Chapter 36: Soul Barrier

Alright, let's try this again. In, and out. In, and out. In, and… ugh, blast it.

For seemed like the twentieth time, Gideon's lips pursed in frustration. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his breathing, he could not last more than a few moments before his focus was disrupted. He knew it was vital to steel himself for the task to come. If he did not draw on the full might of his abilities, then his mission, and perhaps the entire plan Niv-Mizzet had concocted, would be irrevocably stymied. Yet his progress continued to be undone, forcing him to restart again and again.

He wished there was an alternative cause for this disturbance that he could remedy. It had nothing to do with the air, still dank and heavy with the long-dispersed rains and Bolas' umbral magics. Neither could he foist the blame onto the planeswalkers alongside him, as Karn remained immovably stoic, Saheeli was silently engrossed in weaving together her filigree armor, Ob Nixilis flew far enough away that an observer would assume he was traveling alone, and Sarkhan, despite carrying everyone who lacked wings of their own, managed to keep their flight relatively stable. It was not even the Dreadhorde, whose persistent threat to their airspace since leaving the Undercity was continually snuffed out by either a dragon's flame or a demon's claw.

Unfortunately, Gideon knew that all culpability for his lack of focus fell on him, though more specifically, the blade he continued to carry on his back.

Blackblade, tethered to his mind, continued to make its hunger known. It did not care how many Eternals it had already slain that day, how many wretched souls it drank, it still wanted more. It scratched at Gideon's mind like a lurker at his threshold, pushing his fingers to wrap around its hilt and his legs to jump from Sarkhan's back and into the fray. He tried to bat it away, but the more he ignored Blackblade's desires, the louder and darker they seemed to grow.

Having already been stalled once again, Gideon decided to delay his next meditative attempt. I know what you want, he mentally spoke to Blackblade. Though he knew the sword had no will or consciousness, he found it frighteningly easy to direct his thoughts towards its ethereal presence. You were made to slay only the strongest. That was always your purpose, the reason for your continued existence. The Eternals are strong and full of magic, but they would never satisfy you. No, you already know what is awaiting you, and you cannot wait. All you want is to taste the blood of an Elder Dragon one more time, and you won't stop until you do. Isn't that right?

Gideon eyed his periphery, watching the blade's spiked pommel rattle in the turbulent breeze. He knew there would be no proper response, save for the continued psychic clawing at the base of his skull. This might have been a sign of a sufficient job in keeping the weapon's evil at bay, yet he still found himself unnerved, not just by its presence, but its potential influence.

I suppose that makes us the perfect fit, doesn't it?

Even before laying eyes upon it, he had known the risks of taking the Soul-Drinker into his possession. He had heard the legends of its creation by Dakkon, the perfect weapon forged through endless blood and shadow, bringing ruin to all who touched it, regardless of blade or hilt. Even now, Gideon still did not know if the one at fault in the legend was the blade or the blacksmith. He knew all this, and yet as long as Blackblade remained their only chance at killing Bolas, he had no other choice but to wield it.

I can handle it, he told himself, a sentiment that had become repetitious since he had first taken up the blade. I will not fear you, Blackblade. You cannot control me. Our desires are aligned, but I will not be corrupted like your forger. If I could save this world without you, I would gladly offer you to Aurelia so she could smelt you down in the sacred Boros foundries. For now, though, you are a tool, nothing more. Just remember, I kill not to feed myself or you, but to save others, and that will not change.

Gideon's internal rallying cry was met with object silence. The sword said nothing, and its gnawing hunger did not shrink away as he had hoped. Unbeknownst to him, however, his subconscious reactions did draw separate attention. Though he still faced forward, eyes hazed over from his internalization, he immediately recognized the heavy, silver hand reaching out to his shoulder.

"Gideon, are you alright?" Karn rumbled, projecting his gravelly voice above the surrounding winds.

