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.

32. Chapter 32: Guild Summit

Chapter 32: Guild Summit

"Are you quite sure we're going the right way?"

This was not the first time Davriel had posed this question, and somehow, Dack knew it would not be the last. Luckily, as he hung near the back of their small party, he could easily ignore the sighing complaints. Ashiok, standing at the head of the precession, was not so fortunate.

"Yes, I am quite sure," they hissed back, agitation practically slinging from their overemphasized words. "Had you not expunged the map from your mind, you would not need to ask such questions. So, unless this is some manner of deception…" Ashiok gestured to their outstretched hands, which delicately moved around the shadowy model of the map that they had brought into being.

Dack surreptitiously rolled his eyes. "I already told you, it looked fine to me. The instructions were pretty clear, and I'm the only one here who's actually been here before."

"You would do well to check your arrogance," grumbled Ob Nixilis, who walked at the rear but still close enough that Dack could feel the demon's steaming breath, borne on the idle beating of his wings, trickle down the back of his neck. "I am the only one who has dealt with Beleren in the past. He is no stranger to deception. Though, even I will admit he sounded quite desperate."

Davriel sighed as he grabbed a fistful of his cloak and hiked it above his feet. "As long as we get there soon. I'm growing rather tired of all this constant running about."

As Davriel's masked chin fell into his palm in a pose of pure lackadaisy, a chorus of contemptuous grunts rose from both behind and before Dack. Even he was tempted to join, but by now, he had grown numb to the shadowmage's endless grievances. Plus, though he hated to admit it, part of him did agree with Davriel's exacerbation. They had been on the move for quite a while, and it seemed that this hectic day showed no signs of slowing anytime soon.

They had almost made it to the ominous black ziggurat, just barely within the shadow that spanned several blocks of Eternal-stuffed streets, when Jace's psychic summons appeared. Stopping to listen became their first respite since heading out, save for Nixilis, who continued to dismember zombies while the message played. Dack remembered readily latching onto Jace's words. They stirred something within him, however small and indescribable. He expected the resistance from Davriel and Nixilis, but to his surprise, Ashiok seemed to agree that they should join this gathering. At the time, and even now, Dack could not tell what motivations lay beyond their inscrutable features, but he felt certain that this was closer to pragmatism than heroism.

Finding a way into the sewers was easy enough, as was navigating through the commercial waste disposal lanes into the territory of the Golgari Swarm. While Dack was not lying that he had visited the Undercity, the vast bloodstream of overgrowth and decay slumbering just beneath Ravnica's thin skin, he had only done so with the greatest apprehension and expediency possible. While the Golgari's naturally secretive nature had its benefits, he had never held any desire to linger among the refuse for longer than necessary. That still held true now, but for some reason, he found it much easier to push aside his own misgivings. Perhaps, he mused, having a clear end goal was helping…

And so it was that they ended up crawling through Korozda, the Maze of Decay, on their way to Svogthos, the Golgari guildhall that sat at its heart. While Dack felt a palpable sense of relief to be out of reach of the Elderspell, a unspoken and yet apparent sentiment among the other members of the group, he would call the current situation neither safe nor comfortable. Korozda, despite its name, seemed to play host to a veritable ecosystem all its own. Moss and mushrooms flourished on every wall, painting the ancient gray stones in vibrant greens, milky whites, and crisp browns. And, unless Dack's eyes were playing tricks on him in the sparse light, these fungal adornments were not content to sit still, giving him the distinct feeling that every step they took was being carefully watched. If these were the only hints of life within the ruins, Dack would be fine with the simple, silent paranoia, but they were far from alone down here.

He had expected to perhaps run into some other planeswalkers, following the same path laid out by Jace, but instead, their only encounters thus far were with the rank and file of the Swarm. It seemed that, no matter what corner they turned or intersection they passed, something was waiting on the other side. Shambling ghouls with bouquets of mushrooms sprouting from their sockets, man-sized mantises wielding crude spears, scurrying rats packed so tightly that it looked like carpeting, and even towering insectoid monsters draped in dubiously acquired furs and bones, all appeared before them unexpectedly. Fortunately, these creatures did not engage with them, either keeping their distance or purposefully moving out of their way. It surprised Dack at first, as the Golgari were not known for their acceptance of those outside their own, let alone individuals who looked and sounded as they did. He had to wonder if someone had given an order to let such passengers through unmolested, but the thought of such a hive mind doling out information left him with a similar unease to the wall-mounted flora gazing at the back of his neck. The thought of asking one of the denizens crossed his mind, but it was swiftly snuffed out.

Thus, they kept a tight formation as they plumbed the subterranean labyrinth. Ashiok stood at the front, readily falling into the role of guide thanks to their telepathic proficiencies. Nixilis positioned his talents at the back, offering rear protection to the "feeble" Dack and the "shiftless" Davriel, who did his best to remain isolated. This worked to Dack's benefit, offering him an elongated, mostly uninterrupted moment of tranquility, something he realized he had not felt since the empty confines of the Voldaren manor. Though it had only been this morning, it felt like an eternity had passed, that the skulking thief in the vampire's den was a wholly different person than the man shuffling through Ravnica's death-suffused underbelly. As he silently took in the alien sights of the maze, he wondered if that was a good thing or not.

"It seems we're almost there," Ashiok announced after another lengthy bout of silent travel. "If the map is to be believed, the maze should end just around this corner." They extended a needled fingernail towards an upcoming turn in the fungal hedges.

Davriel let out a lilting sigh. "Finally, some good news. And here I thought you were running us in circles."

Ashiok ignored this barb, choosing to keep their absent face forward. It did not go unnoticed, as their pace instantly quickened towards the presumed exit, leaving the others in a haze of wisping shadows. Dack could see Davriel's shoulders heave as he bundled his cloak further above the ground, reticent to match Ashiok's stride but too proud to be left behind. He rounded the corner behind Ashiok, and Dack and Nixilis followed soon after.

