Disclaimer: I do not own Magic: The Gathering

Chapter 1: The Birth

There are many worlds. The grand collection of these worlds is called the Multiverse, but only a handful of people can traverse between worlds. These people are called Planeswalkers. Planeswalkers journey through the Multiverse in search of magic, creating connections to worlds they visit to increase their power and unlock powerful spells, in the form of mana. Mana is the raw magical energy found in all worlds, with five main types. Red, blue, green, white, and black- each of these colorations has different properties, and affect the spells they are used to cast.

To begin the journey, how about the story of a young man who traversed the worlds, in search of something he didn't know he wanted?

Azazel awoke at the sound of thunder. Rising from his bed, he stared outside the tall floor to ceiling window within his room. The sky was black, lightning arced from the heavens and exploded with fury. Azazel pulled back the blood red satin sheets of his king sized bed and tiptoed over to the window, his nightclothes dancing in the darkness as he moved. Running a hand through his pitch black hair, Az watched the lightning come down, the glass shuddering from the sound waves. It was a bad one tonight, but he was not surprised. Storms may not be common, but when they happened, they usually came down hard.

A large, heavy wooden door opened up with a groan on the other side of his room. It was a servant, dressed in the traditional black and red clothing those of his occupation wore in the manor of Sorin, Az's father. The servant was a gaunt, ragged looking old man with thick silver hair pulled back into a ponytail. A brass candlestick was in his left hand, the light more than sufficient for their kind. He bowed deeply in respect, and then stood up straight.

"Sir, is the storm keeping you from your slumber?" the servant asked, his voice barely above a haunting whisper.

Az did not face the servant, instead he looked into the servant's reflection, the Victorian style outfit visible due to the light of the candle. "I'm fine, Bernard. Storms don't scare me like they used to." It was true, Azazel, sired from Sorin himself, was afraid of thunderstorms- even though he won't admit it. He was taught to face his fears, to overcome them, or else they would consume him.

"Would you like a drink, sir?"

"No, thank you, Bernard. Please return to your duties."

Bernard bowed once again and left, the only sound was the closing of the door, the metal clanking shut loudly in the silent halls. Azazel sighed, crossing his arms and shivering. Lightning lit up the night sky once again, only to reveal a face on the other side of the window. Az gasped, and fell backwards, the figure on the other side was grinning like mad, their eyes alight like rubies in the night. It took a second for Az to register who it was, and quickly opened the window. The wind whipped into his room, blasting the curtains around and knocking a few things off the nearby furniture with various amounts of sound.

The figure stepped inside, soaked to the bone, her pale blond hair stuck to her porcelain features. "Hello, little brother. Still scared of your own shadow, I see."

Azazel growled and shut the window, his own ruby eyes piercing the figure like daggers. "What do you want, Isabella?"

Isabella was his older sister, and his betrothed. Being the only true child of Sorin, Isabella was the princess of the night. Azazel was taken in by Sorin at a very young age, and was turned two years ago on his eighteenth birthday. They were not married yet, much to Az's relief, but the time was fast approaching. Once his training was complete, they would be married and expected to continue the line.

What they did not expect, however, was that Azazel could barely stand Isabella. She was cruel, dark like her vampiric nature, violent, and enjoyed holding power over others. How someone like her came from Sorin was beyond him, as Sorin always seemed like a kind, solemn gentleman, despite being a vampire. Azazel took after the man more than his own daughter, but that did not concern Isabella. She was beautiful, obviously, but one look into her eyes would tell you that she possessed a hint of madness.

Isabella skipped over to his bed, water slipping down her clothes and puddled on the marble floor, and threw herself on to his bed. Azazel bared his fangs at her, angry that she would ruin his sheets on a whim, but she showed no signs of caring. The princess took a seductive pose, still dripping wet, and stared at Az with hooded eyes. She wore a deep red dress that flared out at the hips, with laced boots that reached her knees and black stockings. The mud from the boots tracked in on the floor and bed, annoying it's owner.

"Oh, so you don't like it when soaking wet women visit you in the middle of the night? I see how it is..." She grinned, lying back, her breasts nearly spilling out of the low cut dress.

