The moment Thor sees the empty gauntlet, he knows, and the horror wraps its coils tight around his heart and squeezes until he cannot breathe.
He stands, frozen in place, as the Mad Titan’s raspy voice drowns out every other sound but his own heart racing in horrified realization. “I used the Stones to destroy the Stones. It nearly killed me, but the work is done. It always will be.”
No.
No no no.
The only force in the universe capable of undoing the culling was the stones themselves. Was. Without them... without them... there is no going back. No hope of redemption, to bring back the lives of half the universe, to reduce the immeasurable suffering that all the living now endure, an entire reality in mourning for loved ones who are gone forever.
Thor had prepared himself to die today to avenge them, but as Thanos looks up at them all with dark, satisfied, peaceful eyes, it becomes so horrifically clear that there is nothing to be done. No way to resurrect the dead. No way to bring back the Stones from oblivion. There will be no fight, no honorable death in combat that will send them all to the gates of Valhalla and cleanse his soul of the shame that rots him from the inside.
Thanos has won. Half the universe is dead. And it always will be.
Others are speaking, the Titan’s mouth is moving, but something inside Thor snaps like a broken neck and he cannot stand to see the butcher of trillions utter another sound.
Stormbreaker flares bright and carves through Thanos’ neck without a hint of resistance, splattering Nebula with her father’s blood and sending the Titan’s head toppling to the floor. Thor stands there, heaving in great breaths to try to ease this tightness in his chest but nothing helps, nothing has changed, Thanos is dead and it makes no difference. There is no satisfying thrill of revenge, no reassurance that a dangerous foe has been slain, no vengeance for the murdered trillions. For Asgard.
Nothing at all.
Thor stands over the corpse of his most hated enemy and feels nothing but a vast emptiness inside of him, his very self consumed by the Void.
“What did you do?” Rocket cries out, angry, in disbelief.
Thor finds his voice, dragging it out through paralyzed lips, the words that have haunted him for three weeks like a prophecy, now fulfilled. “I went for the head.”
He meets no one’s eyes as he turns, and walks out of the hut.
The Garden is green and fresh and alive, but Thor sees none of it as he makes it halfway through the rows of crops and stops, unable to take another step, unable to raise Stormbreaker to summon the Bifrost and take him somewhere, anywhere but here. Storm clouds gather overhead, rumbling in time with his heavy heart, and lightning strikes the edge of the field and sets it ablaze. If left unchecked, it will raze the entire crop.
Thor just stands, and watches, his gaze as hollow as his soul.
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He stands, frozen in place, as the Mad Titan’s raspy voice drowns out every other sound but his own heart racing in horrified realization. “I used the Stones to destroy the Stones. It nearly killed me, but the work is done. It always will be.”
No.
No no no.
The only force in the universe capable of undoing the culling was the stones themselves. Was. Without them... without them... there is no going back. No hope of redemption, to bring back the lives of half the universe, to reduce the immeasurable suffering that all the living now endure, an entire reality in mourning for loved ones who are gone forever.
Thor had prepared himself to die today to avenge them, but as Thanos looks up at them all with dark, satisfied, peaceful eyes, it becomes so horrifically clear that there is nothing to be done. No way to resurrect the dead. No way to bring back the Stones from oblivion. There will be no fight, no honorable death in combat that will send them all to the gates of Valhalla and cleanse his soul of the shame that rots him from the inside.
Thanos has won. Half the universe is dead. And it always will be.
Others are speaking, the Titan’s mouth is moving, but something inside Thor snaps like a broken neck and he cannot stand to see the butcher of trillions utter another sound.
Stormbreaker flares bright and carves through Thanos’ neck without a hint of resistance, splattering Nebula with her father’s blood and sending the Titan’s head toppling to the floor. Thor stands there, heaving in great breaths to try to ease this tightness in his chest but nothing helps, nothing has changed, Thanos is dead and it makes no difference. There is no satisfying thrill of revenge, no reassurance that a dangerous foe has been slain, no vengeance for the murdered trillions. For Asgard.
Nothing at all.
Thor stands over the corpse of his most hated enemy and feels nothing but a vast emptiness inside of him, his very self consumed by the Void.
“What did you do?” Rocket cries out, angry, in disbelief.
Thor finds his voice, dragging it out through paralyzed lips, the words that have haunted him for three weeks like a prophecy, now fulfilled. “I went for the head.”
He meets no one’s eyes as he turns, and walks out of the hut.
The Garden is green and fresh and alive, but Thor sees none of it as he makes it halfway through the rows of crops and stops, unable to take another step, unable to raise Stormbreaker to summon the Bifrost and take him somewhere, anywhere but here. Storm clouds gather overhead, rumbling in time with his heavy heart, and lightning strikes the edge of the field and sets it ablaze. If left unchecked, it will raze the entire crop.
Thor just stands, and watches, his gaze as hollow as his soul.