Upon turning the corner, they were presented with a gated archway that towered high over the rest of Korozda. The frame was thoroughly rusted, and the bars had long since fallen away, only to be replaced by unnerving lengths of intertwined vine and bone. The sight sent a vague shiver down Dack's back, as if the gate itself were saying aloud that he, with his tanned skin and flowing hair and warm blood, was not welcome. The sensation soon passed, however, as he realized this was an intended effect to keep outsiders out, an illusion that readily shattered when Dack watched his compatriots walk through with no hesitation. Tamping down any lingering unease with a hard swallow, he followed suit.

As the Maze of Decay fell away, Dack and the others entered a massive, circular courtyard that was completely overrun with thick, dripping fungus. His nostrils immediately filled with the scents of unturned soil and stale spores, drawing out an unintentional cough that echoed far overhead. While he took a moment to get his breathing under control, his eyes were immediately drawn to the only structure occupying the otherwise empty space at Korozda's center. Jutting from the soft earth like an enormous obsidian tombstone, a cathedral spired above them, nearly tall enough that its steeples were lost among the fetid tangles. He did not need to double-check Jace's message to know that this must be Svogthos. Much to Dack's surprise, the archways were ornately decorated with intricate metalwork and gilding that still managed to glint past the obvious age. It reminded him of the Orzhov chapels he had visited on more than one occasion, though he doubted there would be much of anything worth stealing inside this forgotten relic.

You're not here to steal anything, he chastised himself. With a mental flick, he attempted to discard the wayward thought. Focus on the task at hand. There are more important matters than lining my pockets. As he strode alongside his allies, Dack was left to consider if that was the first time such a thought had crossed his mind.

The group silently shuffled across the courtyard towards the building's entrance, dodging around the sunken pools of rotted vegetation. It was not long before they stepped into Svogthos's deep shadow, which Dack did not immediately realize was caused, not by any sunlight from aboveground, but from the copious garlands of bioluminescence that clung to the territory's farthest reaches, giving the entire Maze an ambient glow of vomitous green. The air within Svogthos's domain seemed heavier than before, rich with rot, and though Dack could not be certain, it felt like the currents changed with a steady rhythm. They subsequently pushed and pulled against him, almost as if he were caught in the lungs of some great beast.

As they approached the vaulted entrance, Dack was surprised to see that it had not been left unattended. To the left of the central archway stood a lich, with mushrooms growing from her shoulders like pauldrons and exposed bones ringing her throat. She wore no clothes, leaving her rotted flesh fully revealed, save for a gleaming emblem of the Golgari set into her sternum. Its polished gleam, the only spot on her body that gave even a hint of cleanliness, told Dack that she must be a high-ranking member of the guild. Opposite her, a massive necrotic wurm coiled around the catherdral's supports. Its body was a fetid gradient of brown and green, only broken as its toothy maw parted open to show rows of crooked grey teeth. She stared down as they approached, cross-armed, and the wurm seemed to follow her gaze.

"Halt." Her voice, unflappable in its dryness, washed over them like a desert tide. They paused just before the entrance, and the wurm slithered off its spire so it could place its bulk between them and the door. The lich stepped up, held out a hand, and the wurm's head came to rest in her palm. "What business have you here, in the guildhall of the Swarm?"

Not waiting for the others, Dack piped up, taking a confident step forward. "We've been summoned here for the meeting. You know, the one to stop Bolas and all the zombies up there. Jace Beleren sent us the message."

The lich's head turned to each of them, bobbing up and down as she looked them over. Her stance loosened slightly as she passed over Dack, but once she took in the others, her eyes narrowed. As if prompted, the wurm let out a low, clicking growl, and a pool of saliva began to form on the ground beneath its jaws.

"And from where do you all hail?" she asked.

Her stony tone told Dack that this was a test, some way to discern whether they were truly friend or foe. He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, Ashiok let out a beleaguered sigh. "Rather than waste your time," they rasped, "I'm sure this will suffice." They raised a finger and leveled it at her, arcane smoke beginning to billow from its point. The lich motioned as if to step back, but she had no time to dodge the string of magical shade that hit her square in the forehead. As it burrowed beneath her decayed skin, her eyes glossed over with a deep darkness, and the wurm seemed to freeze mid-shift, the sound of its sloughing skin against the hewn stone pausing temporarily.

After a moment, Ashiok pulled their finger back, and the length of shade dissipated into the sour air. The lich's eyes returned to normal, and she glared down at the nightmare weaver with blatant venom. They did not seem fazed, however, and simply tilted their head to the side. "Well, Storrev of the Devkarin, do you have what you need to let us pass?"

Their lipless mouth curled contentiously, and Dack briefly wondered what psychometric spells he would need to defend himself. Fortunately, such preparation was unnecessary. Storrev and the wurm parted back to their previous stations against the pillars, leaving the path into Svogthos clear. Without saying a word, she swept a hand out to them and into the doorway, as if she had suddenly transformed into the Golgari's doorman. The group walked through, and though Dack could not see Ashiok's face, he could practically hear the cracking of a smug smile across their granitic skin as they walked past the humbled guard.

The first thing Dack noticed upon entering the cathedral was the apparent redoubling of the deathlike scents from which they had just escaped. He could practically taste it as the choking air coalesced in his mouth, causing his lips to reflexively curl. Soil, tamped hard by countless feet before them, still managed to cling tight to their soles. Rows of sconced green mushrooms acted as torches, their light acting as their guide through the Golgari's sacred halls. They illuminated the walls, black as night and coated in an unnervingly glossy sheen, which steepled high over their heads into a patchwork of moldering architecture and proliferating vegetation. Interspersed along the corridor, intricate stone statues lined the way, depicting a veritable menagerie of Ravnican races and beasts, though their faces all seemed to either pull into shocked gasps or stark grimaces. As Dack's eyes darted to and fro, absorbing the stomach-churning sights in the silence into which his group had fallen, he could not shake the sensation that the walls were shifting, bending in and out in time with his own quickening breath. Worse than that, however, was the constant prickle on the nape of his neck, as if thousands of unblinking eyes were watching his every move.

