Chapter 1
Screams and blaster fire echoed through the valley.
Wood and dirt exploded skyward as the reptilian Chitauri soldiers moved with ruthless efficiency, tearing through homes and families without pause.
Wesor’s breaths came in ragged gasps as he carried his baby girl. His wife, Emilia, dragged their young son beside her, both children crying as the family ran through smoke and flame choking the remnants of their village.
“Emilia!” Wesor hissed, yanking his wife closer as two Chitauri rounded the corner ahead. He tried to steer them away before they were spotted.
“I can’t!” Emilia gasped, pushing their son toward him as she clutched her stomach, blood blossomed from a blaster wound, spreading like fire. “You have to save them. You have to leave me!”
“I won’t—” Wesor cupped her face, cradling her head as it slumped into his hand. Their daughter wailed in his other arm.
Emilia leaned forward to press a trembling kiss to their daughter’s forehead, her eyes red and glistening. “I’m already gone, Wesor. I love you.”
“Emilia!” he cried, but all he could do was watch as she turned and ran in the opposite direction, screaming to draw the Chitauri’s attention.
Wesor clenched his eyes shut as the twin ring of blaster bolts sliced through the air. He shoved down the part of him that wanted to collapse. All that mattered now was the tiny grip of his son on his leg and the infant in his arms.
He ran.
Shouts followed them— alien and jagged. Wesor dragged his son faster, weaving between the rubble of their ruined home.
For a brief moment, escape felt possible. His heart pounded in his ears, fueled by desperation. The Chitauri weren’t as fast, distracted by others too slow to run. Maybe, just maybe—
The hope died in his chest as a shadow passed overhead.
A winged silhouette blocked the sun.
“The Butcher,” Wesor breathed, stumbling.
Everything went quiet. All he could hear was the thunder of his heart and the metallic whisper of feathers, ringing through like a wind chime.
The wings slammed forward as the warrior descended, a blur of dark metal. Her spear flashed once, slashing through Wesor’s ankle. He collapsed with a scream, curling around his daughter to cushion the fall.
“Take the children,” the woman ordered.
Two Chitauri rushed forward, seizing the boy and wrenching the baby from Wesor’s grasp.
“No!” he howled, scrambling to his elbows. But his leg was useless, and the Chitauri overwhelmed him with ease.
He looked up at the one called Thanos’ Butcher— a name whispered in terror across systems. He didn’t know what he expected: a sneer, a smirk, sadistic pleasure.
But she just stared at him with hollow brown eyes. Empty. Detached. Like he didn’t matter.
“Please,” Wesor begged, choking back sobs. “My family— spare them. Spare me.”
She blinked down at him, wind tossing the braids woven into her red hair over armored shoulders.
Her voice was cold. “Your fate has already been decided.”
Wesor’s face crumbled, despair overtaking him. Before he could speak again, her spear thrust forward straight into his neck.
He convulsed once, then when still. His final breath was lost to the wind, drowned beneath the slaughter around him.
“General Azura!” a Chitauri soldier approached her, speaking in their sharp, clicking tongue.
Azura calmly wiped the green blood from her weapon with a cloth from her belt. She didn’t look at the soldier.
“All areas have been secured,” he reported.
She flicked her hand in dismissal. “Then signal for Proxima and Corvus to make their descent. We have more work to do.”
The Chitauri hesitated. “Supergiant has requested a meeting.”
Azura stilled. Her wings ruffled, the stormy winds playing their eerie song across the metal feathers.
“When?” she asked.
“As soon as we return to the Sanctuary.”
Her fists curled, gauntlets gleaming with restrained tension. But it faded quickly, replaced with calm command.
“Then why are you still here?” she said sharply. “Ready a squad. We’ll reconvene with the Sanctuary. Let the others assist Proxima.”
“General,” the soldier hissed in acknowledgement, vanishing to carry out her orders.
Azura turned her gaze back to the ruins below.
It wasn’t a battlefield. That implied resistance. This… this was a massacre. A necessary one, dictated by Thanos’ will.