Isabella appeared to be around his age, when in reality she was much, much older. He did not know her exact age, and never found out. Either way, it was obvious she was no stranger to her own body. Azazel sighed and walked around the room, ignoring the storm and his bride, as he began to tidy up the room that had fallen into disarray, picking up a few books that had fallen from the nearby dresser.

"Ignoring me, Azzie? That's mean, and I might have to punish you." She sang, sitting up on the bed.

Azazel was about to retort when she suddenly appeared behind him, her long, black nails at his throat as she wrapped her other arm around his shoulders. Her thumb pricked his skin, drawing blood. He made no move as she leaned forward and gave the trail of blood one, long wicked lick before the wound closed. They've been like this before, but he knew how it was. She did this because she enjoyed toying with him in any way possible, but never would she kill him. Maim him, break his bones, bleed him, sure, but never kill.

"You still have scars from our other adventures." Her voice was like honey, her hands trailed over his body, feeling the innumerable scars that covered his body underneath his nightclothes. "Would you like some more?"

The young vampire whispered, "Will you just leave me alone?"

Wrong answer. Her nails raked across his exposed flesh on the back of his neck, blood running down his back in seconds. He winced, and tried to turn but was thrown on to the bed. She was on top of him in seconds, pinning him down as she straddled him. A grin spread across her features, a fearsome thing that would make any other man's skin crawl. But not Azazel's, for they've done this before. She would have her fun, and he would be left in pain.

"You can't run from me forever. Within the year, we'll be married, and there is nothing you could do about it. Don't you see? You won't be able to run away from me, we'll have each other for the rest of eternity. But gifts, gifts can break, rust, fade- rot. So, I've covered your flesh with reminders of me, so that no matter where you are, you'll always know that I'm here, always close, always waiting for your return." Isabella's grin softened into a smirk. She leaned down and kissed his neck gently before letting her head rest on his shoulder, still pinning him down. "Now, what do you say?"

He sighed, knowing it was futile. If he fought back, it would only get worse.

"I love you, Isabella."

"Good boy," she said, kissing his lips softly, though he did not kiss her back. "Next time I see you, you better have cleaned your sheets- it looks like you pissed the bed in fright."

With that, she was off him, and out the door, leaving it open as her footsteps echoed down the halls. Az laid there for a minute or two after she left, staring up at the ceiling, wishing that one day, he could leave this place, leave Innistrad, forever.

It was almost dawn now, and Azazel stood atop the roof of the manor. Dressed in black pants, tall leather boots, a white male blouse, with a black, tailed overcoat that reached his ankles, the cuffs thick with lace trimmings. A hood sat around his neck, used for when he traveled in daylight, along with a cowl that rested in one of the inside pockets of the coat. A sapphire ring rested on his right thumb, while a single golden band rested on his left ring finger, symbolizing his engagement.

His pale skin was almost white, his black hair was shoulder length and fell around his face, framing it well. On his belt was a sheathed rapier, a skill he picked up from his training sessions with Sorin. Azazel sighed, watching the sky brighten on the horizon. Sorin was a Planeswalker, a traveler between dimensions, and was gone at the moment due to this. Apparently, something was happening in the Multiverse. Sorin wouldn't elaborate when asked, merely saying that it was important, and so had left to meet with a few of the other Planeswalkers.

Azazel was waiting for his return, because with Sorin gone, it was he and Isabella who ran the manor. She abused the power, creating more work for the poor servants, even hurting a few with minor injuries for the more severe wounds would be noticed by her father, and dealt with harshly. Azazel did no such thing, even going out of his way to assist them, despite their protests due to his position. It wasn't like Isabella, who enjoyed the hell she brings on to others.

He wanted power merely for it's own sake, his ambition being what kept him from running away from his demon bride. Killing was nothing for both he and his bride, sure, but Az preferred to think out his options before resorting to bloodshed, coming up with a strategy before charging in, unlike she who would rip her enemies apart like a berserker. This reserve left Az with inferior magical capabilities, in the eyes of his fiancé and himself. Black magic, the kind he, Isabella, and Sorin used, drew power from death, ambition, decay, fear, amorality- meaning that many black mages were self-serving, and willing to do anything for power.

