Beyla - Loki

After the Ashes

Beyla had long since lost track of days. Hours blurred into one another aboard the Benatar, the rations dwindling until Tony and Nebula practically forced scraps into her hands. It didn't matter. Oxygen would run out by morning anyway. Death, it seemed, was patient-always waiting for her.

She sat against the wall, a dagger rolling idly in her palm, its green steel catching what little light remained. Loki's dagger. Her thumb traced the hilt as her chest tightened. I'm on my way, Loki, she thought, closing her eyes as if the whisper might carry across the void.

A faint glow painted the cabin-bluish light spilling through the ship's viewport. A nebula, vast and endless, blooming like a final lullaby. Beyla rose, transfixed, watching it shimmer until the light shifted, stronger, deliberate. A shadow passed beneath the ship, dragging them forward.

Carol Danvers.

The Benatar jerked, caught in her pull, guiding them toward Earth. Beyla clenched the dagger tighter, memory flooding like fire in her chest. She didn't dare hope. Not anymore.

⸻

The Avengers Compound was somber when the ship descended, landing gear groaning against the soil. Steve Rogers, clean-shaven and weary, had only just exhaled from his own reflection in the mirror when the ground shook with Carol's arrival.

The hatch opened, and Tony staggered out between Nebula and Beyla's shoulders. Steve rushed forward, catching him by the arm.

"Couldn't stop him," Tony rasped.

Steve's jaw tightened. "Neither could I."

Behind him, Thor emerged, his gaze instantly locking on Beyla. He strode forward, pulling her into his arms.

"You're pale," he muttered, relief tangled with concern.

She shoved him back, venom flaring. "Go away." Stingers snapped from her fingertips, pricking his arm as she pushed free.

"Ouch!" Thor yelped, scowling as she stalked toward the shadows of the compound. He called after her, voice breaking slightly. "Beyla-"

But she didn't turn. She couldn't. Not when she didn't understand why she was still breathing while Loki was not.

⸻

Later, in the briefing room, grief was a silent guest at the table. Rocket sat with Nebula, the two sharing wordless mourning. Tony, weak but still sharp-tongued, barked at Steve, venom dripping with every syllable about failed plans, false trust, and zero options. When he ripped the reactor from his chest and collapsed, Beyla barely flinched-her own grief had hardened her too much to startle.

Carol was the one who finally snapped the silence, stepping forward. "Where are you going?" Steve asked her.

"To kill Thanos."

Beyla rose too, dagger in hand. "Then I'm coming." Her voice was quiet but resolute.

Nebula's calm interruption drew every eye. "Don't bother. I know where he is."

Her words spilled-The Garden. His retreat. His destiny.

Beyla's grip on the dagger shook. Loki's dagger. A reminder of everything stolen. She stared at the hologram Rocket pulled up, the planet glowing with residual power from the Snap.

"Thanos is there."

Her voice was low, dangerous. "Then so am I."

⸻

The jump through the wormhole rattled the Benatar, everyone gripping their seats. Carol scouted ahead, her voice cool and precise: no armies, no defenses, only him.

Thor reached for Beyla's hand. She let him, briefly, before pulling away. "This isn't going to bring him back," she whispered.

He had no answer.

The strike was swift. Carol crashed through the roof of Thanos' hut. Bruce clamped his gauntleted fist. Beyla's bees swarmed, stinging flesh raw beneath the Infinity Gauntlet. Stormbreaker cleaved, severing the gauntlet with brutal finality.

But the stones... the stones were gone.

Thanos' words were weak but resolute: "Gone. Reduced to atoms. I am... inevitable."

Beyla pressed the dagger to his throat, voice trembling. "Where are they?"

His eyes, still cruel, still unyielding, met hers. "It is done. Always will be."

And then-Stormbreaker fell.

The world went still as Thanos' head rolled across the floor. Beyla staggered back, her cheek splattered with blood, her body hollow. Thor's words cracked the silence, broken and empty:

"I went for the head."

Beyla followed him out, dagger still clenched, but for the first time since the Snap... she felt utterly, completely without purpose.