Dack did his best to quell his unease by focusing his attention fully ahead. The initial causeway was coming to an end, and a massive, stone doorway stood waiting for them. Beneath the thick layers of dangling kudzu, its face was covered in detailed carvings of gorgons, all standing shoulder to shoulder, with hands raised to the sky and fangs bared in defiance. It was cracked open slightly in the middle, a sliver of soft yellow light seeping from the gap like pus from an infected wound. As they approached, Dack could hear the muffled sounds of many voices, stacking atop one another, filtering from within. For him, the warmth radiating from this unseen room was a welcome respite from the Golgari's natural state.

Still unintentionally leading the other planeswalkers, Ashiok put a hand on the door and pushed it forward. The stone crumbled slightly beneath their touch, and the scraping of its edge along the muddied ground set Dack's neck hairs on end. As the threshold expanded, so too did the light and sound from the other side. One by one, the motley group exited the statue-lined corridor, readily stepping into Svogthos' inner sanctum.

There was no way for Dack to anticipate what was waiting for him beyond the stone doors. The meeting hall of the Golgari, nestled in the very center of their guildhall like a beating, black heart, extended out in all directions before him. It was a massive, semicircular amphitheater, with arching walls of interlaced onyx brick and gilded vine that formed around its inhabitants like a birdcage. Even more statues were set into the wall, some sitting in small alcoves while others were fully incorporated into the structure. Unlike the rest of what he had seen of the building, this room was lit by proper torchlight, casting soft, flittering shadows across the tiled floors. The sheer back wall played host to a large stage and pulpit, most likely where the guild leader addressed their members, who could have easily pressed into the room thousandfold. Now, however, the room was not filled with the black and green inhabitants of the Undercity, but with the phantasmagorical rainbow of those who had heeded Jace Beleren's desperate call.

All around him, a dizzying array of individuals waited for the meeting to begin. As his eyes swept over the room, he easily identified the naturalized residents of the plane, who stood out by both their guild insignias and their general discomfort with their fetid surroundings. The others showed no such reservations, their comfort in an unfamiliar space instantly pegging them as planeswalkers. He recognized races, garb, and adornments of several planes he had visited, but also those that appeared completely foreign, drawing his thief's intuition with their rare splendor. Everyone within the space stood in close proximity, leaving room for the latecomers that continued to file in from the myriad doorways across the room. Dack had wondered just how many people would brave the streets and sewers to be here, and he found a strange warmth blooming in his chest as he stared out at the relatively packed chamber. He had never much cared for crowds, preferring the peaceful isolation that came with his chosen occupation, but after the day he had experienced thus far, a sense of community was welcome.

He took a deep breath in through his nostrils, holding the heated air in his lungs for a beat before exhaling. "Alright," he said over the din of the crowd, "we should probably make our way closer to that stage. Wanna make sure we can hear…everything…"

Dack's announcement to his allies faded off as he turned to address them, only to find that the spaces where they had occupied a moment before were now empty. His head whipped around, fast enough to throw a few stray locks across his eyes, and he saw that Ashiok, Davriel, and Nixilis had already dispersed themselves into the throng. Now knowing that he was alone, Dack's shoulders fell in a mixture of annoyance and relief.

"Okay then," he mused to himself, dropping the volume of his voice below audibility. "Not sure where they're going, but that's not really my problem. I mean, how much trouble could they possibly cause in a place like this." He paused, rethinking his words. "By the gods, I hope they can behave themselves. I'll find them later."

With a hint of reticence, Dack peeled his eyes away from his travelling companions, shoved his gloved hands into his vest pockets, and began working his way through the crowd. As he deftly stepped around the other planeswalkers and guild members, his ears could not help but pick out snippets of conversations. Stiff introductions between strangers, brief explanations of their native planes, what they had been doing before being inexplicably dragged to Ravnica, and what they had been doing since. Sifting through the murmurs, Dack swiftly grasped the general attitude of the room: no one truly wanted to be here, but it seemed that this was their only option.

Dack inwardly nodded. Yeah, can't say I'm too surprised about that. At least they showed up, I guess. Reluctant help is still better than no help at all. I'm sure this Jace is happy with the turnout.

His gaze wandered past the multitudinous faces in the crowd and landed at the back wall. He looked over the few individuals who occupied the raised platform with a curious eye. Though he did not recognize them, he had to assume these were the people who had called this summit, who had reached out to every open mind and ear seeking their help. They milled about, chatting between themselves as if completely oblivious to the growing crowd below. To one side, several chairs had been pulled up, three of which were currently in use. A silver golem sat stoically in one, with only the flickering of his artificial eyes distinguishing him from the other statues. Next to him, a young redheaded girl slumped forward, hair obscuring her face, while a green-draped elf gently stroked her back. Most notable, however, was the activity occurring at the stage's center, against the farthest wall. There, a detachment of kraul, under the watchful eye of a seemingly stern gorgon bearing the regalia of a buccaneer, were affixing a massive bronze bust of a dragon. It shone in the flickering lamplight, and as Dack squinted, an odd recognition passed over his features.

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that looks just like that dragon who's in charge of the Izzet. But what in the nine hells would something like that be doing down here in Golgari territory? I'm not one to talk, but is now really the time to be showing off your plunder from all this sh-

As Dack's scrutinous stare focused harder and harder on the semi-familiar forged face, his attention for his surroundings dwindled. Thus, it came as a shock when his whole body bumped into one of the other invited guests. Even more surprising was that the individual he had run into was shorter than he, yet it felt as though he had stepped headfirst into a sturdy brick wall. He reeled back from the impact, attempting to regain his footing, but before he could react, a hand leapt out and grabbed his own. An ironlike grip clamped down tight enough to ensure he did not slide out of his glove, then pulled him swiftly back to his feet, bringing him face to face with a dark-haired woman outfitted in blue robes and bronzed armor.

Their eyes met, and Dack found himself taken aback by the solid periwinkle staring at him with an almost oblivious aura. "Oh, uh, sorry about that," he managed to stutter out, unsure if his inability to keep from tripping over his own words came from his near spill or this woman's unexpected energy.

"It would be better to watch your path as you travel it." Her voice was even, almost unnerving in its placidity. It matched her soft features, which displayed a blaring lack of emotional registry.

