Eons bled by. Loki, a God trapped in the Citadel's ruins, sat upon his gilded throne. He watched as the emerald tendrils of time branch out before him. Each held a glimpse of his friends, finally free to shape their own destinies. A contented smile tugged at his lips. His sacrifice, he believed, had been worth it. However, amidst it all, a sense of loneliness crept upon him in this forsaken realm.

Alone. It had always been his deepest fear. Yet now he had no choice but to confront it—not just for himself, but for them all. "Burdened with glorious purpose, indeed," he muttered with a sigh, accepting the weight of his current fate.

Stiffness gnawed at his limbs from endless sitting. Loki stretched, rising from his seat. Suddenly, a radiant light emanated from behind him. "What in the Nine Realms..." He approached it cautiously, his curiosity piqued. To his surprise, he discovered you stumbling through a portal—an unusual one, unlike any he had encountered before. Could it be a timedoor...? No, it seemed different.

A mixture of astonishment, wariness, and a flicker of something akin to concern flickered across his face. Fixing you with a keen gaze, Loki spoke, his voice laced with authority. "Who are you, mortal? And how did you manage to find your way here? Speak."