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geraskier-hell · 4 years

Note

Hi, new follower here. Your writing is amazing! For the smut prompt if you're still doing it: "Could he make you feel as good as I do?" Or "We're... just friends" OR BOTH ily thanks 💜

Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took me a while to write it, I was focusing on a fic for my other fandom, but here’s a sweet and slightly angsty post ep 6 one shot (am I too late for this??)

Read here or on AO3

“Thank you, thank you very much,” Jaskier says, bowing to the people clapping at him. “It’s been a pleasure singing for you tonight, it truly has, but it’s time for me to rest my voice. One has to take great care of it if he doesn’t want to sound like a frog.”

Some people laugh, other whine in protest, someone even dares to sound relieved, but Jaskier tilts his head once more and stuffs in his pockets what the audience has thrown at him, be it coin or food. He has sung one of his most popular ballads tonight, but he feels his repertoire is lacking something more adventurous, a song that would make everyone sit on the edge of their seats, enthralling them with incredible perils and great loves. He doesn’t have anything new to sing about, however. The last time he tried to get some new material, it just ended up in a heartbreak.

He walks to the counter of the tavern where he sits to drink a mug of ale. The bitter taste spreads in his mouth and fills his chest, reinvigorating him after his show. There is nothing better than a good cup of ale after a successful performance. Well, there actually is, or was, but not right now, not anymore. For this evening he has to settle for yet another night spent with a fellow bard, one that is bad both as a singer and in bed.

As he drinks his beer, he assists at the performance of the man that has taken his place on the stage. No butterflies, no sparkles of excitement light in his chest as he watches the guy he’s been sleeping with for the past couple of nights. He is plain, nothing about him really stands out, no scars or brooding frown, but ever since the dragon accident, Jaskier hasn’t been able to sleep by himself. He needs the company, needs someone to distract him from the hole in his chest and to stop his mind from thinking about the bitter words that broke his heart.

When the performance thankfully ends - the audience isn’t as enthusiastic about it as when Jaskier was singing - the bard joins the brunet at the counter, ordering something to drink too.

“Tonight has been a success, hasn't it?” he asks. “People in this village have a fantastic taste.”

“Do they now?” Jaskier retorts, very much doubting his partner’s judgement.

“Yes, we’ve been coming here for a few days now, and everyone is still enjoying our songs.”

“True.”

Jaskier doesn’t feel like talking right now, doesn't really feel like doing anything but think about the past. The idea of needing new songs has re-opened an old wound not completely healed yet. It has been only a few months since all his hopes and dreams have been crushed, and it’s too soon to move on even for him.

“I’m heading back,” he says, pushing the stool back and standing up.

“Wait, I’m coming too. I’m done here.”

Jaskier shrugs and pays for his ale, taking his lute before heading outside. It’s a beautiful night, the full moon is out, and there’s no need for other sources of light to see the street ahead. Maybe he could sing yet another ballad about it, the great moon in love with the sun, melting under its fiery touch. Jaskier shakes his head; he really has hit the bottom of the barrel if he’s thinking about writing something like that.

He is walking down the streets to get to his room, his fellow bard chatting away about their show, when a shadow moves in an alley near them. The narrow path is too dark for him to be certain of it, the moonlight struggles to reach it, but Jaskier is almost sure he has seen something move there. A drunkard looking for a place to throw up in, maybe, or a thief ready to steal their hard-earned money. It could be anything really, so Jaskier picks up the pace, not wanting to find out what it actually is. This is not the adventure he needs for his ballad.

Even his partner is quiet now, and they hurry to the inn, walking down the street illuminated by the moonlight. It is because of that light that Jaskier sees him. He’s leaning against a wall, arms crossed and sword peeking out from behind his shoulder. He knows who he is even before the golden eyes shine in the dark and his figure stands tall in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” his fellow bard asks when Jaskier stops in the middle of the road.

“I… I think I forgot something at the tavern,” the brunet mutters, struggling to find enough control to give him a coherent reply.

The figure moves away from the wall and walks towards him before Jaskier has made a step forward. He is paralysed on the spot, torn between staying and running away. He wants to yell, cry, pretend to be fine, but he can’t do anything, he can just stare as the hooded man now comes into full view.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Jaskier’s friend asks in an accusing tone.

The newcomer only spares him a glance, but his eyes are soon on Jaskier again. “Who is this?”

“We’re… just friends.”

Why is he so reluctant to tell him the truth?

The man hums, or better, scoffs and the disgusted look on his face is what finally breaks the spell that has turned Jaskier mute.

“What do you want, Geralt?” he spits out. “I thought you didn’t want me around, and I certainly don’t want to see you right now, so just move along. What I do with my life now is none of your concern.”

“I want to talk,” Geralt replies, unfazed by Jaskier’s words.

“You want to talk,” Jaskier snorts. “Well, I don’t want to. Goodbye.”

Jaskier makes a move to walk past him, but Geralt holds his arm. “Please.”

A hint of remorse finally shines in his eyes under the moonlight, and Jaskier doesn’t find it in himself to push him away anymore.

“Just five minutes.”

“Alone,” Geralt says, glancing at the man with them.

“Go on ahead, I’ll be there as soon as I’m done with him,” Jaskier tells his friend.

“Are you sure? He looks suspicious.”

“It’s all good, we used to be good friends,” Jaskier says in a bitter tone.

The bard still examines Geralt, but he then does as Jaskier has told him.

“This way,” Geralt says once they’re alone.

Jaskier is still hesitant and hurt, still mad at the witcher for the way he treated him, but he can’t help but give in. Part of him wants to know what he has to say, even hopes for an apology and that’s the only thing that makes his feet move when Geralt walks back into the centre of the village.

They end up at a different tavern than before, one less crowded and cheerful, and they sit in a corner at the back, away from the rest of the patrons. Geralt doesn't speak for a while, and Jaskier certainly doesn't want to break the silence, so they both drink their beers without uttering a word.

Geralt hasn’t changed at all, he never really did, so it’s easy for Jaskier’s mind to get lost down memory lane. All those years spent together thrown away like that, all the unspoken feelings between them, the ushered nights, and endless longing. Jaskier hasn’t forgotten any of it, and maybe Geralt hasn’t either, at least that’s what the most hopeful part of Jaskier tells himself.

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier finally asks.

Geralt doesn’t look up from the beer for a few seconds, but when he eventually does, his expression is unreadable.

“I wanted to know how you were doing.”

“I’m doing fantastic,” Jaskier scoffs. “Just peachy, I couldn't dream of anything better.”

“Jaskier.”

“You yell at me like that and then have the courage to come here to ask how I’m doing? I should have known better than to speak with you again.”

Jaskier is about to stand up, tired and feeling like an idiot, but Geralt stops him, looking at him with more honest eyes.

“Stay.”

“Why are you here?” Jaskier repeats, hurt.

“I came to see how you were doing.” Jaskier scoffs again, but Geralt is still holding his arm, so he can’t move. “I came to see if your life was better without me, or if it wasn’t.”

Jaskier frowns in confusion, but when Geralt mimics for him to sit down again, he does it.

“I think I owe you an apology for what I said,” the witcher surprises him. “I didn’t really mean it, I was mad at the whole ordeal that happened that day.”

“You still chose to be a dick.”

“I know, and… I’m sorry, for pushing you away and leaving you behind.” Geralt grips the handle of the mug tighter before adding, “Travelling doesn’t feel the same without you.”

Jaskier sighs, taking a big gulp from his cup. “So you’re telling me I’ve spent all those nights writing tear-jerking ballads for nothing?”

“You had the material you needed for your songs.”

“I want adventures, great loves, and other people’s heartbreak, not my own, it really sucked.”

Geralt snorts, hiding his smile behind his cup. It’s familiar and comfortable, and Jaskier can’t help the way his heart finally starts beating again.

“You really broke my heart back there, you know?” he says.

Geralt stops drinking, looking more sombre. “Not just yours.”

Jaskier stares at him, doubting his own hearing, but he has seen Geralt’s lips move and the tavern isn’t loud enough for him to have misheard anything. The witcher has really said what he has been dying to hear for so long, and now that he’s sure of it, all his anger is slowly subduing, replaced by a sweet, familiar feeling.

“Where are you sleeping?” he asks. “Do you have a room?”

Geralt shakes his head. “I’ve just arrived.”

“Shit. We can’t use mine either.”

Geralt’s face darkens at the comment, and he suddenly stands up. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asks, but the witcher is already gone. He sees him speak with the owner of the tavern, sliding a few coins in his hand, and then he’s back.

“We have a room here.”

“That eager, huh?” Jaskier says, standing up. “Lead the way then.”

Behind his confidence, there is nervousness and hesitation. It isn’t the first time they end up in bed together, it happened almost regularly when they used to travel together, but Geralt was never this open, never this impatient, and once again Jaskier finds himself wishing for an end to his tormenting yearning.

They get undressed as soon as the door closes behind them, and then Geralt is pushing Jaskier on the bed, covering him in kisses and bite marks that have the bard moan in less than a minute. He has been without Geralt’s touch for so long that now he just wants to comply and satisfy that hunger that no one has been able to subdue. Only Geralt could fill his heart like that, could put back in its place the missing piece he lost that day on the mountain, and only he has the power to unravel him like this.

Urgency and care exude from Geralt’s movements, his fingers work fast on Jaskier’s hole and his tongue hungrily laps at his cock, wrapping Jaskier in a wet tightness that has him already beg for more. He whines while pushing down on Geralt’s hand and easily slides on his tongue, feeling so good the rest of the world doesn’t exist anymore. He runs his hands in Geralt's white hair, he has missed its rough texture, has missed tugging at it while Geralt blows him.

“Geralt,” he moans, biting his lip.

The witcher hums and doubles his efforts, taking Jaskier dangerously close to the edge, but just as he feels himself lose control, Geralt moves away and gives him the time to breathe. He doesn’t need time, however, just needs Geralt inside as soon as possible, so he ushers him between his legs and kisses him while Geralt starts to move his hips.

