Planar Chaos
Chapter 1: Tea With the Voidcaller
Marthel had to hand it to Ashleigh. Her title was fitting. The Voidcaller's home, made in an abandoned cathedral on an island claimed by Innistrad's coastal province of Nephalia, exuded emptiness like the oppressive perfume worn by many of this plane's vampire socialites to cover up the stench of blood. Marthel pulled his boat ashore, an easy task for the Malestrom Mage, vagabond of the multiverse that he was. However, he hadn't come across any mortals so frightened of his acquaintances as the humans of Innistrad feared Ashleigh the Voidcaller.
The welcoming party of devils might have had something to do with that. He easily dissipated the minor nuisances and pulled his cloak tighter around him. Everything about this place should have filled him with hatred and divine fury. It certainly would have before his spark ignited, taking him away from the only home he had known and opening up his mind to the infinite possibilities of the multiverse. Waking up in a Temur camp on Tarkir during their last stand against the Dragonlords had been something of a shock after growing up in the part of Alara formerly known as Bant. The Temur had used magic in a way he was entirely unfamiliar with. Their primal surges of unchecked power intrigued Marthel, teaching him the importance of passion as a source of power.
The Voidcaller knew such passion, but only when her more civilized methods had been repeatedly frustrated. The grounds of the crumbling cathedral, darker than usual under the new moon, were charmed and trapped to keep away those she had not invited. Marthel knew of only one other Planeswalker foolish enough to come here, and even he never came without an invitation from the mistress of the manor. Where symbols of Avacyn, the angel of hope and goddess of Innistrad, once hung Ashleigh had put up tapestries bearing her own standard. Marthel smirked. In the deep purple field hung a spiral of silver stars with a gap the perfect size for a new moon. Some of the Voidcaller's passion eked out in her flair for the dramatic. She had set herself up as a queen of the damned, no doubt modeled after a certain famous necromancer.
Marthel let out a sigh. An associate of that famous necromancer made his life difficult. Sharing a given name with one of the most famous walkers in the multiverse, one repeatedly sought after by Nicol Bolas himself, came with its fair share of problems. Using his surname had made the confusion less common, but he still felt the effects of his unfortunate coincidence.
He could see the silhouette of Ashleigh sitting on the sill of a stained glass window staring up at the new moon. No silver heron would shine down on Innistrad this night, keeping the werewolves in their beds. Rumors floated through the minds of the townsfolk Marthel had encountered of the Cursemute failing. He'd also noticed strange stone formations jutting out of the earth and channeling the plane's mana in unnatural paths. That was a mystery for another day, though. Today he had a single purpose.
Today he was going to have tea with the Voidcaller.
From her perch on the windowsill, Ashleigh looked down at the courtyard of her cathedral. Her welcoming party of devils were unsummoned by the mage who was intruding on her solitude. She hadn't sent any invitations as of late either. The denizens of this plane knew what happened to trespassers. A brief flash of burning anger at the intruder caused her to rip red mana out of her cathedral home's necropolis and rain a barrage of fire from the sky into the courtyard below. Flames surrounded the mage who dared mar her empty home with his presence uninvited, but they did not touch him. She saw a shimmering aura crack and fall away. Its magic was not of this plane.
She only knew of one white walker both bold enough to come to her uninvited and familiar enough with her schedule to know that it would soon be tea time. Ashleigh supposed company would be amenable to her schedule. She wandered across her room with practiced elegance and opened her wardrobe to find something suitable for company. She'd plucked many a fine garment from the corpses of vampires who had been sent to run her out of Nephalia. Her presence was "bad for trade" or some other such tripe. They should have been thanking her for keeping Avacyn and her acolytes away. There had also been that incident with the demon some time ago, but to her credit Ashleigh had been barely involved in the aftermath.
She selected a wine colored velvet dress and paired it with gold and ruby adornments, catching her hair up in a set of matching combs. After ensuring that there wasn't a hair out of place, Ashleigh descended the stairs of the cathedral's belfry and made her way to the sanctuary. Tea had been set up on the former altar by her cadre of demonic and undead servants, however something was off about the scene.
Sitting in her favorite wingback leather chair was Marthel, the Malestrom Mage.
