Ravnica At War

by BeautifulDuwang

A retelling of the War of the Spark novel, with the tone, events, and writing quality that the story deserves. Planeswalkers are being drawn to the plane of Ravnica by a mysterious Beacon, including a fractured Gatewatch. Once there, the twisted machinations of Nicol Bolas become realized, and they must do everything they can to stop his plans from coming to fruition.

22. Chapter 22: Everlasting Torment

Chapter 22: Everlasting Torment

To Dack's surprise, he was somewhat enjoying himself. Hopping from rooftop to rooftop, nimbly ducking out and around of balconies and high-altitude gardens, streaks of noontime wind rushing through his hair and putting color on his cheeks. This was what he lived for, the freedom to do what you like, without thinking about anything but where your feet need to land. The pace was frenetic, but it brought a serenity to Dack's fraying nerves. The only thing spoiling the urban playground was the incessant chatter from his newly-minted allies. Ashiok and Davriel both understood that this was pretty much a stealth mission and kept their mouths shut, but the other two…

"You are an even bigger fool than I first thought," Nixilis bellowed to Tibalt, still hanging by his armpits in the demon's grasp. "She may have passion, but she is weak. She would fall to pieces within five seconds. His perseverance is the only choice."

"Oh, Nix, buddy," Tibalt playfully tutted, "you've got is all wrong. You ever see her in action? She never gives up, I tell you. The fire, the initiative. It's all right there, plain as day."

"You know nothing of strength, so I should not be surprised. Only you would be so blind as to the importance of invulnerability."

Tibalt let out a small hiss, as if he had been stung. "Geez, I don't know who the real torturer here is. Fine, you stubborn pile of scales, let's see what pretty boy has to say."

Dack's concentration, already wavering from the two hellish planeswalkers talking right beside him, was shattered by an ear-splitting whistle from Tibalt, accompanied by a high octave call, "Hey, Dacky!"

He turned his head just enough to put the pair into his periphery, still focusing most of his attention on his rooftop acrobatics.

"You do realize that we're trying to sneak up on the Gruul, right?" he hissed at them.

Tibalt idly waved a dismissive hand at him. "Ah, those barbarians are still too far away for us to see 'em, so I doubt they can hear us. Anyway, help me and Nixy hear settle an argument, will ya?"

"I'd rather n-" he started to protest, but it seemed that Tibalt's request was really more of an order.

"So, Dack, if you had to fuck one member of the Gatewatch, who would it be?"

"Um…" Dack opened his mouth, ready to oppose the inanity and the sentiment of their conversation, but Tibalt continued on without letting him interrupt any more.

"Y'see, there's only one viable option, and that's that fiery little redhead. I saw a glimpse of their exploits on Innistrad, and it's really no contest. She seems to be the only one of them who knows how to have a good time. That, and the torment that radiates from her is simply divine. I can just imagine the fun I could have with someone like her." Here, the devil's grin twisted into a sinister crescent, revealing his sharpened teeth.

Nixilis pushed a condescending puff of air through his nostrils. "Feeble words from a feeble man. Nalaar is petulant and weak. She would probably collapse and wither away before anything could occur. The only one of their pitiful lot with any worthwhile strength is Gideon Jura. I have sworn revenge on them all, but Jura is the only one worthy of it."

"Oh please," Tibalt rolled his eyes, "that guy looks about as fun as church service at dawn. What's the point of doing anything with someone who can't really feel it, you know what I mean?"

"You care only of pain, a puerile fascination. True pleasure lies only in conquest. With your stature, I can see why you would have no experience to understand this."

Nixilis let out a low rumbling laugh, while Tibalt held up his hands in indignance before turning back to Dack. "You see what I'm working with here, right? I just hate to see someone who won't give up, even when it's the clear choice. So, Dack, what do you say, hm? Any insight to share so this winged tar stain can finally admit defeat?"

Dack's face pulled into a grimace. He paused, taking a moment to ensure that his words would indicate just how little he wanted to be involved in this conversation. "Well, first off, I have no idea who you two are talking about. Second off, do you really think now is the best time for a discussion like that?" He quickly snapped his head back to the path ahead, hoping that would be enough of a signal to leave him out of it. Apparently, it was not.

"Well you're a lot of fun," Tibalt called back to him, tone playfully barbed. "You don't know the Gatewatch, fine. How about you tell us about where you're from? I'm sure there's plenty of ripe fruit there, and you seem like the tree-plucking type to me."

"I'd rather not," Dack firmly stated, not even turning to address Tibalt. Unfortunately, Dack's curtness only seemed to stoke Tibalt's coal-black heart.

"Ah, a touchy subject, I take it," he prodded. "What's the matter, hm? Been a long time since you've been to the well?"

"Perhaps he has never been," Nixilis added on with a guffaw.

Tibalt wagged a finger up to the demon holding him. "Ah, now that's a possibility, but our dear friend Dack here seems like the kind that gets all sorts of attention. I bet he has someone at home waiting for him to come back. Or maybe, he did."

A bolt suddenly ripped through Dack's chest, nearly causing him to lose his footing on a dew-slicked eave. Luckily, he caught himself in time, righting his balance and propelling ever forward. Up until then, it had been simple to ignore Tibalt's words. They fell from his back like drops of rain from a grass blade, but this jab was more like lightning striking at his heart.

This fucking guy, I swear… There's no way he knows about Mariel. It was just a lucky guess, that's all. Just gotta keep it cool. No way I'm giving that red-skinned bastard the satisfaction.

Keeping his face turned away from Tibalt and Nixilis, Dack started taking in slow, deep breaths to quiet his plucked nerves. He did not finish one, however, before the devilish planeswalker's voice crackled into his ears once again.

"Ah, I knew it! Lost love, is it, Dack? See there, Nixy, our new friend is holding out on us."

What was meant to be a calming breath suddenly became a choking hazard, with Tibalt's words causing his throat to seize around the bubble of air and force out a sputtering cough. He took a moment to clear his throat before addressing Tibalt, still refusing to turn and look at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said coolly, hoping that his demeanor was enough of a bluff to stymie the devil's interest. Out of the very corner of his eye, Dack saw Tibalt slowly shake his head and click his tongue.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. No sense in lying to me, mate. I could feel your reaction as soon as it happened. The torment, the anguish, mmm. Perhaps not the richest I've sampled, but satisfying nonetheless, like a stiff shot of Nephalian whiskey. She must've been someone real special to you, at least until… y'know."

Nixilis offered a derisive humph. "Pathetic. Mourning is a useless endeavor. Only the weak focus on the past, the strong look towards the future."

"Oh, don't be like that, buddy. Not all of us got a heart of pure obsidian like you. I'm sure Dack still dreams of her. Every night, probably, though I bet the features grow dimmer with each passing day. I bet you can still hear her screams, too, calling out for help that'll never come."

"That's enough!" Dack finally snapped, tearing his eyes away from the rooftops. His face contorted into a portrait of fury, and it was met by Tibalt's own look of absolute glee. "Another word out of your mouth and I'll send you right to hell. I'm sure you'll fit right in."

Dack's threat only seemed to entice Tibalt, his off-putting grin growing wider and sharper. "Now, now, Dack, no need to get so upset. Just having a bit of fun, is all. We're all allies here, aren't we?"

"I don't care," Dack bluntly stated. "I agreed to help because Ashiok said they needed me. As far as I'm concerned, I could wipe you from existence and we'd be better off for it."

Tibalt lowered his gaze slightly, his face now bearing a dubious glower. "I very much doubt any pain you could inflict would register to me."

Nixilis laughed. "You two scrawny specimens attempting to fight to the death? Now that would be entertaining."

"Ah," Tibalt continued, ignoring his compatriot's insult, "but you are a feisty one, Dack. I love the reactions, the sheer passion of it. I'm sure that's what your little tart back home used to love about you, too."

Dack snapped. Rage began to boil over as he stared into the taunting crimson face of his tormentor. All his focus zoomed to Tibalt and just what artifact Dack should summon up to deal the most damage to the smug pest.

"You little, fucking…"

With his mind clouded over, Dack did not have time to register that the rooftop he was striding over was quickly ending. He took one step as he started his insult, only to be cut off as his foot swept through the open air and the rest of his body followed quickly behind.

Oh shit!

The anger clouding Dack's mind vanished, and his roguish instincts instantly took over as he began plummeting to the alleyway below. Without hesitation, his eyes flared to life with swirling gray magic, and his shoes quickly followed suite. The mana solidified around his feet, stretching and growing until his practical brown slippers were replaced with silver, winged sandals. Once his new footwear fully materialized, Dack sent a swift kick back against the building's side. His momentum instantly changed, and he rocketed back up through the mouth of the alley on rapidly fluttering feet. As soon as he was above the rooftops once more, he let the sandals disappear, landing on the shingled surface with light thud. There to greet him were Tibalt and Nixilis, both in the throes of laughter.

"Ha ha, I thought you did not know how to fly," boomed Nixilis. "Once you fell, I assumed we would be peeling you from the streets."

Tibalt flicked just under his eyes in a mock gesture of wiping away tears of mirth. "Ah, that would have been something! I haven't done much research in falling damage, you could've been an excellent test subject, Dack. Oh well, I'll settle for that moment of fear when you realized your foot missed the roof. You're a regular font of anguish and I am loving it."

"Would you two just shut up already!?" Dack tersely asked. "Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? I can see you're practically getting off on torturing me, what the fuck did I do?"

The pair's laughter died down, and Tibalt held up his hands to Dack. "Oh, come now, Dack, no need to be like that. It's all in good fun."

"Fun for who, exactly?" Dack quickly retorted.

Tibalt's grin twitched up. "Why, fun for me, of course. There's nothing better than inflicting a bit of suffering. If I had my way, I would've said all those things while you were strapped to a table with your organs getting some much-needed fresh air, but I make do with what I have. We are allies, after all. We're all on the same team."

Dack could feel his temper rising, Tibalt's evil words burrowing under his skin and stoking the furnace of his emotions. It took a fair amount of control for Dack to keep his voice level. "I am not your ally, and I am not on your team. You and I couldn't be further from that, and you'd do well to keep that in mind."

"Don't prod him too harshly, imp," Nixilis sarcastically warned, "he might be an even match for you. Like two starving children fighting for the last slice of bread."

Tibalt looked up to give Nixilis a playful wink. "You don't have to worry about me, Nixy. I know I could take him, but there's no need for that right now." The devil turned back to Dack, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You may not see it, Dack, but we are on the same side, and closer than you may think. You're just like the rest of us, helping out because you want to go home and leave all these poor fools behind. That, and fighting against these Gruul fellows poses no true risk. We're more alike than you may care to admit, friend."