He feels so good and familiar he almost sobs on his lips. He has undeniably missed all of this, but Geralt has too. He tries to be caring and careful, cold even, but the way he’s holding him is too desperate, too needy, as if trying to make sure he’s actually there. Jaskier reassures him with his kiss and touch, roaming his back and gliding his tongue on his, mapping what he once knew so well and relishing in the intoxicating feeling that is Geralt.

They don’t waste time before moving in unison, Geralt fucking Jaskier hard and the bard meeting his every thrust. Their mouths still search for each other, but now their kisses are sloppy and messy, saliva dripping down Jaskier’s chin while they both pant in their need. Geralt isn’t gentle nor slow, his fingers are digging in Jaskier’s hips and his teeth often sink into his skin, but that’s how Jaskier likes it; he likes Geralt leaving his mark on him for everyone to see.

"Could he make you feel as good as I do?" the witcher groans, catching Jaskier off guard. He rarely showed his possessive side in the past, especially since they weren’t a thing, but the rare times he did, it always made Jaskier’s heart race as it’s doing right now.

“Why? You jealous?”

Geralt grunts and picks up the pace, hitting Jaskier’s sweet spot with all his force. The movement takes Jaskier's breath away and he loudly moans, throwing his head on the pillow and pulling hard at Geralt’s hair. The witcher presses a kiss on his neck and then sinks his teeth into it. The gesture only makes Jaskier smirk, and confesses what Geralt hasn’t admitted yet.

It’s only a matter of minutes before Jaskier feels himself close to his orgasm. His hard cock is leaking precum on his stomach and his hole clamps down around Geralt, shivers running up his spine every time he does so. He wraps a hand around his length, thumbing its head and spreading the pearlescent fluid down it before stroking himself.

Geralt groans, his brows furrow and his hips get faster. He never misses his aim, abusing Jaskier’s prostate to the point it’s uncomfortable, but it’s also so good the bard has a few tears in his eyes. He jerks himself off faster and faster, taking Geralt down for a final kiss as he comes all over himself. Geralt fucks him through it, but as Jaskier twitches around him, his hips stutter and with one last deep thrust, he comes too.

Afterwards, Jaskier is too tired and sore to move. He hasn’t had such a good fuck in months, and he bathes in the sweet afterglow that settles on him. Geralt isn’t moving either, he’s resting with one arm behind his head, his chest hair sweaty and as soft to the touch as Jaskier remembers. He caress it, twisting it between his fingers before resting his head on top of it.

Geralt is almost hesitant when he wraps his free arm around the bard’s middle, but Jaskier solves the doubt for him, forcing him to hug him.

“When are you leaving?” he asks, drawing circles on Geralt’s chest.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m coming too?” It comes out more as a question than a statement; Jaskier still hasn’t forgotten the witcher’s words on the mountain.

“You are. I’m not leaving you behind anymore,” Geralt replies, and this time there is no hesitation, only a promise that he seals with a kiss.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #my writing #prompts #answered #for some reason tumblr decided to put the keep reading in the ask(???)#and now i can't change it #apologies for that!

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xantchaslegacy · 4 years

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Forgiven, Ch 3

This has been on Ao3 for a while but I never got past posting Ch 2 here ~

Link to Ch 1 and Ch 2 :)

Lesser eldrazi had many qualities that made them deadly predators, most of which made them relatively pathetic prey. The power to desiccate the land was a great liability when it gave your pursuers a trail to follow, especially when moving in packs. The average drone’s physiology, so adept at ambushing and bringing death, made them slow and clumsy when on the retreat.

The swarm had had a full day’s head start before Nissa, Sorin, and Nahiri set out on their trail. A day’s worth of travel that the planeswalkers could cover in considerably less time.

Unfortunately, what the Eldrazi lacked in natural advantage, inland Tazeem made up for by being an impenetrable maze of massive hedrons, cavernous ground, and rolling, titan forests. The eldrazi hadn’t even followed the Umara river, where the planeswalkers might at least have relied on reports from the merfolk settlements to indicate where the swarm was headed.

Thankfully, Nissa still felt the itch. One massive, festering, migrating rash for the mass that had abandoned the Halimar Basin, and minute irritations that helped her, Sorin, and Nahiri take care of any stragglers as they made their way north, through the reclaimed stretch of Oran-Rief.

Nahiri was dispatching two such stragglers now, far below in one of the forest’s many cavernous shafts. Nissa knelt by the mouth of the tunnel, a sheer drop of ridged stone in the middle of a large grass clearing. Sorin stood a few paces further off, one hand tapping irritably and irritatingly at his pommel. A pair of merfolk kitesailors watched from a slight distance.

“Wouldn’t that go faster with all three of you folk down there?” The smaller of the two merfolk called.

“Not enough space,” Nissa responded, gaze fixed on the tunnel. For the dozenth time she pressed her hand to the damp grass around the mouth of the cave shaft, feeling for signs of life. The underground networks were less-used nowadays ever since the threat of the Roil had subsided, but there was always a chance that a few elves might have gotten caught between the cave walls, the eldrazi, and an angry kor lithomancer.

“She’ll be careful,” Sorin said, unsolicited. “Nahiri has a skill of precision with her stonework like no other.”

“Thank you for the input,” Nissa muttered back. No unexpected pulses of life moved in the tunnels, which was the far greater reassurance at the moment.

“What sorta coat is that, mister?” The small merfolk asked.

“Demon hide,” Sorin replied, voice flat.

“Demon hide, he said, Olmer. What do you make of that?”

“Seems unlikely,” The tall merfolk replied. “But the world’s full of unlikely things, I suppose.”

Sorin rolled his eyes. “I could go help her. She shouldn’t be having this much trouble, if it really is just two.”

“The caves are vast,” Nissa said. “I’m not surprised it’s taking her a while to find them.” She glanced up at Sorin. “You have a lot of faith in her.”

Sorin crossed his arms. “She’s ruthless and she knows what she’s doing. That’s just the truth.”

“Then she’ll be fine. You’d just get in her way down there.”

Sorin sniffed, and ignored another question from the merfolk. They passed a minute in silence before he spoke again.

“We fought as a team on Zendikar before, you know. On many different worlds, for that matter. We can work together, and rather effectively, I might add.”

“I look forward to you showing me.”

That bought another two minutes of the vampire’s sullen silence. Nissa remained crouched by the tunnel shaft, trying to focus on the trailing winds drifting through the network of hedrons and trees that surrounded them. On the long, wild grasses trailing under the breeze.

“Ha!”

They both started at the sound of Nahiri’s laugh echoing up out the shaft, followed by the faint clash of stone on stone. Nissa let out a small relieved breath. Sorin’s shoulders slackened noticeably.

Nissa watched him out of the corner of her eye. He glanced down at her twice, and looked back away both times. One of the nice things about having eyes that glowed bright green was that Nissa could observe a person without them really knowing exactly what she was looking at.

If you have something to say, mover, you should not feel fear to say it.

Nissa narrowed her eyes. She was cherishing the silence-

Silence immersed in actions undone is no true silence.

“You’re very concerned for her,” Nissa blurted out in a whisper. “In light of what she took from you.”

Sorin shrugged and flicked his the wrist. “I’m allowed. I can be angry about what she’s done and worry as well.”

“You just sound like you regret what happened-”

“Of course I regret it! My entire plane-”

“That’s not what I meant. You seem like you regret it because you lost a friend as well.”

Sorin’s crossed arms tightened around each other, like a snake’s coils drawing close. “You say it like you think I’m incapable of that sort of regret.”

Nissa suppressed a twist in her stomach. No need to planeswalk away. Just deal with the confrontation at hand.

“You’ve never given me a reason to think you’re someone who regrets the consequences of their actions until a few days ago.” She turned to fully face Sorin. “I’m not complaining, but if you asked me whether I thought you were a creature of regret a week ago...well I’d have said ‘no’.”

“I’m very lucky, then, that your opinion on the matter means nothing to me.”

Nissa felt a stab of anger and irritation. She turned back away.

Are you satisfied?

Nissa shut her eyes, and sighed. “No I suppose not.”

“What was that?” Sorin asked.

“Speaking to myself.” Nissa stood. Behind Sorin, the merfolk were whispering to one another. “And...I apologize. I’m was trying to be honest, not hurtful. Your regrets are your own business.”

Sorin nodded. “Thank you.”

He was avoiding her eye, but his jaw unclenched. “It’s...it’s a matter of preservation. If that makes sense.”

“Not entirely.”

Sorin pursed his lips, frowning. A long breath trailed out his chest. Nissa wondered how much of that was habit, and how much was for effect.

“I prefer change in the world that I can control. The eldrazi were always the antithesis of that. I fought beside Ugin and Nahiri because by defeating the titans we preserved the multiverse as it was. I preserved my home from the possibility of uncontrollable, devastating change. When I thought the multiverse safe, I moved to ensure its preservation in the future.”

Nissa nodded.

“I took it for granted that the bonds I had made would preserve themselves. Next to the dangers to the physical worlds, the bridges of companionship seemed...well, much less assailable. So I neglected them. Then one friend died. And another almost lost everything she had fought for.”

“And then you lost the plane you’d given everything else up for all the same.”

Sorin nodded, slow. “All because I neglected the connections I’d made. I regret the ruin to my home most of all. And I am angry in a way that I don’t think will ever fade away. But for all that I still have space in my soul to regret that I did not preserve my friendships.” He looked past Nissa, toward the tunnel.

“That makes sense,” Nissa crouched back by the mouth of the shaft. After a beat Sorin stepped forward to stand at the edge, just a few paces away.

“Ha-haaaaa!”

A glow lit the depths of the tunnel, growing brighter and hotter with each passing second. Nissa and Sorin ducked back from the cave mouth.

A rush of air roared up, and Nahiri burst form the shaft, a cow-sized eldrazi clutched in each stone-gloved hand. She hovered above them a moment, bearing a grim grin of triumph along with her trophies. Then she set down onto the grass and cast the bodies to the ground.

“Just these ones, but if you want to check...”

Nissa nodded and felt for the leylines. The ground below was twisted and scarred still, but the active itch had subsided.

“We’re done here.” Nissa stood. “North, again.”

“That’s quite a trick, miss,” one of the kitesailors called from a slightly further distance. “How’re you flying in them tunnels?”