After a moment of being flustered, Ashleigh sat down in the chair opposite Marthel with her trademark studied grace. She poured their tea and took a sip before turning her eyes to Marthel over her cup.
"What brings you to Innistrad, Malestrom Mage?"
Marthel was surprised at the ease with which Ashleigh covered up her annoyance with niceties. However, he recalled that ceremony was everything with the self-styled noble. He dutifully answered her question. "I was in the neighborhood and thought to pay you a visit, for old time's sake."
"I suppose anywhere in the multiverse is 'in the neighborhood' for you."
"I suppose you could say so." Marthel took another sip of tea. He didn't much care for the blends on Innistrad and did his best to hide the distaste from his hostess.
"That said, you have gotten around quite a bit." Marthel suddenly felt delicate mental fingers combing through his mind. They settled on one spell he had learned while visiting Zendikar and Ashleigh's eyes lit up. "Oh, Marthel do you mind if I borrow this?"
"Borrowing implies that you intend to return it, Ashleigh."
"You'll get it back. Eventually."
"Why don't you visit more planes so you don't have to pick our minds for spells? You could learn them yourself."
"I prefer life here."
"You find beauty in the empty. Let me show you the infinite." Marthel reached across the altar-table and took Ashleigh's free hand. Her hands were always cold like the grasp of death she so freely manipulated.
She arched one eyebrow. "I'm listening."
"I'm having a get together, a soiree of sorts, with some of the walkers I have met on my travels. I would like for you to come."
"You lost me at soiree."
"What if I told you a certain friend of ours would be there? A certain walker who knows the Malestrom just as well as I do?" Marthel smirked as Ashleigh's cheeks flushed a gentle shade of red.
"I'm not sure what you mean. Our paths only crossed a few times," she stammered.
"More than a few, from what I hear."
"Whatever he has been telling you, Marthel, I can assure you it is entirely false."
"Really?" It was Ashleigh's turn to feel delicate fingers picking through her memories.
"Those are private!" A series of small horrors appeared around Ashleigh and lobbed tiny balls of lightning at Marthel. This time they hit their mark.
"Ow!" His concentration broken, Marthel backed down. "Fine, fine. Just consider it, okay?"
"I will consider your offer and notify you if I decide to accept. Good day, Marthel." She put her finished tea down and walked back towards the stairs. Her footsteps rang out in the spacious stone cathedral. The horrors, which Ashleigh had nicknamed Gambits, began to usher Marthel towards the door.
"Wait, I have one more question," he called out.
"I'm listening," she replied, stopping in her tracks. The Voidcaller didn't turn around to face him. Her gambits, however, stopped their herding of the unwelcome guest.
"How did it happen? You promised you'd tell me one day."
Ashleigh's shoulders slumped. "It was a moment of weakness. Our ceremony was failing, so I attempted to force the demons to appear. I ended up in Shadowmoor, but I missed home too much. However, my home is changing, Marthel. Should you attempt to request help from above you might find yourself run through by a blade of moonsilver."
"What do you mean?" Angels had always responded well to his summons.
"The Blade of Goldnight and Light of Alabaster, as well as the angels in their flights, have begun to destroy those they were once commanded to protect, led by none other than Avacyn herself."
"What about Sigarda?" Marthel was puzzled as to why Ashleigh only mentioned two of the angel sisters.
"She has yet to be consumed by their madness. However, I doubt she can stand against them for long without Sorin interceding on her behalf."
"Maybe you should come with me, Ashleigh."
"Do not think I cannot take care of myself, Marthel." Ashleigh rounded on him. Lightning crackled around her fingers. Marthel found himself taking an involuntary step back from the female planeswalker. He attempted to shield himself from her display of power, but as soon as he had the spell in his mind it vanished.
"No," Ashleigh said coldly. "You will feel the full might of my power, Marthel."
An arc of red lightning shot from Ashleigh's right hand, striking Marthel full in the chest. He staggered back, trying to catch his breath.
"Okay, Ash, I believe you. That said, we might want to be getting a move on."
"Why would that be?"
"The angels are coming."
He was right. Silhouettes of hundreds of angels were converging on the converted cathedral.
"That's more than I can take," Marthel said gravely.
"As much as I don't like to admit it, more than I can take as well."
Marthel offered his arm. "Shall we?"
"Yes, I believe I shall take you up on this offer of the infinite."