Nebulae hung in perfect, deliberate patterns, vast spirals of violet, emerald, and molten gold arranged like brushstrokes on the canvas of eternity.
They did not drift chaotically; they danced in slow, choreographed harmony, forming shapes that almost suggested architecture on a cosmic scale.
Thor's voice came next, hushed with wonder.
"Where is this place?"
Aaron turned, arms spread slightly as though presenting a long-kept secret.
"This? Welcome to the Sanctuary. An independent space, not anchored to any universe. A pocket of existence… controlled entirely by me."
Rhaigon's brow furrowed deeper.
"What does that even mean? And how is that even possible?"
Aaron shrugged, the motion almost boyish.
"It's possible because it's me."
Loki's mind was already racing, pieces snapping together with terrifying clarity.
