The shadow resolved into a figure that made Thor's blood run cold—not from fear, but from recognition. Even stripped of his divine sight, he could see the predatory grace in her movements, the way she held that massive sword as if it weighed nothing at all.
"Gamora," he whispered, the name carrying the weight of legend. The deadliest woman in the galaxy. Thanos's daughter.
She paused at the sound of her name, and for a moment, the tortured screaming stopped. Her eyes, when they focused on him, held a depth of pain that even a mortal could recognize.
"You know me?" Her voice was strained, as if each word was a battle against something inside her skull. "Then you know what I'm capable of."
Coulson had his energy pistol trained on her, but his hand was steady. Years of facing impossible odds had taught him patience. "We're not here to fight you, Gamora. We're here for the energy source. The red particles."
"The Aether," she corrected, her grip tightening on her sword. "And it's already mine."
Thor stepped forward, ignoring Coulson's sharp intake of breath. Without his powers, he was just a man—but he'd been raised in the halls of warriors. He could read the signs of internal struggle written across her face.
"You're fighting him," Thor said softly. "Thanos. Even dead, he torments you."
Gamora's composure cracked. "Shut up!" The phantom voice in her head grew louder, more insistent. "Kill them, my daughter. Show them the strength I gave you."
"I won't," she hissed to the empty air. "I won't be your weapon anymore."
But her body betrayed her words. Muscle memory, honed by years of brutal training, took over. Her sword swept in a deadly arc toward Thor's head.
Thor threw himself backward, the blade missing him by inches. Coulson opened fire, his energy bolts striking Gamora's armor and doing little more than getting her attention. She pivoted with inhuman speed, her free hand catching Coulson by the throat and lifting him off the ground.
"I told you to run," she said, almost apologetically.
Thor had seen warriors before—had fought alongside the greatest of Asgard. But watching Gamora move was like witnessing a force of nature. Every motion was perfectly calculated, devastatingly efficient. When she threw Coulson aside, the veteran agent hit the ancient stone wall hard enough to crack it.
"Agent Coulson!" Thor rushed to his side, checking for a pulse. Still alive, but unconscious. Blood trickled from a head wound.
"He'll live," Gamora said, and there was genuine relief in her voice. "I... I pulled back at the last moment."
"Then you're still in there," Thor said, helping Coulson into a more comfortable position. "Still fighting him."
"Every moment." Her sword dragged against the stone as she approached. "But I'm losing. The voice gets stronger, more insistent. Soon, I won't be able to resist."
Thor looked at her—really looked. Beneath the legend, beneath the reputation as the galaxy's most feared assassin, he saw something he recognized: exile. The crushing weight of being cast out, of losing everything that defined you.
"I understand," he said.
"No, you don't." But her voice lacked conviction.
"I was cast out too. Stripped of everything I thought I was. Left to wander, powerless, among people I'd never bothered to understand." Thor stood slowly, his movements deliberate and non-threatening. "The voice in your head—it's telling you that strength is all that matters, isn't it? That mercy is weakness?"
Gamora's eyes widened slightly. That was exactly what the phantom Thanos whispered to her.
"I believed that once," Thor continued. "Used my power without thought, without wisdom. It took losing everything to teach me what strength really means."
"Don't listen to him," the voice snarled in her mind. "He's weak. They're all weak. Take the Aether and leave…Complete our work."
"Our work?" Gamora laughed bitterly. "There is no 'our' work. You're dead. I killed you myself, remember?"
Thor frowned. "Thanos is dead?"
"The King Of Sakaar killed him on Xandar. But somehow..." She pressed her free hand to her temple. "Somehow part of him lives on in here. In the Soul Stone. In me."
The pieces clicked together in Thor's mind. The Soul Stone—one of the Infinity Stones. If Gamora possessed it, if Thanos's consciousness had somehow survived within it...
"You took the Soul Stone from Vormir," he said.
"To make sure he was truly dead. To make sure he could never return." Tears ran down her cheeks. "But I was wrong. He's in here, growing stronger every day. Soon, he'll be strong enough to take control completely."
The voice in her head laughed. "Sooner than you think, my dear daughter."
Gamora's grip on her sword tightened involuntarily. Her muscles tensed, preparing to strike despite her conscious will.
"I can't stop it," she whispered. "Thor, when I lose control... run. Please."
But Thor didn't run. Instead, he did something that surprised them both—he knelt.
"I failed you," he said simply. "All of us—we were so focused on stopping Thanos that we never thought about what would happen to those he'd broken. We left you to face this alone."
"Get up," Gamora said sharply. "I don't want your pity."
"Not pity. Recognition." Thor remained on one knee. "You're fighting the hardest battle of all—the one against yourself. Against what you were made to be. I know that battle."
For a moment, the voice in her head was silent, stunned by this unexpected display of respect.
"I have to go," Gamora said abruptly. "While I still can. While I can still choose."
She turned away, but Thor's voice stopped her.
"The Aether—what will you do with it?"
"Hide it. Keep it from him. From anyone who would use it for conquest." She looked back over her shoulder. "Tell the Nebula... tell her I'm sorry. For failing him. For failing everyone."
"Gamora, wait—"