Dack ran a nervous hand through the back of his hair. "Yeah, I should know by now to look where I'm walking." He let out a small chuckle, hoping to either dismantle the awkwardness or provide a transition to extricate himself as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, her face remained stoic, and Dack found himself anxious within the confining silence. "Well, thanks for catching me, I guess." He broke eye contact for a moment, looking over the woman's attire and realizing it was not native to Ravnica. His eyes snapped up, and he extended his hand to her, this time with an explicit purpose. "I'm Dack, Dack Fayden, of Fiora."

She stared down at Dack's gloved mitt for a second, as if he had done something truly strange. After another pause, however, she took his hand in hers and gave a firm shake. "My name is Narset. I hail from the clan of Ojutai on the plane of Tarkir. It is nice to make your acquaintance, fellow planeswalker."

Dack retrieved his hand, raising it to stroke his goatee in contemplation. "Hmm, I've heard of Tarkir from… others in my line of work, though I've never visited there myself. Quite steeped in history, isn't it?"

"More than you could possibly know," Narset responded calmly, accompanied by a sage nod. "I have also not traveled to your home plane of Fiora. I'm afraid I have spent most of my life on Tarkir. Even though I have these abilities, I did not wish to abandon my work, or my home."

Suddenly, a pang shot through Dack's chest, almost causing him to lose his composure. He retained it, with only his eyes behaving erratically, searching Narset's face for signs of recognition or ill-intent. When he saw nothing but apparent tranquility, he forced a cough into his balled fist. "Yeah, I, uh, I know the feeling, though not so much anymore. If you're traveling through the Blind Eternities, there are plenty of better spots to check out than Fiora."

At this, Narset cocked her head slightly, and Dack saw the faint traces of crinkles at the corners of her mouth. "I will be sure to keep that in mind."

"I take it that's why you came here? To the meeting, I mean, not the city in general. You think these people can help you get back home?"

"I believe it is possible," she answered, a slight wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. "I have met several members of the Gatewatch before, along with some other planeswalkers that I see in this room. All their faces look troubled today, or unsure, or desperate, not like how they usually are. But I do not think that they think this is hopeless. Unseating Nicol Bolas is not an impossible feat, and if anyone can figure out just how to do it, they must be in this room, now."

Despite her uninflected tone, Narset's words were not indifferent. To Dack, they felt like the exact opposite. Whether she was purposefully withholding her emotions or simply did not express them as readily as he did, he could not say, but he could still sense her conviction. Inwardly, he was somewhat jealous of her lack of apprehension.

Rather than say any of this, Dack simply offered a contrite nod of his head. "I guess anything's possible. There's certainly enough people in here, at least one person must have a good idea."

"Perhaps that person is you." Behind Narset's glassy, monochromatic eyes, Dack thought he saw a glint of whimsy, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Still, it was enough to bring a smirk to his own face, which he had not realized until that moment had been rigidly set for longer than he cared to imagine.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," he rakishly shrugged, "but I'm mostly just here to listen, y'know? All of my plans tend to have the same option when it comes to fighting: get out as fast as possible."

Narset raised an eyebrow at him, then interlaced her fingers and let them hang below her waist. "Keep that thought in your mind. Sharing such an insight may well be what you are meant to do here today. Much as an avalanche cannot occur without the snowflakes, or a waterfall without the drops, I trust that we will all have our parts to play. Harmony will prevail this day where chaos cannot."

Her words washed over him like a summer rain, refreshing and comforting, but also stirring something inside him. To him, she sounded both childlike and wizened, optimistic in the face of all that had occurred but knowledgeable in what the costs may be. Also, Dack had almost forgotten the simple pleasure of conversing with someone who was not steeped in animosity. Despite her seemingly cold exterior, Narset offered him a basic friendliness that, after today, was most appreciated. He wanted to share this with her, but as he opened his mouth to speak, he found himself cut off by another sound on the other side of the room. It was loud, and angry, and to his utter dismay, extremely familiar.

"YOU!" bellowed Nixilis, his demonic baritone easily slicing through the general chatter of the room's patrons. "You dare to show your face here, you traitorous cow!?"

The chamber fell into a bewildered silence, with conversations cutting off mid-word and falling limply to the floor. Dack, who had just a moment before felt his first and only reprieve from the day, pinched his eyes shut for a moment as deep-seated reluctance wiped it all away. His lids fluttered back open, the mounting pressure on the bridge of his nose undeterred, and he turned towards Nixilis' booming voice.

Across a field of heads, their backs all to Dack as they sought to quench their curiosity, he quickly recognized his compatriot, who towered over the crowd with obsidian wings flared and etched skin alight with brimstone. Flanking his sides, he could see the wispy night of Ashiok dissipating to the ceiling and the barest tip of Davriel's twisted mask. This sight brought nothing but an internal sigh of resignation, but when he saw the subject of Nixilis' verbal assault, Dack found himself quite shocked. Though the bystanders obscured most of the figure, they could not block the two curled horns that pointed to the sky, their natural black luster receding into a burning red at the tips. Between them, a tuft of orange fur sat atop grey skin, which tapered off into a distinctly bovine snout.

"I bear no quarrels with you and your crew," Angrath retorted, the loud rumble of his voice accompanied by the clinking of chains. "I have come here, same as you, to help however I can."

Nixilis pushed a contentious fume of air from his nostrils. "Do not mistake me for the fish who forgets the net as soon as it is freed. Your treasonous acts will not be so easily erased."

"I did what I thought I had to do to escape. I was blinded by rage, and I took the wrong path. I am sorry."

"Save your prattle for your sniveling worm of a master. If those Eternals could not return you to him, then I will gladly oblige."

Nixilis' claws splayed in menacing fashion, the magmatic cracks flaring with intent. Angrath stepped back, and the glow of his horns redoubled, the heat distorting the air above his head as if he were plagued by ghosts. And Dack, watching the tensions mount from a safe distance, tried his damnedest to bat away the encroaching compulsion that was knocking at his door.

With all the clamor, Dack had all but forgotten about Narset until she stepped next to him. "I suppose it is not the way of all to overcome their chaos, especially those that walk the path alone. They may yet have a part to play, but such discord will not win this day."

