In Helheim, Hela stood in the center of the great hall, holding a carving knife condensed from pure Death Divine Power.
Before her was a massive Netherstone, flowing with countless intertwined golden and dark green runes. It was the prototype of the Reverie Rule, the result of her bit-by-bit carving over the years in this desolate kingdom.
The carving knife paused at a certain rune node, and Hela frowned slightly.
The energy flow of this node needed adjustment; the transition between life and death here wasn't smooth enough...
Then, she heard that voice.
Familiar and warm, like the first ray of sunlight finally descending after a long, cold winter.
Hela's carving knife froze in mid-air for a moment.
An extremely brief emotional ripple flashed through her dark green eyes—surprise, nostalgia, and perhaps a hint of joy she was unwilling to admit even to herself.
Immediately, the corners of her mouth curled slightly into a genuine smile, starkly different from her usual sneer.
"Too slow, Sister," her consciousness responded, her voice transmitted through the connection between the Netherworld and the mortal realm.
"I've been here for I don't know how long, and you only just remembered to look for me?"
By the cliffside, Marvica closed her eyes and smiled.
"After all, Thor and Loki were still small," her consciousness carried a gentle smile. "I came over as soon as they grew up."
Hela's consciousness fell silent for a moment. When her voice came through again, there was a trace of undetectable concern in her tone: "Are they well? Father... Mother..."
"Of course," Marvica immediately responded.
"They are all very well. Thor won't let go of mjolnir all day now, even keeping it by his bedside to sleep. Loki is obsessed with magic. Father is still his old self, handling government affairs, reviewing the army, and gazing at the stars every day. Mother... she misses you very much."
Hela fell silent for an even longer time.
On the other end of the consciousness, Marvica could vaguely perceive the subtle fluctuations in her sister's emotions—a softness rarely shown by the Goddess of Death.
"Tch," Hela finally let out a short syllable, as if covering something up.
"That's good then. The army's daily training mustn't slacken either; I'll be giving them a proper inspection once I return!"
"Of course." Marvica nodded with a smile, even though she knew Hela couldn't see her. "Brynhildr has trained the Valkyrie Legion very well. The Death Guard, led by Fenrir, is not inferior either. It's just that its howling for you at the moon every night is a bit of a nuisance for the nearby residents."
"Fenrir..." Hela seemed to reminisce for a moment. "Now that you mention him, I actually do miss him a little."
Over the next while, Marvica sat down cross-legged on the spot, sun-blaze thousand suns still plunged into the ground beside her, maintaining the connection with the Netherworld.
She began to recount everything that had happened over the years, starting from the day Hela left Asgard.
She spoke of the thunder that shook the heavens when Thor first lifted mjolnir, of how Loki played half the Golden Palace guards for fools when he learned his first high-level illusion, of how Odin would secretly observe his two sons' training in the gaps between government affairs, and of how Queen Frigga would weave protective runes for her far-traveling daughters late at night.
She spoke of celebrations, martial competitions, and visits from diplomatic envoys, as well as the sweat on the training grounds, the late-night lights in the library, and Thor and Loki's arguments and reconciliations during family dinners.
She told everything in great detail, her voice flowing smoothly.
Hela did not urge her, nor did she show any impatience.
She even put down her carving knife, walked over to her throne, and sat down to listen intently.
Occasionally, she would interject.
"That Thor kid really overloaded all the protective runes of the training ground in one session? Tsk, his potential is decent..."
"Loki transformed into Father's likeness to attend a meeting? Quite the nerve... How did Father punish him?"
"Mother's garden is now planted with flora from all over the Nine Realms? I remember she always wanted to build a garden like that."
The sun rose and the moon set; the stars rotated.
Marvica sat by the cliffside while Hela sat on the throne of the Netherworld. The sisters were connected through the fragments of the Bifrost Bridge, crossing the boundary between life and death to conduct this conversation that lasted a full day and night.
By the time Marvica finally finished recounting the most recent family dinner, the eastern sky was once again turning the color of a fish's belly.
Hela was silent for a long time before asking, "So, mjolnir was given to that Thor kid by Father?"
Marvica nodded, though Hela couldn't see: "Yes, his divine power and mjolnir are a great match. I've tested it; the resonance between them is even stronger than it was between you and mjolnir back then. That hammer seems to take a great liking to him."
She paused and added with a slight teasing tone, "By the way, you wouldn't be jealous, would you?"
"Hmph." Hela let out a classic cold snort.
"Me, jealous? What a joke! While mjolnir is decent, it doesn't suit me. My own black sword is much handier; I can change it however I want and strike wherever I please."
Marvica laughed.
She could imagine Hela's expression as she said this—chin slightly raised, her dark green eyes flashing with an arrogant but genuine light.
"That's good then," she said.
"Actually, Father once discussed with me whether to forge a new artifact for you."
Hela did not respond immediately.
A moment later, her voice came through, softer than before: "...Father really asked that?"
"Yes, in the third year after giving mjolnir to Thor. Dwarf King Eitri was visiting, and Father asked privately."
Marvica said softly, "He has always been thinking of you, Hela. We all have."
This time, Hela's silence lasted even longer.
When the sisters finally ended their long reminiscence, the morning light had completely illuminated the sea.
Only then did Marvica ask about serious matters: "How is the carving of the Reverie Rule going? Is it proceeding smoothly?"
Hela's voice regained some of its usual laziness and impatience: "Smoothly enough, but the workload is just too massive. Every life-death connection point between the Netherworld and the Nine Realms needs adjustment. I don't know when it will ever end."
"You've worked hard," Marvica said sincerely.
"Since you know I've worked hard, then come and spar with me more often," Hela immediately followed up, her tone carrying a rare emotion that could almost be called 'anticipation'.
"Anyway, now that you're in Midgard, it's much more convenient to come to Helheim. I'm bored to death; facing these runes all day, I feel like my body is getting rusty."
Marvica couldn't help but smile, imagining Hela wielding the black sword in the Eternal Hall but unable to find an opponent. "No problem. I also need to stretch my muscles. On Earth, I have to carefully control my power to avoid attracting unnecessary attention."
"Then it's a deal," Hela's voice became noticeably more cheerful. "Every month... no, at least once a week. If you dare to break the promise..."
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