Az was not like this, and from what he's seen, neither was Sorin. They both had powers in the black, but Az was not as devoted as Isabella, leaving him with magical abilities inferior to her own. This both angered and overjoyed him, for while he could not beat her in a fight, it meant he was still kinder than her, and retained his humanity. In Innistrad, black mana reigned supreme, leaving it's occupants little choice in how they fought.

The swamps, crypts, and wastelands of this world gave them power, and they gladly accepted it. He wanted so badly to find a different source of power, like Sorin had. If he could find his own talents, his own power, then perhaps he could challenge Isabella, prove that he was the stronger. Maybe then he could ascend to power, with her as his obedient wife. The thought made him grin, until he saw the sunlight begin to peek through the trees.

Azazel was about to return to the safety of the manor, as sunlight burned vampires, when he heard a voice. It was a small sound, but felt far away. Az turned, looking at everything around him, trying to find the source, but saw no one. The wind wasn't even blowing. There it was again! That echo of a voice, calling from so close but so far away. It sounded louder this time, and coming from everywhere at once.

"Show yourself!" He yelled, drawing his rapier, prepared for a fight.

He didn't expect a hand to reach out of nothing, grab him by the collar, and pull him into blackness.

Azazel felt like he was falling through endlessness. Colors exploded around him at high speeds, and he felt electricity run through his body as if struck by lightning. Suddenly, it all stopped, and shimmered like the surface of water before his eyes. He fell to his knees, shocked, frightened, and exhausted. The ground around him was scorched, blackened by fire, or energy. Sweat beaded his brow, and so he took deep breathes as he pushed himself to sit on his legs.

Eyes widening, he could not believe what he saw. No longer was he on the roof of the manor, he was in the middle of a forest- but not those of Innistrad. The forests of Innistrad were marshes, bogs, not the lush, lively things before him now. There was so much green he could scarcely see anything else. The sun was setting, the sky orange with the last light of the day. Birds chirped around him, their songs a thing of beauty to his ears.

He attempted to stand, but found his legs were like jelly, and so he fell to one knee. Fear gripped his heart, for what had happened? This place was not Innistrad- he could feel it in his bones- so where was he? How did he get here? Would he be able to get home? Was he in danger? He checked his belt, noting that he still had his scabbard, the sword still in his right hand. Not only that, but in his pocket was his library.

A library, to a mage, was the name of his collection of spells. They came in the form of cards, and each spell could be cast with sufficient mana. Every spell was different, no two being exactly alike, which meant strategy was essential to victory. Az's library was small, due to his inferior abilities, but at least he wasn't defenseless.

Finally, he was able to stand, albeit unsteadily. Sword in hand, he attempted to get through the thick forest, but progress was difficult. Roots wound through the ground, making footing uneven. Branches, bushes, and other plants were blocking his movement, forcing him to take certain paths, or to go through them as best he could. Animals called in the distance, the air alive with the life all around him. It was strange, almost alien, to the undead prince.

He could feel the mana here, the power of nature. It was wild, ferocious, strength at it's purest level. Az wondered, how many mages would be here, in this strange place? He suspected many would utilize this power, and green mages, or mages of nature, gained power from forests such as these, where the wild reigns supreme, and their spells were nothing to mess with. Green magic ran against his own black magic, as green magic was life, growth, and abundance, whereas black was death, decay, and greed.

His magic would find no friends here.

Azazel found a clearing, the sun gone from the world. Looking up, he saw the stars in their full glory, something he never had the pleasure of witnessing before. He was caught up in the awe of it, for he could see everything with crystal clarity- the stars, the galaxies, it was all laid bare before him. He smiled a genuine smile for the first time in what felt like years, brought on not by malice or the pain of others, but the simple beauty of the world around him.

A twig snapped nearby, and he fell into an attack stance, rapier pointing towards the sound. The birds were silent now, the world turning dark and cold. He felt the chill as he examined the spot where he heard the noise, fear running down his spine. What could it be? An animal, most likely, or some ungodly creature that wanted to eat him. Knowing his luck, that's what it would be, or worse, it'd be Isabella.

Without warning, something shot from the bushes, and attached to his sword. He saw it only for a second, a long white thread, before it yanked his weapon from his hand. As soon as he lost his weapon, a spider jumped from the bushes, a large brown recluse about the size of a Rottweiler. Az took a step back in fear, but the spider stood up on it's back legs and shot another thread at him, hitting his chest.

