"Thank you, Jane," Nathael said in a calm voice, adjusting the sapphire-blue cloak over his shoulders. "You don't need to stay. Once Thor has his hammer, we'll come find you with your things."
Jane looked at him, uncertain. During the truck ride, Thor had spoken to her about the Bifrost. His words were passionate, confident, almost poetic. But Jane was still a scientist. Though she could no longer deny that something extraordinary had happened—the energy streak, the crater with the "satellite," the man falling from the sky—her mind rejected the idea of gods. It seemed more logical to think of superior beings, perhaps extraterrestrials, with technology so advanced it appeared like magic to humans. That hypothesis at least fit with her instruments, her equations, her world.
"Okay," she finally said, nodding slowly. "But if you're not back in an hour, I'll come looking for you."
Thor smiled, a mixture of gratitude and certainty.
"That won't be necessary," he said. "We'll be back before then."
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a silent glance. From behind, they watched as Jane and Thor said goodbye with a familiarity that had barely existed hours earlier. Something new had formed between them: respect, curiosity, perhaps even the beginning of something deeper.
When Jane's truck disappeared on the horizon, Nathael stepped away and climbed a small rocky hill from where he could see the entire perimeter of the restricted area. Celestia followed silently, her sapphire-blue eyes scanning every corner.
The place had changed drastically since the previous night. It was no longer just a spot in the middle of the desert. Now it was an improvised military installation: tall fences topped with barbed wire, illuminated watchtowers, dozens of tents, off-road vehicles, humming generators in the darkness, and above all, guards. Many guards. Moving in regular patrols, armed, alert.
In the center, under a reinforced special tent, was the object of interest: Mjölnir.
"Why are you watching so intently?" Thor asked, approaching with firm steps. "It's very simple. I go in, reach my Mjölnir, and fly out."
Nathael smiled, not mockingly, just with the calm of someone who knows what they're facing.
"It's not that easy," he said. "Look inside. Security cameras everywhere. Sensors. Infrared. The moment you enter, they'll know something's wrong. And even if you're strong, there are too many of them. If they surround you, they'll immobilize you."
Celestia added, her voice clear but low:
"And now that your power is sealed, you can't withstand bullets or electric shocks indefinitely. That girl Darcy already showed you how vulnerable you are."
Thor let out a genuine laugh, without arrogance.
"I can face any human and defeat them!" he said, thumping his chest. "I am Thor!"
"Of course you are," Nathael said, keeping his composure. "But we don't need a fight. We need stealth. And a plan."
He turned to Thor, eyes fixed on his.
"My plan is this: Celestia and I will move back a bit. We'll create a sandstorm. We'll bring it right here. The cameras will go blind. The guards won't see anything. At that moment, you go in, take advantage of the confusion, reach your hammer, and get out. No one will know what happened. They'll just know their 'treasure' is gone."
Thor looked at him, surprised, then smiled.
"It's a good plan," he said. "Better than mine."
Celestia meowed softly.
"Now observe the area," she told him. "Memorize the entrances, the blind spots, the patrol routes. Don't get lost."
Thor nodded and began studying the terrain with the concentration of a warrior. He looked, counted, memorized. Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, he nodded.
"I've got it," he said. "I know how to get in."
Nathael and Celestia exchanged a glance. They knew Thor hadn't remembered precisely, but at least he had a general idea. And that was enough.
"Then let's begin," Nathael said. "Wait until the sand covers the entire area. Only then move."
Thor nodded.
Nathael and Celestia moved several hundred meters away, to an elevated point from where they could see the camp without being seen. The night wind blew gently, carrying the scent of dry earth and dust.
"Do you think Thor remembered the location?" Celestia asked, sitting elegantly on a rock.
Nathael smiled.
"Of course not," he said. "But at least he knows where to enter. And our job is to make sure he gets to his hammer easily."
He drew his black wand, polished with silvery veins that gleamed under the moonlight. Celestia took position, paws firm on the ground, tail erect, eyes shining with concentration.
"Ready?" Nathael asked.
"Always," Celestia replied.
Both raised their hands. Nathael his wand, Celestia her claws wrapped in magic. In unison, they intoned:
"Ventus!"