Nahiri grinned and patted her boots. The heels and soles, constructed so that bars of stone could slot into them, glowed with the hot-white flare of lithomancy, and gave her a lift several feet into the air, where she somersaulted over Sorin. “It’s all in the rocks, girls.”

The taller of the merfolk whistled appreciatively. Sorin pursed his lips.

* * *

The tangle of roil-sculpted earth, titan trees, and mountainous hedrons thickened the further north they ventured through the reclamation zone. And they ventured quickly. There was an urgency to Sorin and Nahiri that pressed them to weave impatiently through the roots, trunks, and floating rock. Nissa found herself relying on Ashaya more often than not for a ride and the speed necessary to keep up.

Above and to her left, Nahiri swooped under a low-floating hedron, scattering a flock of manta. Years ago there would have been no shortage of dangerous creatures about, even without the eldrazi, but the largest predators had been slow to return to the Rief, and the speed and suddenness of the trio’s travel had so far been too startling for the ones who had to even consider ambushing them.

To Nissa’s right, Sorin sprinted along a branch three times as thick around as he was tall. He hadn’t tired yet. When they’d first struck out, Sorin had suggested simply planeswalking off Zendikar, then using Nahiri and Nissa’s expertise to ‘walk back where the swarm had run to,’ to save time.

“It’s possible,” Nissa had replied, “But if the swarm disperses, I would prefer we do a thorough search on foot than have any of them scattered around the continent.”

So far the itch had remained a coherent mass. Whatever guided the drone and spawn movements, it had only led a few of the eldrazi to disperse along the way, and those few were easily dealt with without undue delay.

The merfolk, who’d introduced themselves as Olmer and Ton, had followed the trio from the cave on their flying kites, jabbering and shouting questions all the while. Occasionally Sorin even answered them back.

“Are you certain there aren’t any settlements ahead?” He called, the second such question in an hour.

“Not a one,” Ton, the shorter merfolk called back. “Most everyone’s still sheltered in an’ around Coralhelm. You’ll miss that by a good 30 miles if you keep this heading, and you’ll have nothing but leagues of dead woods around you by then.”

Nahiri caught Nissa’s gaze, nodded over at Sorin, and rolled her eyes. Nissa just grunted, and scanned the paths ahead. The low ground to the left faded into shadows as a web of roots and curved pillars of earth lifted the trees well above the dirt. On the right, the ground rose in a mossy shell of roots and massive, fallen logs.

Ashaya opted for the higher ground, and the elemental’s tread became light as the falling leaves as he loped through the moss. The trees here left tough remains, but it was the careless traveler who ruled out the possibility of a decayed spot taking their feet out from under them.

A speck of pale blue on the carpet of green ahead caught Nissa’s eye.

“Likely you won’t find any folk wandering this stretch of Tazeem for a while,” Ton drawled. “Mostly it’s bolder folk like Olmer and me who-”

“Body!” Nissa shouted to her companions. “There’s someone up ahead!”

Nahiri and Sorin split off to the left and right, as they’d discussed before leaving the wall. If either didn’t return in five minutes, the remaining two would treat the figure ahead as a trap. Ashaya slowed to a stalk and padded forward silently, Nissa scanning the surrounding trees as they approached. The merfolk landed on either side of Ashaya at her signal for caution.

“Haven’t seen much in the way of wildlife,” The taller merfolk said, just under her breath.

“It’s the despoilers, love.” The shorter merfolk pointed to the trails of dust and spots of twisted stone that grew, almost indiscernible, against the black bark of the trees.

Ashaya halted a hundred paces from the body. Nissa crouched low on the elemental’s shoulder and shut her eyes. The leylines were quiet, save for the itch to the north. On the edges of her mind the creatures that had fled from the Eldrazi’s path went about their business, a short distance displaced from their usual haunts. Calm, but alert.

Nahiri emerged first, gliding down from the trees, signaling ‘all safe’ with a brusque wave. Sorin emerged a second later, one hand wrapped around his sword, another around a grey sack that trailed spiked tendrils.

Ashaya crossed the distance to the body in a handful of long strides. The thing dangling from Sorin’s hand was covered with glassy, half-lidded eyes. An eldrazi. One of Kozilek’s drones.

“Hit it from behind.” Sorin threw the drone to the ground. A diamond-shaped gash ran straight through its body, leaking a faint distortion into the air, like it was full of gas. “It was waiting up in the branches, watching the body.”

Impressive.

“I didn’t feel that,” Nissa said, a cold lump forming in her stomach.

Sorin shrugged. “They’ve got all sorts of tricks.”

The one you called Kozilek was an apex of distorting the senses. There is no shame in having missed a trick, so long as you recognize it the next time it is played.

“So the body’s bait?” Olmer called from a distance.

Nahiri knelt by the merfolk. “Not a body.” She put two fingers to the merfolk’s neck, along his flattened gills. “There’s a pulse. We need to get him to a healer.” She ran a hand along the chest, mottled with ugly, plum-colored bruises. “Ribs shattered. He’s probably bleeding underneath. I can do some simple mending but-” She paused, as if remembering something, then looked up at Sorin.

“What?” He stared back. “We stabilize him and then what? Are we going to carry him with us?”

Nahiri’s face twisted into a scowl. “Maybe.”

“If we delay-”

“Please.” Nahiri squeezed the words out between grit teeth. “You said you were helping. This is the least you could do.”

Sorin wrinkled his nose, but still knelt across from Nahiri, laying hands on the merfolk’s neck. His fingers flexed and the veins tensed in the merfolk’s neck. The chest rose slowly, and then the belly, then the veins in the arms bulged as Sorin pushed the blood to flow to where it was needed.

“Splints.” Nahiri looked to Nissa.

“Splints.” She nodded and thrust her staff into the mossy log underfoot. Emerald shoots tore through the bark, twisting together in tight bundles. In seconds a small arc of saplings surrounded her.

Nissa pulled one up, and directed the skysailers to do the same. They exchanged wary looks, but followed her lead, stripping away the stubby roots with their trail knives. By the time they had cut the saplings to the appropriate size, Nissa had produces a length of vine to lash the splints to the fallen merfolk’s limbs.

He was drawing breath now, and a steady rise-and-fall had returned to his chest. A faint whistle of breath trickled through his lips. The bruising still looked horrible, but the body beneath was less shattered. Less sunken.

“Blood’s out of his lungs.” Sorin rose to his feet, and produced a handkerchief from his breast pocket. With slow, deliberate strokes he began to wipe down his palms and each finger. “and I’ve healed what the veins can heal. He won’t be moving under his own power without at least a month of bed rest, and he certainly won’t be able to defend himself out here.”

“We can take him to Magosi,” Ton volunteered. “We’re due there in the next week; won’t hurt too much to get back a bit early.”

“Thank you.” Nahiri glared at Sorin. “Are there survivors enough to take care of him?”

Olmer laughed at that.

“Plenty. And when they find out he was ambushed and used as bait by the despoilers? Well, you’d think folk would get tired of stories like that, but they’ll all be clamoring to hear it. Yeah, he’ll be well looked out for.”

Ton and Olmer spent the next few minutes rigging a hammock between the frames of their kites, joining them into a single, two-winged arrangement. Then they mounted the closest tree, Nissa following close behind on Ashaya, who cradled the injured merfolk in its arms.

“This’ll do.” Ton scrambled out onto a broad branch, grappling the kite with Olmer to get it up onto the limb. Ashaya lay the merfolk into the stretcher between the kites, and Nissa helped lash him down.

“Glad we found you.” Ton offered a hand to Nissa, who politely declined it. “Good to work with good people in these dangerous times.”

Nissa smiled faintly. “Always danger in our world, isn’t there?”

Ton shrugged. “Always good to find good people, then.” With a wave, she and Olmer kicked off from the branch, and glided quietly away through the depths of Oran-Rief.

* * *

Nahiri called for a short rest before pushing forward any further. She made the flight via lithomancy seem effortless while she was in the air, but the energy needed to move that way was clearly taxing her.

Oran-Rief didn’t lend itself to campfires, but Nahiri had enough energy in reserve to set a small boulder to glowing, providing some warmth for herself and Nissa. Sorin stalked off into the woods, and returned nearly an hour later, leaves and sticks tangled in his hair and clothing, two iridescent snakes hanging from one hand, and a handkerchief-wrapped collection of roots and fruit in the other.

“Supper,” He placed everything in a pile next to the stone.

Nahiri took the snakes without a word. The stone flared brighter, and she reached three fingers into the white-hot surface. When she pulled her hand back the fingers clutched a long, square knife. She let the blade cool, and began stripping the skin and scales away.

“These are poisonous.” Nissa held up several of the fruits before tossing them aside. “These are fine. This one should be cooked before we eat it. And this...well, this is technically edible...”

Sorin shrugged. “Then I guess it’s technically supper.” He didn’t move to sort through any of what he’d scavenged, and didn’t appear the least interested in partaking of any of it.

“Are you just going to stand around and look unpleasant then?” Nahiri had one snake skinned, and tossed it on top of the stone. The meat struck with a hiss and sizzle, followed by a stinging smell of cooking meat.

Sorin bristled. Nissa busied herself with rearranging the inedibles into random piles.

“Or were you looking for a ‘thank you?’”

“I never asked for thanks,” Sorin replied, tone cool. “I would appreciate not being treated like I haven’t been contributing.”

“Baby,” Nahiri replied, carving a strip of scales from the second snake with a flick of her wrist.

“Beast,” Sorin growled back.

“How about that.” Nahiri sneered up at Sorin. “Looks like the selfish old bat isn’t as willing to let things go as he claims.”

“There’s no shame to you, is there?” Sorin’s feet shifted, though he did not step forward. “Not a bit of remorse for what you’ve done and who you’ve hurt. It’s all just my fault for not being there for you, isn’t it?”

“If you call a thousand years imprisonment ‘not being there,’ then sure.”

“I did that to you, Nahiri. What you did was an act against hundreds of thousands. That is not justice of any kind.”