At that moment, Dack's blood reached its boiling point. His face felt flushed, and he had not noticed how tightly his teeth were clenched. He was normally a laid-back guy, ready to simply go with the flow, but there was something about this red-skinned instigator that pushed his buttons harder than he had ever thought possible. Suddenly, Dack's eyes alit with magic, his fists balled, and he started advancing on Tibalt. He had several weapons stored away in his psychometric archives, any of which would suit his needs perfectly. He did not get a chance, however, as his second step forward was interrupted by a familiar rasp.

Are you all quite finished?

Ashiok's voice pierced through their minds simultaneously, the psychic projection bringing their confrontation to an end. Dack's emotions shifted from anger to discomfort, as Ashiok's presence in his mind made it feel as though a colony of ants were crawling through the wrinkles of his brain. This was not helped by the addition of Tibalt's own voice in response.

Ah, come on, Ashy. Why do you have to spoil all the fun? Though Tibalt's thoughts carried his usual snide intonation, the grin had practically flipped on his face in disappointment.

I thought I told you to stay out of my head, Dack hostilely added.

You'll forgive me, Ashiok readily responded, but this is the easiest way to communicate in our present situation. It's a minor telepathic projection, with no intrusion into your thoughts. As you'll recall, I have more important things to worry about than your paltry fears, Dack.

Dack could not argue against Ashiok's response, but he still felt uneasy having the dream render anywhere close to his thoughts. His did his best to push against his reservations and take Ashiok at their word.

Ok, he answered, so why are you talking to us now?

Nixilis spoke up after Dack. I would like to know that as well. There had better be a good reason for you to taint my mind with your presence, dream-mage.

Though Ashiok was out of sight, Dack could almost feel the smirk appearing on their face. Oh, there most certainly is. Whilst I was listening to your… enlightening conversation, Davriel spotted some unusual activity in the streets ahead. I suggest you all hurry to our position.

Dack recoiled as Ashiok clipped the telepathic link, which was accompanied by a tingling sensation, like someone had snapped their belt at the base of his skull. He reached a hand up to the back of his head, fingers gingerly brushing over his injury from earlier. A sigh fell from his lips, and the pain steadily receded. Once it was gone, he looked back to Tibalt and Nixilis, still hovering in the air before him. Ashiok had thoroughly dissolved the tension between them, but it was not enough to completely pacify Dack. His hard stare was returned by Tibalt's own fiendishly wry one, but the wickedness in his smile was no longer in full force.

"Well," the devil began, "you heard the abomination. We'd better head over and see what those Gruul have cooked up for us." Tibalt turned his gaze up to Nixilis. "C'mon, big guy, let's get a move on."

"Did you just give me an order?" Nixilis growled, to which Tibalt merely shook his head and let out a low chuckle.

"No, Nixy, it was just a suggestion. You fly at whatever pace that lump of coal between your ears thinks is best."

Nixilis heaved a mighty sigh. "It would be so much easier to simply throw you the rest of the way, were you not so frail."

Without another word, Nixilis beat his wings and pushed off from his position, bolting across the buildings at a breakneck pace. Dack quickly followed them, employing his acrobatic acumen to leap over the rooftops at a quick clip. While he strode to catch up, Dack's mind could not help but wander to what Tibalt said just a minute before.

What a load of crap. We're nothing alike. I mean, yeah, I didn't really want to help out here, but that just comes with the planeswalker territory. Not every fight is mine. And yet here I am, helping out because they need me. Fuck Tibalt. He's just trying to get a rise out of me. Can't believe I actually gave him what he fucking wanted. Once this is over, I can't wait to never see any of these assholes again.

It was not long before the shadowy figures of Davriel and Ashiok became visible. They were crouched beneath the raised wall of a rooftop several houses down, with Ashiok now peering just over its edge. The roof was occupied by multiple clotheslines, each filled with damp garments left to dry. While Davriel and Ashiok had taken care to avoid them, Dack saw Nixilis fly straight through the lines, their meager tensile strength no match for his jagged carapace. He and Tibalt landed just short of the others, after which they joined them in their hunched position. Dack was the last to arrive, carefully stepping around the scattered linens that now littered their perch before settling in with them.

"Ok," Dack whispered, "so what are we looking at here, exactly?"

Davriel turned his masked face to him. "They can't hear us up here, you know."

Dack pursed his lips in annoyance at the smarmy comment, but he elected to simply clear his throat and ignore it. "Alright then," he said in his usual register, "Ashiok said you spotted something in the streets. Did we finally catch up to Domri and his brood?"

"It does not appear so," Ashiok hissed, voice tinged with disappointment. "There are Gruul, but I could not see Domri among their ranks this time. It seems they have split their forces. Though feel free to look for yourself, Dack. Perhaps I missed something that your eyes may yet see."

"Doesn't take too much to have better eyes than you, Ashy," Tibalt chided, which elicited a snicker from Nixilis. Dack saw Ashiok's thin mouth twitch, but they also elected to stay quiet in the face of the pest.

While the others stayed back on the roof, Dack waddled into a position where he could peer over the uneven brickwork. The street came into view, looking roughly the same as where he had first encountered the Gruul, save for the lack of blood and bodies strewn about. Instead, its only denizens were a small group of people in its center. From this distance, Dack could not make out many details, but the fact that there were two horned beasts standing nearby made him certain that these were members of the Gruul clan.

I wonder why they separated from the main pack, Dack silently pondered. Maybe their trying to tear up the street stone by stone, like Domri said…

Summoning his psychometric abilities, Dack cupped both of his hands and held them before his right eye, one after the other. A shimmering lens of sorcery appeared at either end of his hands, amplifying his sight and allowing him to see just what was happening below.

As the small detachment came into focus, he counted five Gruul barbarians among them, easily distinguished by their scant clothing and filthy faces. Two were perched on the riding beasts, which Dack now identified from his previous encounter as kronches, while the others stood in the streets. This did not strike Dack as particularly strange, but what did were the figures accompanying the Gruul. Besides the barbarians, Dack counted ten or so figures that he did not recognize from his former trips to Ravnica. They appeared almost skeletal, with sunken features and gaunt figures, but they were blue and covered with unfamiliar ornaments.

Those don't look like Golgari zombies, but then whose zombies are they? I guess those sewer freaks could've updated their necromancy since my last visit. It looks like their working with the Gruul, so it's not too far-fetched. Why are they all just standing around in a circle in the middle of the street? What are they…?

Dack's question was not fully formed in his mind before he got an answer. The odd assortment of Gruul and undead were not moving much initially, but he watched one of the Gruul step into the circle with her club drawn. This gap gave Dack a view to the center, where he saw the barbarian's club swing across the face of a hulking figure kneeling before her. This one was perhaps the strangest one among the crowd, his stocky build topped by the massive head of a bull. Though the bovine features were slightly obscured by a litany of blood and bruises, he seemed to emit an orange glow from his flaring nostrils and frothing mouth. His arms were bound to his side by chains that wrapped around his torso and led back to the hands of two zombies on opposite sides of the perimeter. The chains, along with the cobbles just around the minotaur, carried a thin veneer of blood.

After the first club swing cracked across the minotaur's jaw, Dack saw him spit directly into his captor's face, adding a fresh splotch of red to her already smeared war paint. This seemed to raise her ire, and she reared back the club for another swing. Before she dealt another blow, Dack disengaged his spyglass and turned to the others.

"It's not just the Gruul down there," Dack reported.

Davriel responded in a listless half-yawn. "Yes, we've already seen that. There are also some zombies among them. They're not Ravnican, but none of us could place what plane they may have come from. Do you know that, perchance?"

Dack's shoulders slumped in resignation. "No, I've never seen that kind of garb or weaponry before. Doesn't matter, that's not what I'm talking about. I meant that they have a prisoner."

Ashiok tilted their head to Dack, their interest clearly piqued. "Oh, I had not seen what they were gathered around, but I am not surprised. Did you see what manner of prisoner it is?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "looks like a minotaur. Big guy, probably taller than any of them if he wasn't on his knees. Also, I'm pretty sure that he's another planeswalker."

"And how can you be so certain, flea?" Nixilis grumbled dubiously.

Dack once more opted to ignore the insult lobbed at him, focusing on the task at hand, though not without a slight contortion of his features. "Well, minotaurs are a common race on Ravnica, but they tend to work either for the Gruul or for the Boros, the military. His armor and weaponry don't match Boros, and there'd be no reason for the Gruul to stop and torture one of their own. It's just a hunch, but it makes sense."

The group nodded along as Dack explained, either content to accept his thought process or unknowledgeable enough to not question it. As he concluded, however, he saw Tibalt's face adopt a skeptical glower.

"You sure they're torturin' him down there?" he pointedly asked. Dack had somewhat expected Tibalt to latch onto this idea, but the devil's tone was less enthusiastic and more doubtful.

"Yeah," Dack affirmed, "saw it myself. The minotaur's chained up on the ground, and he looked pretty worked over. I even saw one of the Gruul hit him square in the jaw."

Tibalt's lips curled in dissatisfaction. "Well, whatever they're doing down there, they're doing a piss-poor job of it. I'm barely sensing any pain or suffering from anyone down there. Certainly nothing like when we found you. So, either this minotaur is a tough customer, those Gruul have lost their touch, or you're mistaken."

Dack empathically gestured over the wall with his thumb. "Go check for yourself if you don't believe me. I know what I saw, and I saw a chained-up minotaur get clubbed in the face."

"It matters not," Ashiok interjected, raising their hands to both Dack and Tibalt. "Now we know for certain that Domri is not down there. We should continue on our path. We don't need him getting any further away than he already has."

Davriel heaved a sigh. "Agreed, though I loathe the prospect of jumping across rooftops for much longer."

Tibalt and Nixilis both nodded their agreement, and the planeswalkers moved to stand back up, readying whatever spells they were using before to traverse the buildings. While the others were preparing, all Dack could do was stare up at them, silent and slack-jawed. It took him several seconds to compose himself, but eventually he regained his voice.

"What are you all doing?" he resentfully asked the group.

Davriel answered without turning to face Dack. "Did you not hear? We're getting ready to move on. I'd suggest you do the same. I have no desire to wait for you to catch up again."

Dack waved his hand towards the rooftop's overhang. "Wait, but what about the guy down there?"

"What about him?" muttered Nixilis, clearly more preoccupied with flexing out his wings than responding to Dack's questions.

"Aren't we going to, you know, help him? You all saved me when I was in the same spot. Shouldn't we do the same for him?"

Ashiok quickly responded, their hoarse voice adopting a tone of cold finality. "We haven't the time to waste on such matters. We must find Domri and procure the location of the Immortal Sun as soon as we can. If Domri is not here, we should keep moving."

Dack could not believe what he was hearing. His face balked, eyes practically popping from their sockets in indignant surprise. The anger he had felt earlier started to rise in his belly again, this time channeling itself into a contentious stance and intonation.

"So, what, we just leave him to die here at the hands of those savages?" he seethed, taking particular effort to keep his voice lower than the shout his words deserved.

"Precisely," Davriel coolly, still refusing to turn his head.