Dack's eyes flashed to the corners, spying Narset for a moment, searching for any trace of knowing behind her words that once again felt prophetic. Seeing nothing but the warm blankness of her features, he glanced back over to Nixilis and Angrath, each poised for the other to attack so that they may strike the first blow. Resignation knocked loudly at the back of his skull, expertly timed with each of Narset's words, and with a heave of his shoulders, Dack finally turned the knob.

He opened the corner of his mouth, outwardly directing his words to Narset. "Yeah, I think you're right. I guess something's gotta be done about this."

He saw a flash of confusion fall over her opaline eyes, but before she could respond, Dack started pushing his way through the stilled crowd. His silent footsteps carried him with an almost frantic speed. People readily parted for him as he pressed forward, muttering his niceties on hasted breaths that he doubted reached their ears. He had plenty of experience weaving through tight crowds without causing much disturbance, and so it took only a few seconds before he emerged from amongst them and thrust himself, with arms outstretched, between the demon and the minotaur.

"Alright, alright," Dack projected, head swiveling between the combatants, "I think that's just about enough of that. Let's take it down a notch, shall we?"

Nixilis, unimpressed by his display, took another step forward, the lights overhead casting the demon's indelible shadow over him. "It seems your memory is just as weak as your body, flea. Have you already forgotten the sting of his chains? Step aside, or I will gladly cast you there."

Though his voice resounded in his skull, Dack managed to keep firm, with neither his face nor his posture faltering before Nixilis. If he were being honest, the thought of Angrath's treachery had not actually crossed his mind until just then. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten any of it. It still feels like a thousand red-hot needles are in me every time I breathe too hard. But I hardly think any of that matters right now. Angrath apologized, and I doubt he'd still be helping those Gruul after they left him to die."

"To be fair," interjected Davriel, "we did the same."

Dack shot the shadowmage a piercing glare, which, from his lack of reaction, only seemed to glance off his fiendish visage. Seeing the futility there, he turned back to Nixilis, whose flexing claws told him that patience was wearing thin. "But he's here now, isn't he? That means he wants to help. C'mon, Angrath, help me out here."

The minotaur huffed. "I appreciate your assistance, but it's unnecessary. I can reckon with my own mistakes."

"You see," Nixilis snarled, "the cur has accepted his fate."

Dack met the demon's gaze and, attempting to switch his tactics, cocked his head and raised his shoulders in a dubious display. "I'm a bit surprised, with all your talk of honorable battle. Don't you think this is a bit petty of you?" He hoped this appeal to Nixilis' ego would at least somewhat curb his intent, but his hopes deflated almost immediately.

"The word bears no meaning to me, flea. I did not ascend to my position by allowing betrayers to go unpunished. Now, I will say one last time, move away, unless you wish to pay his penance as well."

Dack was running out of options, and he could feel the rising heat coming from both before and behind him. As he plumbed his mind for a strategy or artifact that might help deescalate the situation, his eyes scanned over to his allies. Davriel seemed relatively bemused by the proceedings, with one hand propping up the elbow of the other as it rested on his cheek, a single finger tapping at his mask. Ashiok, however, appeared abnormally tight-lipped, their hands crossed over their chest and mouth slicing a perfectly parallel line through their ashen jaw.

"Don't you think this is just a little bit extreme?" he called over to them, his gaze intensifying to ensure their attention. "You were the one who said we should stick to the mission."

A flare of smoke swirled around their horns as their shapeless oculi shifted between him and Nixilis. After a moment, Ashiok offered a simple shrug. "It's really not my problem now, is it? That cow is just lucky that I'm not getting to him first."

To Dack's surprise, their words did not carry their usual bite, as if there were some hesitancies within. He wanted to press further, but before he could get the words out, he felt Nixilis begin to stir. Rippling energy started to sputter from the glowing cracks in his plated skin, and as Dack looked up, he saw his mouth was filled with ominous orange light.

"The time for talk is over," he growled over Dack, voice reverberating all around with a renewed presence. "Prepare for death, coward!"

"I will not fall as easily as you think," Angrath shot back, carried by a hefty snort that bathed Dack's back in sauna-like heat, closer than it had been before.

Standing between them, Dack felt trapped, as he wanted to stop the fight from occurring but could not figure out the means to do so. His psychometric rolodex seemed inefficient for such juggernauts, and the bystanders seemed content to simply watch and wait. Still, he refused to step to the wayside, in case he could think of something at the last minute that would prove effective. He would never get the chance to find such a stroke of genius, however, as both the steadily advancing planeswalkers stopped in their tracks as the room filled with a deep, commanding shout from the stage at the back.

"Stand down, Nixilis! There will be no fighting here."

Dack, borne on the wind of the room's occupants' heads all turning in unison, looked away from Nixilis to find this new speaker. It was easy enough to identify him, standing tall and firm at the stage's edge. He was tanned and muscular, almost statuesque as his projected presence engulfed the area. His armor glinted in the soft torchlight, though Dack could not help but notice that his sword did not match. Where the plates were gilded ivory, the blade was dark and fearsome, looking almost two-dimension as it failed to reflect even the thinnest mote. Though Dack had never seen this man before, he could tell at once that this was the man in charge, and the crowd seemed to acknowledge this, apart from the individual who's name still rang in the rafters.

"I will take no orders from you, Gideon," Nixilis glowered, his aggressive posturing towards Angrath shifting slightly towards the stage. "Do not think I have forgotten our last meeting on Zendikar. Were these circumstances different, I would gladly strike you down."

While the rumbling threat sent an involuntary gulp down Dack's throat, he watched Gideon intently and found no falter in his rugged features. "I am not your enemy this day, Nixilis, and neither is anyone else here. Either yield or leave."

"And if I refuse? Do you truly believe that one as puny as yourself can remove me? Or will your Gatewatch do the honors? I welcome the attempt."

"I had no plans on kicking anyone out, but if you won't willingly back down, I'll make an exception. We are not here to fight."