“You want me to do something to you?” Nahiri tossed the second snake on the stone, and pointed her knife at Sorin. “All you had to do was ask. I’ll cut off that dainty face and shove it-”

Ashaya took a step toward the three planeswalkers. Sorin and Nahiri froze and fell silent.

Nissa continued to re-arrange produce.

For a long minute there was no noise but the cooking of snake-meat. Nahiri leaned forward and flipped the pieces with her knife.

“It’s like Ugin used to say, Sorin. We’re older than some planes’ gods. We don’t do shame.”

Sorin folded his arms. “Perhaps that has been our mistake.”

“by the Pistons...” Nahiri rolled her eyes, and they landed on Nissa. “What do you think? Am I a monster like he says?”

“I didn’t-”

Ashaya shifted again, cutting Sorin off. Nissa hefted one of the fruits-a deadly green and purple thing the size of a fist-in her hand, and looked up, meeting Nahiri’s collarbone with her own gaze.

“I don’t think you care about what I think.”

Nahiri snorted. “You’re damn right I don’t care about-”

“Which is just as well, because I don’t care about what you’ve done.”

Sorin rounded on Nissa. “How can you say that? You were there! You fought the eldrazi on Innistrad. You saw the devastation!”

“Yes, I was there. I did see what happened and I did everything in my power to mitigate.” Nissa’s fingers tensed, and her gloves dug shallow furrows into the fruit skin. “And if I had been the person responsible for the things that happened on Innistrad...well personally, I don’t think I could ever look at myself without some disgust for a long time.”

Nahiri’s lip twitched.

Sorin threw his hands up in the air. “Then-”

“But that was then.” Nissa relaxed her grip on the fruit. A small crack ran down the skin where her index and middle finger had rested. “The damage is done, and it will always be done. What am I going to do about it? Kill you? For revenge? The multiverse doesn’t care about justice the way you do. I don’t care that you let worlds fall apart because of your neglect, or that you brought Emrakul to his world. Those problems are dealt with, and neither have any bearing on what we need to do next to fix the world.” Nissa met Nahiri’s eyes. “So unless you plan on turning yourself over for execution on Innistrad-” she jerked her head at Sorin “I-I suggest you do what he’s doing and focus on doing good with the power and the freedom you have.”

“Well, I would have had a lot more time to do good on the planes,” Nahiri impaled a snake with her knife and ripped it off the stone. “if someone hadn’t thrust me into a demon pit and forced my inaction.”

Now Nissa felt a hot pit erupt into her chest. She let the fruit fall to the ground, where it burst along the seam, leaking pale juices.

“It must have taken a while to make all your preparations for what happened on Innistrad.” She kept her voice level.

Nahiri scowled. “Yes. I’m not trying to hide that. I-”

“We were fighting against the Eldrazi for months. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like I spent a whole lifetime ripping out every inch of myself to preserve any scrap of our world from them. All Zendikar rose up to drive them back, and more lost their lives than anyone could ever mourn. And yet, I don’t think I ever saw you. Not in my travels. Not when we finally brought down the titans.”

Nahiri’s jaw twitched. Her eyes were flared. She lowered her knife from her face, until the snake nearly dragged against the moss.

“I thought you didn’t care.”

“I’m not angry about what you did, not anymore. I’m upset by what you could have done instead. And...and I think you should be just as upset. You said before your regrets don't matter, but I don't trust someone with no regrets.”

Nahiri just glared across at Nissa. When Nissa said nothing more, she glared instead at the rock and started tearing chunks of meat off the knife with her teeth, letting the second snake to burn on the stone.

Nissa turned to her small pile of fruit and started eating herself, not even bothering to cut anything up, but letting the pulp stain the sides of her mouth.

After the silence stretched into minutes, Sorin spoke. Nissa almost wished he hadn’t. The strange silence between angry companions was miserable. Breaking it was worse.

“I’ll...take watch. If you two need to sleep.” There was still anger in his voice, but he drifted up into the treetops without any further comment. Nahiri settled back against her tree once she’d finished eating, and turned away so that Nissa couldn’t have told whether she was sleeping or not, even if she could have brought her eyes up to look the kor in the face a second time that night.

You wielded your words with conviction and truth.

Nissa almost jolted to her feet. She had, for the first time in a long time, forgotten the squatter in her mind.

You should be proud. With every ounce of self-belief you cultivate, the closer you come to being a true mover of existence.

Nissa didn’t reply right away, but lay back, letting her head sink into the moss. Her stomach hurt, her mouth felt dry, her head felt like there was a stone where her brain should be, and she would have felt entirely miserable if not for Ashaya. The elemental sat cross-legged at her side, wind trailing through his lusher body parts.

“Life isn’t chess, you know,” Nissa said at last, murmuring up at the treetops.

The games of the flesh minds are just a simple way to express what I mean. What matters is not the metaphor, but that it helps you understand. You deserve to be the one who directs your life. Whether it is pieces or lives you deal in, there is the risk of becoming a passive reactor. Be the actor. The one who puts ideas and movement into the minds of others.

“I don’t want to manipulate anyone,” Nissa said at last. She kept her voice to barely an echo of a whisper. “I’ll use the leylines where there’s good to be done, but I won’t force my will onto others.”

I don’t mean by force, unless force is brought against you. Though it is a skill worth cultivating. You’ve seen that not all great powers are as friendly as I.

“Then I don’t know what you mean.”

Many among your companions, past and present, have had the power of the word to inspire and direct and bring others together. A magic that needs no mana, and that I see you struggle to even try to use.

Nissa almost laughed, despite the heaviness pulling at her eyes. If the eldritch voice in your head spoke, what was there to do but listen?

I worry sometimes, mover, that you will let life slip through your fingers without ever seizing what you want.

“I’m very happy in my homeworld, actually,” Nissa snapped. Nahiri stirred slightly, and Nissa clapped a gloved hand to her mouth before continuing. “I’m satisfied with the work I do, and I don’t need you telling me I should be dissatisfied because I’m not...because I’m not powerful enough.”

That is-I will not argue that. Presuming the intent and wants of the flesh has not been my own greatest strength. I will say, whatever your intentions in this world, or any other, power will help you meet those goals. Power and understanding how to wield...no, how to apply it.

“And what would I need that for? I can heal the world with what I know.”

You should listen when the binders speak. There’s more than what you can touch that you can fix. And that’s with just your words. Or would you tell me you don’t want peace between your companions?

Nissa glanced over at Nahiri. Her pale shoulders where rising and falling in slow time. Above, Sorin was just visible as a sliver of moonlight hit his breastplate.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t just...reach into their heads to have them do what you wanted?”

I can twist minds to embrace my being, and that is a type of victory. I myself am not satisfied with that sort of adoration. I want my foes and my friends to decide themselves that I am right, not to have to twist their minds to bring them to that conclusion. The final decision should be theirs, made freely.

Nissa rolled over so her back was facing the stone. The forest was cold. And she’d left her blankets and bedroll behind to move quickly. “I’m going to rest, now.”

Yes. The burner?

“Away.” Nissa curled her knees up, and shuffled closer to Ashaya. “Away, please.”

* * *

Nissa managed about four hours of sleep before the itch clawed her awake, burning a trail of fire-ant bites down her back. Her groggy grunts stirred Nahiri, who rolled to her feet, face calm, but brandishing her dagger in a tight-knuckled grip.

“Are you alright?” Sorin floated down, nearly at a dead drop, sword drawn.

“Fine. It’s-” Nissa shook her head, and flexed her shoulders, trying to steady her heartbeat. The itch subsided by degrees as she focused. “-the swarm is close. Moving slower.”

“Good.” Nahiri hurled her knife into stone between them. It stuck fast, then melted into the rock. “I’d like to kill something, and I don’t want to rest again until that happens.”

* * *

Nahiri led the renewed chase with a grim energy and a speed that left Nissa and Sorin trailing behind where the terrain got rough. After a mile they had lost sight of her entirely.

The trail grew more confused miles along as the markings of the retreating swarm intersected with larger swaths of eldrazi devastation. Further still and the trail disappeared entirely as the reclaimed swath of the Rief disappeared into the dusty ghost of itself.

It was at the edge of the ruined forest that they found Nahiri, staring out over the dusty landscape. The same shapes of trees and roots and bridges of earth loomed above them, but pale and desiccated. It was as if a sculptor had sought to re-create the forest from the memory of another, and had nothing but ashen whites to work in.

“It’s like this for miles further,” Nissa offered, gently, as Nahiri stared. “They didn’t get all of it, obviously, but...”

Sorin grit his teeth, audibly. “The Oran-Rief covers most of the continent for miles ahead.”

“It does.” Nissa slipped down from Ashaya’s shoulder to stand behind Nahiri. “It did. I believe it will again. Part of the forest we’ve traveled through is the result of our efforts to regrow and revitalize. Much of the land around Coralhelm and along the Umara has regrown as well, thanks to the waters returning in full. The land is eager to heal, and-”

“-and they have you.” Nahiri nodded, jaw set. “Someone with relevant skills. I’m glad,” She added, when Nissa cringed back from the result. “I really am. I couldn’t have done something like this.”

She rushed out into the forest ruins before Nissa could respond.

“Rash,” Sorin muttered. “Still rash.”

“Did you take the destruction of your home any better?” Nissa asked, quiet.

“Hardly.”

Nissa nodded. “I’m still waiting on you to show me you can work together.” Ashaya scooped her up and took a step into the dusty tangle, then another, and fell into a jog.

“I shouldn’t have called her a beast,” Sorin muttered, drifting forward after them. “That was a wound that didn’t need to be opened again. I’m sorry.”

“...Thank you. I’m not the one who needs to hear that.”

They both ran ragged to catch up. Nahiri’s pace fluctuated now, between bursts of speed that took her out of sight, to long, lagging floats through the air to the point that Nissa and Sorin would pass her by a quarter mile before she matched pace. Another hour into the chase and, without warning, she burst through one of the desiccated roots, one wider than a wurm’s neck, and swearing, doubled back once to pulverize the broken section into dust.

The remorse of a game badly played.

Nissa made no attempt to respond to Emrakul. The itch was growing stronger now, and she had to focus every fiber of her mind to not let the inflaming sensation overwhelm her. They were close. So close. They could put an end to this horde soon...