An exacerbated stutter forced its way from Dack's throat, a purely reflexive sound that pushed past the utter bewilderment seizing him. It stalled his words, which only served to rachet up their animus.

"What the fuck is wrong with all of you? We can't just leave him to die!"

Though Dack's tone was starting to fray, he still felt that his sentiment was obvious and right. The looks that he received back, ranging from disinterest to contempt, instantly and violently conflicted with how Dack thought they should have reacted. There was a moment of silence, with all attention on Dack's outburst, that was eventually clipped by Ashiok.

"Dack, do you know this minotaur?"

His brain skipped a beat, caught off guard by Ashiok's odd question. Dack shook his head, his motions coming quicker than his words. "No," he answered with a hint of confusion, "I've never seen them before."

Ashiok cupped their chin in one hand, needlelike fingernails delicately drumming against their ashen skin. "Then do you know anything about them? Their abilities?"

Again, Dack shook his head. "No, but…"

"Then there is no reason for us to waste our precious time rescuing them. It is an unnecessary risk that we cannot take."

"Hold on a second," Dack shot back, desperation started to creep into his voice. "He could still be useful, right? We don't know what we'll be facing, maybe he can help."

This time, it was Tibalt that answered. "Help with what? This minotaur of yours isn't gonna do anything that'll help us."

"And how would you know?" Dack spat. "You said yourself that they may be tough enough to withstand whatever's going on down there. That could help us."

"Doesn't matter how tough he is, Dacky, he still managed to get caught by just a bunch of Gruul lackeys. That's not the mark of someone we need helping us. If anything, I should send a few devils down there and just finish the poor guy off myself."

"Enough," Ashiok declared, raising a hand in Tibalt's direction while keeping their face turned to Dack. Tibalt fell silent, but not before lobbing a roll of his eyes at Ashiok, a gesture that went completely unnoticed.

"Planeswalker or not, strong or not, that minotaur down there is none of our concern. Do not misunderstand our mission here, Dack. Everything that we do now must actively work towards freeing us from this plane. It is why we all decided to work together, despite our misgivings, and it is the only reason that we saved you. If you think this is the first captive of the Gruul that we are leaving behind, then you are gravely mistaken. We're not here to play heroes, especially when there is even a miniscule chance that it puts our goal further out of reach. You may think it callous, but it is merely pragmatic. If you truly wish to focus on helping, then think of all the planeswalkers that will be safe once the Immortal Sun is deactivated. You cannot save a single life if it puts countless others at risk. So, let us continue our search for Domri Rade and bring this entire ordeal to a swift conclusion."

Once Ashiok finished, they turned away from Dack without waiting for a response. The others stood silently, hanging on Ashiok's words and curious to see what would become of them. Dack took a few moments to think, processing every syllable and sentiment Ashiok had presented, before he stood up like the rest of them, a look of defeat playing across his face.

He saw smiles materialize on Tibalt and Nixilis's faces, and even Davriel seemed to show an inkling of interest in his motion. Ashiok was now preoccupied with summoning their nightmare mount, but their focus was interrupted when Dack decided to speak.

"Alright, you win. I'll get moving, but can you just clarify one thing?"
The dark plumes ceased their flow from Ashiok's fingernails, and they turned their attention back to Dack. "Very well, but let's be quick with it."

Dack gave a brief, understanding nod. "Don't worry, this should be a fast one. You said that we can't save that guy down there because we don't know if we could use him for this mission of yours, right?"

"Indeed," Ashiok responded, a hint of dubiousness lingering on their words.

Dack moved his hand onto the bottom half of his face, a gloved finger lightly tapping against his upper lip. "And you did save me because you need me for the mission?"

They tilted their head, stopping short of an affirmation. "Yes, that's also correct. Again, I ask you to look beyond the seeming insensitivity of the decision. All we want is to get off this plane, and it is not prudent to belabor our time here with needless distractions."

Dack's finger ceased tapping, and from beneath his hand, the corners of his mouth crept up the sides of his face. "That's all I needed to hear."

With his eyes trained firmly on Ashiok's minimal features, Dack stuffed his hands in his pockets and offered a small shrug to the group. Then, Dack turned his back to the group, took a few steps towards the edge of the roof, and vaulted over.

The cries of outrage and disbelief that overtook the rooftop quickly vanished from Dack's ears, carried away by the wind surging around his descent. He most likely would not have heard any of their words regardless, as his total concentration was on the street below that started ballooning in his field of vision. With his mind blank, Dack let his instincts fully take hold, just as he had done on countless heists before. His eyes closed for a moment, he took a brief breath in through his nostrils, and let his magic begin to pulse through his body. His eyes shot open, glowing with steely energy, and his feet were once again encased by a pair of silver-winged sandals. He hazarded a quick scan around his target, absorbing the dimensions of the street, and mere feet from the ground, he launched off the building's side with a powerful kick.

The wind currents cut like razors across Dack's face as he rocketed towards the Gruul gathering. He had chosen the sandals because of their incredible speed, but they offered him little steering control. Luckily, he trusted his ability to gauge the proper trajectory at a glance, and even in such a chaotic environment, his aim was true. In less than a second, Dack was beginning his descent, poised to land in the center of their circle. With little time before the impact, Dack reared back his arm and opened his palm. A crackling ball of energy appeared in his hand, filling the air around him with a distorted whine. This seemed to get the Gruul's attention, their eyes and weapons shifting upward. Their reactions were too slow, however, as their upturned gaze let them see only the moment when Dack hurled the Static Orb to the street below.

The small sphere landed between the minotaur and the circle's edge. Its impact let out a muted tink of stone on metal, swiftly followed by a crackling eruption that seemed to warp all sound around it. An ethereal shockwave bowed from the orb, sweeping over the Gruul, zombies, and minotaur before spreading out to the barriers of the alleyway. Dack watched on his way down as the movements on the ground gradually slowed to a grinding halt, a contented smile on his face contrasting with the twisted confusion on the Gruuls'.

I knew that thing would've worked on them. Sorry about the slowdown, big guy, but I needed a way to get you out without getting dogpiled.

The internal apology brought his face back to its even state, just in time for his landing. As the ground grew ever closer, Dack deactivated his sandals and landed solidly on his feet just beside the Static Orb. The tingling sensation of the Orb's dampening still made his shudder, the temporal electricity forcing his hair to stand uneasily on end.

"Gods, I hate this thing," he muttered under his breath as he tried to quickly stretch out some lingering discomfort. It did not completely disappear, but it was alleviated enough that Dack could ignore it and move on to freeing the captive.

He quickly moved over to where the minotaur kneeled, its face now frozen in a confused skyward gaze. Now that he was up close, Dack could see the extent of the damage done by the Gruul. The minotaur's face was covered in brown fur that was now matted by dried blood and disrupted by all manner of cuts and bumps. There was a rather large wound between his horns that had bathed his head in a crimson pattern like a melting candle. His armor and weapons, which appeared to be two iron hammers holstered around his waist, also looked particularly banged up, a thick layer of wear and tear telling Dack that they had seen quite the battle today. As Dack observed an individual whose fate was much worse than his own, his emotions fluctuated between sympathy and relief.

If I didn't have someone save me, I'd probably be about the same, maybe worse by now. Can't believe those assholes are gonna keep going…

Dack did his best to forget about what Ashiok and the others had said, focusing his attention on liberating the injured prisoner. His eyes wandered from his armor to the chains that were wrapped tightly around his torso, pinning his arms down, fingers just centimeters away from his weapons. The chain looked old and weathered, but Dack could tell that it was still sturdy enough to give anyone trouble. Its rough surface was nearly black, as if it were in constant use in the vicinity of high heat and hard labor. Breaking up the marked surface were splotches of what looked like blood, though most of it was browner than Dack was accustomed to seeing.

I shouldn't be surprised, I guess. Whatever, I just gotta get this chain off and get him the hell out of here before the Static Orb spell wears off.

He took a few more seconds to inspect the chain, weighing it in his hand and running his gloved fingers over its rough surface. Once he removed himself, he quickly retreated into his mind, searching for an artifact that would quickly and cleanly break through the solid links.

"Nothing too big," he mumbled to himself, eyes nearly glazed over in mental concentration, "don't want take us out along with the chain. Don't want to deal with shrapnel, so no explosives. Single target application, works fast, not too messy. Oh, yeah, that'll work."

Blinking his vision back into focus, Dack raised a hand in front of him and let his psychometry flow into his palm. Slowly, the glowing image of a sun-shaped locket appeared in his hand, its center undulating with smoky white mana held in place by a bronze stopper. It was a simple disruption spell imbued onto an etherium capsule. Dack had picked up during a trip to Esper, perfect for destroying inanimate evidence of his thefts. He had no doubt that it would dissolve the restraints in no time at all, leaving plenty of leeway for their escape.

"Alright, here goes," Dack announced as he positioned his hand over one of the chains. He uncorked the capsule, ready for the effervescent magic to spill from his palm onto the well-worn metal. Before it started to flow, however, Dack's peripheral vision caught something moving just behind him. He turned around, expecting to see nothing more than the shadows of crows passing by overhead, but instead he saw the glint of a blade's edge bearing down on his head.

"Oh fuck!"

His body moving faster than his mind, Dack instinctively stepped out of the sword's path. It clattered against the chain, the sound of reverberating metal distorting under the influence of the Orb. The capsule in Dack's hand evaporated, his concentration severed momentarily as he tried to keep his balance.

"What the fuck was that?" Dack reflexively yelled out as his feet found solid ground. Looking up in bewilderment, he saw the source of the attack, standing plain as day before him. He had been so focused on his task of dismantling the minotaur's chains, he had not noticed that his original snare was not working as expected. While the Gruul and their captive were still frozen in place, the zombies were slowly, but surely, closing in on him.

I don't understand, Dack pondered, brow creasing with confusion. The Static Orb's magic should be sapping the energy of everything it touched. Do these things have some sort of immunity?

He did not have time to think on this further, as he felt his back knock against something solid. His focus growing increasingly scattered, Dack's errant step away from one zombie's blade put him directly within reach of another. He looked up briefly and saw the skeletal façade of the zombie bearing down on him, its arms spread wide and its empty sockets coating him in eerie magenta light. With his back against its chest, the zombie closed its arms, ready to envelop, and most likely crush him.

Thinking as quick as he could, Dack swept his own feet from under him. His legs went through the zombie's own, letting his braced palms hit the ground directly in front of the zombie's feet. As the creature closed its arms around empty air, Dack pushed off with his hands and propelled himself through the zombie's spread posture. Once his feet hit cobblestone again, Dack vaulted himself up to a standing position, clear of the second zombie but far from safety.

He took a moment to catch his breath and gather his wits after the quick succession of attacks, which afforded him a brief glimpse at his surroundings. All around him, the ten or so zombies he had seen earlier were advancing on him at a trudging, steady pace, save the ones holding tight to the minotaur's restraints. The Static Orb seemed to be affecting them somewhat, their motions coming off as slow and laborious, but it was a far cry from the total stoppage Dack expected.