To the room's, and especially Dack's, surprise, the first response to Gideon's proclamation came not from Nixilis, but from Ashiok at his side. "Well then, what exactly are we here for?"

Stunned chatter broke out among the gathered, and Gideon, staring down at them from atop the stage, furrowed his brow in contemplation. "I'm sorry?" he asked back.

"As you rightly should be," they rasped. They pulled their hand out from beneath their cloak and leveled a talon between Gideon's eyes. "You and your associates summoned us all here with great words of dire urgency, and yet here we all stand, milling about as if the terrors overhead have simply disappeared from the world as they did our vision." Their finger snapped to the ceiling, cutting the air like a knife. "Are you ready to proceed, or are you waiting for more of those civilians up there to die?"

Dack could hear the sadistic insistence in Ashiok's voice. Whatever they were attempting, it seemed effective, as Gideon's face shaded over, changing in an instant from resolute to rageful. His arm muscles tightened, veins pressing against his olivine skin, and he took a step closer to the stage's edge. Dack watched, unsure what was about to happen, but before he could truly wonder, Gideon stopped moving. Beside him, a dark-haired man cloaked in blue, whose presence somehow rang a bell in Dack's mind, placed a light hand on Gideon's arm. His eyes broke away from Nixilis and Ashiok, instead locking onto someone else in the crowd. Dack strained his neck to see but could only make out the back of a head overflowing with red hair and a pair of feathered wings.

Between these two, it seemed enough to temporarily quell Ashiok's attempted goads. Gideon face unclenched, his biceps receded, and he took a visibly deep breath in. When he finished, he looked out to the crowd, sweeping over them with a countenance of renewed conviction.

"You are right," Gideon said as he momentarily passed over Ashiok. "If you are here, then you no doubt received the telepathic message sent out by my good friend Jace." He gestured to the cloaked mage, who seemed almost nervous for the momentary attention. "You have all seen what the enemy is capable of, seen the destruction that Bolas, his followers, and his army can wreak. If you came here simply for shelter, then I cannot begrudge your choice. But, if you listened to Jace's words, as I did, and came here to assist in our plans, regardless of the possible dangers before you, then I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are far stronger and braver than you may believe."

The temperamental chatter stirred up by Nixilis and Ashiok gradually subsided as Gideon spoke, his unyielding tone filling the amphitheater. As if his words carried an ambient magnetism, heads, eyes, and all other sensory intakes turned to him, instantly enraptured. Even Dack himself could not deny the pull he felt from Gideon's voice, like the security of a lighthouse's beacon guiding a fleet of ships safely to port. He briefly checked his allies' faces in his periphery, and though their features remained as aloof or menacing as ever, even their eyes were locked onto the stage.

Gideon ceased his surveyal of the crowd, and his voice shifted, the thundering emphasis of a leader edged out slightly by the inviting warmth of a friend. "For those who do not know me, allow me to introduce myself. I am Gideon Jura, son of Theros and one of the founding members of the Gatewatch." As he said this, he gestured wide with one hand, passing over Jace, who offered a stiff nod, and the two seated women. The elf gave a small wave, while the redhead refused to move from her slumped posture. "We are a group of planeswalkers who have tasked ourselves with protecting the Multiverse from those that wish it harmed. And though we have fought many foes and saved many planes, one threat has stood in our way." He paused, as if the next words were catching in his throat. "Yes, we have faced Bolas before, and as you can tell from the state of this day, we have yet to defeat him. He is more powerful and more diabolical than anything we, and I must assume any of you, have ever seen."

A sudden ripple of whispers broke out in the crowd, manifested from this unexpectedly grim announcement. They were given no time to linger, as Gideon immediately summoned back his ironclad tone from before.

"However, do not mistake my words for those of resignation. I am simply ensuring that you all know the risk you are taking in this endeavor. This fight will not be easy, but the odds are not insurmountable. Bolas thinks himself a god, but we will show him just how mortal he is!"

As Gideon's words echoed across the sea of faces, Dack could feel a palpable energy begin to brew. Though he agreed with Ashiok's earlier sentiment, that there was no time to waste when it came to implementing this plan, he readily admitted that Gideon's speech was exactly what he, and surely others among him, needed to hear. Though Dack had never been in a position like this before, he imagined this is how soldiers felt before they readily plunged into battle, prepared to put their bodies on the line for the people and places they wished to keep safe.

"But to do so," Gideon continued, refusing to break his unrelenting candor, "it will require the combined efforts of all on this plane who can help, both natives and foreigners alike. Now, I freely admit that I do not know much of this plan you are here for, as I only received the barest outline from Jace upon my arrival. From what I could gather, victory is possible, though it hinges on many parts coming together, carried out by the best we have in as timely a manner as we can manage. It may sound daunting, but I bear no burden of doubt. You may have arrived on Ravnica against your will, but you came here, to this room, because you want to see this plane saved, those zombies cleansed from its streets, and that dragon cast back from the pit he crawled from. I believe we can do this, and so should you all!"

Gideon, grasping his ebony blade, thrust a mighty fist into the air with a triumphant, rallying shout. This cry was immediately mirrored by a sizable portion of the mob, loud enough to shake the moldering joists. While Dack was among the percentage who remained silent, he could feel a fledgling yell pressing at the back of his throat, not quite fully formed but still wanting to fly free. Once the collective noise dissipated into the fungal rooftop, Gideon holstered his weapon and took a step to the side, away from center stage.

"Now," he stated, "if we are to win this day, we will need a plan. Fortunately, we have the greatest minds in the Multiverse behind us. Jace, the floor is yours."

As Gideon receded from the spotlight, Jace Beleren hesitated for an awkward moment before stepping into his place. The mind-mage raised a gloved fist to his mouth, mutely cleared his throat, and turned to address the room.

"As Gideon said, thank you all for showing up here." His voice, one that every member of the congregation had heard in their heads several times today, carried neither the bravado nor the volume of the previous speaker. Dack was taken slightly aback, as it gave the uncanny sensation that the voice did not match the individual. I guess it's easier to fake confidence when you're not actually talking. Speaking properly ain't as easy as it looks.