Ashaya sensed her agitation. His pace doubled, outstripping Sorin and the still-fuming Nahiri.

Nissa shut her eyes. There was life, even here, if she followed the leylines deep enough. True, it was buried under hundreds of feet of chalky forest-corpse, but it was there, ready to thrive again. Here worms still turned the soil. Here there were still minerals for life to grow strong on. Nissa sent mana through to these pockets of life, and felt them swell. Felt them jolt with energy, and begin the long climb through the waste to taste the sunlight.

There were years, maybe decades to go before Oran-Rief looked anything like its former self. In truth, there was little chance it would ever look exactly as it had. That was fine. Recovery was a slow process, change was part of recovery, and Nissa would be there to help her world heal every step of the way.

The land is steeped in my brothers’ touch

Nissa grit her teeth. “I’d noticed. Or did you miss the months I’ve spent trying to heal the land?”

An ambitious and a powerful endeavor. But I didn’t mean the wastes. My brother’s-

“I’m done hearing about Ulamog, actually,” Nissa hissed.

No, mover, not my one brother. I mean that my brothers pieces are-

A noise from behind shook Nissa’s focus. Sorin was calling after her. Bellowing something.

Her name.

The itch flooded Nissa’s mind like a rush of filth-laden water. Ashaya had passed under the bent form of an eldrazi-withered tree, and ahead, a small, sunken clearing radiated the itch from every direction.

Even below.

The ground beneath Ashaya splintered and burst upward in a column of shattered, desiccated plates. Nissa and the elemental were thrust up into the air. Trees shattered into dust. Purple-blue arms shot through the newly-formed hole in the forest floor, followed by taut red muscles and a face of blank bone.

A crusher. One of Ulamog’s brood.

Nissa leapt from Ashaya’s back onto an airborne sheet of hard packed-dust. It came apart under her feet as she sprinted along its length and flung herself onto a second chunk of airborne debris, just behind the crusher’s head. She bent her knees and sprang through the air, drawing her sword mip-leap and scoring a deep gash along its shoulder.

But not deep enough to kill.

And there were more coming. Spawn poured out of the hole. Drones leapt down from the grey-white branches of the ruined trees, filling the suddenly much larger clearing. Ulamog’s brood moved over the brittle ground with ease, and Kozilek’s obsidian-clad eldrazi added twists of bismuth to the surroundings as they threw themselves down into the clearing.

It was the swarm they had been tracking, and then some, all joined together for an ambush. Nissa swore and dove off the crusher’s neck just as it slammed its hand down where she had crouched. The blow echoed like an explosion, ringing in Nissa’s ears.

She hit the ground, rolled to a stand, then raised staff and sword as a tidal wave of eldrazi spawn flung themselves towards her.

Nissa stepped back with her first swing, cutting through the skull of one spawn and voiding the space where its companions slashed and stomped and lashed out with a dozen types of limbs. Each swing of her sword necessitated another step away from the horde. Each blow felled an eldrazi, but there was a pit full of them, a crusher just behind her, and nowhere else to dodge. Nissa threw a desperate glance over her shoulder. Ashaya had landed safely and was grappling with the titanic thing, though the crusher’s arm alone arm alone outweighed him two-to-one.

A sudden disorientation swept over Nissa, and she slipped on a sharp divot. She hit the ground hard, her vision nearly inverted. A crab-shaped eldrazi hovering above her, an upside-down crown of obsidian emitting iridescent pulses all through the clearing.

At least a dozen eldrazi converged on her. Nissa held out her sword. Her vision filled with red, and her chest a sudden, overdue fear.

“Too many.” Her gasp was barely a whisper. “Too many.”

Breathe, mover. You’ve faced worse odds.

“I had friends,” Nissa whispered. “I had-”

You still have them.

A blur of white and red swung down from the trees, scorching the air in its wake. The sizzling pendulum swept away a score of the eldrazi. The remainder of the spawn menacing Nissa lurched to a sudden stop. Their skulls burst. Their bodies fell limp to the dust.

Sorin and Nahiri loomed behind them, the vampire’s hand outstretched in an invocation of blood magic, the kor rushing forward, a molten sword in each hand.

Nahiri swept through the front ranks of the eldrazi, leaving each sword buried in the breast of a still-standing eldrazi before sweeping Nissa up in her arms. The stone that had smashed into the swarm followed in her wake like a blazing comet.

“This them?” Nahiri shouted over the rush of air.

Nissa nodded, weakly. The distortion in the air made it difficult to tell where Nahiri’s face ended and the white of the dead trees began. A blur of purple slid into her vision behind Nahiri’s head-

“Look out-!”

Nahiri swerved in the air in time to miss the full force of the crusher’s blow, but the glancing hit still sent both planeswalkers tumbling from the sky, and rolling into the dust.

Nissa recovered in time to register the looming shadow over them. Nahiri must have noticed it too, and they flung themselves in opposite directions just as the fist struck again. The ground caved in under the blow. Fragments of chalk peppered the air.

The fist jolted back up, and Nissa braced to roll out of the way of a third strike. Then the disorientation hit her again, and she fell, clutching at her ears. The crab-eldrazi was right above her. There was so much noise in the distortion. The light howled in her skull. A few feet away, she registered Nahiri scowling up at the air. The rock, which had fallen and embedded in the ground, glowed hot and streaked toward the crab-drone.

It never touched the creature. A blur of black and silver collided with the crab, and Sorin tore it neatly in half with a sideways stroke of his sword. The rock shot through the now-empty gap in the air, and glanced off the crusher’s face, cracking its skull across the bottom with the sound like a thunderbolt.

The fist still fell, square over Nissa.

This time she didn’t even flinch. With so little life in the surrounding earth, she sensed Ashaya’s approach with ease. The elemental threw himself over Nissa, intercepting the crusher’s blow and dragging the massive eldrazi off-balance. As it flailed backwards, Nissa noted that its other arm now ended in a ragged, purplish stump, and that Ashaya was splattered with similarly-colored gore. She sprang to her feet to face a second wave of the swarm with her comrades.

“Stop getting in my way, Sorin!” Nahiri had recalled her boulder, and split it in half to form two jagged, long-bladed gauntlets that covered her up to her forearm.

Sorin, coat still splattered with the remains of the crab-eldrazi, snarled.

“Keep your wits about you, then! I can’t coddle you all the time!”

“Just keep clear of me!” Nahiri shot back over her shoulder. She moved toward the trees, wading into the torrent of Kozilek’s eye-riddled drones and began cleaving their many limbs from their bodies.

“Oh, so now you don’t want help.” Sorin flipped his sword in his hand and spun in the air, striking the crack in the crusher’s face. The skull splintered, and the nightmare that passed for a face underneath was visible for a moment, until Sorin shoved his sword through the gap up to its hilt. “Good! I’d hate to respond the wrong way and have you try to kill me again!”

“Focus!” Nissa shouted, already racing towards the crusher. Ashaya followed a step behind. Even stabbed through the face, the giant eldrazi swiped at Sorin. With a thought from Nissa, Ashaya pounced at the eldrazi’s arm, somersaulting through the air, a buzzsaw of wood and root and earth. The arm, already cut deep by Nissa’s sword, was ripped from the crusher’s shoulder with a sound like a hundred coils of rope tearing apart. Sorin pumped plumes of blood colored magic into the crack in its skull, and a second later it burst, showering them all with solids and semi-solids which Nissa decided not to think about too hard.

“You don’t get to use that against me!” Nahiri screamed, she’d pinned the largest drone in the latest wave to the dust with her gauntlet. “Not when you wouldn’t even listen to me after! Not after you left me to rot in that demon filled hell!”

“I think I can use just about whatever I want.” Sorin rode the crusher’s body to the rim of the pit, and leapt off, diving through a crowd of sinew-winged spawn. Each one he dealt a single blow, cleaving their bodies in half. “unless stating facts is somehow more heinous than genocide!”

Nissa ducked under the swipe of one lanky eldrazi, and found herself face to no-face with a trio of spawn that looked like floating mountains in miniature, with fibers of alien flesh strung Between the peaks.

Ah, that’s me. One moment.

The mountains froze in place, then dropped heavily to the ground, their weight embedding them in the fragile earth. Nissa was so dumbfounded by the sight that the gangly eldrazi’s second swipe caught her in the stomach, folding her over.

Too many.

Not too many. Not for you. Breathe, mover. See them for the mass they are.

Nissa fell to one side to dodge another blow. As she fell she drove the butt of her staff through the underside of the lanky eldrazi’s skull. The force of the strike lifted the creature up and over the rim of the pit, where it fell away without a sound.

Perhaps it was the quiet of their opponents, Nissa mused, that let her comrades keep up their screaming match.

“Do you think-” Nahiri shouldered aside one squat eldrazi, then stabbed another right through its obsidian crown. “-That I don’t regret what I did? That I’m not just as angry with myself as I am with you? I have fucking nothing now. I was a protector. I kept the multiverse safe for centuries. Now I’m another gods-cursed killer.” Nahiri strode up the small pile of corpses, white face shining with sweat. “I wish every damn day I hadn’t brought that monster to your world!”

Sorin snarled, diving to the ground with a drone impaled on his sword. “Try acting like it, then!”

“What do you want to hear?” Nahiri roared, an upward swing bisecting one of Ulamog’s brood from groin to crown. “An apology? Do you want to hear sorry??”

Sorin sprang up, plunging his claws through the skulls of two more drones. “It would quite literally be the least you could do.”

“Please focus!” Nissa bellowed. An obsidian-crowned eldrazi with rows of eyes lining its bulging arms swiped at her once, twice, and shattered the rim of the pit with a scream that made the air ripple. They both stumbled, but Nissa kept her balance better than the eldrazi, and ran her sword through the flesh where a neck might have sprouted on any other creature. She jumped back and let it fall into the pit, knocking several other eldrazi down with it.

Sorin started to shout something back, but then the air was split by a vision-blurring screech, and a long-limbed eldrazi sprang from an overhanging branch, wrapping itself around Sorin, and slamming him flat into the dust. The other Eldrazi converged on him in a pile of pounding, flailing, grasping limbs.