Gideon looked over his shoulder, his vision sharpening to see the golem's naturally melancholic face fixed on him. The sight broke him out of his stupor, and he summoned a resolute smile. "Yes, I'm doing fine. Thank you for your concern, Karn."

Karn withdrew his hand from Gideon's pauldron as his eyes glanced up and down, scanning him with mechanical scrutiny. "Are you certain? Your arms and neck had been growing abnormally tense, so I wanted to make sure."

He had not noticed this until Karn pointed it out, but a quick check confirmed an unconscious strain on his muscles, including an unnecessarily firm grip on Sarkhan's scales. Gideon quickly let go, loosening himself as much as his disposition would allow. Even as the tension disappeared, he knew that playing it off would be impossible against one as logical and observant as Karn.

"Oh, I hadn't realized," he said as he looked back. "Yes, well, I suppose I'm not feeling quite myself, if you know what I mean. But you needn't worry, it is under control."

Karn paused for a moment, golden irises staring intently at Gideon, observing him like a specimen beneath a microscope. After a moment, he thankfully broke his gaze.

"That is good to hear. I do believe I know what you mean. After what was said back in Svogthos, and our initial interaction with the Bridge back in Jace's office, I am not surprised that our closing proximity might cause some unease."

"Well, that's…" Gideon began, brow furrowing in confusion at Karn's incorrect assessment. His voice trailed off, however, as he turned his eyes back around to the draconic bow. Between his attempts to center his mind and Blackblade's persistent intercession, he had lost track of their flight time. Now, as he stared past the red of Sarkhan's serpentine neck and billowing snout, he once again saw a blasted landscape bathed in violet. The Planar Bridge, the overwhelming obstacle between them and their ultimate destination, waited just beyond the square.

"…yeah," Gideon called to Karn over his shoulder, "that's what it was. Just a little nervous about the Bridge." He let out a small cough, allowing him to rebolster his voice to its familiar reassuring charm. "But, as I said, there's no sense in worrying yourself over me."

Karn nodded, generating a metallic squeak that spoke to how draining this day had been for the golem. "You are my friend, Gideon, so I doubt my worrying will cease. I trust that your abilities will be enough to overcome the Bridge's power."

As Gideon returned the nod, he could feel the deep melancholy within Karn's robotic voice. When he mentioned their friendship, Gideon instantly understood the subtext. I'm not just a friend. After what happened to Jaya and Teferi, I'm one of the few friends that he still has left.

He let out an exhausted sigh, careful to let it slip quietly so that the others would not notice. Once it dissipated, carried into the chaotic air around them that swarmed with the zombified avens, drakes, angels, and dragons that continued to pour forth from the portal's maw, Gideon's features hardened into a deep-set mask of conviction. His eyes locked with the Bridge, its mauve surface reflecting in his pupils, only occasionally disturbed by the consistent fluctuations brought on by ferried monsters. As he watched Bolas' army continue to spill forth, a familiar sensation began to bubble within his chest.

Though the four God-Eternals no longer towered over the former Guildpact headquarters, their oppressive presence had not fled alongside them. Images of their initial rampage flashed through Gideon's mind, the sight of all those fallen soldiers causing his stomach to churn. From the corner of his eye, he could barely make out the crater from where Vitu-Ghazi fell, with dutiful Selesnya druids doing their best to revitalize and retrieve whatever fragments they could while their warriors kept the unyielding threat away.

Gideon could feel his rage building, stoked by his indelible fighting spirit and goaded by the continuous spurring of Blackblade's psychic fingers. The scar on his arm flared up, stinging as the crosswind stirred by the Bridge's energy swept over them. He tried to fight against it, to resist the bloodthirsty temptation, but it continued to cloy at him, whispering in his ear to relinquish control.

