The sky fractures above Earth like glass under strain. A massive rift opens in the upper atmosphere—purple lightning streaking from the wound in reality. From within the tear, she descends. Not with fury, but with gravity. Silver-skinned, eyes like twin galaxies, she hovers above the planet’s surface. Everything falls silent.

She speaks—not with hatred, but inevitability.

“Are you the protectors of this world?” “Your planet is now marked for death. Your world will be consumed by the Devourer. There is nothing you can do to stop him, for he is a universal force as essential as the stars.” “Hold your loved ones close. And speak the words you’ve been afraid to speak. Use this time to rejoice and celebrate, for your time is short.” “I herald his beginning. I herald your end. I herald… Galactus.”

Behind her, in the distance beyond the sky, the stars begin to blink out one by one. The shape—impossibly large, impossibly distant—moves.