The spider came at him quickly, running around him, preventing his escape as it drug him to the ground and wrapped him up in it's silk. His mind raced with escape plans, but none would be very useful at the moment... unless... He concentrated, calling upon the mana of Innistrad, the energy of the swamps, tombs, and wastes that made up his home before calling out, "Tormented Soul!"

A phantom materialized before him, it's translucent, skeletal figure floating above the ground in a wispy cloak, it's haunting red eyes staring down at him. Tormented Soul was a summoning, a low leveled summoning any basic black mage could conjure, but being a spirit gave it the ability to never be blocked. He screamed, "Help me!" before the spider used it's silk to shut his mouth. The order was issued, however, and the ghost fell on to the spider, swatting it away with it'd undead hands from his master.

The spider was not dead, but it was now pissed. Unfortunately, the ghost could not block the spider, and so should it come at him again, it'd have to go for a direct attack to get it off him again. With his mouth shut, he doubted he'd be able to issue orders to the spirit now. The most skilled mages were able to send mental commands to their summons, but Az was not on that level. He was panicking when he heard someone.

"Enough, hold your evil specter back." Called a feminine voice.

Azazel, still trapped by the spider's silk, watched as a woman came out from the bushes where the spider had been. She was tall, with short, choppy brown hair that only reached her jaw line. Her clothing was somewhat revealing, a black body suit that exposed her abdomen, and was low cut to reveal a slight amount of cleavage. She had a lightly armored silver breast plate, pauldrons, skirt, and boots. On her back was a bow and quiver, filled with arrows. On her belt, he saw, she had a small leather case. Most would see it and think it simply an accessory, but he knew better.

This woman was a mage, and that case was used to hold her library.

She tucked some hair behind her ear as the spider crawled to her and up her body, resting on her back and part of her shoulder, watching the vampire it had trapped in it's web. Azazel put two and two together, and figured the spider had been her summoning. Otherwise, it probably would have bit him and her before bringing out the damn web. Something else he noted was that she was around his apparent age, maybe a year or two older, and had pointed ears.

She was an elf, something he's only heard of in stories.

The fact she was en elf brought down a hard truth. There were none of her kind in Innistrad, which meant either she was a Planeswalker in this unknown part of his world, or he was in her's, and he had traversed through the worlds. He seriously felt like he was going to be sick now, but with the web covering his mouth, he'd only throw up in his own mouth and drown in his own vomit.

"You are a black mage, if your summoning there says anything." Her lips curled, "What the hell is a black mage doing here? Your kind are not welcome in the forests."

Az gave her a look that said, 'are you stupid?' as he struggled to make sounds from his gagged mouth, the Tormented Soul beside him floating harmlessly with a dead expression, no pun intended.

She smirked and chuckled a bit, "Oh, sorry, forgot."

The elf walked forward, drawing a knife from behind her back. Az's eyes widened as she brought it close to his face, going stiff as a board just before she sliced the webbing from his mouth. He sighed in relief when she stepped back, and he looked up to meet her eyes. Bad move on his part, because from this angle, he could see up her armored skirt. Pale face going red, he looked away as he began to sweat.

It took the elf a moment to realize what he had been looking at, and when she figured it out, her features were just as red as his. She growled and brought her foot up, stomping on his head, beating it into the mud. Storming away, she put more distance between them as she screamed, "Pervert! You're a damn pervert!"

Pulling his face out of the mud, the vampire prince was practically seeing stars when he muttered, "I-I'm not, it's just..."

"If you try that again, I'll skin you alive, got it?!" She was fuming, the spider on her back growing agitated.

"Got it, won't happen again." Az laid his face on the ground, disoriented after that beating. "Just please don't smash my face into the earth again."

She 'hmphed', and crossed her arms, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I was standing on the roof of my master's manor, and next thing I knew, I'm in the middle of this overgrown forest getting my ass kicked by an elf and her spider." He looked up, making sure to avoid anything but her eyes. "I was trying to find out where I was, and get home." No point in lying to her at this point, though he thought about it. The situation called for hard logic and planning, and right now, no lie he could come up with would be beneficial.