And so, without another glance, she spread her wings and soared into the sky.
Proxima Midnight was already waiting on the landing pad.
“Enjoying the air while you can?” she asked as Azura landed beside her.
“I don’t have time for this, Proxima. What is it?”
Proxima sniffed, leading her soldiers toward their transport. “The Shape-Changer has been sighted in the western sector. Alongside the smugglers Maw’s been chasing.”
“Casualties?”
“Not yet. But rumor has it you’re being sent to correct that.”
Azura merely hummed, walking past her sister toward her own ship. “You enjoy yourself too much.”
Proxima smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not all of us live like androids, sister.”
Azura glanced over her shoulder. “I’ve led Father’s armies since before you existed. You’ll tire of these missions eventually… if your arrogance doesn’t kill you first.”
Proxima snarled, but Azura was already gone, disinterested in the fight.
She snapped her fingers, summoning a Chitauri to her side as she climbed aboard.
“Give me the report on the Shape-Changer,” she ordered.
The soldier pulled up a screen and passed it to her as the ship sealed shut.
Azura watched the horizon until only artificial lighting remained.
Her wings flexed slightly.
The Shape-Changer had become a nuisance to the Sanctuary. He’d slipped through the fingers of Thanos’ forces, even Ebony Maw’s. And Azura had her own reasons for pursuing him, reasons Thanos didn’t care to understand.
She scrolled through the latest report:
A mole within the smugglers had given up the meeting time and coordinates. The group planned to ferry out passengers through an illegal lapse in Sanctuary borders. These passengers included the Shape-Changer.
Azura’s orders were clear: expose their border’s weakness, capture the Shape-Changer alive, raze the rest.
She opened his file. Sparse, as always. Just one old security clip to keep her attention.
A hooded figure, presumed male, moving like liquid death through a squadron of Sakaarans. But the losses weren’t what kept Azura’s attention. No, she focused on a flash of silver from beneath the figure’s cloak.
After enhancing in on the image, it was revealed to be a buckle, engraved with script.
Asgardian script.
Azura sneered, replaying the footage. Her fingers curled around the edge of the screen.
If the fugitive was truly Asgardian, she wanted the satisfaction of bringing him in. Even if Thanos would claim the final blow.
The transport groaned as they docked with the Sanctuary. Azura pushed the screen into the chest of the nearest Chitauri and descended into the hangar, boots echoing on the metal floor.
She didn’t stop for anyone who was in her way, just wanting to get her next meeting over with as soon as she could.
“Supergiant,” she called, entering the dim chamber. “You asked for me.”
The blue-skinned emerged with a grin too wide and eyes too black without a discernible iris. “Ah, my dear older sister. How fares the cleansing of G-N8X? Anything thrilling?”
Azura doesn’t bother with the same performative attempt to invoke their ‘sisterhood.’ “You’ve already seen my thoughts. You know the answer.”
Supergiant’s grin twisted. “Where’s the fun in that? Just because I have the power to make you tell me everything, make you do anything… doesn’t mean I always enjoy taking the easy way out.”
Azura didn’t blink. “If I had your power, I’d get to the point.”
Supergiant laughed too sharply. Azura’s jaw tightened.
“Alright, you’ve worn me down,” the telepath relented. “Let’s talk about your new obsession, the Asgardian runaway.”
“We don’t know for certain that he is.”
Supergiant’s fingers trailed over her table of trinkets set in the middle of the room. “Protective.”
Azura’s eyes narrowed. “Have you some insight into the Shape-Changer you haven’t found necessary to share with Father?”
Supergiant’s smile faltered, just for a second. “You’re fun when you’re threatening, Azura. You pose such a unique challenge compared to the rest of our siblings. But don’t worry, I’ve got my own interests in our uninvited guest.”
Azura stepped in close, voice low. “Don’t test me, sister. I know exactly what happens to those who gain your interest.”
Supergiant wiped a well-manicured hand over her smooth head and pouted. “So dramatic. Maybe that’s why Father has traded you out for your precious little Gamora for the title of favorite daughter. You’ve grown dull.”
