The afterlife trembled.
Lady Death, draped in shadows and the ever-present silence of her domain, sat upon her throne of bone and eternity. The vast expanse of her realm had been calm, undisturbed as it always was, until now.
A flood of souls, hundreds of thousands, poured in at once, their ethereal forms drifting aimlessly into the abyss. It was a rare occurrence—such vast numbers usually meant a war or a planetary disaster. But Lady Death knew better.
This was the work of her avatar.
Hela.
A slow, pleased smile tugged at her lips as she watched the spirits wander, dazed and lost. There was a certain satisfaction in this—a testament to her disciple's strength. The goddess of death had been stagnant for too long, lingering in the shadows while life thrived unchecked.
To see her avatar unleash destruction upon the living once more was… delightful.
At least for a time.
Her pleasure was fleeting, quickly overshadowed by a thought that sent a cold chill through her very being.
Darius.
Her expression darkened as she leaned back in her throne.
He had remained passive for so long, an observer of existence rather than a participant. But now he was active again. Judging.
And that was a problem.
Darius was not like her. He was not simply a god of death. He was something far beyond—a being who transcended all, one of the few entities in creation that even she, Lady Death, hesitated to challenge.
He did not govern death, but his judgment alone could erase entire civilizations with a mere thought.
If he decided that Hela's actions were too reckless, if he deemed her existence a threat to the balance…
She did not wish to think of the outcome.
For the first time in a thousand years, Lady Death moved.
Her form dissolved into mist, and in an instant, she stepped into the mortal plane. Hela remained seated on the ruined street, surrounded by the still-warm corpses of the world's former inhabitants.
She had not moved in hours.
The fires still burned, smoke coiling into the sky, yet she did not seem to notice. Her emerald eyes were distant, her mind lost in the void of her own boredom.
Until the air changed.
A hush fell over the dead city. The very essence of the world seemed to shrink in fear, as though the presence that had arrived was too great, too overwhelming for reality to contain.
The sky darkened. The fires dimmed. Even the wind stilled, as if paying reverence to the being that had stepped into existence. And then she spoke.
"Hela."
The voice was smooth, almost soothing, yet laced with undeniable authority. A voice that did not demand attention but commanded it. Hela blinked, her thoughts snapping back into focus.
She knew that voice. Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Before her stood a figure draped in black, her form regal yet ethereal. Her presence was cold, but not in the way of a harsh winter—no, this was the cold of inevitability, of the grave, of the final breath before silence.
Her skin was pale, luminous even, as if untouched by time itself. Her long, flowing hair cascaded like midnight silk, and her piercing eyes, deep and knowing, held a quiet amusement.
Lady Death.
For the first time in a millennium, the two goddesses faced each other. Hela let out a breath, tilting her head slightly. "It has been a long time," she murmured.
"A thousand years," Lady Death confirmed, stepping forward with effortless grace. "And you have been… busy."
Hela smirked, stretching her legs out as she gestured toward the carnage around them. "Did I make you proud?"
Lady Death chuckled softly, her lips curving in amusement. "For a time." The smirk faltered. Hela's gaze sharpened. "For a time?" she echoed.
Lady Death studied her for a moment before sighing. "I came here to warn you, Hela."
Hela's expression shifted into mild curiosity, but she said nothing. Lady Death continued, "You are powerful. A force of destruction. But you are not beyond consequence."
Hela scoffed. "You think mortals will stop me? Let them try."
"It is not mortals you should concern yourself with."
The weight of those words settled between them.
Hela narrowed her eyes, now genuinely intrigued. "Then who?"
Lady Death hesitated. Then, softly, she spoke a name,"Darius."
At that moment, the very mention of his name sent an unnatural shiver through the air. As though the universe itself acknowledged the weight of it. Hela frowned. She had heard the name before, long ago, whispered in ancient stories and among forgotten myths.
But she had never cared until now.
"Darius," she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. "Who is he to me?"
Lady Death's expression remained unreadable. "He is judgment itself. A being who sees beyond time, beyond existence, beyond what we can comprehend. And he has returned to his purpose."
Hela raised an eyebrow. "And that purpose is…?"
Lady Death met her gaze, her voice calm but absolute. "To judge those who think themselves above consequence."
Hela's fingers twitched. A slow grin spread across her face, her emerald eyes gleaming with something she had not felt in a long, long time.
Excitement.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Tell me more," she said, her tone almost eager.
Lady Death tilted her head slightly. "You misunderstand. This is not an opportunity, Hela. It is a warning. If you continue this reckless destruction, Darius will take notice. And when he does, he will not hesitate."
Hela exhaled sharply, laughing under her breath. "Oh, I hope he notices."
Lady Death's eyes darkened. "You do not understand what you are asking for."
"I understand perfectly," Hela countered, rising to her feet.
The grin she wore now was different from before. It was not cruel, nor mocking. It was something real—something alive.
A true warrior's smile.
For so long, she had felt empty. The destruction, the slaughter—it had all been meaningless.
But this?
This was something different.
A god who could judge her? Who could be a threat to her? A god who might—might—be able to stand against her? Her heart pounded in anticipation.
She stepped closer, standing toe to toe with Lady Death. "Where can I find him?"
The goddess of death did not answer immediately. Instead, she studied Hela, as if searching for the right words. Then, finally, she exhaled.
