"Evil will be extinguished!" Tristan shouted as he unleashed his spell. Shock waves reverberated throughout Devil's Breach. Cultists and devils alike exploded into dust as the roof of the cavern began to collapse.
The young cathar felt more blood rush from his wounds. Those were pretty fine last words. He thought. His eyes reflected only peace and he smirked as he fell to his hands and knees. Too bad no one was here to write those down. He had always been curious to see what dying felt like. He'd seen so many people die and they always had pain and fear in their faces but here he was smirking at a cave in. His vision began to fade when a heat ignited in his chest. Strangely it didn't hurt. It felt nice, like the night he became a full-fledged cathar, excitement and pride mixed with anxiety. Before he could reminisce, it felt like his body was flung by the chest.
Tristan's first planeswalk had landed him violently in the Underworld of Theros. He appeared suspended several feet in the open air. He crash landed on what felt like a wooden boat. Something splashed aboard, but it definitely wasn't water. It was sickly yellow, it stank, and it sizzled on the wood of the ferry. A couple of clay masked strangers toppled free from the ferry and straight towards the stinking river. It seemed over for them until a gnarled white hand swept down and caught them. Despite its withered appearance, it was large and strong enough to hold both people. It delivered them safely back onboard.
Tristan sat up as his eyes followed the arm back up to its owner. A figure shrouded in a tattered veil stood behind the boat, towering over several of the dark clouds that filled the sky. The Innistrad native had never seen anything like it. It was humanoid but huge. It was calm but intimidating. It was ragged but awe-inspiring. Everywhere shadows fell on the behemoth they flickered with images of the night sky. It shimmered in green starlight and the glowing river.
"What is that?" Tristan whispered to another passenger, an older woman adorned with a clay mask. She didn't seem to notice Tristan at all. He looked around and saw that every passenger he could see was wearing a strange clay mask. Some were plain replicas of people's faces but others were more decorative.
"Athreos." Another passenger whispered, "God of Passage." A girl about his age squirmed and shoved aside the masked passengers. She sat down next to him. She looked tired; her long unkempt black hair lied mostly on her back but many strands found their way in front of her face. "I'm Ikana."
"God? Passage?" Tristan twisted his face in confusion and fear. Anytime he had run into something new it had tried to kill him. He just prayed to Avacyn he hadn't been noticed by the shrouded monstrosity yet. His wounds were fresh and he was out of energy.
"You poor boy. Grief has taken your wits from you. You are dead and Athreos is delivering you to your last resting place beyond this, the fifth River that rings the world. The final step before the Underworld." She touched the side of his face gently. Her face and body language showed so much pity. "No mask. You didn't even have a funeral." She looked on the verge of tears.
Being dead made sense, but all this underworld talk and rivers and gods sent Tristan's head spinning. Did he not earn the Blessed Sleep? Or maybe there wasn't such a thing as the blessed sleep. Maybe all those who died were here among the strange-looking passengers of the ferry, unable to find rest. He cursed losing his weapons in the cultist's cave.
All Tristan's bewilderment shattered when Ikana frantically whispered, "Oh no!" She began trying to lift Tristan but he couldn't stand. "Athreos has taken interest in you. You aren't dead either are you?" Ikana noticed the steadily growing puddle of blood around Tristan. "You aren't dead, but you might be if you don't let me look at your wounds." Despite his many objections the feeble looking Ikana began unbuttoning his slashed up coats.
Thin red lines in sets of three littered Tristan's pale chest. The devils back on Innistrad had not been kind. There were so many for every one he struck down two more would swoop in and slash him with their claws. A cultist had also given him a deep gash across his stomach with a ritual dagger.
The sight of blood and lacerations didn't faze Ikana the slightest. "I snagged some of this from the temple of Pharika." She pulled a wooden bowl from her leather side pouch. She twisted off the lid and picked up a glob of gray paste in her first and second finger. "This is going to be excruciating. If you start to black out, don't fight it. There's no fighting anything anymore. Surrender. We both belong to Erebos now."
A pale hand with sickly long fingernails brushed across Tristan's face. The world around him spun and undulated with black mist. The cathar couldn't feel anything but the clawed hand and the intense cold enveloping and piercing him. The raft, Ikana, Athreos, and Devil's Breach felt like a distant memory. He realized he had blacked out. This was a dream, a nightmare.