The spell was basic, one of the first Hogwarts students learned. A small whirlwind to move leaves, extinguish candles, blow away dust. But in the hands of Nathael and Celestia, everything changed.
From his wand, a gust of wind was born like a sigh. Then it grew. It twisted. It rose. In seconds, it became a tornado hundreds of meters tall. The desert sand lifted like a sleeping army awakening. The wind howled, particles spun at impossible speeds, and the sky darkened even more.
Nathael held his wand steady, his face serene, his muscles relaxed. Beside him, Celestia did the same, her magic merging with his, amplifying the effect. Together, they weren't casting a spell. They were directing a storm.
"My magic is much more stable now!" Nathael shouted over the roar. "If something goes wrong, we can use Apparition!"
"Mine too!" Celestia responded. "I'm ready!"
With a coordinated movement, they began pushing the storm toward the camp. The mass of sand moved like an obedient beast, dragging darkness, chaos, and the silence of the inevitable.
Inside the camp, in a room full of monitors, Agent Phil Coulson frowned.
"What's happening?" he asked, voice firm. "How did we not detect a sandstorm?"
Jasper Sitwell, seated in front of the screens, moved the controls in frustration.
"We don't know, sir," he said. "It appeared out of nowhere. The exterior cameras only show sand. We can't see anything."
Coulson crossed his arms.
"Any changes to the object?"
"None, sir," Sitwell replied. "Sensors register no movement, energy, or alteration whatsoever."
At that moment, an alert sounded on another terminal.
"Sir!" a technician exclaimed. "One of the perimeter fences has been breached!"
Coulson grabbed his radio.
"Barton, can you see anything?"
In one of the watchtowers, Clint Barton adjusted his bow, peering through the storm.
"Negative," he said. "The sand's blocking everything."
Meanwhile, Thor had already moved.
He entered through the point he believed was correct, but soon realized he didn't remember well. He ran into two agents at a corner. He didn't hesitate. He punched each one, and both fell unconscious. He pressed on, but more agents appeared. One after another. Thor took them down with ease, using brute strength and combat instinct. He even faced a large man in light armor who struck him with great force. Thor dropped to his knees but rose and knocked him out with a sharp blow to the jaw.
Alarms began to sound.
But Thor had reached the center. There it was. Mjölnir. His hammer. His identity. His honor.
He smiled, eyes shining. He approached slowly, as if afraid to startle it. He extended his hand and placed it on the handle.
Nothing happened.
He frowned. He tried again. With both hands. He pulled with all his strength.
Nothing.
The hammer didn't move an inch.
"This can't be…" he murmured, voice breaking.
He tried once more. Nothing.
Then he closed his eyes and let out a cry. Not of fury or rage. Of pure sorrow. Because in that moment, he understood. He was not worthy.
Miles away, Nathael and Celestia continued holding the storm. But suddenly, both stopped.
"Did you hear that?" Celestia asked, ears raised.
Nathael nodded. With his sharpened senses, he had caught Thor's cry. He knew something had gone wrong.
"Let's go back," he said.
Instantly, they Apparated. The world dissolved and they reappeared on the hill from where they had observed the camp. The sandstorm was already settling. The camp lights began illuminating the area again.
Nathael cast a detection spell. An invisible wave expanded and returned with information.
"Thor is surrounded," he said. "The agents have him cornered near the hammer."
Celestia meowed thoughtfully.
"It seems we need to change plans."
Nathael nodded.
"Now that my magic is almost stable, we can use Apparition to get him out. We just need him alone for a second."
At that moment, a truck appeared on the road. Nathael recognized Erik Selvig at the wheel.
"He must have come because Jane asked him for help," Nathael said.
He descended the hill and approached. Erik saw him and stopped the vehicle.
"This will be the last time I help you," Erik said, voice serious. "You can't put Jane in danger."
Nathael didn't respond. He didn't need to. He knew Erik was right. But he also knew that if Erik could get Thor out without Nathael having to use magic in front of Muggles, it was better that way.
He nodded silently, gratitude in his eyes.
Erik got out of the truck and headed toward the camp, with the authority of a scientist demanding answers.
Nathael and Celestia stayed in the shadows, watching, ready to act if necessary.