"You will not need to seek him," she said softly. "If you continue, he will come to you."
Hela's grin widened.
"Then let him come."
=.=.=
==
=
Darius sat leisurely upon a golden cushion, his long white robes billowing slightly as he leaned forward, flicking a tiny playing piece across the smooth surface of a celestial board.
Verity, his ever-curious creation, stared intently at the board, her young mind calculating possibilities, while Aurama, his niece, clapped excitedly, her wild hair radiating with cosmic energy.
The game was simple—something he had devised to entertain the two, a combination of strategy, wit, and a touch of mischief. Verity had been winning so far, her expression one of deep focus, while Aurama, still young and prone to bursts of excitement, had simply been enjoying herself, laughing at every unexpected move.
But then—
Darius suddenly chuckled, tilting his head upward as if listening to something far beyond the understanding of those around him. His golden-blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he gazed into the vastness of the cosmos.
He had, of course, heard everything.
The conversation between Lady Death and Hela had reached him as if whispered directly into his ear. It wasn't often that someone spoke of him with such boldness, let alone with eagerness to face him.
Intriguing.
Excusing himself with a gentle ruffle of Aurama's hair and a pat on Verity's head, he stood, his casual attire shifting instantly.
Gone were the relaxed robes of a man enjoying a peaceful afternoon.
In their place, his attire transformed into something far more grandiose—celestial garments woven from the very essence of the cosmos. Flowing white and gold, his robes pulsated with the faintest glow of stardust, their threads humming with divine energy.
His golden jewelry, dormant for so long, thrummed back to life, accentuating his presence.
And then, with a slow flick of his wrist, he conjured something he had not wielded in a while—his staff. [A/N: Forgot about this thing honestly]
Tall and regal, the staff pulsed with ancient power, its polished surface gleaming with inscriptions of forgotten tongues. The very air around it seemed to bend, recognizing the authority of its master.
Darius exhaled softly, running his fingers along its surface. "Been a while, hasn't it?"
The staff hummed in response.
[Ruined Alien Planet]
The ruined city still smoldered.
Hela and Lady Death stood in eerie silence, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air. Hela's expression was one of restless excitement, her fingers twitching in anticipation.
Lady Death, on the other hand, was unreadable, her gaze fixed on her avatar with a quiet solemnity.
Then—
A shift.
It was subtle at first, like a ripple across a still pond. The air itself changed, thickening with an overwhelming force. Reality seemed to pause, as if existence itself was waiting for something monumental to unfold.
The very fabric of the cosmos parted.
A golden light split through the dim sky, cascading down like an ethereal waterfall. Swirling mists of silver and black curled around the edges, the void itself bending to make way for something beyond comprehension.
And then, from that golden rift, he stepped forth. Darius.
His arrival was not thunderous, not violent—it was graceful, as if the universe itself had simply welcomed him into this place. His celestial robes billowed softly, untethered by the wind, and his golden-trimmed staff touched the ground with a quiet tap that echoed through the ruins.
He did not radiate destruction nor fury. He radiated authority.
An undeniable, immeasurable presence that made the very air feel heavier, as if reality itself had to make space for something greater.
Hela's smirk faltered, not in fear, but in curiosity.
She had faced gods before. Killed them. Broken them.
But this? This was different.
Lady Death remained still, her gaze unreadable as she inclined her head slightly. "Darius." His eyes, those twin pools of gold, flicked toward her. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips.
"Lady Death. It has been some time."
His voice was smooth, rich with a casual amusement, yet beneath it lay something ancient, something far beyond the comprehension of mortal or god. Hela crossed her arms, taking a step forward.
"So," she drawled, tilting her head. "You're Darius."
Darius turned his gaze upon her, and for a brief moment, the weight of his attention alone made the air grow thick.
Hela felt it—not as an attack, not as intimidation, but as a simple fact. His presence was. And that alone was overwhelming. But she did not falter.
Instead, she smirked again, her excitement rekindling. "I was expecting something… more."
Darius chuckled, tapping his staff lightly against the ground. "Oh, trust me, Hela Odinsdottir. I get that a lot."
Hela narrowed her eyes. "Lady Death tells me you're some sort of cosmic judge."
Darius shrugged. "Among other things."
Hela's fingers curled slightly, eager, twitching with restrained energy. "And what happens if someone fails your judgment?"
Darius tilted his head, his smile deepening. "Oh, you know… erasure, the unmaking of existence, sometimes a polite lecture." He paused, then added with an almost playful gleam in his eye, "Depends on my mood, really."
Hela grinned.
"Oh, I like you."
Darius chuckled again. "That makes one of you."
Lady Death sighed softly, placing a hand on her temple. "This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid."
Hela ignored her. She took another step forward, the excitement in her gaze now undeniable. "So tell me, Darius—if I wanted to fight you, to test myself against something truly powerful…"
She leaned in slightly, her voice low and eager. "Would you indulge me?"
Darius exhaled, tilting his head as if considering the idea. Then, with a lazy smile, he rested both hands atop his staff. "Let me ask you something first, dear Hela."
He leaned in slightly, his gaze locking onto hers with an unreadable intensity.
"Do you really want to know what it feels like… to be powerless?"
Hela's breath hitched—just for a fraction of a second. Not in fear but in anticipation.
Lady Death sighed again.
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