Nissa and Nahiri paused for just a heartbeat, but that was enough time for their own opponents to capitalize on their distraction. One of Kozilek’s brood warped the space around Nahiri’s arm, slipping past the joint of her gauntlet with an oily sucking sound. The kor swore and screamed horribly as her arm went limp. Ashaya was just barely able to pull Nissa away from a disemboweling strike, but not quickly enough to keep the bony claws from drawing blood.

Nissa instinctively reached out for something. Dirt. Seed. Vines. There was nothing for miles, save for Ashaya. All that time spent coaxing growth back into the plane and she still found herself with nothing to call to their aid.

Your connection is with your plane, mover.

“I’d noticed, actually,” Nissa grunted, brandishing her sword. She cut down the spawn in front of her with a savage thrust, and began wading toward Sorin. Ashaya took her flank, providing a buffer and a plow through the crowd.

Well, this is your plane now. And not just the dirt and the vines. You are no less able to-

Nissa didn’t have the energy to focus on a retort, so she screamed, pushing forward with greater fury.

Sorin was nowhere in sight. More eldrazi piled onto the mass already pinning him down, unable to reach to the center, but adding weight with every drone.

“Sorin!” Nahiri’s scream matched and outstripped Nissa’s, as she hacked through the spawn with her good arm. “Don’t you dare die here, you selfish ass!” She hewed her way through the crowd around her with wide swipes, carving a gore-spattered path to the Sorin. Other eldrazi converged behind her as she started to carve through the pile. The blade of her limp arm flowed over her shoulders and head, hardening to shield her from the eldrazi piled onto her back.

That was the last glimpse Nissa had of her ally before the next wave of spawn roared up from the pit, joining the clutch that already beat down on her from the forest side. Her warpath came to a sudden, heavy stop. Even Ashaya could not wade any further through the crush of bodies.

Sword and stick won’t solve this, mover.

“It’s all I have,” Nissa screamed back, pressing closer to Ashaya’s back. “Look around you! They’ve cut me off! I can’t bring more of Zendikar here in time!”

Zendikar is here. It may not look like it once did. It may not look like how you plan it to look in the future. But it is still here. A rusted sword may not slice, but it can bludgeon.

To Nissa’s left, eldrazi were still pouring up from the pit. She could hear Nahiri bellowing somewhere far away. There were so many. Too many. Their presence flowed like a dirty stream across the leylines.

Will you swim against the current, or flow with it?

Nissa felt for Zendikar again. Delving desperately as she beat back drone after drone. This time she did not dig. She let her mind rest on the dust and desiccation right at her feet.

The voice that answered back was sickly. Strange. But it answered.

“I think,” Nissa grunted, “That I’ll dam up the whole stream.”

Magnificent.

Chalk blew out in geysers from the shattered edge of the pit, knocking several spawn back into the darkness as they tried to clamber onto level ground. A crack ripped down the side of the hole, bursting with even more dust.

A gaping maw tore itself free from the pit wall and reared up, Jaws of desiccated earth slammed down beyond the rim. Skeletal teeth punched into drones and spawn, pulping them to the ground.

Then the maw-thing, the soul of the wastes, fell backwards, dragging dozens of eldrazi with it, crushing the rest of the eldrazi rushing out of the pit against the walls. The grind of its fall echoed through the clearing, even as the eldrazi that remained pressed against Nissa all the fiercer.

Absolutely magnificent.

“Can’t...can’t do that again.” Nissa was panting hard. She could barely keep her sword and staff in front of her, barring the crush of eldritch limbs. “Check. Or however that damn game goes.”

The game is in disarray. You’ve made one important realization already: When the game has gone poorly, you always have the option of ripping the board out from under the arrangement of pieces that displease you. And now that they lie on the ground, let me give you another clue: who is to tell you that you may not take whatever piece you want for your own?

Nissa blinked, then furrowed her brow. Three spawn sprang at once, the bone-faced ones spreading their arms wide, the eyeball-covered one leaping at an angle that gravity should have made impossible. Nissa killed one with her sword, and found herself grappling with the other two.

They pressed in with rough shoves. They were not especially strong physically, and they blocked out the spawn gathering behind them, but the press of the whole crowd moved them forward. A sack-like limb struck Nissa across the jaw. Claws the color of twilight jabbed through the gaps. A slash tore through Nissa’s wrap and tunic, ripping flesh and scoring a nick on her ribs.

This is simple, mover. If your opponent would kill you, what must you do?

“Fuck off,” Nissa grunted.

I think you’ll find this germane to your present situation, mover.

Nissa almost laughed at that. At the bank-faced monsters pressing in around her. She felt something wet seeping into her tunic along her flank.

Suddenly Nissa felt as if she was seeing the eldrazi for the first time. Alien, yes. Horrifying in numbers, yes. But they were not gearhulks or elder dragons or gods-

This is ridiculous. I’ve laid better opponents than this low without every drawing my blade.

Yes!

Nissa relaxed her muscles, and the crowd shoved her back immediately. She let them push. Ashaya flowed around her, embracing Nissa in a cage of wood with just enough space for her to fall back, as the limbs of the eldrazi scratched at the wood and grasped through the holes of the cage. Leaf-coated vines descended from the roof of Ashaya, wrapping around Nissa’s flank to staunch the flow of blood. She felt the lines of Ashaya’s vital force surrounding her, and, using that as her starting point, reached out to the eldrazi.

Their lines were confused. They were individuals, certainly. Yet in another, truer sense, parts of greater, more intricate wholes. Wholes that had been burned out of existence, leaving a hole in the multiverse. Leaving these lesser eldrazi severed. And yet fragments of the ties that had bound them to the larger entities remained; strands of power, severed at one end, but alive, in their own strange way.

Nissa seized those strands by the metaphysical handful, gathering them together and folding them into a single thread. Grasping them was tricky. Like snatching streams of current from the water. Some she fumbled. Some wriggled through her grip. But with each pull of her mind, more spawn twisted under her power. Her influence radiated outward from where she stood, and slowly a growing number of eldrazi stood still, providing her a bulwark against those that remained hostile.

Nahiri cried out.

Nissa couldn’t see the kor from her position, so she directed the drones closest to Ashaya to lift him up, over the heads and head-like appendages of the crowd. Ashaya peeled open as he rose, wooden limbs curving outward like petals to protect Nissa from the eldrazi on the ground, though none in the immediate vicinity made a move towards her that she did not direct.

Further out, spawn still fought their way towards her, and towards Nahiri. Nahiri had met them with a fury that outmatched anything the mindless drones could hope to amass. Her stone armor was cracked and pitted in a dozen places. She was bleeding from more wounds than Nissa could count. Still she shredded eldrazi, one-handed, bellowing and driving closer to the pile atop Sorin, inch by hard-won inch.

“I’m sorry, you miserable corpse! Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?!” Her armor flared red-hot, singing the drones closest to her. A second later it exploded outward, and debris ripping through skulls, sinew, and eldritch flesh. She thrust the hand of her good gauntlet into the pile, and heaved.

Sorin emerged. At least, his arm and upper body did, the rest still pinned under the swarm.

But he lived, and somehow, still moved. His other arm cut free of the pile, gripped tight around a strange, jagged-edged knife. Nissa sifted further into the horde, grabbing more and more of the eldrazi and commanding their stillness, reaching out for the mass that menaced her companions.

“Sorin!” Even from a short distance, Nissa could make out the look of manic relief on Nahiri’s face.

“I hear you.” Sorin gasped. His flesh was bruised and torn, his garments shredded ribbons of leather and cloth. He thrust with his strange knife, impaling a drone at Nahiri’s side before it could slash at her. It died, but Sorin’s arm crumpled under the creature’s weight. “I said I wanted an apology, not for you to die.” He thrashed, freeing his legs from the pile and turning his knife back on the eldrazi that had buried him.

Nahiri snorted. “Who’s dying? It’ll take more than-”

Sorin’s blow caught her in the shoulder. Nahiri stumbled to one side. A spike of obsidian punched through the air where she had stood, and then, just as easily, through Sorin’s breastplate, pinning him to the ground.

Nahiri was back on her feet in seconds, swatting aside spawn left and right, desperately trying to keep them from converging on Sorin again. Nissa grit her teeth. She could set the eldrazi she had under her influence on the ones that still fought against the planeswalkers, but that wouldn’t stop the hostile ones before they tore her allies apart. And if she couldn’t grab control of the rest in that time-

A bolt of black flew into Nissa’s periphery. Just as quickly, Ashaya lashed out with a tendril, deflecting another spike of obsidian into the dust. Nissa glanced up into the trees. A broad-chested drone was perched in the ashen branches, a long spiral of tapered black stone forming from its throat, aimed right at her. She scowled and, with a strain that drew blood from her nostrils, reached into the dead leylines of the wastes and severed the branch. The eldrazi plummeted to the forest floor, where it landed among the still-growing horde that surrounded Nahiri.

Nissa gasped. She tasted iron as her blood ran over her lips. There’s too many

You see them as individuals and grasp them as individuals, Mover. A general does not call soldiers by name, but by unit.

Nissa blinked, and furrowed her brow. “What do you-?”

The spike-shooting eldrazi reared up suddenly from the crowd, a thorn of obsidian still forming in its throat. It lunged through the crowd, bowling other drones aside, its spike aimed at Sorin’s head.

It made it within a foot of the vampire’s face, and not an inch closer. Nahiri grabbed the spike with her gauntlet, stopping it dead and, with a scream, super-heated the spike until it cooked the drone from the inside out.

Nissa watched for only a moment until her attention was grabbed by a shape lying in the space the drone had cleared when it charged. More of the round, mountain-shaped eldrazi lay unmoving in the dust, unmarked by any weapon. Emrakuls in miniature A quick glance around the clearing confirmed a dozen other like them, some lying where none of the fighting had taken place.

Dealt with all at once. Like snapping my finger.

Nissa shut her eyes. In her mind, the eldrazi had were bundled together like bales of hay, the ones she did not yet have under her control lying loose like straw littered in a field.

“Straw will take too long to gather,” She muttered.