Fuck, I was not prepared for this, he internally berated. Ok, no big deal. These things are still slowed down. Those first attacks were only close because I wasn't expecting them. I just need to slip out of here and go g-

Suddenly, Dack noticed a sound coming from both behind and above him. Though it was warped by the time field, he instantly knew that some manner of projectile was hurtling towards him, and it was coming fast. A panic gripped his innards, forcing his mind to go forward with the first strategy he could imagine. His eyes lit up, and the luminous outline of a helmet materialized around Dack's head. In a flash, his head was encased in glittering bronze. The magic forged into a falcon-like helm, complete with a curved faceguard and topped with a waving crest. With his head now protected, Dack readied to leap to the side, out of the path of the projectile and, ideally, away from the assailants altogether. Unfortunately, his anxious state had left him vulnerable, and his reactionary movement was too slow for this attack.

Dack's thoughts of escape stopped short. All his thoughts stopped short, in fact, as they were replaced with a sudden, explosive reverberation erupting from the back of his head. His senses were overcome by minute shockwaves of pain from the point of impact, each one accompanied by a vomitous ringing. He felt his mind start to drown, threatening to plunge into an inky unconsciousness. The helmet instantly evaporated, leaving him to clutch his head in a desperate ploy for stability. He fought against it as much he could, trying to keep his mind occupied. His original plan finally made its way through his mental faculties, and he moved away from where he had just been hit. He staggered a few steps, posture dangerously wobbling, and looked behind him.

Standing several meters away, he saw a zombie staring back at him, its reddened eyes piercing into his own, slowly blurring vision. It wielded a thin rod with chains attached at either end, which were then topped by what looked like spiked metal spheres. He thought he saw the zombie reeling the chain in for another attack, but everything in his vision was beginning to smear into a mass of abstract colors.

Fuck… not again… can't… gotta… keep…shit…

Gritting his teeth and forcibly clenching every muscle his scrambling brain could find, Dack slowly straightened his posture. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and tried to focus simply on the hectic pace of his own heartbeat. He knew he could not stand here for long, but he knew he wouldn't get far just by forcing his body to move when it was not ready. After what felt like a few seconds, the incessant ringing died down across his skull, and Dack could feel his regular thought pattern returning.

Ok, that's good. Now I just gotta get out of here as fast as I fucking can.

As Dack opened his eyes, ready to summon his winged sandals for an airborne escape, he came face-to-face with a sight that instantaneously drained the color from his face. He had no time to react before a zombie, that had somehow appeared by his side, grabbed him around the waist. Its strength squeezed against his torso, forcing the air from his lungs and digging his belt buckle into his stomach hard enough to draw blood. He gasped for air, struggling against the vicelike grip, as he looked on with hysterical confusion.

How the fuck did this thing get here so fast!? It wasn't anywhere… near…

Though he eventually found a suitable, if shallow, breathing rhythm, it was not enough to stymie the dismal realization that struck Dack as he surveyed the alley. It seemed that his summoned helmet was not the only spell that was disrupted by the blow to the head. All around him, the Gruul were stirring once again. They shook their bodies furiously, no doubt trying to remove the leftover sensation of their energy-deprived state, and they were beginning to advance on him in discordant unison with their undead acquaintances.

Seized by the direness of the situation, Dack pulled as hard as he could to remove himself from the zombie's crushing grasp. Though he pulled with all his might, Dack could not escape. The zombie's physical strength was far greater than anticipated, and the metallic shell made it nearly impossible for Dack to find a proper handhold. After several seconds of failed attempts, he slumped back to his feet. The other zombies were getting close, and the Gruul not far behind. The zombie wielding the chained ball was nearly upon him, swinging its weapon with menace.

Ok, shit. Gotta focus now. I panicked last time this happened, but not this time. So, what can I use to get out of this? The Fleetfeather Sandals might work again, though I'd rather not tear up my coat on this thing's bangles if I can avoid it. The Avacynian Torch wards off the undead, maybe it'll work here. Or perhaps…

He knew he had to decide, to pick an artifact that could free him and get him out of here. It should have been simple, but even now, he felt a remorseful pang in his chest at the prospect of abandoning the chained-up minotaur. It was the only think that gave him pause, and though he knew it was risky, he felt compelled to consider all options.

As Dack contemplated the various escape tool he had available, he watched the consistent advance of the other zombies. The ebbing shadow of the ball and chain now flickered before his face, eclipsing the sun every few moments and dampening Dack's ability to concentrate.

C'mon, there's gotta be a way I can still free this guy. Think!

He wracked his brain, flipping through every enchanted gem and mystic dagger he had laid his hands on, looking for the perfect option. The rhythmic swing of the ball and chain now set the pace of his indexing as it grew closer and closer. He could practically feel the wind coming off the rusted surface. His choices were narrowing, but not fast enough.

Suddenly, the sun's light completely left Dack, temporarily covering him in shadow. The wind picked up, pushing from above in steady beats. He had not truly been paying attention to his surroundings since his focus turned to escape, but these changes were enough to rouse him back to the outside world. He craned his neck up in bafflement, just in time to see Ob Nixilis baring down on him, claws readied.

Before Dack could properly react, Nixilis swooped in and attacked the zombie that was holding him. His ebony claws dug into its head, a teeth-rattling crack coming from the splintering shell. Without stopping his aerial momentum, Nixilis passed over Dack, ripping the zombie's head clean off its shoulders with a twisted yank. The zombie's grip instantly loosened, letting a welcome rush of air into Dack's grateful lungs.

He did not even take a second breath before he heard another projectile coming from behind. Dack instinctively ducked, but the projectile passed cleanly over his head. This gave Dack a clear view as the decapitated head blasted through the chest cavity of the ball-and-chain-wielding zombie in front of him. A spray of brown viscera followed the impact, filling the air with a pungent waft of death. The blown-out zombie collapsed to the ground with a wet thud, revealing Ashiok standing behind it, a thick layer of rotten blood coating them and the thrown skull clutched in one hand.

"Watch where you're throwing," they called out to Nixilis, idly tossing the head aside like a used food wrapper. "It won't do us any good if you just blindly kill everyone."

"What do I care about good?" came the growling response, followed by a guttural laugh as Nixilis halted his wings and landed, sending tremors across the street. Ashiok's lip curled in annoyance at the flippant response, but it soon disappeared as they prepared to return to their attack.

While the crushing weight across his waist slowly eased, Dack took another moment to survey the alley. He was met with a very different sight than what he beheld just a moment before. A new form of chaos had disseminated through the ranks, brought by the timely arrival of Dack's now two-time saviors. Behind him, Dack could hear the vigorous crunching of Nixilis' attacks. Off to the side, he saw a detachment of miniature devils cover one of the Gruul, clawing and biting at every spot of exposed skin, while Tibalt engaged another, juggling a curved dagger in one hand. Davriel was nearby, sending blasts of necrotic energy towards anyone bold enough to approach him. Finally, Dack watched Ashiok, standing just before him, as they sent their tentacled nightmare to attack one of the zombies. It wrapped its appendages around the creature's arms, legs, neck, and torso, then dismembered it with a single flourishing jerk.

Once the zombie was dealt with, Ashiok turned back to Dack while wicking as much of the fetid gore from their robes as they could.

"Are you waiting for something?" they rasped over the din of battle. "Go on and get that damned minotaur free so we can continue on our mission."

Dack offered a wry smile. "Aw, didn't know you cared that much. I could have gotten out of that myself, you know."

"Then you should have done so when you had the chance. Now hurry up, we can only waste so much time rescuing you before we need to cut our losses."

Dack's smile evaporated at the callous words, just another cold reminder of what his place in all this was. He tried to shake off the malaise and focus on what he had jumped off that building for. Turning quickly back to the center of the circle, Dack rushed to where the minotaur now lay. The chains were no longer held taut in the air, as the zombies holding the restraints had since met both Nixilis and Davriel. It seemed that he was still reeling from the Static Orb. Though the shallow rising and falling of his chest showed a clear indicator of his breathing, the minotaur's snout was pressed to the bricks, the limp chains were still wrapped around him, and the orange glow Dack observed had now dimmed.

Oh gods, Dack mentally groaned as he approached, maybe he's not that tough a guy if one hit from the Orb knocked him out like this. He should have already regained his energy now that it's gone. Ah well…

Dack rolled his neck and knelt down, ready to unravel the chains. The noise of the surrounding melee made it difficult for Dack to focus on the task and resummon his Dispeller's Capsule. Fortunately for him, as he ran his hands down the length of the chain to inspect it, he found that it only wrapped around the minotaur's body a single time. Dack began reeling in the links that had been dropped and began feeding them under and around the minotaur's hulking frame. Lifting the body took much more effort than Dack expected, and he nearly dropped him when a rush of air, accompanied by a mangled scream, passed directly overhead. Dack managed to keenly ignore the distractions, and it was not long before the entire length of the chain clattered to the ground beside the incapacitated planeswalker.

With the fetters removed, Dack sat back on his haunches and contemplated the best way to wake the minotaur up. Most of his toolkit was more concerned with knocking people out, not the other way around. He briefly considered asking Tibalt to restimulate the body, as he had done for Dack, but the sense memory of his burning lungs was more than enough to dissuade him. He became so lost in thought, trying to formulate an amenable solution, that he nearly fell to the ground when the body started stirring on its own.

First came a loud, angry snort. Then, the minotaur placed his hands against the ground and pushed up, trying to get onto his feet. Upon seeing this effort, Dack immediately jumped in, tucking his shoulder beneath the minotaur's armpit and pushing up with all his strength.

"Alright, big guy," Dack spoke through grit teeth as he helped lift the planeswalker to his feet, "don't strain too much. I got you."

Another loud exhalation erupted from the minotaur's snout, and suddenly Dack felt the crushing weight of the minotaur's body leave his shoulders. He stumbled back from the unexpected reprieve, just in time to see the stranger rise to his feet. As the minotaur cracked his neck and stretched his undoubtedly sore limbs, Dack took a moment to brush the dirt from his pants.

"Well, there we go," Dack exhaled, making a mental note to include more strength training in his daily regimen. "Hope they didn't rough you up too bad. I'm Dack Fayden, of Fiora."

The minotaur ceased his stretching and met Dack's gaze. Even through the dried blood that caked his fur, Dack could see a silent fury just behind his eyes.

"I am Angrath," he plainly said. His voice was deep, similar to Nixilis', but with the demonic sadism replaced with a reticent weariness. "I am grateful that you came down here."

Dack offered Angrath a warm smile. "Think nothing of it. I've been where you are not too long ago, so I figured you could use the help. Me and my… associates couldn't just leave you like that. Though, we should probably get going. We don't want more of these ugly bastards to show up."

