Bella raised her right hand to her lips and blew a whistle—soft, compressed to a thin thread of sound that carried far into the distance.
Moments later, heavy, booming footsteps shook the ground. The Sker Buffalo from earlier lumbered into view.
Bella took three quick strides and scrambled onto its back.
She'd placed the creature under mind control during the day but hadn't told anyone. Mind control was the kind of ability that rubbed people the wrong way. Best kept to yourself.
"Moo moo moo?"
"Moo moo moo!!"
"Moo moo moo, moo moo!"
After a brief exchange with the old bull, the picture became clear. Despite its intimidating frame—despite the fact that a full-speed headbutt from this thing could probably kill a T. rex—the Sker Buffalo was terrified of Skull Island after dark. On this island, it was a mobile buffet. It didn't dare go anywhere.
Through a combination of coaxing, suggesting, and outright goading, Bella finally convinced the beast to serve as a temporary mount and carry her north.
"First, find me a clean lake. I want a proper bath. The mosquitoes on this island are outrageous." She paused. "And no peeking, old bull!"
"Moo!"
Bella had no intention of sleeping tonight. She rode the Sker Buffalo out of camp alone.
The plan: a bath, then a full night of exploration. She'd head back before dawn.
If she found the source of the island's problems, she'd deal with it. If not, tomorrow was another day.
---
"Captain Conrad? What are you doing on the island?" A groggy Professor Serizawa was woken in the middle of the night. He stared at the young man before him, confused. As far as he remembered, the British mercenary had left Skull Island years ago.
And it had been over twenty years. How did the man look exactly the same?
"Professor, come with me quickly. I've found something, and right now you're the only person I can trust." Captain Conrad was tall—close to 190 cm (6'3")—with a lean face and pale blue eyes that held an indefinable quality.
Something felt off. But Serizawa's thinking was muddled, his judgment compromised. He followed the man out of camp without protest.
"Vivienne, wake up. You're in danger."
"Mother? How are you here?" Dr. Graham stared at the woman before her, utterly stupefied.
"Mom! Dad! Come with us, hurry! The monsters are coming!"
The Russells saw their own children standing before them and instinctively bolted after them.
One by one—sleeping or standing watch, it didn't matter—every member of the camp was visited by someone they knew and loved, each offering a different urgent reason to leave.
Even Old One-Eye was lured out by "Natasha." He was more alert than the others. When something felt wrong, he summoned a tremendous effort of will to break free of the influence. His right hand went for his sidearm—and then everything went black.
"Natasha" gazed into the distance and murmured, "One slipped the net? Hmm... a sorcerer, it seems. Does Midgard still have sorcerers? This just got interesting."
---
After a bath in the lake, Bella rode the bull northward feeling thoroughly refreshed, stopping to snap photos of anything scenic.
Daytime photos wouldn't prove much. Nighttime photos were the real alibi—proof she wasn't out carousing. Even when it was pitch-black in every direction, she made a point of getting a shot or two.
Self-proclaimed food item or not, the old bull's sheer mass made it the uncontested alpha of present-day Skull Island. Thirty tons bearing down on you tended to settle any argument.
It crashed through the jungle with abandon, sending swarms of animals scattering in every direction. But the Skullcrawlers—Kong's arch-enemies, the predators that were supposed to hunt Sker Buffalo—never appeared.
"Stop!" Bella called out suddenly. The bull assumed a Skullcrawler had been spotted. It executed a panicked emergency stop, all four hooves tearing into the ground so hard that Bella nearly flew off its back.
She barely registered the mount's cowardice. Her full attention was locked on the roadside, her expression dead serious.
Disbelief. And deep, thorny confusion.
A white-haired old man stood by the path, watching her. He wore a linen shirt, trousers, and leather shoes. A slight smile played on his face, and his single eye radiated wisdom and authority.
Bella's mind went blank. Odin? In the middle of the night, what was Odin doing here?
She still had enough sense to know her place. She could posture a bit with angels and demons, but not with Odin. She scrambled down from the bull's back immediately.
"Your Majesty?"
Odin wore an expression of supreme self-assurance, tinged with pride. "Midgardian sorcerer, you are indeed more perceptive than your kin. Yes, it is I. I've come to you because I require your assistance with a matter."
Bella was thoroughly baffled. The tone, the phrasing—none of it tracked. They'd had a conversation not long ago. Now he was acting as if they'd never met? Was Odin's memory really this bad? Dementia? What was going on?
In modern society, lying was a survival skill, and Bella's talent for deception was fully maxed out. She kept her face neutral and waved the bull away before responding. "The honor is mine, Your Majesty. But what is it you need? My abilities are limited, and I'm afraid—"
Odin gestured for her to walk with him.
Bella followed.
"Thor. My son." Odin's voice was heavy with disappointment. "He has let me down beyond measure. Relying on his own brute strength, he descended alone into the underground world. I fear for his safety, and more than that, I fear he may bring unimaginable catastrophe upon Midgard."
Bella studied Odin carefully. So the disappearance of Kong and the creatures from Skull Island was Thor's doing? At first blush, that did sound like Thor's style. But she'd assumed Thor had returned to Asgard. Was he still on Earth? And another thing—could Thor actually beat Kong? Angels and demons knew Thor's father was Odin. Kong didn't.
She made a careful guess at Odin's angle. "I see. So that's why we couldn't find Kong or those creatures. Then, Your Majesty, what would you have me do?"
Odin looked anguished. "Thor has committed a grave wrong. He killed the guardian of this place—that great ape. He must atone for his crimes. I am... not a good father, nor a good husband. I cannot face his mother. But this is something I cannot do with my own hands. I ask that you help me imprison him for three hundred years."
Bella's mind raced through a cascade of hypotheses, discarding them one by one until only the truth remained.
Did someone really think she was that gullible? This wasn't something she should be meddling in, and this "Odin" was riddled with inconsistencies.
In this day and age, she could think of only one person brazen enough to impersonate Odin and survive the public appearance—one person.
Cross-referencing everything he'd said, a rough picture began to form in Bella's mind.
Her face arranged itself into an expression of anxious panic. "Thor? The God of Thunder, Thor? Your Majesty, I couldn't possibly imprison someone that powerful—it's far beyond anything I'm capable of!"