The image in her mind shifted. The spawn of Kozilek were like silt pouring through of muddy, running water. Rough. Difficult to perceive. She formed a sieve in her mind, and dragged it across the stream, collecting up the alien consciousnesses of the brood. In one swipe, she had half the clearing frozen under her control.

Ulamog...Ulamog was salt. Drying. Desiccating. In her mind Nissa pictured the clearing as a table, and swept the grains of Ulamog’s spawn into a bowl.

When she opened her eyes, every creature was still. All except Nahiri.

Sorin hung at an angle with the ground, forming a triangle with his body on one side, the earth on another, and the spike as the third. Nahiri cracked the spike with a blow form her gauntlet and pulled Sorin off onto the ground. He was bruised over every inch of exposed skin, and a hole ran straight through his belly.

Nahiri, at a sudden loss of anything dangerous to hit, then channeled her fervent energies at Sorin.

“I’m sorry!” Nahiri screamed down at Sorin’s still form. “Please! I shouldn’t have done it! It was wrong!” She didn’t seem to even register the circle of drones around her, still and watching.

Softly, Nissa commanded the Eldrazi to lower her and Ashaya to the ground. There was a slight buzz in her head as she instructed the individuals holding them up, but it faded away as she tucked them back into the collective in her mind, and strode through the still crowd toward her comrades. Ashaya plodded behind, the chalky ground crumbling under each of his steps.

Nahiri looked up as Nissa neared. Her eyes were wild. Bloodshot. There was something between a smile and a grimace on her face.

“They can’t have killed him, right? He wouldn’t just die like this. Somewhere like this.”

Nissa grimaced. “Nahiri-”

The Kor’s sudden gasp cut her off.

Sorin’s head lolled, then slowly dragged upright. His eyes slid open and a groaned.

“No fear there.” He lifted a hand slowly and lay it across his breast. “I freed myself from an impaling trap made by the meanest lithomancer in the multiverse. What’s one spike from a cockroach?”

Nahiri’s set Sorin down in the dust. “I-I thought so!” She laughed. A rough, manic bark. She held the smile for a moment, then it fell off her face. “I’m sorry.”

Sorin shook his head. Barely a twitch of his neck to the side. “You don’t have to-”

“I’m sorry,” she echoed, soft. “I really am.”

His face twisted. “I can’t accept an apology from you. I don’t deserve forgiveness any more than you do. I hurt you in a way few people in the multiverse have been hurt, and I did it deliberately, to preserve my own selfish peace in the world.” He lay a hand on Nahiri’s. “I don’t want you to be what I pushed you toward being. Not when I know destruction isn’t what your soul is meant for. I’m sorry. That was selfish as well.”

Nahiri shook her head, rapid. “It’s no excuse. Whatever happened to me, it’s no excuse for...for...”

She stood, suddenly. She stared past Nissa like she was seeing something far off among the dead trees. Nahiri’s chest rose and fell with an increasingly furious pace, and she stepped over Sorin, past Nissa, almost to the edge of the eldrazi circle.

Then she just stood, staring.

Sorin and Nissa exchanged glances. The Vampire’ face was contorted as he pumped blood magic into the hole in his chest, but the contortion was mixed with...it was the same look Gideon used to make when he fretted over the others.

Nahiri fell to her knees, screaming in a sudden rage.

“Damn you!” Her fists broke the brittle ground easily. “Damn me! Another fucking killer!” Her fists quickly reduced the patch of ground to a conical pit of powder. “The sealing, the hedrons...none of it means a damned thing now!”

“You kept your plane alive for millennia!” Sorin shouted, horse. There was a horrible sucking sound as he yelled, and Nissa realized with a start that he only had one inflated lung. “That’s not nothing.” He struggled upright, and Nissa ran forward to grab him under the arm before he collapsed again. He wheezed, and looked up at Nissa. “Thank you.”

They ambled over to Nahiri. Sorin knelt nest to her, head bowed. “What I did to you...where I left you. I owe you as much of an apology.”

“You didn’t kill anyone to hurt me. Not on purpose.” Nahiri’s response was ragged; barely a whisper through a scream-sore throat. “You were a fucking selfish bastard but you didn’t try to kill anyone other than me. I’m worse than you.”

“Maybe.” Sorin said it automatically. “Probably. I still wronged you.”

Nahiri shuddered suddenly, with a violent sob. She reached out and seized a handful of Sorin’s torn sleeve, and slammed her other fist against the dusty ground. Her shoulders shook, and her hand twisted the leather around. Sorin did not move or back away. Nissa wondered if she should.

“I’m a murderer! Evil! I don’t deserve anything!”

“That’s true,” Nissa whispered. She leaned back against Ashaya, holding the vine-bandages wrapped tight around her side. “But life’s not about what we deserve; it’s about what do.” Her legs started to buckle, and she slid down the elemental’s leg to sit in the dust. “What we’ll do next.”

Nahiri drew in a dry, rattling breath, and shuffled around to face Nissa. “Next?”

“This...this is good, what we did here today. Together. Look how much fewer we’ve made the spawn that still threaten our world.” Nissa looked down at the waste beneath her. “Look at how much world remains to be saved.” She lifted her head and looked from Sorin to Nahiri. “You can heal. You can build. I can grow. And if you can work with each other, I would...happily work with you.”

Sorin nodded, slow, and looked to Nahiri. She returned his gaze with eyes red and watering, but unblinking.

“No forgiveness.” She held out her hand to him. “We build something new, starting today.”

“That...that works for me.” He grasped her hand, and they shook; a quick, singular motion. He turned to Nissa, and inclined his head. “And I hope we might do the same. My actions against you and toward your world-”

“When I said I didn’t care, I meant it. And I meant nothing of malice against either of you.” Nissa jabbed a head at her temple. “I’ve had this force in my head for some time now. By most sane definitions it is evil, a thing that’s twisted and killed millions. Still I tolerate it. I listen to it. I try to use its guidance to do good, because I do not have the power to oppose it, and because the alternative is to leave it unattended.”

My guidance has been of great use.

“I had a friend who believed in justice. Who believed that there were good actions in the world, and wrong ones, and that the latter should be opposed without question.” Something rose up in Nissa’s chest, but she forced in down, breathing slow to calm her heartbeat. “But he believed in every person’s capacity for good, no matter their past. I can’t say if he was right in the end, only that that sort of justice is the only kind that’s ever made sense to me.” Her arms felt heavy, but Ashaya lifted his own for her. “So please. Let’s do better, and let our mistakes be lessons, not yokes.”

The other two said nothing, though Nahiri nodded, slowly. Sorin leaned forward, hand still pressed to his breast, fingers still weaving healing magic.

Silence and dust drifted through the clearing. When the latter settled, only silence remained.

* * *

They sat around another stone fire that night, back where the chalk wastes gave way to the green remains of Oran-Rief. Nissa sat cross-legged in front of the stone, both hands laid in the comforting sponginess of the moss. The remaining spawn, a little under four-hundred by Nahiri’s count, all lay a distance away, huddled together in a crude corral of vines and stone bells to alert the trio if they starting moving while Nissa slept.

Her head was full of buzzing, and there was a throbbing ache behind her eyes.

But it was better than their last rest. The tension had gone out of her companions, and Nissa could breath easier.

“There’s pockets all over,” Nahiri said over a supper of roasted tubers and wild onions. She picked at her food with her left hand, her right still hanging limp in a sling. “Not just spawn, but opportunists taking advantage of ruined settlements and wild creatures displaced by the dead stretches on the plane. We could, the three of us, we could give those Zendikari a better chance at starting their lives over.”

Nissa nodded. She was leaned up against Ashaya, moving as little as possible to not disturb the lacerations along her side.

“That’s true, though I would like to set aside time to continue replenishing the forests. Oran-Rief is a daunting project, and I still hold out hope for restoring Bala Ged to a place for the elves.”

“Is it true, the stories about the elemental?” Nahiri was much more eager to talk since the battle.

All the words unsaid over the past week.

“Yes. Yarok, they call it. Another creature we may have to coexist with.” Nissa dared a small smile. “But, coexisting is something we’re all getting much better at.”

Nahiri nodded, suddenly interested in wolfing down the rest of her supper. Sorin just nodded from where he reclined on a stone slate cushioned with harvested moss. Faint wisps of blood magic crawled over his form, and the bruises that mottled his body were beginning to receding by bits. He pointed in the direction of the spawn. “Will they be coming?”

“Until I can find something useful for them to do. There is a strain, trying to keep them in line,” Nissa noted after a time. “I expect we may still need to face more in the days to come.”

“Not the companions I expected,” Nahiri observed through a mouthful of food. “But...beats having enemies, I guess. Were you ever able to track down Ugin?” She asked, looking to Sorin.

“Not a sign since Tarkir. When it comes to that dragon, I don’t know what to believe anymore.” The barest hint of a smile crawled over Sorin’s face. “Remember how surprised we were to find out he was in contact and collaboration with so many other walkers? Even in the middle of that accursed mess on Ravnica?”

Nissa lowered a piece of onion from her mouth. The memory of the spirit dragon, bright and looming, flashed briefly in her mind. He’d been there at the end last time. He’d spoken to her. To Jace. To...to Gideon and-

“Of course. I stopped trying to kill you, I was so intrigued.” Nahiri chewed her lip. “Do you think it’s true?”

Sorin glanced over to Nissa. “The mind-mage was your companion, right? Do you trust him?”

“With my life,” Nissa said, soft. She pressed down another lump in her chest.

“What about you?” Nahiri asked Nissa. “You didn’t-I never even thought to ask how your companions fared after the...well, the war, I guess we’re calling it. The mind-mage and the pyromancer and-”

“We’re fine,” Nissa replied. “All fine.”

“Ah.” Nahiri nodded.

“More hands couldn’t hurt here,” Sorin ventured. “If we can’t get the spirit dragon...I don’t know how many of your companions are able and willing to help, but I saw many talents on display against Bolas that would help here. The time mage, certainly. I believe I saw another elf calling upon dead spirits as well. Plenty of those to go around. Even the fire-flinger might be useful for clearing out-”

Nissa didn’t hear the rest as she, much to everyone’s surprise, hunched over and started sobbing.

“...but maybe not...?” Sorin finished.

