Thor broke through the shattered ice wall just in time to see Loki lying on the golden floor, blood shining at the corner of his mouth. The glow of the Bifrost flickered once, then went dark, closing as if it had never been open.
Thor froze, breathing hard, stormlight still clinging faintly to his shoulders. His eyes moved from Loki's broken body to Alex, who stood above him like a dark statue.
"You stopped him," Thor said, his voice rough, carrying both relief and doubt.
Alex's eyes did not leave Loki. "I told you, if he could not win, he would run. Tricksters always do." His tone stayed calm, though sharp underneath. "And I do not let prey get away."
Heimdall, still weak against the wall but starting to recover after Alex's shadows had undone the frost chains, nodded slowly. His voice was hoarse but steady. "He is right, Thor. If Loki had reached the Bifrost, Jotunheim's armies would already be here in Asgard."
Thor's chest felt tight as he looked down at Loki—his brother, beaten and fallen. The stormlight faded around him, replaced by sorrow. "Why, Loki? Why would you turn against us?"
Loki stirred faintly, opening his eyes just enough to glare. His words came weak, filled with venom. "Because I was never yours to betray."
Thor stepped back half a pace, stung.
Alex crouched near Loki, his hand hovering above his chest—not touching, but close enough for shadows to curl at his skin. His voice dropped so only Loki could hear. "Enough lies. You lost. Asgard still stands. Next time, if you choose the Jotuns instead of your own blood…" His eyes narrowed, firm and sharp. "…I will not let Thor hold back."
Loki's breath caught, his smirk breaking into silence.
Alex stood again, looking at Thor and Heimdall. "What happens now is not my choice. He is your brother. Your weight. Your decision."
Thor stood over Loki, trapped between anger, grief, and duty. The hammer felt heavier than ever in his grip. Frigga's steps echoed from the hall, her voice trembling as she drew closer.
"My sons…" she whispered, tears in her eyes as she saw them—the victor, the fallen, and the shadow who had saved Asgard from war.
The golden hall went still, the storm fading into silence.
Loki suddenly pushed himself up, eyes wild. He crawled toward the edge where the Bifrost still glowed, frost and blue light rising under him.
"No!" Thor shouted, running after him. "Loki—don't!"
Loki turned, his face twisted with pain and anger. His words cut like knives: "You never wanted me. I am nothing here. Mother wept when she took me—you think you can call me brother? You cannot give me what I never had."
Thor grabbed Loki's arm. For a brief moment it seemed he would pull him back.
Loki's hand tightened on Thor's, then his mouth curled in a cold smile.
"Fine," he said. "I have nothing left." He pushed away and leapt into the glowing rift.
Thor lunged, fingers scraping the gold and light, straining with all his strength, but Loki slipped from his grasp. For one breath Thor held nothing. Loki's body vanished into the glow of the Bifrost and was gone.
Frigga cried out, a sound of grief that filled the chamber.
Thor dropped to his knees at the edge, panting, the storm fading from him. His hands shook where Loki had been. He lifted his head once, eyes filled with deep hurt, then lowered it again.
Heimdall, pale but steady, moved beside Thor and placed a hand on his shoulder. His voice was quiet but firm. "He chose, Thor. We cannot bind another's will."
Alex stood apart, arms folded, his face still and unreadable. He kept his eyes on the space where Loki had disappeared and said nothing.
Frigga collapsed, crying into her hands.
The Bifrost's light went out. Somewhere beyond it, Loki's fate—where he had landed, what he might do—slipped into the unknown.
The golden hall was still shaking when heavy steps came. The All-Father's presence filled the air before he was seen, his spear Gungnir striking the floor with each step.
Odin's eye swept across the scene—Thor kneeling at the edge, Frigga weeping, Heimdall pale but standing, and Alex silent in the shadows. The Bifrost was gone.
Thor raised his head, voice raw. "Father… he fell. I tried, but he let go." His hand shook as he pointed to the empty air. "How can he live? He should be dead."
Odin's gaze stayed on the place Loki had gone. His voice was steady though heavy. "Heimdall spoke true. The Bifrost is not only bridge, but path. No one can say where it carries, not even I. But death does not always mean the end."
Frigga's tearful face turned to him in hope. "You mean… he is alive?"
Odin closed his eye for a moment, as if weighing it. "Perhaps. The flow of Yggdrasil carries many to unknown realms. If so, Loki's road is not finished." His voice softened, but carried warning. "But where he lands, and what he becomes… that is his choice, not ours."
Thor's shoulders trembled, the storm gone from him as he lowered his head. "I called him brother. He threw the word back at me."
"Even so," Odin said, firmer now. "In bond if not in blood, he is your brother. If fate brings him back, you must be ready—whether as ally or as enemy."
Thor's hands clenched, torn between sorrow and fear.
Heimdall spoke, voice worn. "The Bifrost scattered him, All-Father. He may be on any world tied to the Tree."
Odin nodded, his face grim. "Then it is done. His path is not ours to guide. Where it goes, only fate decides."
Alex stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the place Loki had vanished.
The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint crackle of fading magic in the air. The golden floor still bore the scars of battle—shattered frost, scorch marks, and the thin trail of blood Loki had left behind.
Thor finally stood, his grip tightening around Mjolnir. He looked to his father. "What would you have me do, Father? Am I to chase him? To bring him back?"
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