Dack turned away from Angrath to get a quick survey of the street. Pandemonium was in full swing, with his allies still mincing through what remained of the zombies and barbarians. There was a clear path carved out, presumably where they had arrived from, so Dack pointed with his thumb in that direction.

"We can go through there. We've been travelling on the rooftops, so we'll have to figure out a way to get you up there, but that shouldn't be too big of an issue. Ashiok's probably got something you can use, though you'll want to watch yourself around them."

"Go…with you?" Angrath rumbled.

Dack's gaze returned to the minotaur, who stood still at his prompting. Interpreting this as a show of doubt, Dack held his hands up in what he hoped would be a friendly gesture. "Yeah, we can't stick around here too long. You're a planeswalker, right?"

If Angrath was surprised by Dack's bold assumption, he did not show it. He merely gave a small nod. "Indeed."

"Right, so I'm sure you noticed that we're stuck on this plane at the moment."

This time, Angrath's countenance shifted. It was subtle, and someone who was not adept at reading people would have likely missed it, but Dack saw the quick flash of unbridled rage that raced across his bovine features. It nearly made Dack jump, but he managed to stay composed.

"Yes," Angrath responded, voice showing no sign of his silent outburst, "I have noticed this too. I was ripped from my home, and now I am stranded here."

"Yeah, same for all of us." Dack broadly motioned to the others behind him, unsure if any of them were even in view. "I'm sure you want to get out of here and get back to your life, right? Well, come with us and we can help you out."

With another quick smile, Dack spun around and took an optimistic step towards their escape route. Based on the anger that he saw on Angrath's face at the mere mention of their imprisonment, he figured the minotaur would readily follow him. When he did not hear any footsteps accompanying his own, Dack paused and turned back around.

Angrath was still in the same spot, but he was now crouching, nose pointing to the ground. Dack looked on, confused, as he saw Angrath pick up the discarded chain in which he had been snared. As he rose, Angrath slowly wound one end of the chain around his wrist and, once it was fastened, grabbed the chain as if it were the hilt of a sword.

"Um, Angrath," Dack tentatively spoke up, hesitant to interrupt his bizarre actions, "we really should head out as soon as we can."

Angrath did not look to Dack, his eyes trained on his fist that wrapped tightly around the chain. Dack opened his mouth to say more, but he fell silent when he saw Angrath's hand start to glow with an intense orange light. Slowly, the energy in his fist spread up the length of the chain, transforming it from a dull grey to a smoldering umber. Even more intense than the color shift were the waves of heat radiating from it all. They hit Dack almost immediately, and he winced at the mild burning sensation that danced across his exposed face.

I guess he wants to fight, Dack contemplated in the face of this powerful display. I can appreciate that, but we've already got these covered, and I don't want to stick around and give the Gruul any more chances to get us.

With an imperceptible nod to himself, Dack took another step towards Angrath and reached out a hand. "Hey, I get that you want to make these assholes pay, but now's not really th-"

"What is it you said earlier?" Angrath abruptly cut him off, eyes still trained on his blazing fist. "Something about getting off this plane, correct?"

"Yeah, all of us are working together to figure a way out of here. The thing that's holding us here is some old piece of junk called The Immortal Sun, and once we find it, we can kiss this plane goodbye."

Angrath's eyes finally rose to meet Dack's, and a single derisive snort escaped his nostrils, followed by a slow shake of his head. "I am well acquainted with the artifact you speak of. You have no idea what you are dealing with. The Immortal Sun is no mere trinket to be tossed aside. I doubt there is a planeswalker here that could dispose of such an odorous relic."

Dack did not know how to react to these comments. On one hand, Angrath's dismissiveness rubbed the efficacious planeswalker the wrong way, but on the other hand, the fact that Angrath knew about The Immortal Sun was all the information Dack would need to convince the others that rescuing him was a good idea. He tried to split the emotional difference, addressing Angrath in a tone he hoped was inviting.

"Well, I don't know much about this thing, but I'm pretty handy when it comes to 'odorous relics'. If you come along with us, you can tell us what you know about the Sun, and we can come up with a plan together. I, for one, thinks that sounds a hell of a lot better than standing around here waiting to beat some Gruul faces in, satisfying as it would be. The sooner we can figure this out, the sooner we all go home."

Dack shifted his posture away from Angrath and towards their path out of the surrounding fight, hoping that would give the extra push to convince the bullheaded planeswalker. Instead, Angrath gave another small laugh as he pulled an iron hammer from his belt. His hand quickly illuminated to match the other, and the hammer was soon emitted the same orange radiance as the chain.

"You are quite the speaker, Dack. You would have made a fine crewmate. Perhaps even a captain. But you should not speak of things you do not understand. There is only one way off this plane, and I'm afraid that it is not yours."

As he spoke, Dack sensed an odd shift in Angrath's demeanor. He could not quite put a finger on what had changed, but something felt off. Dack hardly had time to process this before he watched Angrath raise his chain-wielding arm over his head. The minotaur's muscles bulged in anticipation, a clear signifier of his strength.

Dack had a hand up to signal a pause, a signal he hoped would reach Angrath. "Wait, what are you doing?"

Angrath's crimson gaze pierced Dack's as he answered: "What I must."

Without warning, Angrath swung his hand down as hard as he could, with the searing chain following close behind. His strength propelled it at an intense speed, the sound of sizzling metal filling the air. Had it not been for the extended windup, Dack would not have had time to react, but he was fortunate enough to see it coming. He had not realized it, but all while Angrath spoke, his own posture had morphed into his typical roguish stance, with muscles coiled and feet positioned to bid a hasty retreat. This allowed him to spring out of the chain's path with ample space.

The heated links slammed into the ground, burying into the cobbles with an earth-shattering CRACK! The noise blasted across the street, followed by an intense flash of orange light and a wave of superheated air and upended dirt. Dack put up a hand to block out as much brightness and debris as he could. The massive burst of energy passed over him in an instant, fading away as quickly as it appeared, leaving behind a faint prickling sensation on his skin and a ringing in his ears.

What in the fuck is this guy thinking!? Shit, I gotta think of-

"Alright, guess that's our cue, boys! Let's give 'em the thrashing of a lifetime!"

Even with his damaged hearing, adding to his already present sense of disorientation, Dack's thoughts were clipped by the sudden, unmistakable declaration. His eyes shot up to the rooftops, directly across from where he and his allies had been perched a moment before. He was just fast enough to see Domri Rade, surrounded by a company of howling Gruul barbarians and fang-bearing beasts, leaping off the top of the building and letting loose a guttural screech.

"Shit, it's an ambush!" Dack yelled out, half in surprise and half in a disparate attempt to ensure his allies knew exactly what was happening. He tried to make his voice louder than the incoming Gruul, with little success. His mind started whirring, trying to construct a viable escape plan before the aerial assault landed. Unfortunately, before Dack could even reconstruct a mental layout of the alleyway, he was interrupted by the echoing sound of nearby doors bursting against brick walls.

Frantically turning all around, Dack saw the surrounding buildings violently open, and streams of blue-skinned zombies poured from the maws. They were all like the others, eyes red with sinister magic and hands curled around all manner of exotic weaponry, but now their presence had expanded tenfold. All around him and his allies, a veritable deluge of undead warriors swiftly flowed, threatening to engulf every one of them.

The rhythmic pounding of the pavement below mixed with the primordial war cry above, creating a cacophony of pure noise that threatened to overtake Dack's senses. He tried to get a grasp on the situation, but his focus was pulled in so many directions. Between the Gruul and the zombies closing in on every side, Dack completely forgot about the very real threat in front of him. At least, he forgot about it until he felt the force of a burning chain slam against his side.

There was no time to react before Angrath's chain slung around his body, winding around his slender frame five times and pinning his arms to his sides. Angrath quickly grabbed the free-swinging end in his other hand and pulled the chain tight, immobilizing Dack and practically branding his jacket with its imprint. The crush of the links, coupled with the blistering heat, made Dack scream out in pain. He managed to stay standing, but only until a powerful tug on his restraints sent him to the ground. He landed roughly on his knees, and he could hear his pants, and the flesh just beneath, tearing against the uneven stones.

Dack's posture slumped as he hit the street, strands of hair falling unevenly across his face. Angrath stopped pulling the chains any tighter, so the vicelike pain and the subsequent burning were lessened just enough for Dack to notice, but still present enough to keep his face pulled into a perpetual wince. Trying to take his mind off his agonizing position, and somewhat out of legitimate concern, Dack blew the bangs from his eyes and looked around for the others.

Sifting through the endless throng of zombies that were now upon them was difficult, but he eventually found the telltale signs of his allies. To his dismay, the other planeswalkers were faring the same as he was. He first saw Tibalt pinned on his stomach, practically frothing at the mouth as a pair of zombies each held one of his arms back while a third dug a knee between his shoulders. They were all crawling with devils, but they seemed completely unaffected by the tiny claws and teeth.

Davriel and Ashiok were no better off, with each one also held by a detachment of zombies. Davriel knelt much like Dack, with hands bound behind his back by an Eternal's grasp. Ashiok was flanked by zombies, who used one hand to keep Ashiok's arms at their sides and the other wrapped around their horns. Where Davriel seemed reluctant to fight back, Ashiok was still wrenching and wriggling in attempted escape, but the zombies managed to keep their hold on them.

As he scanned past these tragic sights, a small part of Dack held out hope that Nixilis had managed to escape. Between his flight capabilities and his strength at dispatching these zombies, there was a minute chance that the demon could be their savior. Unfortunately, that hope was dashed quite thoroughly as Dack's eyes landed on the far end of the alley, where Domri and his crew had landed. Amidst the Gruul havoc, Nixilis' frame stood like a marble statue, affixed to the ground by a thick coating of white strands. Dack could only assume that this was a massive web of spider silk, like what Domri had used to impede his own prior escape.

As the Gruul and their beasts dispersed to continue their rampage, Domri stuck around to stare up the subdued Nixilis, the latter's bare-toothed snarl reflecting the former's celebratory grin. Unmoved by the demon's presence, Domri rapped the butt of his staff against the stones, then let out another earsplitting whoop that cut through the tempestuous noise of the battlefield. This call was different than his charging cry, and his horde quieted down and joined around the large encampment of zombies. All eyes, including Dack's, fell on the diminutive destructor as he walked over to one of his accompanying creatures. He put a hand on its neck, idly scratching the beast behind its ear as he addressed the assembled ranks.

"Alright," he jovially yelled, staff waving triumphantly in the air, "the plan worked like a bloody charm! Praz, let's get these poor fucks loaded on the nodorogs, and you and the rest'll send 'em to the citadel. I hate to waste fresh meat, but Bolas wants 'em alive."

One of the Gruul, a centaur clad in bones and plants, offered a quick nod and started waving to the others. They mirrored her affirmation and started preparing the myriad monsters for prisoner transport.