No, that is not who I am. I do not kill mindlessly. I will not give in to madness. It may have been why Heliod deigns me worthy to still draw breath, but it also why I stood alone. What would the Irregulars say now? They would not retreat, they would not back down. They would save anyone they could, and stab at anyone who would try to stop them, even if it cost them everything…

Suddenly, as if struck by virtuous epiphany, Gideon stopped fighting. Rather than push away the anger, Gideon acquiesced, extending a hand to embrace it on his own terms.

Whether I submit to the rage or resist it, both are leaving my will in its hands. No more. What Bolas has done is unforgivable, and I will not allow myself to be stopped by him again. For all that have fallen today, and for all those who have yet to fall, I refuse to yield, no matter what it may take.

Gideon felt the shades in his mind reach for his outstretched hand. It took hold, attempting to yank him into the shadows, but he remained steadfast, unmovable. As he anchored further in his spot, he began to pull back, harder and harder until the miasma understood. Together, locked in place, they reached a tentative understanding.

From their pact, a white light bloomed within the grasp. As it spread throughout his body, he felt it bolster his indestructible aura, tempering it beneath the flame of righteous indignation. While his defenses hardened, he felt the inverse in his muscles. His neck and arms and legs unwound, slightly but not fully, still ready to strike out against the enemy on a moment's notice but no longer burdened by his stress. Gideon took a deep breath in through his nose, held it for a few counts, and as he pushed it out, his face set into a countenance of ascended dedication.

Beneath him, he had felt Sarkhan's flying growing increasingly erratic as the density of aerial enemies grew in relation to their closing distance. Fire now poured continuously from his jaws, its iridescence tinged with ominous purple. The only pause came as he shouted out in his draconic timbre, sending sonorous vibrations along Gideon's seat.

"We're closing in on the Bridge! I'm going to pull into descent soon, so be sure to stay low and keep your handholds secured." His tail whipped viciously to one side, cleaving a charging Eternal in two while also gesturing across the airspace. "Nixilis! Close your proximity and get into position. Remember, once I've locked my wings, I'll need you to keep my back clear!"

"Do not think your size allows you to command me, wurm," Nixilis growled, barely audible above the din of battle. "If you have any misgivings over our hierarchy, remember who protects whom."

Despite his sneering tone, Nixilis pulled away from the Eternal he was currently dismantling, tossing its writhing remains to the ground so he could pull his flight path closer to the dragon's. He fell in line above Sarkhan's wings, and he cast a demonic gaze upon the other planeswalkers.

"I certainly hope your preparations have been set," he rumbled, a hint of sadistic superiority creeping into his words. "I can assure you that I will not be cleaning up any scorch marks your disintegration might leave behind."

"I… do not think that will be an issue," answered Saheeli, her voice tinny and muffled beneath her protective vestments. It did not resemble typical armor, instead assembled from several dragon-shaped constructs, which coiled around her body in a tight, elegant tessellation. While it seemed wholly impractical for combat, it should provide the necessary coverage for their trip through the Bridge. If anyone knew how to survive the portal, Gideon reasoned, it would be its original designer. Saheeli, however, did not seem to share his confidence, as her words, though distorted, were distinctly withdrawn.

"I am already aware of the potential effects of… contact with the Bridge's surface," she continued, "there's no need to… remind me. But I'm not worried. My creations… always hold up."

"We had best hope that is the case," Nixilis prodded further, untroubled by her attempts at dismissal. "It is always the burden of the weak to entrust their survival to the strong. Perhaps you'd be better served simply sending your creations through the portal in your stead. Less risk to that fragile, unhardened human body of yours."

At this, Gideon had heard enough. He raised his left hand above his head, the palm radiating with enough golden light to draw his teammates' attention. Then, he swiftly closed his fist, the light extinguishing along with the others' voices.

"That's quite enough of that," he called out, not bothering to break his stare with the Planar Bridge. "You all heard Sarkhan, descent begins soon, so we'd best keep our minds sharp for what's to come next. We don't truly know what will greet us on the other side of the Bridge, so we must be prepared for anything." Gideon let his commanding tone temporarily slip. "Unless, of course, Nixilis, that you're fine with falling behind those of us who took the time to focus our minds instead of pestering the others like a hungry gnat."