"Innistrad? A personal favorite of mine, but your zeal will get you killed here cathar. Forget all you know of home. Avacyn has forsaken you. Despair." The voice came from the claw at first but it jumped around. It flew behind him, above him, even within him.
He had nightmares in the past but nothing like this. He felt himself being torn apart mentally and physically. Avacyn has abandoned me. Colin and Sophie escaped but without me or Avacyn to protect them they're as good as dead.
"All truths. Give me your fear, your pain, and your memories. Your nightmares are many and powerful. But you have so much potential for more. So forget her. Death is your lord now. When we meet next, I'll return to you your nightmares one thousand fold."
Tristan could hear chuckling in the distance as he felt himself awaken.
The stench of the sulfurous river woke Tristan quite unpleasantly. "Rise." A thousand voices commanded. Above them all a bitter angry voice spoke loudest.
He was lying on his back on what felt more like ash than dirt. He slowly opened his eyes, savoring his last moments of blissful ignorance. The sky above him was dark gray with no sun or stars. Above him rested dark clouds that could actually be smoke for all he knew. There didn't seem to be a clear line where clouds ended and smoke began around here.
"Rise!" Whoever the voices were, they didn't like him taking his time.
Wincing in pain the Tristan stood. Expecting an army, he was face to face with Ikana. She held her arms folded around her body, her hands holder her sides in pain. She had her eyes closed tightly and fresh tears slid down her pained face. He took a cautious step forward.
Ikana's eyes flung open and from them poured twinkling stars against a pitch black aura. Like before when he had seen Athreos but instead of sickly green they were and overbearing deep purple.
The countless voices spoke through Ikana. "What are you doing in my realm, mortal? Another rescue attempt no doubt." Cold gripped Tristan from the inside. It was as though his heart was replaced by a block of ice without him noticing. The pain brought him to a knee; he extended an arm towards Ikana for help.
"Stop it! He doesn't know anything!" Ikana managed to overpower the stars shining in her eyes for a brief moment and the cold disappeared and air returned to Tristan's lungs.
"It would seem Ikana isn't lying. She showed me your entrance to my underworld." The voices rang from Ikana once more. "How did you fall from the sky?"
Tristan could only cough and hold his wounds. Ikana, or whatever had a hold of her, scowled impatiently. A loud whipcrack echoed from seemingly everywhere.
"I was seeking you out God of Death. I cannot recall a time before my fall but I seek an ordeal."
Ikana's face twisted in a pain wracked smile. "Oh? Why is that mortal?"
"All things die. Death is order. Death brings peace, brings order. I want to help you maintain the law of death. Those who perverse this system we be brought to you by my hand. Give me an ordeal; I want to fight for you!" The cold poured out of Tristan. He knew he had persuaded Erebos.
"So be it, Tristan. There are those who claim gorgons know the secret of immortality, that my sister Pharika has given them freedom from my realm. There is a temple in a cave on the edge of the Nessian forest. Go there and prove that I am inevitable. Show them no one escapes my world."
The stars lurched from Ikana's eyes and drifted into the smoke clouds. Tristan stood to catch her as she fell. "Oracle of my lord." He whispered. "He needs you alive."
"Please don't go. They've done nothing wrong. Please." She pleaded despite nearly dying from being a conduit for the god of the underworld. Ikana seemed so confused looking at him now. "Are you the same man from the ferry?"
Tristan responded with silence. He placed her gently on a nearby hill. As he walked towards the exit of the underworld he muttered to himself. "Only Erebos is eternal."
The map the priests of Erebos had given Tristan made finding the temple of Pharika barely easier. Since he was approved by their god, they had equipped him with a hooded cloak trimmed with gold. Followers of Erebos kept to a strict uniform so everyone knew to leave them alone and as a stark reminder of ther mortality.
His orange eyes reflected the sunlight as he looked around. Forests. All the same in every direction. How animals navigate these things I'll never understand.
"Where are you blasphemers?" He mumbled to the quiet forest. It was oddly still among the trees, as though the beasts of the Nessian forests recognized his attire and knew to keep their distance.
