Svartalfheim—the desolate, forsaken realm of the Dark Elves within the Nine Realms.

The moment their boots touched its soil, an oppressive stillness pressed down upon them. The land stretched endlessly, a barren canvas of blackened earth and jagged stone, its silence so absolute it almost rang in the ears. Wind scoured across the empty plains, carrying with it the faint scent of ash, as though the world itself still remembered the fires of war that had once ravaged it.

Although Alex could not pinpoint the Aether's exact hiding place, he had a strong feeling that Svartalfheim was the most probable site. It had been the battlefield of the Dark Elves' last stand against Asgard, the ground where Malekith's people were nearly annihilated. If there was anywhere that still bore the scars of their existence, it would be here.

Moreover, Alex's memories of Thor: The Dark World resurfaced. Jane Foster had discovered the Aether in a strange, abandoned void—a place described as endless and suffocatingly dark. The description aligned perfectly with this lightless realm, where even the sky seemed starved of warmth.

It wasn't certainty, but it was enough to guide him. With no better lead, Svartalfheim was as good a place as any to begin.

"Fine!" Thor's agreement came without hesitation. His blue eyes gleamed with the restless eagerness of a warrior longing for battle, even if this mission promised more dust than glory.

Thus the matter was settled. Without delay, Thor summoned the warriors of Asgard, their ranks gleaming in gold and steel, and together with Alex they set out for Svartalfheim at full speed across the Bifrost.

And so began Alex's quest for the Reality Stone.

---

The search, however, was grueling. Monotonous. Even for one of Alex's resilience, the task wore thin quickly. Svartalfheim offered nothing but bleak horizons—dunes of ash, endless plains of cracked dirt, cliffs that jutted like broken teeth against the darkened sky. The silence was broken only by the crunch of boots and the occasional metallic rattle of Asgardian armor.

There was no sun here, no warmth. The world seemed drained of color, as though it had been leeched dry by the long-dead Dark Elves. The atmosphere pressed heavily on them all, suffocating in its emptiness. Even Alex, with all his patience, felt his endurance fray after months of trudging through nothing.

Three months. Three months of searching as though hunting for a single grain of sand in an endless desert.

At times, Alex caught himself tempted to simply abandon the effort altogether.

"This is absurd," he muttered under his breath one evening, his cape weighed down by dust.

---

Thor, no less begrimed, trudged beside him. His hammer rested heavily in his grasp, its head streaked with soot. Alex turned to him at last, breaking the monotony.

"Thor," he said, voice edged with dry irritation, "doesn't Asgard have any sorcery that could actually locate the Aether? We're wasting time combing the dirt like scavengers." He gestured to the bleak horizon. "What about Loki? Isn't he supposed to be a master of illusions? Maybe this is something within his reach."

The thought of involving Loki was not random. Alex knew full well that Odin's queen, Frigga, was even more skilled in sorcery. She had been Loki's teacher, after all, and her sharpness during the events of Endgame had proved her perception was peerless. But Alex wasn't thick-skinned enough to approach the Queen Mother herself with this drudgery.

Loki, however, was another matter.

Thor's eyes brightened immediately, like a storm cloud breaking with sunlight. "You're right! Loki's magic is excellent—remarkable, even. He tricked me countless times in the past, and I never saw through his illusions!"

Alex arched a brow. He suspected that had less to do with Loki's brilliance and more with Thor's… particular simplicity. Not that Loki lacked talent, but deceiving Thor hardly required much.

"But Loki is imprisoned," Thor added, frowning for a moment. Then his face lit again. "Alex, perhaps you could speak to my father! If you asked, I'm certain he'd agree to release Loki early. After all, this quest is crucial to Asgard."

Alex was left momentarily speechless. Truly, Thor's devotion to his brother bordered on absurd. Still, after a moment's thought, he conceded it wasn't an unreasonable idea.

Loki's crimes were significant but not as severe as in the original timeline where he had unleashed the Chitauri upon New York. Here, his failures had tempered his infamy somewhat. And if the Aether posed a threat to the Nine Realms, then employing Loki's skills, even temporarily, seemed justified.

---

And so, seven days later, Loki stepped once more onto the bleak soil of Svartalfheim.

He stood before Alex and Thor, his raven-black hair disheveled yet his arrogance untarnished by imprisonment. His green eyes gleamed with sharp cunning.

"Well, well," Loki drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "So the mighty and mysterious Alex—the one even Odin holds in such high esteem—finds himself in need of my help?"

"You're absolutely right," Alex replied evenly, without the slightest defensiveness. "Magic isn't my field. That's your expertise. But understand this: if you prove useless, I won't hesitate to send you straight back to your cell."

Loki's smirk wavered, just for an instant. The mere thought of returning to the dungeons twisted his pride. Even this godforsaken wasteland was preferable to confinement.

And escape? Normally, Loki's mind would already be racing with schemes. But Alex was here. The memory of Krakoa, of the power Alex wielded, lingered in Loki's bones like a phantom scar. Coupled with Odin's visible respect for Alex, Loki knew he had no leverage.

"Don't be so grim," Loki said finally, recovering his composure with a silky smile. "I'm certain my talents will prove indispensable. In fact—" He produced a bundle of ancient Asgardian texts with a theatrical flourish. "—I've prepared for this. Records of the Aether's form, preserved in fragments. Hardly precise, but sufficient for a ritual."

"Really, Loki? That's wonderful!" Thor burst out, clapping his hands in delight like a child. "I knew you could do it!"

"Of course I can," Loki snapped back, rolling his eyes. "I don't need your validation, brother."

Thor, unbothered, simply grinned wider and urged Loki to begin.

---

With Alex's watchful gaze ensuring his compliance, Loki set about arranging the ritual. He traced glowing runes into the blackened dirt, his hands moving with fluid grace. The magic shimmered faintly in the air, a fragile lattice of light struggling against the oppressive darkness of Svartalfheim.

The ritual worked—but imperfectly. With no clear image of the Aether's true form, Loki's spell could only provide hazy direction rather than a precise location. Still, even vague guidance was better than wandering blindly.

Their search continued, drawn onward by those fragile magical threads.

Months dragged on. Seven more long months of trudging across the dead world, following one faint lead after another, until at last…

"Prince Thor! We've found something!" A soldier burst toward them, breathless with excitement. The announcement jolted Thor upright, his fatigue vanishing in an instant.

The last time they had received such a report had been two months ago, and it had ended in bitter disappointment. But Thor's instincts told him this time was different.

"Lead the way!" Thor commanded, his voice booming with hope.

The soldier guided them to a ruined site, half-buried beneath jagged cliffs. And there, suspended in the air like a wound torn open in reality, floated a writhing mass of crimson substance.

It pulsed like living blood, twisting and roiling with unnatural life, neither liquid nor solid.

Thor's breath caught in his chest. He did not know what it was—but his warrior's intuition screamed its significance.

There was a high chance this was it.

The Aether.

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