Azura turned, unmoved. “Is that all?”
Supergiant’s voice trailed after her. “Pretending not to care will only get you so far, sister.”
Azura didn’t look back. “Get out of my head, and you can be none the wiser of what I’m pretending to be.”
Supergiant only giggled,“ No fun, no fair!”
As the doors slid shut, her expression tightened for a moment.
She raised her comm. “Prepare for immediate departure to the western sector. Full armament. Expect resistance. We’re bringing in the Shape-Changer.”
The next few hours were enough for Azura to set up an assault plan as her personal ship, the Peregrine, veered toward the coordinates sent ahead for the smugglers’ meeting. Still, her strategy was on unstable footing, especially when it came to the Shape-Changer.
He wasn’t just an unknown, he was intelligent and slippery. The only recording they had of him looped endlessly as she scoured old reports. There had to be something she was missing.
There was also the question of whether he was even Asgardian.
The warrior race was one of bold tactics and head-on combat. Their seidr-users were fewer, and their roles often skewed towards femininity. Yet the Shape-Changer had shown mastery of both blade and magic, wielded with precision and restraint.
It didn’t fit. None of it fit.
Azura hated heading into a fight without knowing the variables, especially the ones she couldn’t control.
“Two clicks out from the target coordinates, General,” a Chitauri reported.
“Hold at one. Send two smaller pods in first to get eyes on the situation before we fully engage.” She didn’t look up from her report. “We still don’t know who sent the leak. I don’t plan on walking into a trap.”
Acknowledgement crackled in response. Azura rose and headed for the pods to join the advancing force.
She climbed into one of them, tucking in her wings to avoid cramping the already tight space. Her feathers pinched sharply into her back as she compressed them.
“Deploy the pods,” she ordered.
The pods launched into space. Azura leaned forward over the pilot’s shoulder, scanning ahead.
“Do we have visual?” she asked.
“Two ships docked together.” The other pod answered over comm. “Confirmed smugglers aboard.”
“Signal the Peregrine. Don’t engage yet. Keep the cloaking active and move in until we’re directly beneath them.”
The pods moved in tandem, and Azura’s pod took position beneath the left ship. It was a bulky transport model, typically used for large cargo… or people. Smugglers fleeing Sanctuary’s reach rarely cared who or what they hauled.
Azura understood desperation. She had felt the temptation that freedom offered. But understanding didn’t equate to mercy.
The Peregrine made its jump suddenly, looming overhead and dwarfing both ships. Azura’s pod and the other latched onto the transports. Mining lasers cut through the hulls, and the small number of soldiers in the pods flooded in.
More pods would be sent from the main ship to assist.
“Take prisoners,” Azura said, pointing toward the hall where chaos echoed. “Get me everything you can on the Shape-Changer.”
She remained near the breach point. If the Shape-Changer was here, escape would be his priority. Azura had no plans to let that happen.
Reports came in: resistance minimal, targets subdued. The smugglers and their “cargo” had been secured, and awaited her presence.
“Detach pods, return them to the Peregrine on autopilot,” she ordered over comm. “Destroy the ships’ command modules and escape pods. I don’t want a single exit point left.”
Blaster fire echoed from the nearby bridge and metal groaned as the pods detached from the ship.
Azura made her way down into the hull to find it packed with sentients of various species on their knees, guarded at gunpoint.
“Your Lord Thanos has received word that the sentients aboard this ship were attempting to leave without proper authorization,” Azura’s voice cut through the silence. “And Sanctuary has no tolerance for desertion.”
She paced forward, her metal feathers chiming. “I seek one man: a Shape-Changer.”
No one moved, but a few faces twitched at the name.
“He is more valuable than all your failed attempts to run. Whoever can give him to me will earn their own freedom from Sanctuary.”
Still, silence.
She raised her clawed gauntlet. “Or we can begin executions, one by one, until someone decides that they would prefer to live a selfish life rather than die a useless death.”
The tension felt like the entire room was holding their breath.
