The power of Jasmine was drawn to Asgard by the presence of radiant divine beings. Among the many Asgardian divinities, it was particularly attracted to one of great beauty, seductiveness, vanity, and magical power. One with a serious goddess complex, who had long striven to master the art of enslaving others to her will.
Amora the Enchantress was casting yet another magical spell, to make Jessica Jones jealous of her husband, Luke Cage, so as to sow discord between the Avengers. The power of Jasmine latched on to the residual energy from the spell and lanced into Amora.Her green eyes glowed with a new light, and her already curvy body exploded out of her outfit, becoming even more voluptuous and luscious. As she grew, she gained Amazonian stature, now even taller, broader-shouldered, and more muscular than the new Thor, Jane Foster.
Jasmine’s magic amplified Amora’s own to unimaginable levels of power. With a gesture she clothed herself in a new, scandalously skimpy costume made of dancing threads of glowing green light, it shimmered with her every movement, highlighting the beauty, grace, and power of her new body.
Before other Asgardians had stood above her. Now no Asgardian could stand against her. She was to them what they were to ordinary humans.
Yes, it was time to take her rightful place as Queen of Asgard.
And why stop at Asgard? She alone held the key to universal peace. Why should she not share it with all sentients throughout the cosmos? Far from cruelty and tyranny, wasn’t it a moral imperative that she impose her peace upon them? Would that not be utopia for everyone to become an extension of her own being, each one no longer an individual, cursed with individual desires in endless fruitless conflict with others’ individual desires, but a mere cell of a blissful harmonious collective dedicated to her pleasure and worship for all eternity?
She was both Messenger and Message, and it was her mission to spread her glory and perfection throughout the universe.
To travel the realms, she needed incantations or potions no longer, no matter how great the distance to be traversed—she merely willed herself to her destination and there she was.
There Jane Foster, the new Thor, was battling three mighty demons, hard-pressed to match them even with all the godly power of Mjolnir at her command.
With a wave of Amora’s hand, the demons were imprisoned in unbreakable spheres of golden energy. They pounded at the spheres and shouted and cursed and breathed hellfire, but the spheres were as irresistible as the will of Amora.
She locked eyes with them, and they immediately became docile, like puppy dogs with forked tongues lolling out of their mouths. These infernal fiends from the depths of perdition now lived only to serve her. They’d be useful as her hounds in Hell. She could already feel them becoming part of her, extensions of her being whose powers she could use as she saw fit.
Amora turned to face Thor and strode slowly, purposefully towards her. She didn’t exert her power of dominance, not yet. Thor’s jaw dropped at the sight of this beautiful titaness, clothed in green light, who looked vaguely familiar.
“Amora?” said Thor, finally recognizing the Enchantress. “What are you doing?” Amora ignored the shorter woman as she walked right up to her, picked her up as if she weighed less than a child and hoisted her easily into the air. Thor tried to pull free; Amora was now so much stronger, however, that Thor could have been an infant trying to break away from an adult.
“Struggle not, sweet Jane,” smiled Amora. “Glory greater than any you could find on the battlefield awaits thee. Now, at long last, after millennia, I shall make Thor mine own.” She kissed Jane on the lips and dropped her to the ground. The warrior goddess’s eyes went blank, then filled with starry-eyed worship. She sank to her knees, slowly.
“What is your will, Mistress Amora?” she asked, her voice filled with veneration.
Amora smiled.