Mavuika looked at Wanda and Pietro. "What about you two? After Hela and I go back, you can continue to live here. Tony will take care of your lives; I have already spoken to him."
Wanda and Pietro exchanged a glance.
Wanda put down her fork and looked at Mavuika. "We want to go with you."
Mavuika raised an eyebrow slightly. "To Asgard?"
Wanda nodded. "We... haven't been anywhere else. The HYDRA Base, Kamar-Taj, here—this is everything we have ever seen. You always say Asgard is beautiful, and I want to see it."
Pietro nodded beside her. "Besides, we don't want to be left behind."
Mavuika looked at them and was silent for a moment.
Hela snorted coldly. "Taking two people from Midgard to Asgard? What will Father think?"
Mavuika did not look at Hela, her gaze remaining on Wanda and Pietro. "What Father thinks is my business. If you want to go, I agree, but there is one condition."
Wanda looked at her.
"When we arrive in Asgard, listen to me and don't wander off."
Wanda nodded. "We understand."
Pietro also nodded.
Hela put down her fork, leaned back in her chair, and crossed her arms over her chest. "Suit yourself; it's not like I'm the one who has to deal with Father."
After breakfast, Mavuika took everyone to the apartment balcony. It was a clear morning in New York; the sunlight was perfect, and the breeze was gentle.
The distant Manhattan skyline shimmered in the morning light, like a forest cast from glass and steel.
Mavuika raised her hand, and golden-red flames condensed in her palm.
Her flames resonated with the Thousand Blazing Suns, and a sword condensed and took shape in the Akasha. First, it was a streak of golden light, then the outline of a sword, and finally, it became solid.
The blade was slender, with flame-like patterns flowing along its edge, and a dark red Eternal Flame crystal was embedded in the crossguard.
She gripped the hilt tightly and injected three streams of power from within her body into the blade simultaneously, causing golden-red flames to erupt from the sword's edge.
In the sky, the clouds began to rotate like a giant vortex. At the center of the vortex, colorful light began to condense, growing brighter and more dazzling.
Those rays of light were like colorful ribbons, descending from the sky and wrapping around the tip of Mavuika's sword.
The Bifrost Bridge—had descended.
Wanda looked up at the colorful light, her eyes wide.
While reading through legends and myths, she had heard of the Bifrost Bridge, the bridge in norse mythology that connected Asgard and Midgard, but she had never imagined that she would one day see it with her own eyes, let alone stand upon it.
Pietro stood beside her, also looking up with his mouth slightly agape. "Sis, we're really going up."
Wanda squeezed his hand. "Don't let go."
Pietro nodded.
The colorful light enveloped the entire balcony, and the figures of Mavuika, Hela, Thor, Loki, Wanda, and Pietro—all six of them—became blurred within the radiance.
"Let's go," Mavuika said.
The light exploded, turning into a stream of light that shot up into the sky.
Wanda felt her body become weightless, like a feather caught in the wind.
It wasn't weightlessness, but a more fundamental freedom, detached from the constraints of gravity. There was no ground beneath her feet, no sky above her head; there were only the colorful bands of light all around her, like rivers of color, rushing past her.
She wanted to speak, but her voice became distorted and distant within the light. She could only hold onto Pietro's hand tightly, feeling the warmth of his palm.
Pietro was also looking at her; there was shock in his eyes, as well as excitement, and a kind of childlike curiosity that he rarely showed.
The journey across the Bifrost Bridge was very short, so short that before Wanda had time to experience the wonder of it, it was already over.
The light dissipated, and Wanda found herself standing in a completely different World.
The sky was deep blue, as blue as a gemstone, so blue it didn't seem real. A few white clouds floated in the sky, so low that it felt as if she could reach out and touch them.
In the distance, a Golden Palace stood on the mountaintop, its spires towering into the clouds, with huge gemstones embedded in the tips, refracting colorful light under the sun.
The Golden Palace, the royal palace of Asgard.
Beneath her feet was a massive circular platform, forged from an unknown metal, its surface carved with complex runes.
Around the platform was an endless starry sky—not the starry sky of night, but a true, brilliant galaxy that could be seen even in the daytime.
Wanda took a deep breath. There was a scent in the air she had never smelled before—not the fragrance of flowers or grass, but something older, like the breath of ages past.
"This is... Asgard," she said softly.
Pietro stood beside her, also looking around. His gaze shifted from the Golden Palace to the distant waterfalls, and from the waterfalls to the Bifrost Bridge in the mountains—the real Bifrost Bridge, spanning the sky and connecting the various regions of Asgard.
"Sis, we seem to be the first humans to come to Asgard!" There was a hint of uncontrollable excitement in Pietro's voice.
Wanda did not answer. She looked at Mavuika, who was standing at the edge of the platform, looking at the distant Golden Palace. Mavuika's expression was calm, but in those amber eyes, there was a light Wanda had never seen before.
It wasn't excitement, it wasn't thrill, but longing—a longing suppressed for a thousand years that could finally be released.
Hela stood next to Mavuika, arms crossed over her chest, her expression cold, but her fingers tapped lightly against her arm; she was masking her emotions.
Thor was the last to emerge from the light of the Bifrost Bridge. He carried Mjolnir on his shoulder, looking at the distant Golden Palace in silence for a long time, then he took a deep breath and said, "Finally back."
Loki walked at the very end, still holding that book. He glanced at the Golden Palace, the corners of his mouth slightly raised. "Still the same as ever."
Footsteps came from one end of the platform.
A tall man walked over. He wore golden armor, with a long sword at his waist. His face was resolute, and his eyes were golden—not the gold of a human, but a true, amber-like gold.
His skin was dark brown, and his hair was black, braided into fine, tight plaits that hung behind his shoulders.
Heimdall, the Guardian of the Bifrost Bridge.
He walked up to them, crossed his arms over his chest, and bowed deeply.
"Your Highnesses, welcome back."
Mavuika stepped forward and looked at Heimdall. "Long time no see, Heimdall."
Heimdall straightened up and looked at Mavuika. In those golden eyes, there was a rare, almost warm light.
"It has been centuries, Your Highness. You haven't changed at all."
Mavuika smiled. "You too, still just as tall."
The corners of Heimdall's mouth lifted slightly, an expression that rarely appeared on his face. He turned to Hela and bowed slightly. "Your Highness Hela, thank you for your hard work in the Underworld."