A field of grass and shrubs stretches endlessly under a night sky thick with stars. Low plains roll toward distant mountains - jagged black teeth against the heavens. Wind stirs the grass. Leaves whisper. Nothing else moves.
Then light splits the darkness.
The Bifrost strikes earth like a thunderbolt - rainbow fire blazing in a column that turns night to day. The sound crashes across the empty plain, echoes off the mountains, dies in the distance. Three heartbeats of impossible color.
Then gone.
Four figures stand where the light had been. Scorched grass radiates from their boots in a perfect circle.
Thor hits the ground in a crouch, Mjolnir already drawn. His eyes sweep left - nothing. Right. - nothing. Behind - clear.
He rises slowly, cape settling around his shoulders. The hammer hangs ready at his side.
Sif moves to his right, sword drawn, scanning the darkness.
Hróðmar checks their rear, axe in hand, beard stirring in the breeze.
Eirik raises his lantern. Enchanted light pushes back shadows, illuminates swaying grass, catches on something in the distance.
Structures. Dark shapes against the mountain's base, maybe half a league away.
Thor points with Mjolnir. "There."
They move.
Boots through grass. Wind at their backs. Stars wheeling overhead in patterns Thor doesn't recognize. The lantern bobs ahead, Eirik in the lead. Sif and Hróðmar flank. Thor brings up the rear, eyes never still, hammer never lowered.
The air feels wrong. Heavy. Charged.
Like the moment before lightning strikes.
"Something sleeps here," Sif says, voice low.
Thor doesn't answer. Just keeps walking, keeps watching. The structures grow closer. Mountains loom larger. That feeling in the air intensifies - old magic, deep magic, waiting magic.
Thunder rolls across the peaks. Natural thunder, not his. A storm that doesn't care about gods or conquest.
They walk in silence. Weapons ready. The temple complex rises from the darkness ahead.
The Courtyard
The buildings take shape as they approach.
Wooden structures with curved roofs form three sides of a small courtyard. Shutters hang crooked. Paint peels from walls. Everything old, abandoned, silent.
The fourth side opens toward the mountains where a path winds upward into darkness.
Red leaves cover everything - scattered across cracked stone tiles in drifts so vivid they seem to glow.
"Battlefield," Sif murmurs.
"Grave," Thor counters.
They enter the courtyard slowly. Eirik's lantern sweeps across empty windows, throwing wild shadows. A shutter bangs somewhere, rhythmic in the wind. Chimes ring from deeper in the complex - delicate crystalline notes that don't belong.
In the center stands a pillar.
Three times the height of a man. Thick as a warrior's torso. Dark stone covered completely in markings that seem to writhe in the shifting light. Symbols that hurt to look at, that suggest meanings just out of reach.
At its base sits a statue.
Pale stone carved into a monkey warrior. Simian features frozen in meditation. Armor rendered in perfect detail. Strong arms. Powerful shoulders. One hand on a knee. The other positioned as if holding something invisible.
The stone face is serene. Too serene.
"Search the buildings," Thor orders.
Hróðmar and Eirik split off. Thor and Sif circle the pillar. The markings crawl across its surface - mountains, water, abstract shapes, almost-writing. Thor reaches out but doesn't touch. The air around it feels dense, charged.
"What is it ," Sif breathes .
"No idea."
"My lord!" Hróðmar voice echoes. "Empty! All of it!"
Eirik emerges from the opposite side, shaking his head. "Nothing recent. Found old shrine offerings, all rotted. More markings inside."
Thor studies the monkey statue. That peaceful face. Those empty hands.
The wind rises suddenly. Howling.
The leaves spiral upward. The chimes multiply - a thousand bells ringing. The shutter bangs faster, frantic.
The pillar's markings begin to glow.
Silver light. Strengthening to gold. The symbols rotate, spinning faster, faster, becoming a blur that makes Thor's eyes burn.
"Defensive positions!" he roars.
Instant reaction. Sif right. Hróðmar and Eirik forming a circle. Thor forward, Mjolnir two-handed, lightning crackling along its edge .
The symbols spin. Wind howls. Bells ring. Thunder rolls closer in the mountains.
The pillar vanishes.
Simply gone. Empty air. Dancing leaves.
Thor spins, searching. "Where-".
A breath mists from the stone warrior's nostrils.
Thor's attention snaps to it.
The statue's eyes open.
Golden. Living. Locked on Thor.
The warrior rises.