While the others began shuffling about, Domri moved from his beast to look over his captives and bask in his victory. "Oh boy, now ain't this a lovely sight. You bastards thought you could get the drop on me?" He wagged a playful finger at Dack and the others as his fanged grin spread from ear to ear. "Shoulda just taken the first loss back there. At least that time, you got away with your lives. Now, well, we'll see what the big guy's got cookin' up for ye back at his."

As Domri let out a hyenic cackle, Dack suddenly felt a strong compulsion deep in his chest. One that he knew he would instantly regret, but seeing the situation he was in, he figured it could not get too much worse.

"I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken," Dack blurted out, loud enough for all to hear.

Domri's smile vanished at the interruption, and he swung his staff around in Dack's direction. "What're you on about now?"

"Well," he continued, thick layers of sarcasm compiling with every syllable, "I think you've got the wrong people here, sir. After all, from what you said, the people you thought you captured were beaten in their last encounter with you, but, if my memory serves, it was you who ran from us, tails between your legs. So, there must be some mix-up here, right?"

Dack could not help but smirk as Nixilis' booming laughter filled the air. Domri was not nearly as amused, lips curling into an ugly sneer. He gave a quick nod to Angrath, who readjusted his grip on the glowing chains and, with a flex of his massive biceps, pulled the two ends in opposite directions. The chain swiftly constricted around Dack, fast and hard enough for Nixilis' laugh to be drowned out by the internal snap of several ribs, followed close behind by an overwhelming sensation of agony.

Dack violently coughed as his lungs vacated, thin spittle flying out alongside the painful sound of him gasping for air. He wanted to collapse on the ground, but Angrath kept him propped upright. This response seemed enough to appease Domri, as his smile reappearing with a seemingly enhanced shine.

Domri leaned towards Dack, cupping his ear tauntingly. "What was that you were saying? Hmm? I don't think I 'eard ya. Ya may 'ave to speak up." He stood over Dack for a few moments, waiting for a response they both knew would not come through Dack's unrelenting fit of hacking. Satisfied, Domri straightened himself and stared down his nose at Dack, casting a thin shadow over his hunched frame.

"That's what I fuckin' thought. Ya lost once before, and ya lost again now, so you'd be better off just acceptin' it. It'll make the next step all the easier for me. Though if ya wanna keep talkin', by all means. Me and the boys got no problem shutting those traps for ya if ya can't do it yourself!" Domri raised his hands in encouragement to the surrounding Gruul, who answered his gesture with a jarring chorus of whoops and cheers, the volume of which stripped away at Dack's already tested sanity. Though he did not currently have the composure to speak up, his allies more than made up for it.

"You dare to call this a victory!?" Nixilis boomed, straining to turn his head to Domri against the tensile strength of his prison. "Pitiful worm, once I am free of this blasted snare, I will show you the true meaning of the word."

Domri cocked his head in Nixilis' direction, an exaggerated expression of doubt on his face. "Yeah, good luck with that, you Rakdos reject. That's genuine archweaver silk. Not even the Legion's blades can cut through that, so unless you got access to kraul digestive enzymes somewhere, you're staying put."

Nixilis remained unfazed, still staring down Domri as best he could. "Then free me and face me yourself! Prove that you are as mighty a warrior as you claim. Tricks and traps are tools of the weak, so face me in combat and show that you have what it takes to be a proper victor!"

For a moment, Dack was taken aback by Nixilis' words. He could not tell if it was a true declaration of his code of honor, or simply a ploy to weasel out of the trap. The demon had not seemed like one to care about how victory was achieved, but for a brief second, Dack reevaluated what he thought he knew about Nixilis.

Domri, however, did not seem to consider Nixilis' words at all, and he immediately burst into a high-pitched fit of laughter. "Good one, mate! Like I give two shits about how I beat you. We're the Gruul, and we'll do whatever we need to do to get what we want! So, if you care that much about 'true victory' and all that shit, go right ahead and break outta there on your own. I'll fight ya then, 'ow about that?"

Nixilis let out a forceful breath and stared into Domri's smug face with an intensity that could strip the luster from a sword. "Insolent cur, you dare mock me!? Your reckoning will be swift as lightning and strong as brimstone!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it will," Domri said with a dismissive wave to Nixilis. "Heard it all before, mate. You ain't the first to threaten me, and you won't be the last. But with the strength of the Gruul behind me, there ain't nothing we can't do!"

Another surge of loud cheers resonated across the desolate alleyway, with the Gruul members idly hanging off either their mounts or the statue-like zombies. Though the well of their enthusiasm seemed bottomless in the face of their victory, Domri quickly signaled their silence again. Once their focus was on him, he began brandishing his staff in directorial fashion, readying the troops for their new transport mission. Before any more activity could pick up, another voice spoke up, this time from behind Dack.

"How did you do it?" Ashiok rasped. Domri's head snapped in their direction, and he whirled his staff around, waving it until it passed over all his captives.

"You're a chatty lot, ain'tcha?" Eventually, his staff landed in Ashiok's direction, the horns at its tip mirroring Ashiok's own. "That was you, wasn't it? I guess if all you got is a mouth, ya wanna put it to good use, huh?"

"I can think of a better use for it," one of the clan members interjected, his statement punctuated by a gesture Dack did not need to see to understand his point. This was met by another wave of vicious laughter, which Domri readily led. He feigned wiping a mirthful tear from his eye before returning his attention to Ashiok.

"Now, what were you on about? I couldn't quite hear ya."

Ashiok's voice remained stoic, unmoved by the Gruul's crudeness. "I asked how you managed to capture us. How did you know where we would be, or what we would do? You'll forgive the inquisition, but after our previous encounter, you all do not seem overly concerned with manners of strategy."

At this, Domri shrugged. "Trackin' you lot was easier than I expected. You really should learn to look up once in a while. Ya never know when a little birdie is watchin'. What, don't tell me ya didn't even consider that?"

Dack watched as Ashiok's lips pursed, no doubt feeling the same foolishness that he felt at this revelation. They had all heard the omnipresent cawing and seen the shifting shadows of overhead avians throughout their travels. They had assumed they were merely native ravens enjoying the sun. None of them had thought that they might be reporting their whereabouts to the person they were trying to catch.

"You lot did surprise me back there," Domri continued, still wildly gesturing with his staff, "so I figured I'd leave behind a few feathered friends o' mine. You also gave me plenty of time to figure a plan out, waiting for this one to come to."

This statement was punctuated by a quick jab of his staff at Dack, who refused to flinch at the show of ferocity. Instead, Dack looked up to Angrath, who had been content to stay silent, watching Domri's grand display.

"And what about you?" Dack managed to spit out at the minotaur, his words still strained by his injuries. "Why the fuck are you helping this guy capture us?"

Angrath stared down at Dack, embellishing his slow response with a forceful snort. "I told you that you do not understand what is going on here. I have been trapped by the Immortal Sun before. I did not see my family, my wife and children, for years because of that damned trinket. I won't let it hold me again."

"That's exactly right!" Domri exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air to demonstrate his excitement. "Angrath here's a smart one, unlike the rest of ya. He knows that the only way outta here is through the big guy himself. So, we came to a little agreement. He helps me out in capturing as many planeswalkers as we can, and the boss sends him home by the end of the day. Simple enough, yeah?"

Angrath offered a curt nod. "Indeed."

Suddenly, Dack was struck by an oddity in their corroboration. His gaze held on Angrath as he slowly thought through what was giving him pause. "Wait, so you were never captured by these guys? That was all just, what, an act?"

"You are correct," Angrath gruffly confirmed with a shake of his head.

"But I saw those Gruul attacking you. Hell, you're still covered in blood. Why go through all that damn trouble?"

To Dack's surprise, it was Domri who answered his query. "Ah, now that's where you're wrong. Ol' Angrath here got those injuries before we even met him. While me and my boys were, uh, tactically retreating, I got word from my pal Nikya that her band had run smack into a weird kinda guy like what I was lookin' for. Sure enough, when I went to check it out, I found this guy in the middle of the street, swingin' around that big glowing chain of his, trying to level the whole damn block! He wasn't attacking us or any of the Eternals, not one soul, just the fuckin' city. He got that gash in his head from ramming into the side of an apartment building full force."

Angrath's eyes drifted down slightly, which Dack interpreted as a sign of embarrassment at his previous outburst. "I have no qualms with the creatures inhabiting this plane. Merely the plane itself. Any place that houses the Sun is nothing more than a glorified jail cell."

"Too true," Domri encouraged with a broad smile, "and you did end up leveling that damn building. See, we're kindred spirits, the two of us, ready to tear this city to the ground at a moment's notice. So, we get to talking, and I hatch this brilliant plan to lure you all out. We pretend he's a captive, just like pretty boy over here was. I figured if you'd try and save one, you'd try to save another, and what d'ya know, I was right on the money!"

Dack's brow wrinkled in bafflement. "So, when I saw the Gruul beating you, that was…"

"A deception," Angrath succinctly answered.

Domri nodded along, mohawk bobbing erratically. "Yeah, fuckin' worked like a charm! With my surveillance, we knew when you lot were close enough to see, and Angrath here got to use his, um… what was that fancy name you had for that magic again?"

"Compulsory conscription."

Domri snapped his fingers in understanding. "Yeah, that's it! It's like mind control, but a little more personal, y'know."

"I suppose that is one way to describe it," Angrath conceded, his tone conveying a lack of desire to explain further. "It allows me to guide other's actions to my aid. It's how I made it seem that the Gruul were torturing me."

"And how you're controlling all these Eternals right now," Domri quickly added.

"Correct. Though they are being controlled by another, those commands are not being regularly enforced like mine."

"Eh, that's just Lili, don't worry too much about it. She's got her hands full with the Eternals all over the city. I'm sure she appreciates the break from this bunch."

As the two planeswalkers talked, Dack listened with halved attention. His focus was on frantically trying to process all the information thrown at him. Domri, Angrath, Eternals, mind control, it was all getting to be a bit much.

I can barely follow any of what these two are saying, but I don't think it really damn matters. We lost, all because I fucked up once again by trying to help. Maybe I really should just give it up. If it weren't for me, everyone else would be fine…

Dack swiveled his head as much as he could, observing his allies from his periphery. Ashiok, Nixilis, and Davriel had grown gravely silent, with no visible shifts in their movement to suggest that they were still trying to break free of their bonds. Tibalt was the only exception, still gnashing his teeth and hurling obscenities at the zombies holding him in a fruitless show of disobedience. While Tibalt's state of mind was on full display, Dack could only wonder about what the others were thinking.

They're probably thinking of a way out of this. I should be doing that too, I guess. I mean, I can't screw up any worse than I already have, and I can't just hope that another miracle rescue is gonna just land in our laps. A small sigh echoed through his mind, the sentiment only amplifying with each iteration. By the gods, why didn't I just fuck off outta this when I had the fucking chance?