"Since you are, in fact, here with us in Svogthos, under the gracious hosting of the Golgari Swarm, you know at least a bit about who I am. My name is Jace Beleren. I hail from the plane of Vryn, but I do not consider it my home. Ravnica, this wondrous city that surrounds us now, is my home. I have lived on these streets, grown alongside it, seen it struggle and flourish. I care about this city, and I will not see it fall, let alone to that dragon that has vexed me at every turn."

With each word, Jace's tone soured more and more, until this last sentence was spat out like a bitter pill. As if reading the audience's reaction, he paused for a moment, smoothing out the hem of his cloak while he regained his composure. After a moment, his face returned to its original neutrality, but now, Dack could see the embers, low and steady, burning behind his eyes.

"But I know I am not the only one here who cares for this city. For those of you who do not know, Ravnica is held together by ten guilds, all acting of their own will yet tightly connected by a binding document known as the Guildpact. Though I held the magic of this contract within me, they are the true keepers of this plane. Without their support, there is no chance of its survival. I asked representatives of each guild to come and aid our efforts, and so, I'd like for them to speak now. You know better than us what is happening on this plane and what can be done to help, so please, share what you can with us."

A sliver of silence fell over the room, amplifying the shuffling of feet and the occasional hurried whispers that permeated the space. It lasted only a moment, however, before it was broken by a series of sharp heel clicks along the stage's boards. The gorgon whom Dack recalled seeing earlier commanding the kraul in setting up the draconic bust readily stepped forward.

"Well, I suppose I should go first, seeing as it's my doorway you are all darkening." She spoke with a keening hiss as she swept a hand across the room, as if she were drawing invisible borders around her domain. "I am Vraska, the undisputed queen of the Golgari Swarm." As these words spread over the area like spores, a sudden shifting and groaning could be heard from the walls, like the beams within were shaking their heads in disapproval. "As I'm sure any among you could surmise, I have already pledged the entire support of the Golgari to this cause. My subjects have kept the sewers clear, and I have been deploying the less light-sensitive members, trolls, mages, gorgons, crocodiles, and the like, into the streets above. Communication is sparse, but they seem capable of dispatching these Eternals, so long as they do not get overwhelmed. For now, though, I believe where we sit currently remains the single most secured spot in Ravnica."

"It is not the only spot," grumbled the silver golem seated on the stage's side. Its posture tightened, and it stared at Vraska with blank eyes. Its voice, while mechanical, seemed to carry a heavy weight. "There is yet another spot, far outside the city limits. A bastion of my own construction. The citizen we have gathered there are safe."

Vraska raised a hand to the golem in apology. "Of course, Karn, I did not mean to underscore your efforts. If citizens can get to your shelter, then they should. I suggest that those who cannot, however, should be ferried down here for their protection. Once we get able bodies back out there fighting, bring those who cannot to this place. I know it is rare for the Golgari to open their doors to those above ground, but these are certainly unprecedented times."

An air of agreement filled the room, but it was swiftly dashed as a steely voice in the crowd spoke up. "Of course, leave it to the Golgari to use a tragedy like this to grow their coffers. Gather all the fresh meat you can and infect it with your rot."

All heads snapped in the direction of the speaker, with Vraska's moving violently quick. Dack needed to step to his tiptoes to see to the side wall, where a flaxen-haired elf stood beside a massive white wolf, staring daggers at the stage.

"And who are you," Vraska hissed, "to make so bold an accusation?" Venom dripped from each syllable, and her tendril-like hair stood up, pointing in the elf's direction like a firing squad awaiting their orders. "We've never had the pleasure of meeting, but I see that you have come here on behalf of the Selesnya. I simply wish to save as much of this plane, which is just as much yours as it is mine, as I can. Tell me, then, why you are here?"

The elf took a step forward, chest puffed out and righteous indignation playing on his carven features. "This may be your home, witch, but I will not kowtow to you. I am Tolsimir Wolfblood, champion of the Ledev Guardians, and I follow only the will of the great Mat'Selesnya. That is why I am here. As the highest-ranking member of the Conclave available to travel, it has become my duty to ensure that the full might of the Selesnya is behind these efforts. You will forgive me if I do not trust a gorgon to be upfront about their motivation."

Unwilling to show any weakness, Vraska also stepped forward, displaying a posture of deadly contempt. "I care not if you trust my words, for they will be true regardless. And from what we have seen, it is your guild that is more likely to need the assistance of others." Her lips curled smugly for a moment. "How is the cleanup of Vitu-Ghazi going, by the way?"

"You will keep that name from your lips!" Tolsimir shouted, a shade of angry red infecting his otherwise pallid skin. He made another move to step forward, but the white wolf blocked his path with its snout. Realizing his outburst, Tolsimir paused to collect himself. "Most of Vitu-Ghazi has been readily salvaged and moved back to our territory. The beasts responsible, however, have yet to be stopped."

As he said this, Dack saw his eyes flicker away from Vraska for a second, looking past her to another spot on the stage that he could not trace. "Were it my decision alone, I would have seen the Conclave cloistered in the wake of this attack so that our strength may be conserved. How can we hope to protect a plane when our own home is not in order?" A belabored sigh fell from his tight lips. "But, as I said, I am here to serve not my will, but the will of the Collective. Despite the fall of Vitu-Ghazi, Trostani insists that we continue our existing aid. Our knights are on the front lines, pushing back these Eternals. Our druids are seeding the land, both ensuring its health against this blight and allowing hulking elementals to bloom. We have lost much, but we will not back down. Gideon, Jace, our numbers are yours."

While Gideon simply nodded in confirmation, Jace stepped back onto center stage. He raised a hand to Vraska, whose murderous gaze had not ceased, but at the sight of the mind-mage, she reticently backed down. "Thank you both, the support of the Golgari and the Selesnya are truly appreciated. I am not asking you all to be friends. I know as well as you all that Ravnica's messy history will not be overturned in a day, but if we can work alongside one another, we should stand a chance."

