and slings them across space, Isabelle steps back.

She just wants to make sure -

Beyond the apex window, the Dark Dimension is rapidly withdrawing, leaving behind the universe it had almost swallowed whole. Nebulas burst, galaxies bloom, thousands of stars and worlds pulse with hope and light.

So very alive.

Bathed in the cosmic glow, the Commander's features look strangely familiar.

As though she's recalling a memory of something that hasn't happened yet. "Shepard. Do I know you?"

Her comms crackle. "I'm getting the hang of kicking Thanos' ass, sis!" Tony whoops.

Isabelle's laugh twists into a choking sob. "Tell me it's okay to leave."

"Would it help if I promised you - ,"

The portal flickers invitingly.

" - that our story is not yet finished?"

Closing her eyes, she dives.

Gjallarbru

She plummets down a pillar of light.

The turbulence is immensely violent, as though her soul is being dragged across the universe. Her screams are only a temporary release - snatched away by the roar thundering in her ears. She reaches desperately towards the light, craning for any purchase to slow her fall. It parts like a curtain of threads beneath her fingers.

Distantly, she hears the echo of gleeful cackling.

Then the light surges through her veins and sets her mind aflame.

Stars and worlds blink from the massive canopy of a gnarled Tree, mired in Twilight. An entire universe - life - precariously but preciously held, despite the relentless siege of Dragons along its roots.

Shadow against a purple-and-gold nebula, on the far rim of the Galaxy. A bright, piercing red light. Beyond, the Void awaits the Call.

A Serpent, indescribably massive, uncloaks from the oceans. It coils around a World - her world. It squeezes, as it has done to worlds uncountable. A beast better unwoken.

The three-headed Hound breaks free of its chains. Once a guardian of the Gate, now enslaved forevermore to the Dragons.

A Noise, like a foghorn, boring into the brain. Resonating in all the Worlds. Upon hearing it, everything, everywhere Fears.

And then, a Fate worse than Death - the World Tree in flames. The Heavens burn, leaving behind only endless Void.

An eternal Twilight.

MCU Context

Armor: Isabelle's Asgardian armor is closely based on a Lady Sif concept art from a while ago. It's the only one where she's wearing a hoodie of sorts. I can't paste the link here, but 'Lady Sif uniform concept art' in Google should do the trick.

Tyr: Tyr is the Commander of the Einherjar, the Asgardian army.

The Norns: In Norse mythos, the Norns are women who weave the thread of destiny. Wyrd (Past), Verdandi (Present), and Skuld (Future). There are significant differences between the Norns and the Moirai (Fates) - three similar women found in Greek Mythology.

The Fates are responsible for measuring an individual's life using their life thread and also deciding their fate. The Norns, as far as I understand, can only see destiny that's clearly laid out in front of them.

They're as bound by time as three-dimensional mortals. They can't interfere in mortal affairs to try to change what's coming. Their only job is to impart information.

Buried in this helplessness since literally time began has driven them not a little insane, and now they revel in this power, showing malevolent visions and muttering riddled prophecies instead of imparting the whole truth. Since they can't affect change anyway, they might as well have whatever fun they can before the inevitable. They enjoy sending mortals scurrying.

As you can imagine, such behavior doesn't result in awesome reviews.

At least, that's my interpretation, and one I'm keeping because it meshes well with my story. I'm taking huge liberties with Norse Mythology, not least because so has Marvel. In no way do I mean any offense to any communities or religion. As a lover of stories, I find original myths from all cultures to be utterly beautiful.

Time Travel Theories: Time travel, as established in Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., doesn't actually break its own rules, or the rules laid down by MCU. Even though it seems like it's all over the place, there's an underlying foundation that's never been made explicit, but exists nevertheless. It's that foundation that I've attempted to clarify.

My headcanon is that Tony didn't actually create parallel universes (parallel lines) when he went back in time; those universes already existed. What he did create was an alternative universe - a branched timeline.

The Time-Stone, I believe, is operating on a completely different level than all this. Stephen Strange, in his own words, 'went forward in time. To view alternate futures. To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.'

Note the usage of the word 'alternate'.

MCU has a term for those realities that are created when Infinity Stones are removed from the timeline. They're called 'Dark Splinters'.

Thing is - aren't the Stones removed from this, the prime, the 'home' reality as well? Thanos destroyed them, remember?

That's what I've been going on about from the beginning, with the breaches and dark energy and stuff.

By MCU's own rules, Thanos caused irreparable harm to the universe when he destroyed them. It's a gaping maw of a plot hole that I don't know whether MCU will ever address, but I sure as hell will. Stay tuned.

All of this is my own theory. And might be wildly incorrect from a scientific point of view. But I'm attempting to explain MCU time travel, not trying to become a physicist.

Ironbird: This basically functions like Air Force One, which is basically any aircraft carrying the president of the United States. Ironbird is any vessel - skiff, pegasi etc. - currently carrying the anchor. It's basically an amalgamation of Iron Man and Isabelle's nickname for her - baby bird.

Nexus Portals: First appeared in Thor: The Dark World. Loki pilots a skiff through one of those along with Thor and Jane Foster. Since the Soul World layout is identical to Asgard (for reasons that I will elaborate on in the next chapter), I used a similar concept here.

Observatory Sword: Hofund, once Heimdall's sword, the key to opening the Bifrost… or in this case, the dimensional bridge connecting the Soul World to Earth.

Mass Effect Context:

Reverse Hack: What Daisy and Tony work on is basically the A.I. Hacking tech power from the games.

General Context:

HVT: High-Value Target. Basically a military designation for allied assets that are necessary to win a war. The Gauntlet during the Battle of Earth was an HVT.