"You stink of death and unfamiliar wilds." A voice spoke sweetly from behind him. A green woman with long hair made of leaves emerges magically from an ancient tree in front of Tristan. She shone with the starlight of Nyx as all gods and their envoys did. "My lady seeks to remove you from her lands." The dryad's sweet voice was no less threatening as she glared at him.
"Believe me; no one wants me out of here more than me." Tristan spoke the truth. He couldn't remember ever being in a forest but he had the strong feeling he had a bad experience in one. His mind itched as he struggled to recall anything.
"Then leave before I have to make you." The dryad threatened as she clenched her fists.
"I am tasked with an ordeal. I am hunting the cult of Pharika in this land. The gorgon, Hythea, claims she is beyond the whip of Erebos. I have come to correct her." Tristan explained. He pulled the hood from his head revealing the determination in his eyes.
"Nylea knows of Hythea. She litters the land with the statues of her prey. Nylea despises these but the gorgon refuses to move them, thinking herself higher than the gods. I will lead you to her but when she petrifies you try to keep your body on the outside of the tree line." The dryad snickered and vanished into the earth. Blades of grass where she stood shimmered with star shine and formed a pathway into the deep woods.
The journey was calm, animals kept their distance and the dryad remained a silent pathway for Tristan. Erebos and the map said Hythea was on the edge of the forest. Why is this nymph guiding me the wrong way?
The snap of twigs brought Tristan to attention. How did I lose track of myself? Damn leaf-hair led me astray. He stood in a battle pose, an invisible pole arm pointed in the direction of the sound. Before he could question why his reflexes chose this form an eerily familiar growl surrounded him.
"Wolves." Tristan spat the word with hatred. He was correct three wolves were circling him, all growling and baring their teeth.
The wolf behind him jumped for Tristan's leg. He spun that leg away from its attacker. He planted it firmly in the dirt and struck the wolf in the thigh with his fist. The sensation of wolf fur sent chills down his arm. Memories flashed through Tristan's brain too quick to process. The feel, the smell, and the growls all felt like things he'd experienced dozens of times in the past. Understanding would have to wait. Three hungry wolves wanted him dead.
Without permission from his mind, Tristan's hand reached down into the wolf's shadow, it disappeared up to the wrist. He pulled his arm out and gripped tightly in his hand was a pitch black whip. He arced his arm around and cracked his whip on the second wolf's face.
Umbramancy? Tristan's eyes went wide. That's right. Shadows bend to my will. From the whip handle an inky black tendril squirmed in the air in response to Tristan's thoughts.
He glared and whipped the third wolf in the rips. Flesh tore easily from its side and it yelped in pain. The three wolves stood around him, all injured and whimpering. Black mana pooled inside the agent of Erebos as he readied himself.
"Stop! They are not your prey." The sweet voice of the dryad rang out. She materialized in front of Tristan once again. "You passed the trial. I will lead you to Hythea."
The whip wrapped around the nymph's neck. Wherever it touched the star field painted on her body it too shone with the glory of Nyx. "Why?" Tristan growled.
She gagged, "Nylea is sick of the petrified bodies of fools like you in her forest. They are an eyesore. The wolves would have made a meal of you and the rest fed the soil."
He tightened the whip. "Fool me again and I will bring hand of Erebos down on every wolf in this forest." The tendril uncurled and melted into Tristan's shadow. "Now lead!" He roared.
The smell of incense was strong at the mouth of the cave leading to the temple of malady and Tristan's target, Hythea. The dryad's sweet voice shuddered with unease, "I can go no further. That belongs to Pharika. Though I am sure I will see your face again, frozen in fear once Hythea delivers you above ground."
"Thank you for the words of confidence, nymph." Tristan shoved her aside and entered the cavern.
As he walked down the narrow passageway he sent his shadow ahead in the form of a shade. It crept across the walls and ceiling putting out torches and searching for traps. Tristan had crossed three snake pits and two walls that fired poison arrows before running into three green robed women.
"Take me to Hythea." Tristan demanded. Shadowy fingers stretched unseen in the darkness; closing in on the disciples of Pharika.
"Our mistress has beaten death without bending a knee to him. The jealousy of Erebos is laughable." One of the hooded women joked. The other two to her sides giggled.
Anger rose up in Tristan's gut. The tendrils lashed out, entangled them and dragged them to his sides. "Where is Hythea!? Tell me now and they live!"