Finally, an older sentient with crimson skin and golden-striped cheekbones raised his head. A child, likely a daughter, clutched his arm, whispering in fear, but he pushed her back protectively.
Azura waved the Chitauri guards away and crouched before the man. “Speak.”
He swallowed. “You’ll truly give freedom for my daughter and I both?”
Azura’s gaze flickered over to the girl. “Depending on your information. I can arrange for you to be transported out of Sanctuary. Tell me what you know.”
“He’s not here. He left before we boarded this ship, about a day’s trek to the east.”
Azura’s mouth thinned,“ Is that all you know?”
The man’s gaze rose shakily to meet her eyes, searching for something in them that wasn’t there. “He was cloaked, so we never saw his face. All I know is that he… isn’t one to be trapped easily.”
Before she could reply to the sudden shift in tone, the man lunged.
Her gauntlet slashed forward toward the man’s sternum, but met no resistance. Instead of flesh, green light burst outward as the illusion vanished, taking both the man and the girl with it.
“Fire on the room!” Azura snarled.
The Chitauri wasted no time, blaster fire erupted and screams filled the air. The stench of scorched flesh tightened her throat.
Azura whipped around, not paying attention to her soldiers until one of the Chitauri moved towards her in a blur of cold steel.
Pain lanced through her gut, making her cry out in surprise.
She reeled back, wings flaring wide and slicing through the air towards her attacker to create any sort of distance.
A voice rang out, mocking and smooth in a way that didn’t match the Chitauri’s usual chittering tones. “So this is Thanos’ great Butcher?”
Azura’s feather sliced toward the Chitauri figure only for him to disappear into another green flash, replaced by a cloaked figure.
“I must admit,” the Shape-Changer mused, “this wasn’t the first impression I’d expected us to make.”
Azura clutched her bleeding stomach, curling her lip. “That’s because you’ve mistaken this for a game where you get to walk away.”
The Shape-Changer gave a biting laugh. “Oh, but it is a game.”
The Chitauri turned their weapons on him too late. Azura can’t order them to stand down fast enough to stop the blaster fire that rains down through the mist of another goddamn illusion. She snaps a wing over herself just in time for a stray bolt to ricochet and shoot down a Chitauri soldier.
She doesn’t flinch, her full attention is on where her target could be hiding.
The Shape-Changer’s voice slithered around her, echoing from everywhere and nowhere. “Let’s see how long you last, Angel.”
Azura steadied herself, taking a step forward. She had no doubt that their Shape-Changer wasn’t watching from the shadows. “You think vanishing buys you time, snake?”
She pressed her hand harder to her stomach. “Keep hiding if it comforts you. Just know: every second you wait, I learn your tricks. I map you.”
For a long moment, silence was her only reply.
She used a series of gestures to motion her troops, telling them to spread out. The Chitauri stood quiet and waiting.
Azura can’t help but feel like somehow she’s not the one who set the trap. Like the Shape-Changer was exactly where he wanted to be.
He was too precise and flourished in his own theatrics.
Then with a proximity that made it feel like his voice had wormed right into her ear: “First a stone cold soldier, now showing herself to be the overeager hunter… You call me snake, yet it seems that you’re the one shedding skin.”
Azura struck a clawed hand through the air on instinct, following the sound of that amused smirk before it could fade away again. She missed.
But then, she sees it—
A flicker of light down the hallway leading out of the ship’s hull like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Wings flared, Azura launched herself forward. Metal shrieked and sparks burst out as her feathers scraped against the corridor walls. Her only focus was on the solid form she had connected with, tackling him to the ground.
Green light rushed out from underneath her as the Shape-Changer removed his glamour of invisibility.
Azura planted her knee down onto his hand as her legs straddle his torso. The cloaked man let out a hitched grunt of pain as Azura pushed the sharpened claws of her gauntlet towards his throat.
“No more hiding, Shape-Changer.”
She used her free hand to wrench the hood back, only to let out a sharp exhale at what she found.
Loki Odinson, Second Prince of Asgard, grinned up at her sharply, though tension pinched his jaw due to the threat of her waiting claws.
“Now you see me.”