Marvel: Silver Hand

The air was crisp and biting as Alexander and Celebrimbor emerged from the cave, the last vestiges of their time within its depths behind them. The sun was beginning to set, casting an orange glow over the jagged peaks and blanketing the valley below in shadows. Alexander looked back at the mountains one last time, the weight of Celebrimbor's memories fresh in his mind, mingling with his own grief.

Celebrimbor's voice broke the silence. "Are you ready?"

Alexander nodded grimly. "Yeah… but I have to say goodbye first."

They ascended the mountain quickly, Alexander's wraith-enhanced speed carrying him to the graveyard where the bodies of his mother, aunt, and sister lay buried. The simple, hastily-made crosses he'd carved before still stood, though weather and time had begun to wear them down. He knelt before each grave in turn, running his fingers over the wood.

"I don't know what happens after this," Alexander murmured, his voice low. "But I swear, I'm going to make them pay for what they did to you. All of you."

Celebrimbor said nothing, standing silently at his side. The wind howled through the trees as if offering a somber farewell. Finally, Alexander stood, his jaw tight with determination.

"Let's go."

With the three ingots safely secured, Alexander and Celebrimbor sped across the terrain, the landscape blurring as they moved. Snow Valley was still miles away, but their wraith-enhanced speed made the journey quick. Soon, Alexander stood before the charred remains of his home.

The sight of it hit him like a punch to the gut. The walls had collapsed inward, blackened beams jutted out like broken ribs, and the smell of ash still lingered in the air. He walked through the wreckage, each step stirring up soot and painful memories.

As he sifted through the remains, Celebrimbor's voice cut through his thoughts. "Something lies buried here. In the backyard."

Alexander straightened, narrowing his eyes. Now that Celebrimbor mentioned it, he could sense it too—a faint, pulsing energy just beneath the surface. He made his way to the backyard and began to dig.

It wasn't long before his hands struck something solid. Clearing away the dirt, he uncovered a small, weathered chest. The metal lock gleamed faintly, untouched by the fire.

"What's inside?" Alexander murmured, reaching out.

As soon as his fingers brushed the chest, the lock clicked open with a faint snap. Inside was a strange, ancient key, forged from the same otherworldly metal as the ingots he carried. It was inscribed with a word that seemed to shimmer and shift before his eyes. For a moment, he caught one of the words: Flameborn.

"Flameborn," he said aloud.

The moment the word left his lips, the world seemed to twist around him. A powerful force yanked him off his feet, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer in the burnt remains of his home.

Alexander landed face-first in a snowdrift with an undignified thud. He groaned, pushing himself up as the biting cold seeped through his clothes. Snow clung to his hair and face as he looked around in confusion. They were no longer in Snow Valley. The jagged peaks and pine trees were gone, replaced by rolling snow-covered fields.

"What the hell just happened?" Alexander asked, brushing snow off his arms.

"I… do not know," Celebrimbor admitted, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "The key… it transported us. To where, I cannot say."

Alexander looked down and saw the three ingots lying in the snow beside him. The key itself lay a few feet away, glowing faintly. He picked it up, holding it carefully as it pulsed with energy.

"Guess we're not in Massachusetts anymore," he muttered.

Celebrimbor ignored the remark, his attention focused on the faint glow of the key. "There is purpose here, Alexander. Follow the key's light. It will lead us."

Testing a theory, Alexander pointed the key southward. Its glow faded. He tried east and west, but the key remained dim. When he turned north, however, the key flared brightly.

"North it is," Alexander said, slinging the ingots over his shoulder. "Let's move."

Using their wraith speed, they traveled quickly, the snow crunching beneath their boots as the key's glow grew stronger. After hours of running, they saw a small village on the horizon. Alexander slowed, instinctively hiding the key.

"Let's try not to freak anyone out," he muttered.

The village was small, its houses built of timber and stone with steeply-pitched roofs to shed the heavy snow. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the streets were quiet save for the occasional bark of a dog. As Alexander entered, an old man dressed in furs and Viking-like gear stepped into his path. His sword gleamed in the dim light as he raised it without warning.

The man shouted something in his language, his voice harsh and commanding. Alexander raised his hands, trying to explain, but the man lunged at him.

Alexander dodged effortlessly, his instincts screaming at him to summon Turann and end the fight. But before he could act, a young woman darted between them, holding out her hands.

"Stop!" she said in accented English. She spoke to the old man quickly in their language, and he lowered his sword reluctantly, giving Alexander one last glare before walking away.

The girl turned to Alexander. "I'm sorry about him. He's… not very trusting of strangers. What are you doing here?"

Alexander hesitated. "I, uh… I'm a tourist. I came here for vacation, but I got separated from my tour group."

Her brow furrowed, but she seemed to accept the explanation. "You're American?"

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"Your accent," she said with a small smile. "Come on, you must be freezing. I'll take you to my house. We'll call the tour guide and get this sorted out."

The girl's house was small but warm, a fire crackling in the hearth as she handed him a cup of tea. "I'll be back soon," she said. "I'm going to talk to the guide."

As soon as she left, Alexander pulled the key from his pocket. It was glowing brighter than ever, pulsing insistently. Celebrimbor appeared beside him, his spectral form gazing at the key with interest.

"It's leading us north," Celebrimbor said. "We cannot linger here."

Nodding, Alexander grabbed the ingots and slipped out of the house, moving quickly through the streets. Once outside the village, he broke into a sprint, following the key's light.

Eventually, they came to a massive gate, its rusted surface bearing a warning: DO NOT ENTER.

Alexander ignored it, wraith-climbing over the gate with ease. Beyond was a vast, snowy expanse. As they moved forward, the key's glow grew blinding. Finally, they reached a large clearing where the air shimmered with heat.

Before them stood a massive door, its surface made entirely of living fire. Runes danced across it, and the craftsmanship was so exquisite that even Celebrimbor seemed awestruck.

"This…" Celebrimbor whispered. "This is unlike anything I have ever seen."

The key flew from Alexander's hand, inserting itself into the fiery door. With a loud click, the door swung open, and a powerful force pulled Alexander and Celebrimbor inside.

The world twisted and burned as they were dragged through the portal, the fire consuming everything around them. Alexander felt weightless, disoriented, and then—darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a new world, one that radiated power and danger. Celebrimbor's voice echoed in his mind:

"Be ready, Alexander. This is just the beginning."