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1. Prologue

17 September 2020

New York City, USA

Plan failed. Nebula's dead, Thor captured.

Loki’s stomach twisted with nausea as he stared at Stark’s message.

Thanos hadn’t remained idle for long. He realised soon enough that his Snap had sparked as many conflicts as it had finished. Now his fleets were tearing through one planet after another, trying to pacify what was left of the universe. And for two years, Thor and his motley crew of companions had shadowed Thanos in hope of finding a way to overcome him.

Loki hadn’t actually seen his brother since that fateful day when Thanos had found their ship and decided to bring balance to what few Asgardians had survived Ragnarok. By the time Loki managed to find his way to Midgard, Thor had already left in pursuit of vengeance. Communication was difficult — the distances were vast and secrecy paramount, so Loki had to content himself with mere snippets about Thor’s locations and plans. The last he had heard, things were looking up — they thought they found a way to Thanos. Loki had even dared to hope that Stark would finally come through. Evidently, he hadn’t.

‘Loki?’ Wong asked in a hesitant tone.

‘My brother is captured,’ Loki replied and thrust out Stark’s curt missive for Wong to see. ‘No, he’s dead. Thor already survived not one, but two encounters with Thanos. There wouldn’t be a third — Thanos wouldn’t permit that.’

Wong crossed his arms and sighed. ‘Your brother is resourceful. He nearly killed Thanos once, don’t forget that.’

‘I’m sure Thanos hasn’t forgotten.’

Loki examined the message again. No date. How long ago had Stark sent this?

Thor had probably been dead for weeks.

At that thought, another wave of nausea assailed him. Loki wrapped his arms around himself and clenched his eyes in an effort to prevent himself from dissolving into a blubbering mess in front of Wong. But it made little difference, he could feel his self-control slipping.

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No, this won't do.

Loki gritted his teeth and forced himself to straighten his body.

‘Hey, are you —’

‘I can’t sit around here weeping and moping like a useless invalid,’ Loki said. ‘I’ve given them the chance to do it their way. They failed. There’s no alternative left.’

‘No way.‘ Wong thrust himself between Loki and the passageway to the Sanctum library.

‘Stand aside! I’m only doing what I should’ve done the day I found that notebook.’

‘Look, you’re upset. This isn’t the time to be making any decisions, let alone trying to do this. What’s the chance the spell will work? Most likely you’ll blow yourself to pieces and take half of New York with you.’

Loki tilted his head wearily. ‘Quarter. Half of New York’s already gone.’

Before Wong could reply, Loki flicked his hand and sent Wong flying towards the windows at the far end of the room. Loki muttered an apology under his breath. After the care Wong had taken with Loki after he found Loki on the Sanctum’s doorstep, the man deserved better from him. But in the end, it was simple — Loki’s mind was made up and Wong had stood in his way.

Loki knew he would need every spark of magic contained within him, so as he walked, he dropped the cloaking spells wrapped around him. A cold, blue hue spread over his skin, revealing with it a patchwork of rope-like scars over his limbs and head. His smooth stride acquired a haltering limp and he felt his prosthetic rubbing painfully against the stump of his right leg. Loki had never thought his trick with the knife had much chance of success against Thanos and had planned accordingly. But he hadn’t anticipated the fire.

Setting down Stark’s note on the mahogany desk in the centre of the Sanctum library, Loki pulled out the right notebook out of the stacks scattered around the room. He didn’t need much time to prepare. He had worked on the spell day in and day out for months after he had pieced it together from the jumbled theoretical posturings one of Strange’s predecessors had left behind. Nevertheless, he fingers trembled — that is, more than they usually did nowadays — as he flicked to the right page and began the spell-work.

The movements came swiftly and the words that he had recited in his mind a thousand times flowed, one line melting into the next. But at the very last line, his breath hitched.

In truth, the spell was anathema to him. Loki had learned long ago that a hedged bet was the only sure way in life, but the spell didn’t permit such indulgence. This was a one-way route.

Loki took a deep breath and glanced over to Tony’s message, rereading the few words it contained one more time. If this was the world you were escaping, a one-way route wasn’t so bad, was it?

All it took was the four last words of the incantation and a flick of Loki’s wrist.

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