This appeal to the demon's ego seemed to do the trick, as he heard Nixilis bellow, "Do not doubt my power, Gideon," his words receding as he pulled away from them to take out his anger on any Eternal that dared to approach. As he heard the obscured sounds of cracking lazotep and demonic howls, Gideon allowed his lips to slip into a slight smirk.

This minute triumph did not last lost, and his mouth soon pulled back into a tight line as Sarkhan let out a final growl. "The way is clear. Hold yourselves tight, as a dragon's speed is swifter than lightning and more earthshaking than thunder!"

Gideon could feel his body tense as he dug his fingers beneath the red scales and gripped at their jagged surface. He took in another deep breath as Sarkhan's membranous wings folded tight against his sides, then let it out just as he ducked down, leaving only a moment before they began to plummet straight towards the Planar Bridge.

Though he stayed hunched over, allowing the violently whipping wind to break across his scalp, Gideon refused to break his gaze with the portal. In his periphery, the dizzying speed smeared the black of the sky, the white of the passing sparks, and the blue of the Eternals into an incomprehensible mosaic, but the purple glow before him remained an unwavering challenge.

I need to do this.

The portal grew larger in his vision as Sarkhan rocketed forward, forgoing his flaming breath to simply break any Eternals in his way across his brow, scattering their twisted remains over the infested courtyard. Behind him, Nixilis followed close behind, matching the dragon's astonishing speeds while similarly barreling through any Eternals who tried to encroach. The overwhelming sounds of wind and death fell to the back of Gideon's mind, his focus now solely inward. He could feel his will reinforcing his aura, building layer after layer as his breath ebbed and flowed.

I can do this.

The Bridge's light swiftly crept over them as they hurtled towards its membrane. The red of Sarkhan's scales, the black of Nixilis' plates, the silver of Karn's skin, the gold of Saheeli's armor, and the bronze of Gideon's aura, were all consumed by the bright violet. As they closed in, the portal came sharply into focus. He could see every rippling disturbance across its surface, caused by every Eternal that stepped foot in this city like an endless bombardment of pebbles against a once-placid lake. Gideon held his eyes open as long as he could, staring the Bridge down, allowing the searing illumination to flare his anger, and subsequently his conviction. It was not until the pain in his retinas became too much that his eyes forced themselves shut.

You cannot stop me. Not again, not ever.

He managed one last sharp inhale through his nose, squeezing every bit of his spark's power into his aura, just as Sarkhan's pointed snout pierced the Planar Bridge. A buzzing crack erupted before Gideon as it obliterated all the organic matter that was not shielded by Sarkhan's scales. He gripped the dragon's hide even harder, bracing himself as the violent sound grew louder and louder until…

It was unlike anything Gideon had ever felt before. His mind grappled for something, anything to which it could compare the sensation. It was as if he had been sailing across Thassa's calm seas when, out of the blue, he crashed headlong into a wave, but not a wave of water, a wave of electricity, of Keranos's magic that pressed his aura tight against his frame like soaking rags and set his entire body alight with sparkling energy that threatened to tear his body apart to find a way out.

Then, just like that, the feeling was gone.

It took a second for Gideon to realize that, though his entire body seemed frozen in the crash position he had taken, he was still alive. Immediately after, Gideon did the only thing his body could readily do, and he took in a deep, gasping breath. A brief shock went through his system as his lungs, accustomed to the Ravnican air that was soaked and suffused with pollution, filled with a breath that was warm, dry, and almost chokingly acrid. The surprise quickly subsided, however, once his sense memories caught up to his nervous system, reminding him that he had tasted this air before.

We did it. We've arrived on Amonkhet.

