This is a massive magic circle, connecting the three Sanctums, connecting Kamar-Taj, and connecting the magic network of the entire Earth.
Mavuika took a deep breath and raised his right hand.
Golden-red flames surged from his palm, condensing into a fireball the size of a fist.
The temperature of the fireball wasn't high, but its light was extremely bright, shining like a small Sun.
He placed the fireball into the cauldron.
The moment the fireball touched the cauldron, the ancient runes on the bronze surface suddenly lit up.
They seemed to come alive, spreading from the cauldron to the stone platform, from the stone platform to the floor, from the floor to the walls, and from the walls to the ceiling.
The entire circular hall was illuminated by golden runes.
The flames were Burning in the cauldron, no longer golden, but a warm, orange-red light.
That light passed through the walls of the Sanctum, through the night sky of Manhattan, through the atmosphere, through the barriers between dimensions, and reached every corner of the Nine Realms.
The Ode of Resurrection—was complete.
Mavuika stood there, watching the flames in the cauldron, feeling a sense of completeness he had never felt before.
Previously, the rules of the Ode of Resurrection were like a net being woven; although it had taken shape, there were still many holes. Now, the net was woven, and every node was firmly connected.
He closed his eyes, feeling the flow of those rules within his body.
Then, he felt something else.
Space was vibrating.
Not the physical vibration of an earthquake, but a tremor of the dimension itself, as if a hand had reached out from a distant, indescribable place, plucking the strings of space.
Mavuika opened his eyes and turned around.
In the center of the circular hall, a few meters away from the stone platform, the air began to twist.
A crack appeared out of thin air; it wasn't torn open, but rather, like ripples on water, it began to Swirl in circles.
The color of the crack was black-green, that color often seen in the Underworld, where death and rebirth intertwine.
The crack grew larger and brighter, and black-green mist surged from it, carrying a cold, chilling aura that gave one goosebumps.
That mist was not evil, nor was it corrupt; it was neutral, pure, and emotionless, like an autumn wind.
From the mist, a woman stepped out.
Long, jet-black hair draped over her shoulders, the strands fluttering gently in the mist.
Her skin was pale, as if she had never seen the Sun, but that paleness was not sickly; it was like jade, a White with a faint luster.
She wore a black-green tight-fitting battle armor; the lines of the armor were smooth and sharp, like the craftsmanship of the Dark Elves, but with the style of Asgard.
Her eyes were deep green—not the emerald green of Loki, but the dark, feline green of the deep forest.
Hela.
Mavuika's sister, the Goddess of Death of Asgard, the ruler of the Underworld.
Hela stood in the center of the circular hall, the black-green mist slowly dissipating behind her, her gaze sweeping across the surroundings.
The ancient stone walls, the tall bookshelves, the stone platform carved with runes, and the holy fire Burning in the cauldron, finally landing on Mavuika.
The siblings looked at each other.
Silence.
Then Mavuika smiled.
That smile wasn't a courteous or polite one, but a genuine one, welling up from the bottom of his heart, suppressed for a thousand years.
His eyes were slightly red, but he didn't let the tears fall. He just looked at Hela, looking at that face exactly as it was in his memory, and said the simplest of words.
"Welcome back."
Hela looked at him, and in those deep green eyes, something flickered slightly. It wasn't tears; Hela wouldn't cry, at least not in front of people. But the corners of her mouth lifted slightly into an arc.
"I'm back."
Mavuika stepped forward, opened his arms, and hugged Hela.
Hela's body stiffened for a moment. She wasn't used to this kind of intimate contact. In the thousand years in the Underworld, she had only faced dead souls, monsters, and things that would never touch her. But after just a moment, she relaxed.
She also reached out and hugged Mavuika.
The two siblings stood in the center of the circular hall, the holy fire in the cauldron dancing beside them, golden runes flickering on the walls.
The black-green mist hadn't completely dissipated, winding and lingering at their feet.
No one spoke.
There was no need to speak.
After a long time, Mavuika let go, stepped back, and looked at Hela. His eyes were still red, but the smile on his lips was brilliant.
"You've lost weight." Mavuika said.
Hela raised an eyebrow. "You've gained weight."
Mavuika was stunned for a moment, then laughed. "We haven't seen each other in hundreds of years, and the first thing you say is that I've gained weight?"
The arc of Hela's mouth widened. "Just stating facts."
The two looked at each other, then laughed simultaneously.
The laughter echoed in the circular hall, intertwining with the crackling of the flames in the cauldron. Those ancient runes seemed to sense something, their light becoming brighter, as if welcoming this Goddess who had returned from the Underworld.
Mavuika took Hela's hand and walked out of the circular hall, through the corridor, and arrived at the main hall of the Sanctum.
Hela's gaze landed on the Manhattan night view outside the floor-to-ceiling windows—the high-rise buildings, the neon lights, the endless flow of traffic—completely different from the World when she left.
"Earth has changed." Hela said.
Mavuika walked to her side and also looked at the night view. "It has changed a lot, but some things haven't changed."
Hela turned to look at him. "What?"
Mavuika smiled. "People are still as noisy, still as fragile, and still working so hard to live."
Hela was silent for a while, then softly "humphed." "You certainly seem to be living quite comfortably here."
Mavuika nodded. "It's alright. There's food and drink, flowers and grass, and a few friends. Better than your time in the Underworld."
Hela glanced at him. "Are you showing off?"
Mavuika blinked innocently. "No, I'm just stating facts."
Hela didn't respond, but the arc of her mouth betrayed her.
Mavuika took Hela's hand, walked out the door of the New York Sanctum, and stepped into the night of Manhattan.
Mavuika looked at Hela. "Let's go, I'll take you to meet our younger brothers."
Hela curled her lip. "It's not like I haven't seen them. When they were just born, they looked like two wrinkled monkeys."
Mavuika laughed out loud. "They don't look like monkeys now. Thor is half a head taller than you, and Loki is a bit thinner than you, but his brain is very sharp."
Hela gave a soft "Oh," and didn't say anything else, but her pace quickened.
In Mavuika's apartment, the lights were all on.
Loki arrived first. He stood at the door, looking at the tall woman with a cold aura behind Mavuika, his brows slightly furrowed.