"And I'm to believe you, a black mage, enemies of nature magic?" Her eyes narrowed.

"My lady," he adopted his previously forgone noble way of speaking, "why would I lie to you? I'm caught in your trap, my life is in your hands. Lying would only serve to get me killed at this point."

"So, you would lie if the situation would allow it? Nice to know..." She sighed and looked to the specter, still hovering. "Send that infernal thing away immediately, if I wanted to kill you, I would have let my spider do the job. That damn thing gives me the creeps." With a snap of her fingers, the spider vanished into mist, but it's web remained.

Az smirked. Now would be the perfect time to order the spirit to attack her, but he was still trapped, and if she had set up the trap, then she was ready for counter measures- meaning she would be charged with more mana than he at the moment. Fine, he would do as she said, albeit grudgingly. He looked to the specter, and said, "Leave us." The creature vanished into mist like the spider, leaving nothing behind.

"So, will you cut these webbings off of me, or will you leave me to rot?" He smiled, his fangs visible. He noticed she seemed taken aback by the sight, and that made him smile wider. Just the look of fear pass over her made excited him a bit.

"Fine, but only your legs. You are coming with me." She said as she stepped closer, but stopped and glared until he buried his face into the ground. After that, she got closer, knife ready, and cut upwards between his legs, getting dangerously close to his nethers before the coat tail's ended and kept the knife from going higher. She helped him stand, and putting her hands on his shoulders to steady him.

His back was to her, the web still clinging to him in places and restricting movement of his arms and hands. Az stood up straight and looked over his shoulder at her, peeved. Being at another's mercy bothered him, bringing back memories of Isabella. From the look the elf was giving him, she was enjoying this. Pushing him lightly forward, he took steps in the direction indicated before she passed him and took the lead.

They were walking through the forest, the trees winding and creating intricate paths that had to be taken. The vampire did not enjoy this, but she felt right at home. Looking over her shoulder occasionally, she thought about what this could mean. A black mage, here of all places, obviously not from here. His clothes were strange, foreign to this world, which meant he had to be a Planeswalker. Not only that, but his canine teeth were sharp, indicating vampirism. She had never seen one before now, but stories were told among her clan of his kind, how they drank the blood of the living, killed on a whim, and would steal children from their beds to join their undead ranks.

She did not trust him to not turn on her, after all, black magic was attuned to such actions like betrayal. Yet, the more she spoke with him, the more she saw, the less he seemed like the devil they portrayed such mages as. A light blush dusted her cheeks as she thought about how he had become embarrassed at seeing under her skirt- a typical black mage would not have given a damn about that kind of thing, but he did. It wasn't exactly much to go on, but something else bothered her.

When she had first saw him, he had been staring up at the sky with wonder, and childish joy. He looked so innocent in that moment that is was scary, for she knew that he couldn't be such, no black mage could be. It made her wonder if he was truly, whole-heartedly a villain, or if he was simply using the hand that fate had dealt him. Such a thought actually made her frown. What kind of life would he of had to of had to drive him towards black magic?

Part of her prayed she never found out.

The forest opened up a bit, the trees growing taller and thicker. After a while, Az noticed that above them, in the trees, were wooden buildings built in the branches, connected by bridges, ramps, and wooden walkways. He marveled at the ingenuity of the crafters, and while he gawked, he noticed people were walking on them, going about their day. That was when he noticed a small child looking over the rope of a bridge down at him. The child's ears were pointed.

So, this was the elven settlement. He looked at his captor as she led him further along the forest floor, and met her eyes. She quickly broke eye contact, and so he continued to look around. The homes were built in accordance to nature, working with it rather than against it. It was admirable, he thought, as it probably strengthened the green mana these people could harness.

A rope ladder unrolled before them from one of the walkways above. The elf girl smiled and waved to the elves above, and he deadpanned, "How am I supposed to get up there?"

She looked down at his feet, and so he did soon after, confused. He was standing on some fallen leaves, but in a second the leaves were disturbed and a vine ensnared him by the ankles. He was whipped from the ground, the vine pulling him skyward as he screamed. When it was over, he was dangling upside down by his ankles at eye level with some of the elves on the walkways.

Looking down at the elven girl below, he yelled, "What is your name?"

She laughed, and called up, "Amaya!"