Marvel: AS A PRINCE IN ASGARD

With their minds made up, Inhuman Queen Medusa and Skrull leader Talos wasted no time.

On an ancient Kree-forged black stone altar, long sealed away, they sacrificed an Alpha Primal Skrull—one of their strongest warriors forcibly subdued—to break the exile barrier that had contained the most terrifying figure in Inhuman history.

Hive.

A being who once sat upon the throne of the Genetic Council. A nightmare whispered in the darkest corridors of Attilan.

The spatial fissure ripped open—but beyond it, only silence.

Yet Medusa and Talos, their faces grave, took several cautious steps back.

Hive was not a being they could command.

A strange black dust drifted from the rift, flowing like sentient ash toward the restrained Skrull warrior. The second it touched him, his restrained body seized violently, emitting an inhuman scream.

The agonized thrashing was brief.

Within moments, the grotesque muscular form of the Skrull warrior shifted, twisting, shrinking, reforming—until where once stood a hulking brute, now stood a pale-skinned Inhuman with piercing eyes, his short black hair neatly combed back.

A hushed stillness spread through the chamber.

The host had changed.

Hive coughed, then smirked, his voice rasping at first before settling into something disturbingly charismatic and magnetic.

"I'm back."

The words sent a chill through the room.

His gaze swept across the chamber, pausing at Medusa's scarlet royal attire, embroidered with the crest of the House of Agon.

Then, his attention locked onto Talos, the war-hardened Skrull leader, his expression unreadable.

Hive's smile widened.

"I must say, I'm quite pleased with this new vessel. Strong… enhanced…" His eyes glinted with amusement. "Surely, you have something even better?"

Talos said nothing.

The Skrulls had exiled Hive for a reason.

Their past bio-weapons experiments had once sought to harness his abilities—to create the ultimate infiltrator, a being capable of controlling any species, any mind, any biology.

But they had failed.

Hive had turned their creations against them, reducing an entire Skrull war division to puppets—mere extensions of his will.

A living virus.

And now, he was free once more.

"Oh? No response?" Hive mused.

In a flash, his body blurred, reappearing mere inches from Talos, close enough that their breath mingled.

The Skrull's hands twitched, but he remained still.

Then, without warning, Hive's hand shot out, wrapping around the throat of Tarkes, Talos' only son.

The young Skrull struggled, clawing at the inhuman grip, his body convulsing as Hive's parasitic spores burrowed beneath his skin.

Agonized gasps escaped his lips, his once-defiant eyes turning glassy.

Talos clenched his fists but did not move.

He was not just a father.

He was a leader.

Hive tilted his head, watching the silent resignation in Talos' face with mild amusement.

Crack.

Tarkes' struggles ceased.

His lifeless body crumbled into dust, and the swirling spores drifted back into Hive.

A horrified silence filled the chamber.

"Much better." Hive exhaled, his voice brimming with satisfaction.

Medusa and Talos stood motionless.

The assembled Inhumans and Skrulls, once warriors, now stood as nothing more than witnesses—to an entity beyond their control.

Yet there was no turning back now.

Hive stretched his arms, then smiled at Medusa.

"So, tell me, my dear successor… what compelled you to break my chains?"

There was an odd flicker in his gaze—a trace of familiarity, buried beneath the centuries.

Medusa's heart clenched, but she forced herself to remain composed.

"The Inhumans face extinction."

She did not flinch. "We need you."

Hive chuckled. "Do you?"

His voice was laced with amusement, but beneath it, a quiet, insidious hunger.

Hive was not just a ruler of Inhumans—he was their curse.

His power extended beyond his parasitic nature.

A mental force so potent that his mere presence corrupted minds, reshaped wills, and devoured individuality.

All it took was a glance, a whispered suggestion, a moment of weakness—and even the most resolute warrior would offer everything to him.

The past was littered with those who had gouged out their own eyes, severed their own limbs, or sacrificed loved ones—all for the privilege of serving him.

It had taken the combined will of all uninfected Inhumans to seal him away.

And now, they had freed him.

Medusa's voice was steady.

"Releasing you might bring ruin—but keeping you sealed guarantees our extinction. If Black Bolt falls today, the Inhumans fall with him."

Hive tilted his head, considering her words.

Then, he closed his eyes and extended his consciousness.

A wave of psionic energy surged outward, scanning the entire backside of the moon in an instant.

Then he felt them.

Black Bolt. The Silent King.

Locked in battle with a godlike being, a Sunfire-wreathed warrior, whose presence pulsed with celestial power.

Ragna .

Hive's eyes flickered open.

"Interesting."

His lips curled into a smirk, filled with dark amusement.

"This opponent… even I was not expecting."

Far from the battleground, Ragna —still engaged in combat—paused.

A presence had touched him.

An ancient, unseen force.

His golden eyes narrowed. "Who dares?"

A moment later, Black Bolt felt it too.

A chilling, familiar power.

His heart sank.

For there was only one Inhuman in history whose mental power could rival the strongest psychics in the universe.

A being so feared that the Genetic Council had buried all records of him.

The true king of horrors.

Hive.

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