Marvel: Silver Hand

The cold, biting air enveloped Alexander as he and Celebrimbor stepped out of the fiery portal. They were back in the clearing near the snowy mountains where they had discovered the door to the fiery realm of Eldrborinn. Snow crunched beneath Alexander's boots as he took a deep breath of the frosty air, his body still adjusting after the fiery intensity of Eldrborinn's realm.

"That was… something," Alexander muttered, shaking the lingering heat from his fingertips. He turned to Celebrimbor, still trying to process everything. "Alright, so what does this new ring of power actually do?"

Celebrimbor's ethereal form shimmered faintly in the pale light of the clearing. "This ring," he began, his voice measured and calm, "is unlike anything I have forged before. It amplifies your natural strength—both physical and divine. It strengthens the bond between us, making our wraith powers far greater than before. Together, we are now more powerful than most beings that walk this world."

Alexander held up his hand, watching as the ring pulsed faintly with blue energy. "That's a lot of power," he said, flexing his fingers. "But what else?"

Celebrimbor nodded. "The ring also grants you the ability to influence the minds of others. Anyone who comes into contact with you is vulnerable to its power. You could shatter their minds, leave them broken and empty—or reshape their memories entirely. Their loyalty, their thoughts, their will—all yours to control."

Alexander's eyes widened. "So I can brainwash people?"

"Effectively, yes," Celebrimbor replied. "And you can ensure what happened with Emma never happens again. The ring shields your mind from outside influence."

A cold smile tugged at Alexander's lips. "Finally. No more mind games from anyone."

"Indeed," Celebrimbor said. "The ring also grants shapeshifting abilities. You can alter your appearance to anything you wish, allowing you to walk undetected, no matter where you go."

Alexander raised a skeptical brow. "You mean I could go back to looking like myself before all this… Eldrborinn stuff?"

"Yes," Celebrimbor said, gesturing for him to try.

Alexander closed his eyes, focusing on the ring's energy. He felt a rush of warmth flow through him, and when he opened his eyes, he could see the world slightly differently, as if every detail was sharper. He glanced down at his reflection in a small frozen puddle nearby.

His flame-like hair had returned to its natural black, the strands falling loosely over his forehead. His luminous, molten-gold eyes had shifted back to their original stormy gray, calm and piercing. He stared at himself for a moment, brushing a hand through his hair.

"Damn," Alexander muttered, a small grin forming. "I'm good-looking."

"You'll need that ability soon enough," Celebrimbor said, his tone firm. "For now, this power will allow you to walk unseen among enemies. But don't linger on vanity—we have work to do."

Alexander's grin faded as he nodded. "Right. Let's move."

Descending the snow-covered mountains with newfound speed, Alexander and Celebrimbor returned to the small village they had stumbled upon earlier. The houses, simple yet sturdy, were scattered across the snowy landscape, smoke rising from chimneys as the villagers went about their routines.

As they approached, Alexander noticed the old man in Viking attire from before. He stood near a woodpile, sharpening his sword, his eyes narrowing the moment he spotted Alexander.

"It's you again," the old man growled in his native tongue, his voice rough like gravel. "Get the hell out of my village!"

Alexander blinked. He could understand the man perfectly, despite never having learned the man's language. He glanced at Celebrimbor, who gave a knowing nod.

"Either the ring or your divine power allows you to understand and speak languages you've never learned," Celebrimbor said. "An invaluable gift."

The old man was already advancing, sword raised. "Leave, or I'll cut you down where you stand!"

Alexander sighed, sidestepping the man's swing with ease. Before the old man could try again, Alexander grabbed his head with his right hand. The moment his palm made contact, the ring pulsed with energy, and the old man froze in place, his body rigid.

Celebrimbor's voice echoed in Alexander's mind. "Focus. Clear your mind. Now command his thoughts."

Alexander concentrated, feeling the ring's power flow into the old man's mind. "Tell me," he commanded, his voice low and firm. "Where am I?"

The old man choked out the words, his voice strained. "You're… in Iceland. This village is Logibörinn."

"And the closest city?" Alexander pressed.

"Reykjavík," the old man rasped. "To the south."

Satisfied, Alexander closed his eyes and concentrated again, wiping the memory of their encounter from the man's mind. The old man staggered back, blinking in confusion, as if he had no idea what had just happened.

"Let's go," Alexander said, turning away. With a burst of superhuman speed, he darted south, leaving the village and its people far behind.

It took less than five minutes for Alexander to reach Reykjavík. The city unfolded before him, a mix of modern architecture and old-world charm, framed by the icy waters of the Atlantic Ocean. He slowed his pace as he approached the outskirts, careful not to attract attention.

"Alright," Alexander said, scanning the area. "What's the plan?"

Celebrimbor's spectral form appeared beside him. "We need information. The internet is your best option."

Alexander spotted a man sitting on a bench, scrolling through his phone. With a flick of his wrist, he used the ring's power to make the man fall asleep. Catching the phone before it hit the ground, Alexander unlocked it—it was already open to a search engine.

"Convenient," Alexander muttered, typing in Smith Manor England.

Almost immediately, an article popped up. The headline read: "Harry Smith, Heir to Smith Foundations, Expands Influence in London." Beneath it was a picture of a man Alexander recognized instantly.

"Ryan," Alexander hissed, clenching his fist. He laughed bitterly as he scrolled through the article. "So, he's pretending to be his own son now. 'Harry Smith'? Really? That's so goddamn cliché."

"Clever, though," Celebrimbor said. "It allows him to remain in power while avoiding suspicion."

Alexander closed the browser, returning the phone to its owner and erasing all memory of the encounter. "London, then," he said, standing up. "Time to crash Ryan's little empire."

Finding the airport wasn't difficult—Alexander simply asked another passerby for directions, using the ring to manipulate their memory afterward. Once he arrived, he scouted the terminals, searching for a flight to London. A departing plane caught his eye, its destination clearly marked.

"Perfect," he said, slipping into the shadows. Using his wraith-enhanced speed and stealth, Alexander made his way to the cargo hold of the plane, avoiding cameras and airport personnel with ease. He settled into the dimly lit space, leaning against a crate as the plane's engines roared to life.

Celebrimbor appeared beside him, his expression thoughtful. "This is only the beginning," he said. "Ryan and Vanessa have no idea what's coming for them."

Alexander smirked, staring at the ring on his finger as it glowed faintly. "Oh, they'll know soon enough. And when they do, they'll wish they'd stayed dead."

As the plane took off, Alexander closed his eyes, letting the hum of the engines lull him into a calm focus. For the first time in a long time, he felt truly ready. Armed with the ring, his divine power, and Celebrimbor's guidance, he was no longer just Alexander Athos.

He was something far more dangerous.