Pushing against the wave of lethargy that swept over his body, an apparent side effect of his active injuries, Dack tried to go back through his mental catalogue of psychometry, desperately searching for the right combination of magic to cobble together an escape.

The Dispeller's Capsule could destroy the chain, but it does take a while. If they keep talking like this, who knows? I guess I could also just blow it up now that I don't give a shit about saving this guy. As for the zombies, I can still try the Torch, but maybe something else would work better. If I could sever Angrath's control, that might…

At this point, Dack was completely oblivious to his surroundings. Thoughts whirred like agitated hornets around his brain, with multiple plans unfolding with each passing sentence. Variances made him pause, but never for long. He had always felt that thinking on his feet was a specialty of his, even if he was still on his knees, doubled over in acclimated pain. Slowly, he could feel components of a plan start to click together, puzzle pieces gradually rotating into their proper place. As he felt himself grow closer to a solution, a weak smile began spreading across his stubbled face.

Yeah, yeah that might work. If only I could let the others know what I'm about to do.

This thought of his allies suddenly brought Dack's mind out of its blinded state, reintroducing all the outworld stimuli he had shut out. There was a lot to take in all at once, but Dack's mind instantly focused on one detail that left him both confused and horrified.

Wait, when did it get so dark out?

His eyes snapped to the sky, his mind now eschewing escape preparations for wild speculation. Where there had been a wide vista of murky blue earlier that day, Dack now saw a thick layer of black clouds engulfing the sky. They seemed to spread continually outward from some point far in the distance, swallowing the Ravnica heavens with impenetrable darkness. Gradually, the stormfront approached their position, an umbral wall barreling at them as it stole the light from the buildings before him. Dack was transfixed by the sight, and as the shadow washed over them, he could not help but turn away, as if it were going to suck the life from his bones. Instead, it passed without incident, leaving all of them in an artificial night.

There was no pain, only the mild disorientation before his eyes adjusted to the blotted-out sun. As he gradually regained his senses, something new registered across Dack's entire body. It was something he had trouble describing, but it disturbed him to his very core. It was as if a monster were right behind him, with its icy, otherworldly breath bearing down on him. He did not know what it was, or what it wanted, but he could sense its nature. It was evil, as pure and black as the primordial night. It tensed every muscle in his body.

What's going on? The clouds, this feeling, I've never felt anything like it. What… what is all this?

Trying his best to abate the creeping fear that seeped into his pores, Dack turned his head as fast as he could, seeing how the other were reacting to this eldritch occurrence. Before him, the conversation between Domri and Angrath seemed to have been long abandoned. Both planeswalkers' eyes darted between each other, the gathered crowd, and the freshly darkened horizon. Though their mouths were partially open, neither seemed able to compose anything to say. The rest of the Gruul fared similarly, stock still in anticipation, though their eyes did not dart hither and thither. Instead, they were focused intently on Domri, waiting for their intrepid leader to either explain what was happening or give them an order. Dack could see the unease in their looks, and it only proved to deepen his own sense of trepidation. After all, something that could pause a Gruul riot was not to be taken lightly.

Sweeping past his captors, Dack caught quick glimpses of his allies, with dreadfully predictable results from them all. Ashiok, Davriel, Nixilis, and even Tibalt, had temporarily ceased their struggling to stare as wide-eyed as they could at the altered skyline. Reading their expressions had been difficult for Dack, between Davriel's mask, Ashiok's missing features, and the other two's monstrous faces, but he could somehow sense a vague mist of unease circulating between them. It was not the chilling apprehension that dripped incessantly down Dack's own spine, from which he was desperately trying to distract himself, but they were still off-kilter. Perhaps they were not scared of what was to come, but they recognized that something was coming, and it could not be good.

While Dack silently observed the others, hoping they would show some signs of understanding or defiance, he noticed a shift in his periphery. It was stark against the stillness of the moment, so Dack was quick to see what had moved. A fresh patch of goosebumps broke out across his skin as he saw it was the zombies, or Eternals as Domri had referred to them, who were beginning to move. The standing ones straightened their posture as if at attention before a general. The ones that held Ashiok, Davriel, and Tibalt kept their positions, but their heads snapped forward and their bodies locked into statue-like rigidity. The reddish tint in their eyes slowly dimmed out, leaving behind nothing but faint purple light in their vacant sockets.

To his surprise, he felt the chains around his chest loosen slightly, as Angrath dropped his arms in confusion. Dack wanted to take in a deep gasp of air now that his lungs had room to expand, but he was too frightened to disturb the unsettling silence brought on by the Eternals' shift. This seemed to be the consensus, as whatever ambient noise still present after the blackout suddenly vanished, replaced by a vacuum of barren quiet. For a moment, the entirety of the street was frozen, no one daring to break the delicate stillness. Then, the almost serene silence was obliterated as a thunderous, monstrous voice erupted from a tall humanoid Eternal bearing an impressive helm.

DOMRI, YOU HAVE DONE WELL.

The words resonated psychically from the Eternal's sealed mouth. Though the transmission was clearly meant for Rade, the telepathic message bored into the minds of every conscious being in the vicinity. Every one of them, including Dack, slunk back at the overwhelming mental presence, but only Domri could recover quickly enough to address the speaker.

"Boss! I wasn't expectin' to hear from you anytime soon, but hey, I ain't complainin'. Glad you like what I've done with the place."

Despite the psychic means of communication, Domri still elected to speak out loud, gesticulating as hectically as if Bolas was standing before him. Dack was unsure if his boss would even hear, but another boom of telepathy confirmed that Bolas was indeed listening.

YES, YOUR CLAN CAN TRULY TAKE PRIDE IN YOUR WORK. I ALSO SEE THAT YOU HAVE SOME CAPTIVES WITH YOU NOW.

Domri beamed, clearly loving the praise being heaped onto his ego from his draconic master. "Oh, you know it, boss. Got four genuine planeswalkers all here for ya. We were just about to swing them over to the citadel for ya."

To everyone's surprise, the next sound that materialized in their brains was not another straightforward command, but rather a bemused, almost piteous exhalation.

THAT WILL NOT BE NECESSARY, DOMRI.

The smile on Domri's face drooped slightly, confusion creeping into the creases of his face. "Um, alright. I mean, you're the boss, after all. So, what do ya want us to do with 'em?"

The Eternal fully turned to Domri and took a step forward. The creature was taller than the planeswalker, so it tilted its head down as if it were actually addressing him.

MY ETERNALS WILL TAKE CARE OF THEM. THE ELDERSPELL IS NEARLY COMPLETE, DOMRI. ONE FINAL STEP, AND MY PLAN CAN TRULY BEGIN. FOR IT, I WILL NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONE MORE TIME.

This declaration sent a fresh wave of chills down Dack's back, but Domri's reaction seemed to completely contradict Dack's misgivings. The Gruul champion once again had an animalistic grin plastered across his face, and he even straightened his posture before the looming Eternal.

"Well, that's what I like to hear! Bring on the End-Raze, let Ilharg burn this gods-be-damned city to the fuckin' bedrock! Can't wait to meet that glorious hog. So, what d'ya need for me to do, boss? I'm ready for anything!"

Even without Bolas' physical presence, the telepathic link made the dragon's demeanor all too clear. Dack could practically see the smile that coiled onto his lips, full of arrogant malice.

I'M SO GLAD TO HEAR YOU SAY THAT. A WILLING VOLUNTEER IS ALWAYS A WELCOME SIGHT.

The Eternals fingers started to curl, as if in preparation of the task to come.

I NEVER DID EXPLAIN TO YOU WHAT THE ELDERSPELL IS FOR, AND I'M FAR FROM SURPRISED THAT YOU NEVER ASKED.

Domri tapped his index finger against his temple, a smug expression playing across his face. "Didn't even cross my mind to question ya. Whatever it is, as long as it blows this fuckin' city to bits, I don't really care."

Another derisive puff of air echoed through their minds. WELL, RATHER THAN EXPLAIN, I THINK I SHALL DEMONSTRATE. AFTER ALL, THE ONLY STEP LEFT BEFORE MY PLAN CAN TRULY BEGIN IS TO ENSURE THE SPELL'S POTENCY. SO, THANK YOU, DOMRI RADE, FOR YOUR SERVICE TO MY CAUSE.

As soon as Bolas stopped speaking, the Eternal he had spoken through reached out and grabbed Domri by the throat. He let out a surprised gasp as the Eternal's fingers closed around his neck, practically throttling him.

"Wait… what the…" Domri barely managed to choke out, his words barely intelligible from the crushing force on his windpipe. Slowly, the Eternal raised him off the street until the tips of his toes dangled helplessly above the cobbles. Domri's hands shot to his own neck, his abandoned staff clattering to the ground. He wedged his fingers as far as he could into the Eternal's grip, but no matter how he pulled, he could not alleviate the hold.

IT IS POINTLESS TO STRUGGLE, Bolas told him, his visceral words carrying a sickening undercurrent of enjoyment. OF ALL MY SUBJECTS, YOUR ACTIONS WERE ALWAYS THE HARDEST TO PLAN FOR. THE CHAOTIC NATURE OF THE GRUUL, I LOATHE IT. BUT, IN THE END, YOU'VE PROVEN TO BE NO LESS PREDICTABLE THAN ANYBODY ELSE.

Domri did not react to Bolas' diatribe. Dack doubted whether he was even listening, given how intensely he thrashed about in the Eternal's grip. He clawed and kicked with a panicked energy, but the Eternal did not budge.

"Angrath…" Domri forced the words with a pained look, as if they were grating against the inside of his esophagus on the way out. "Get this… bastard… off me!"

There was a brief, nearly imperceptible flash of red light in Angrath's eyes, but it was immediately extinguished, leaving only a look of sorrow. "I… I cannot control it. My powers aren't strong enough."

Domri's eyes bulged at this revelation, and his fervent attacks against the Eternal increased in vigor. It was a fruitless effort, however, as the Eternal, ignoring his actions, raised its free hand. With palm open and fingers bent, the Eternal struck Domri flat in the chest.

The unmistakable sound of bones cracking rang horribly in Dack's ears, as did Domri's subsequent, sickening gasp. Dack felt his muscles wanting to shrink away from the sight, but he kept his eyes forward in stunned silence. Domri's mouth hung open in horror, and though his hands continued to vainly reach for the Eternal's face, his motions grew more and more sluggish. It was then that Bolas' voice rang out one final time.

FEAR NOT, DOMRI, FOR YOUR DREAM WILL YET BE REALIZED. BY THE DAY'S END, RAVNICA WILL BE NOTHING BUT RUBBLE. IT IS A SHAME THAT YOU WILL NOT LIVE TO SEE IT.