Relief unspooled Gideon's muscles, allowing him to finally raise his head and reopen his eyes. Instinctually, the first thing he did was turn around, eager to ensure that the rest of his party had made it through unscathed. Behind him, he saw both Karn and Saheeli in their same positions, but while Karn looked the same as always, Saheeli seemed slightly-off kilter, her head wobbling back and forth against its locked constraints. By Sarkhan's tail, Gideon saw Nixilis unfolding his wings, sidling beside them as he matched the dragon's slowed velocity.

"Is everybody okay?" Gideon asked, swiveling his head to address the other four.

Karn nodded, clearly nonplussed by the interplanar travel. Sarkhan offered a confirmatory plume of smoke from his nostrils. Nixilis let out a curt chuckle to show how foolish he found Gideon's question. Saheeli, after disengaging the intertwined drakes around her head, taking in a few quick breaths, and pulling her long braid free from within the armor, gave him a mild shake of her head.

"I… believe I am fine," she answered, mumbling slightly in her daze. "Just acute disorientation, most likely a result of haptic mana interference. It should dissipate soon. This very well may mark the first instances of truly living beings passing through the Planar Bridge. When this is all done, I will need to study the effects. If my head stops spinning, that is."

Gideon smiled, emphatically nodding his approval to the group. "Good to hear. Now that we're here, though, the real mission begins, so make sure you're ready before we descend."

He was met with a chorus of understanding gestures as everyone fell silent, suddenly aware that they had simply cleared the first hurdle of many. Satisfied with this response, Gideon turned back around, finally gazing out at the plane of Amonkhet.

As expected, the Planar Bridge had dumped them in the middle of Naktamun, the once shining capital city of the plane, former home of its five gods and their countless, utterly devoted disciples. Though Gideon knew what sights to expect upon their arrival, he could not abate the reflexive mixture of anger and sorrow that leapt to his throat.

Where majestic temples and reverent pyramids once stood, now only rubble remained, the aftermath of the Gatewatch's initial defeat against Bolas and his triumvirate of malevolent gods. Where bountiful rivers once flowed, sluices of darkened sand flitted away on the breeze. Where families once lived and warriors trained, the endless ranks of the Dreadhorde filed forth towards the Bridge, mindlessly prepared to carry out their masters' bidding. The only thing that buoyed Gideon against the full depths of grief was the fact that the Hekma, the protective barrier that kept the city safe from the endless dunes and roving undead outside its limits, was still deployed.

Doing his best to tamp down these emotions, Gideon scanned the ground. His eyes passed over the uncountable Eternals, their hollow eyes catching him momentarily off guard, as he had gotten used to seeing them filled with Liliana's necromancy and Bolas' Elderspell. Moving past the dense crowd, about five hundred meters away, Gideon saw a solitary figure, standing atop an upended pyramid and gesturing back and forth to the zombies below. Though it was too far to see, he instinctually knew that he had spotted their target.

He pointed towards the figure and called over his shoulder. "I've spotted Tezzeret. He's there, past the procession."

"He appears unguarded," Karn mused. "A trap?"

"Possibly, but it's just as likely that he did not think anyone would confront him here. I've never known Tezzeret to set aside his arrogance, even for Bolas."

"It matters not," Nixilis resounded, "no trap of his can stop me."

Gideon nodded, a slight chuckle slipping past his gravely set lips. "Well said, Nixilis." Slowly, he rose to his feet, matching his shifting posture with the dragon's flight path. "Alright, our target is secured. Sarkhan, are you still good to keep the Bridge clear?"

He scoffed, which resounded like a backfiring furnace. "No magic can daunt the dragon's spirit! I will not allow a single Eternal to slip through the Bridge. They will all meet their fiery end, a fitting prelude to their master!"

Sarkhan's unhinged animism left Gideon unsure how to respond, so he simply nodded over his side, hoping it would be seen in his reptilian periphery. After this, he turned to the others, face rigidly determined.

"Alright then. Everyone else, let's get ready to jump."