Sparks erupted from a console to your left. Steve Rogers caught your arm, pulling you back a step as a panel smoked.

A long, tense silence followed, broken only by the ship’s distress. Then, from the shadowed corner where he’d been silently observing the chaos, a smooth, familiar voice cut through the din.

Every head turned. Tony’s faceplate retracted, his expression openly suspicious. Natasha’s hand drifted toward a concealed weapon.

The ship gave another violent lurch. A console screen shattered.

Steve looked at the failing systems, at the team’s exhausted, battered faces, then back at Loki. He gave a single, grim nod.

Loki moved to the navigation console, his fingers flying over the keys with an unsettling familiarity. The ship turned, diving into the planet’s atmosphere with a scream of heat and friction. Through the viewport, a world of emerald forests and silver rivers rushed up to meet you. And there, nestled in a valley of breathtaking beauty, was a city of graceful, spiraling towers that gleamed like pearl under its twin suns.

Loki inclined his head, a gesture of acknowledgment, not surprise. He turned, extending a hand back toward the hatch where the Avengers stood, frozen in disbelief.