The psychic connection was instantly severed, and everyone's minds went quiet in time to hear an unhallowed draining noise that drowned out Domri's last gasping laments. An aura of ancient magic blossomed from the Eternal, and its hand now glowed with an ethereal, almost indescribable light. It took a moment for Dack to realize that this energy was not coming from the Eternal, but it was being siphoned from Domri.

What the hell is that!? Dack internally yelled, eyes widening further than he thought possible. He watched the Eternal slowly, painstakingly pull its hand away from Domri's bare chest, and as the extracted light grew brighter, Domri's body shriveled. His skin grew pallid and wrinkled, his appendages fell limp, and his eyes shrunk within his skull. Then, with one final thrust, the Eternal pulled its hand free, snapping off the last of the unknown light. With this finished, the Eternal let go of Domri's lifeless husk. The desiccated body fell to its feet, too depleted to even make a sound as it landed.

"NOOO!" came a plaintive cry from behind Dack. He did not need to turn around to identify the distinctive voice of Ashiok cutting through the uneasy silence, but the planeswalker's unusual outburst made him flinch nonetheless.

The light burned in the Eternal's hand, an alien intensity nearly blinding all who's gaze had been fixed on Domri's struggle. Though it was firmly gripped by the Eternal, Dack could feel the mysterious light pulling at his own chest with a somewhat familiar tingle. Dack immediately recognized the sensation, but he did not want to believe it.

That's… that's Domri's spark.

There was no other explanation. Somehow, this Eternal had pulled Domri's spark, his essence, his soul, from his very body.

But that's impossible! He couldn't have…

Dack's spiraling fear briefly paused, stopped short by another unexpected sight before him. The glow of Domri's spark was not content to stay crammed in the Eternal's palm. It burrowed beneath its blue shell and spread up its arm, leaving a trail of diffused light in its wake. It did not stop there, as it made its way through the zombie's chest and into its head. Its skull lit up like a festival lantern for only a moment before it exploded in a brilliant, plangent display. Now free, the light coalesced into a small globe and flew off through the sky, leaving the decimated Eternal body to fall limply atop the corpse of Domri Rade.

Dack' eyes tried to follow Domri's wayward spark, but it was quickly lost above the obstructing rooftops. It did not matter, as Dack kept his gaze skyward, hoping against hope that he could make any sense of what just happened. He was in shock. He knew he was in shock, but knowing that did nothing to help his brain move forward and start processing all this madness. Unfortunately, he would not even have time for that, as his stupor was swiftly broken by a fresh wave of miasma engulfing the street and the simultaneous clattering of the surrounding Eternals advancing towards them, palms outstretched with nefarious intent.

Shit, I need to get outta here before…

Dack's panicked thought was cut short when a sudden weightlessness overtook his chest, followed closely by the clatter of steel links on packed stone. He looked down to see the chains no longer entwined around his chest, as Angrath now reeled them in to use as a weapon against the oncoming Eternals. This gave Dack the opportunity he needed. All his careful planning, all his schemes to escape, instantly evaporated from his mind. Dack sprang up, landing nimbly on the balls of his feet. He did not know if the pain from his broken bones was gone, or if his panic was keeping it at bay, but he did not spare it another second. He let his instincts take over, and without another conscious thought, he burst into the fray.

Even before he started moving, he knew where he was headed. All around, Eternals were shuffling toward him with glowing hands. His thief training immediately kicked in, and Dack ducked and dodged around every Eternal in his path. While he slid around and under the relentless attackers, their visages barely registering in his vision beyond a chromatic blue blur, Dack pulled forth another psychometric spell. His right hand began to illuminate, the bright light eventually forming into a fire, in the shape of Avacyn's collar. The blaze cast twisted shadows on the oppressive horde reaching out to him. He managed to bob and weave around them all, and it was not long before he spotted his destination. Ashiok, still held by their arms and horns, was emitting a sonorous, inhuman cry as their captors' hands menacingly glowed with the effects of the Elderspell.

I sure fucking hope this works.

Dack forced his glowing hand before him, using his other hand to brace his arm. He let loose two blasts from the burning symbol, hitting each of the Eternals holding Ashiok square in the jaw. The flames immediately dissipate upon impact, showing no sign of any damage to the Eternals through their shell. To his relief, however, the Eternals drew away from the purified fire, just as he had hoped. Their spark harvesting was cut off momentarily as the Avacynian torch repelled them, and this lapse was plenty of time for Ashiok to slither out from their grasp. Now free, they raised their arms to the sky with a fantastical flourish, summoning a bevy of shadowy tentacles from beneath their robes that punctured the Eternal's skulls before Dack had time to blink.

As Ashiok turned to retreat, their face matched Dack's for a fraction of a second. Neither planeswalker said anything, but Dack still thought that he sensed a modicum of gratitude. It did not last, as Ashiok ran past Dack with tentacles rapidly firing out to clear a path. On a conscious level, Dack wanted to follow Ashiok out of this melee, away from these abhorrent creatures. To his dismay, his subconscious had a hold on his movements, and they urged him forward, skirting him through the overbearing throng until a kneeling, masked silhouette came into view.

Wispy strands of mana were flowing from Davriel's chest, up his arms, and into the waiting grasp of his Eternal holder. Though he did not appear to be struggling to escape, nor screaming out in pain as Ashiok or Domri had done, Dack knew that there was not much time before his spark was completely removed. Still wielding the fiery emblem, Dack shot another ball of divine flame, which struck true into the Eternal's eyes. Like the others, the Eternal severed its spell, reaching its hands up to wipe the repellant magic away and freeing Davriel in the process. Without any hesitation, or any acknowledgement of Dack's heroics, Davriel's extremities were consumed by swirling inkiness, and he rocketed off the ground.

Dack assumed he was aiming for the rooftops, as far from the threat as possible, but he did not bother to watch Davriel's escape. Once he heard the blastoff, Dack heaved a hefty sigh and threw himself back in between the scrambling mass of zombies. Though resignation and preservation rang constantly like alarm bells in his mind, and the massive collection of sweat across his brow was beginning to sting in his eyes, he knew that his job was not complete just yet.

One more push from his increasingly achy feet propelled Dack through the sea of Eternals, still reaching out to him too slowly and stiffly to catch him. He treated it as a single mass of cerulean in his field of vision, porous with possible escape routes. The only thought consciously registering was his destination, far from the fight's epicenter, where Tibalt had been barking at the Eternals. Now, with the volume of the surrounding calamity, Dack could no longer hear the aggravated verbal assaults of that devil, and he silently hoped that this was only because of the other noise. Urged by this thought, Dack reached within, pulled out whatever leftover energy he could spare without fully collapsing, and he pressed himself to move as fast as he could.

The clear pathways between, around, under, and above the Eternals were clear as day, and Dack had no trouble winding through them like strings on a loom. Even with his heightened pace, his intuition guided him until he saw a telltale light from just beyond another group of zombies. He ducked between them, nearly catching his jacket on the gilded belt of a dog-faced Eternal, but deftly extricating it before it could slow him down. As he dodged through, a new sound tickled his ears. It was disturbing, not because of its shrill cadence, but because of its incongruous nature. In this overarching scene of death and chaos, the last thing Dack expected to hear was Tibalt laughing.

Panic set in once more, his heart's erratic beat matching that of Tibalt's hysterics. Eventually, he emerged from between the Eternals, incendiary palm ready to fire. Looking down the barrel of his arm, Dack saw the three Eternals still perched atop Tibalt's heaving frame. The one whose knee ground into his back glimmered brightly from Tibalt's siphoned mana. Beneath them laid Tibalt's withering frame, his once sanguine face now sunken in and practically devoid of color. His eyes exaggeratedly bulged as his skin lazily hung from his skull, and his body no longer seemed capable of movement. Despite all this, Tibalt had a stretched smile on his face, and he continued to laugh a coarse, uncomfortable laugh.

As Dack stared down at the grisly sight, his and Tibalt's eyes met, and the devil's face lit up with recognition. His laughter stopped, and as his languid features gazed up at Dack, he spoke to him in a disquieting wheeze.

"This is it. The pain that I've spent my life searching for. I've finally found it. It's… absolutely exquisite."

Dack was spellbound, unable to act as the Eternal on Tibalt's back ripped the spark from his chest with a mechanical heave. Before he faded completely, Tibalt let out a final, prolonged moan, leaving Dack in utter shock pondering if the sound was borne from pain or pleasure. His dried-out face, now slumped lifelessly on the street, left Dack with no answers, only a bitter queasiness in his gut. Once again, he had been too late.

He stared at the Eternal as its arms and chest began to glow with Tibalt's spark. Despite his wicked nature, his spark still shone brilliantly as it filled the Eternal's frame. Dack could feel a hearty vein of roiling emotion welling up just beneath the surface of his mind. Flashes of Fiora and Mariel hammered at the thin barrier. He was prepared for it to erupt in a geyser of spiraling depression, but he was interrupted by the sudden feeling of a pair of claws wrapping around his waist.

A jolt of panic shot down his spine, and he frantically tried to recall the Avacynian torch, ready to fend off the Eternal's grasp. His psychometric focus faltered, however, as he felt his feet lift from the ground, and the ambient noise of the Eternal rampage was briefly overtaken by the hearty beat of wings. Looking up, he saw the glowering, demonic face of Ob Nixilis, who still bore several wayward strands of spider silk along his angular frame. Nixilis did not look down at Dack, his focus entirely on his flight. With Dack firmly in his clutches, Nixilis arced up and, once they were above the street, he banked his trajectory, setting course for the rooftops from which Domri had launched his ambush.

As Nixilis' flying leveled out, Dack let his shoulders go slack. At this point, there was nothing more he could do but let Nixilis carry him to their destination. He hoped that Ashiok and Davriel would be waiting for him. As they drew closer to the building, Dack cast a glance back to the street. From up above, he could see everything. The Gruul warriors who had accompanied Domri were now gone, having either fled from the area or been splattered across the ground. The Eternals were starting to disperse, no doubt in search of more planeswalkers to reap. To Dack's surprise, Angrath still stood. He whipped his heated chain in all directions, cutting through Eternals as they continued their advances, but only Dack could see that he was now completely, hopelessly surrounded. As far as he could tell, it was only a matter of time.

Finally, his eyes fell once more on the spot where Tibalt's body now lay. The Eternal's head was illuminated with the power of Tibalt's spark. Dack watched as, like the one who had killed Domri, the Eternal's head burst like a firecracker, sending the spark flying toward the sky. Dack followed its streaking path, and now, his view was unobstructed. He saw the little ball of light accelerate high over the rooftops, its parabolic path sending it directly to the odd black structure that Dack had seen earlier.

As Dack's eyes traced out the spark's path, he saw something else that made his stomach churn. Tibalt's spark was not alone. Tens of sparks emerged from across the city, dotting the cloudy sky like a meteor shower shining down on Ravnica. Each one a planeswalker's life, snuffed out by the Elderspell, and at the sight of this massive atrocity, Dack finally gave in and let the tears fall.

END OF ACT I