The War Begins
The tranquility of Asgard shattered with the arrival of the Dark Elves.
Celeste had felt the shift in the air before the attack came—the eerie silence before a storm. She stood on the balcony of the palace, gazing at the sky, sensing the disturbance before the alarms rang through the city. The night was suddenly alive with chaos. Explosions rocked the golden towers, and the sky darkened as Malekith’s forces descended upon Asgard like a plague.
She wasted no time. With her newfound control over her light, Celeste joined the fight, running through the grand halls of the palace where Einherjar warriors clashed with the monstrous Kursed. Her hands burned with luminous energy as she summoned constructs—swords of light that slashed through the enemy, shields that deflected their deadly weapons. But the Dark Elves were ruthless, their weapons unlike anything she had faced before.
In the heart of the palace, she found Frigga, standing protectively before Jane Foster. The Queen of Asgard was fierce, her magic weaving through the air like silk as she faced Malekith himself. Celeste rushed forward, standing beside Frigga, her hands blazing with golden energy. She lashed out at the dark figure, but Malekith was faster than she anticipated. A surge of dark energy slammed into her, sending her crashing against the marble floor. Pain radiated through her body, but she forced herself to rise, just in time to see Frigga strike.
But it was not enough.
The dagger found its mark.
Celeste’s scream echoed through the halls as she watched Frigga fall. Rage erupted inside her, a blinding surge of light bursting from her hands. Malekith barely avoided the blast, retreating as his forces fell back. Celeste rushed to Frigga’s side, cradling her as her light flickered uselessly against the inevitable. The Queen of Asgard, her mentor, her guide, was gone.
And Celeste vowed vengeance.