Nissa tried to catch her breath, but she could not stop the heaving in her lungs, and the twisting of her face as tears spilled out over her chin and into her lap.

The other two didn’t say anything right away. Through shudders Nissa could see them exchange nervous glances.

“I’m sorry,” She muttered, choking out the words between sobs. “Sorry, I-”

“It’s fine.” They said it together automatically. Nahiri leapt up from her spot to amble over and sit next to Nissa. Nissa dug her fingers deeper into the ground, if only to keep herself from covering up her face.

Nahiri lifted her good hand, and it hovered over her own lap a moment before she moved to rest it on Nissa’s shoulder. Nissa shook her head. A tight, frantic shudder that might have been mistaken for more shakes from her crying, but Nahiri took her hand back all the same.

“I’m sorry.” Nahiri lay the hand instead on the grass next to Nissa’s. “I owe you one as well. If I...if we distressed you – I mean, if we acted in such a poor way as to-”

“No.” Nissa shook her head, a more deliberate movement this time. “Not you.

“Mostly not you,” she added.

Sorin cleared his throat. “Is it...is it something we can help with?” The words stumbled out from him so unnaturally that Nissa almost laughed through her tears.

“I-no? I don’t know.”

The other two exchanged another look. What look, Nissa couldn’t say, but even through blurred eyes she could see them turn toward each other.

“Is it the pyromancer?” Sorin asked after a moment. “Did something happen to-”

“I don’t know!” Nissa pulled up a fist and punched the ground, grinding her knuckles into the moss. “I haven’t seen Chandra in months! I – she came to see me and then she just-she just...”

“What did she do?” Nahiri’s own fingers clenched, and the heat from the stone rose perceptibly. “Did she hurt-”

Nissa shook her head. “She just...she just came and left. And I let her. I stood there like an idiot and I just let her.” She brought her elbow up and coughed into it. Snot was starting to run down to her lips. “I’m sorry, this isn’t important, I just-”

“Clearly it’s important to you,” Sorin interrupted. “So it is, by definition, important.”

Nissa shook her head. “I just wanted her to be happy . She said distance was what she needed, and I let her...of course I let her go. I love her. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Sorin drew and released a breath in a long sigh. “You need to be a bit more selfish sometimes.”

“And what?” Nissa replied. “Force her to stay with me? Make her do something that will make her miserable?”

“You said yourself,” Sorin returned after a short silence, “that you didn’t even tell her how you felt. That you let her make assumptions from your silence.”

“What would you know?”

“It’s what you did last night,” Nahiri cut in. “Until I provoked you. Um, sorry for that.”

“She said she wasn’t right for me.” Nissa steadied herself, and drew in a short, rattling breath. “She said...she knows I like the quiet sometimes. I liked that about her, that she understood that. But then she said she couldn’t-that we couldn’t be...I don’t know.” She brought the back of her glove up to clear her eyes. “She thought...she thought I wouldn’t have made space for her in my life. That I wouldn’t have liked making space for her in my life” She breathed in again, longer this time, steadying herself.

“Would you have?” Nahiri kept her voice low, just loud enough for the three of them.

“I think so.” Nissa lifted her head. Sorin had sat up and to face them. “It wasn’t the firs thing on my mind when we parted the first time. There was too much work for me here. But I did think about it when I came back again, after Ravnica, but there was still so much to do, and...” She choked again. “I took too long. I didn’t...I needed more time. I didn’t think she’d just-”

“That’s not your fault for needing time,” Sorin said. “No matter what came of it, there’s no shame in thinking through a hard decision.”

“Months though?” Nahiri said. “I mean – sorry, that’s not the point.” She lifted her hand again tentatively, but put it back down on the moss without Nissa having to say anything or shake her head. “It’s...it’s been a strange time for all of us, since, well since we were all together last. A hard time for introspection.”

“I don’t think she had to wait for me,” Nissa whispered. “I just wish she had.”

For a while there was no sound but the occasional hiss of the wind carrying a stray leaf into the stone. The trails down Nissa’s face started to dry, and she drew in slow breaths of the cool night air.

“Your paths could easily cross again,” Sorin offered, eventually. “She knows where you are, and even if you don’t-”

“I do.”

“...what?”

“I do,” Nissa said. “I mean, I could know. I can feel many things in the leylines now. More and more since I traveled with the Gatewatch. Since...since Emrakul began speaking to me. If I focus-” Nissa held out her hand, and channeled mana into the leylines that threaded through the air. There were so many on Zendikar. The plane was so abundantly alive in a way that so few other planes were.

“-She burns brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. If I wanted to – that is, if I felt it was right, I could just follow that light.”

“So why don’t you?” Nahiri leaned in, voice louder now. “Go and tell her what you told us.”

“She said we weren’t right for each other. What if she still feels that way?”

“Then you’ll have tried,” Nahiri replied. “You’ll have told her how you feel about her, and she can make her decision knowing what you want. Otherwise she’ll just go on thinking that she made a choice that you agreed with, and...well, it doesn’t seem like that’s the case.”

Nissa tensed. The thought of doing just that had occurred to her weeks ago, and seemed laughably implausible since then. Nahiri suggested it like a real possibility, but...going to Chandra? Using her words to express whatever it was she felt for her? It made Nissa’s whole body seize up from the inside out. But if she could bring the right words…

“I...think I would like that,” Nissa said at last. “But, even now, I don’t know that I’ve given it the thought it deserves.”

“Then take the time,” Sorin said. “You’ve got us now, as long as you need us. You don’t need to run yourself as ragged as a one-elf savior across the whole plane. We’ll all do our good work, and we’ll be your counsel as you work through your thoughts. And when you’re ready, whenever that might be, you can go to her with the right words.”

Nahiri nodded. “If you want our help, of course.”

Nissa was silent a long while. Her head still ached from the commotion and confrontation of the day. Her body still throbbed with pain from a dozen wounds, and the alien tinge of the eldrazi spawn still crawled along her body like a new limb. She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to do anything but close her eyes and rest.

Still, the comfort of caring company made the night just a degree less cold.

“I think...I think I would like that. Thank you.”

* * *

Mover, before you sleep…

Nissa groaned softly. She had just lay her head down and begun to close her eyes. The soft ground felt like a balm against her buzzing scalp, she had only a few hours before Nahiri woke her for her turn at night watch, and she wanted nothing more than the quiet of sleep.

If you’d rather wait...though I find the sooner the debrief-

“No, let’s do this now,” she muttered, keeping her whisper low.

You’ve added great power unto yourself. We’ll discuss that.

Nissa waited for Emrakul to say more. The eldrazi titan remained silent.

“I’ve reached out and taken control of another mind. Minds. Or lack of a mind. Several voids where minds should be. I’m not sure I understand entirely what I’m going to do with them, and I’m not sure that qualifies as becoming more powerful.

You used one method to add the power of my brothers’ pieces to yourself. You used another to add the power of your companions, the binders. Even the mere act of finding a new application for an existing competency is an act of growing power.

“Yes. Nissa poked wearily at her connection to the herd of drones off in the wastes. “That will take...it will take some getting used to. And there’s peace between Sorin and Nahiri now. I’m not certain how much of that was me, to be honest.”

You facilitated a renewal of their companionship. Indirect intervention is still intervention. It’s all part of becoming powerful.

Nissa blinked. “I...I’m pleased to have them as allies. As friends, even. But I don’t know what you...I haven’t been sapping their powers or taking power from them or-”

Friends are power stored in other bodies. A friend made is power added unto yourself, and better still, power that aids you willingly. Joyfully.

The earlier battle flashed in Nissa’s mind. The crush of bodies. Emrakul’s voice booming in her mind all the while…

“If my opponent is about to kill me, make them my friend.”

Yes.

“I don’t know how to feel about that. What if making a friend means conceding part of who I am?”

Then you get to decide if it’s worth it to you. Look around though, and I think you’ll find you’ve conceded very little.

“I’ve conceded to interrupt my work healing the plane. I’ve conceded to speak the language of the eldrazi. To let them into my mind.”

Emrakul was silent a long moment.

You’ve spoken my language with me for some time now. Has it not been worth your while?

“...let’s talk about that later.”

...has my presence been unwelcome?

“No but...having someone else’s thoughts in your head all the time makes it challenging to know what thoughts are your own.”

This is so. I do intend only to advise, mover. I do not wish to control a fellow controller.

“I’m glad,” Nissa whispered. “And glad you’ve been less prone to objecting to our fight against your...pieces.”

I am not beyond learning, mover. And any sentimentality for what remains of my brothers does no good. All in the past, as you said to the binders.

Nissa nodded vaguely. Her eyes were growing heavier by the minute.

On the topic of my presence, do you wish for the possibility of dreaming of the burner tonight?

“Why do you call her that?” Nissa’s eyes opened slightly. “Burner? She had a name, you know. I have a name.”

She is defined by her burning. That is what binds the two of you.

Nissa pursed her lips. “That’s all you think binds us? That we killed eldrazi together?”

The burning of my brothers is not what defines her to you, Mover. It is her mind that burns for you, so she is the burner.

It seems obvious to me, at least , Emrakul added.

“You call them the binders.” Nissa nodded at Nahiri's sleeping form, and at Sorin, hovering further away.

They bound me. It was a significant, defining thing that they did.

“That’s not what defines them to me.”

It’s not always about you.

“Mm.” Nissa laid her head back. “Sure.”

Mover...the burner?

Nissa stared up a long while, past the looming edge of the hedron mass overhead. A thousand pinpricks of starlight filled the open stretch of night sky beyond that.

“Not tonight. If I dream of her...” Nissa lapsed. A pair of glints, like from twin panes of glass filled her mind, along with a brush of cinnamon. “If she’s in my mind, I prefer she remain there.”

Emrakul did not reply, but a warm rush crawled along the back of Nissa’s scalp as her eyes slid shut.

The above is unofficial Fan Content permitted under the Fan Content Policy. Not approved/endorsed by Wizards. Portions of the materials used are property of Wizards of the Coast. ©Wizards of the Coast LLC.

#forsaken #mtg #fan fic #mtg fan fic #gruulfriends week #forgiven

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