"Who lives? My pets?" The robes next to Tristan went limp. Snakes from within them charged straight to Tristan. He shredded them with blades of darkness but the woman escaped deeper into the cave.
Tristan snarled and continued his trek. Pharika's people were tricky. She was the god of poisons which meant any wound from them would likely be immediately fatal.
Something splashed under Tristan's sandal. It stank. Pharika was also the god of potions. Her servants had access to all manner of alchemic tricks.
A dim torch flickered further down the hall. "Erebos is declawed." The woman from before threw her torch to the ground and the entire chamber caught fire. She must have cooked up something flammable to dispel the darkness.
Tristan leapt back towards the darkness but the woman was smart. He was surrounded by flames on all sides. She charged him, easily dodging the flames she made. A foot away from her target she revealed twin daggers still dripping with poison. Tristan managed to grab her forearms. He needed to stall her to bring up a shade with this much light around him.
He managed to conjure two tendrils from the shadows on his hands. They plunged into the woman's wrists and she dropped the daggers into Tristan's waiting hands. She grabbed him by the arms, blood pouring from her wrists. They had exchanged positions but Tristan was stronger and less wounded. He lifted a leg and kicked her in the stomach, knocking her to her back amongst the fire.
"Tell Erebos I'll be finished with my ordeal soon." Tristan commanded as he brought the daggers into her shoulders. She screamed but it was cut short by foam and blood.
"Another lackey of Erebos." Hythea hissed as Tristan ascended the steps toward her altar. She was adorned with gold jewelry and a wide brimmed hat that obscured her eyes. "I was afraid he had given up, I needed one more of you fools to complete my latest work of art."
Sunlight filtered into the altar room from above. Tristan had assumed there was a passage to the forest for Hythea to set up her 'works of art.'
"I call it, Arrogance of the Gods. Fools like you and all manner of Nylea's rodents have been assailing me for years. Mortals should not associate themselves with those kinds of gods. They care nothing for us anyway." Hythea contorted her face in disgust as she spoke of gods. "You must come from a polis. You've seen how gods can properly influence mortals, just as Pharika has influenced me."
"I'm not here to listen to you preach. I'm here to bring order to this world. Death brings finality. Finality is needed to keep egomaniacs like you in check." Tristan shouted. He sent two sharp tendrils toward the gorgon but she batted them away like they were ribbons.
"So be it." Hythea mumbled. She darted at him; her snakelike body was quicker than Tristan thought it should be. She swung her claws at his face and he countered with dark tendrils. She was stronger than she looked too. Tristan didn't think he could win this if things didn't change.
One of Hythea's claws found Tristan's arm. Blood sprayed from gorgon's hat down to the floor. Tristan gritted his teeth and brought a thin line of shadow from his hand to hers. It tangled her claw still stabbing into his arm. She smiled. She was much stronger than him. She pulled him closer. His forehead pressed up against her hat. He could almost see her face; he would be turned to stone at this rate.
Another tendril wrapped around Hythea's free wrist and pulled it aside. Once again she overpowered the darkness but it had given Tristan enough time to get his hand under her hat. He felt his hand grasp her face.
"No one is immortal." The shade cast by her wide hat condensed into a solid mass around her head. She flung him across the chamber and into the altar shattering it. She clawed over and over again at the thick mass of darkness cutting off her access to air. Again and again it compressed over her head, each time coming closer to shattering her skull.
Hythea's muffled screams cut short with a sickly crack. Her head was crushed completely. Blood slowly trickled from beneath the shadow mass.
Tristan sighed heavily. His heart was pounding in his throat but he began to relax. He followed the few rays of sunlight until he stood in a clearing in the Hessian forest. He was encircled by statues of men and women clearly from the cult of Erebos.
He pushed one down and it shattered against the forest floor. Holding the cuts on his arm he smirked, "I don't get art."
With that he demolished the remaining petrified bodies. It was better than standing out in the forest. This way their souls may make it to the underworld. May Avacyn deliver you the blessed sleep.
Tristan couldn't recall what that meant but his mind went immediately there as he brought the peace of death. His mind itched again but he shook off. He had a long journey back to the underworld ahead of him and no time to question his frequently strange reflexes.