"A sentiment I wholeheartedly share," came a radiant voice from the crowd, which Dack pinpointed as the winged figure Gideon had looked at before. Her plumage ruffled slightly, and though he could only see the back of her head, there seemed to be a glow emanating from her front. "As the leader of the Boros Legion, I commit any and all of our resources to this cause. Though we have already sustained heavy casualties, my soldiers will not relent until this city is safe. I have fought on the front lines today alongside several of you, and I have seen what awaits our home if we do not act with all our might. Every tool in the Legion's arsenal is yours to command."

This time, when Gideon nodded his recognition from midstage, there was a noticeable firmness in his movements, one that comes only with full, unwavering agreement. Jace's acknowledgment, by comparison, was rather tame in the face of this angelic conviction.

Following the Boros leader's pledge, another woman on stage stepped forward. Though she was dressed in a plain brown trench coat, and she wore her black hair in a wild, almost defiant cloud, she still managed to project an air of importance.

"While I can't say I share your passion, Aurelia, I do agree. For those who do not know me, I am Kaya, and while, yes, I know I don't exactly look the part, and despite what those in the city may say, I am still the current leader of the Orzhov. Now, Ravnica is not my home, but I have nothing but sympathy for this cause. After some… rigorous negotiations, I have managed to loosen the Syndicate's purse strings a bit. We have enforcers, knights, and thrulls assisting in the streets, and I have been ensured that efforts are being made to keep the spirits of the departed safe from Bolas' spell."

"I have never known the Orzhov to be generous without seeking something in return," came a thick, sputtering voice from the far back.

Dack turned, brow creased in confusion at the odd sounds, and he was met with an equally bizarre sight. Ostensibly a man, with the face and general proportions that a man would have, but that is where any similarities ended. A vestigial pair of pincers grew from his abdomen, fluttering sheets of membranous tissue billowed beneath his arms, squid-like tentacles fell by his legs like a wreath, all shaded an eerily unnatural cerulean. It was easy enough for Dack to see all this, as despite the amount of people standing in the room, it seemed that no one wanted to occupy the creature's immediate vicinity.

A brief shudder ran up Dack's spine. Ugh, the Simic. There's already so many weird creatures on this plane, why make more? Wonder what all this guy's made of…

"I have heard your name before," the amalgam continued, pointing one of his primary fingers to Kaya. "You're the one who killed the Obzedat, and then freed all those spirits of their debts."

"Indeed, I did," Kaya responded, a hint of pride seeping into her guarded tone. Clearly, she knew this creature was not here to simply pay he compliments. "Sorry, I think I missed your name. Who are you, exactly?"

The bestial man let out a prolonged breath that was heavy with moisture. "I am called Roalesk. I was the first to be created by Prime Speaker Vannifar under the Guardian Project, and I serve as her most loyal vassal." Roalesk struck his chest with his fist in a show of dedication, a gesture which his cancerous claw readily mimicked a moment later.

"Right," nodded Kaya, the held emphasis on the i readily displaying her doubt. "I have spoken to Vannifar before. She seems like quite the strong leader. I'm sure the Simic will be fighting just as hard out there as anyone else."

This seemed to stir something in Roalesk, who broke out into a fit of throaty, mucous laughter. It filled the room, drenching all in the uncomfortable viscosity. "The Simic warriors are far beyond whatever fighters the rest of you send. You are correct, Vannifar is not only the most brilliant mind in the Combine, but also the fiercest warrior. She has been preparing for a war long before Bolas arrived. After speaking to the lion-man and the leviathan tamer, all the Simic's might is mobilizing. As we speak, our biomancers are working to implement her plans. Our most intelligent agents are being augmented into soldiers superior to any other, and our handlers are gathering their menageries to let loose into the streets. All nine of the zonots have been cleansed of the undead, and we have no intention of stopping there."

A heavy pause fell over the amphitheater as Roalesk's viscid voice stopped. Throughout the room, individuals puzzled over his fanatical message, with Dack sticking on a point that he was sure many others plucked from the speech's midst. The Simic were already preparing for war, huh? I wonder with who…

This unspoken idea spread throughout the room like a slinking ooze, saturating every nook and cranny of the crowd. Before it could fully engulf the attendance, Kaya stepped up, wading through the gelatinous tension and dispersing it with a flippant flourish. "Well, Roalesk, that all sounds great. Glad the Simic are on board for helping with all this. I guess I'm just a little confused, then, why you interrupted me before? Do you have a particular problem with how I run my guild?"

"Of course not, not any more than any citizen who's lived on Ravnica for more than a day. How the Orzhov operate, driven by greed and mistrust and impulsivity, is strictly your business. I simply worry that, if the Church is involved, there must either be a profit to be made or a position to be filled."

"Well said," called out Tolsimir, who now leaned his back against the wolf's bristling fur. "You are new to this plane, Kaya, but you do not seem so naïve that you are unaware of how the Orzhov operate. More than once have I needed to save innocents from your collectors."

Kaya's dismissive look instantly hardened. "That was before. That is not me, and I have no intention of continuing the old Orzhov ways."

Roalesk gestured to the roof, his raylike flaps whipping the surrounding air. "And who exactly are you? All we really know is you came to this plane, killed the Obzedat, and absorbed their connection to the Guildpact. That is not something that someone does idly. Tell me, tell us all, how you came to be here. If the Obzedat's demise truly was an assassination, as the current rumor suggests, then who called upon you to carry it out, hm? Were you simply following the will of someone within the Church then, as you may be doing now? Or was it someone… else?"

Immediately, Dack, and the rest of the crowd, could see that Roalesk had struck a nerve. Kaya bared her teeth in a seething grimace, yet her posture receded, as if the mutant's words would stain her skin if they touched it. She opened and closed her mouth several times as she struggled to find a suitable response, looking very much like a fish gasping for air. Dack felt a pang of sympathy for the woman, who clearly had gotten caught up in all the guild scheming that he had always been careful to avoid. It was fortunate, then, that a veteran Ravnican quickly stepped up to Kaya's aid.

"She owes you no explanation," Vraska menaced at Roalesk, eyes aglow with threatening yellow. "In case you have forgotten, we are not here for the trial of the person who finally let those fat bags of ectoplasm rest. The Orzhov are behind us, and that is enough. Or does the Simic not truly care about this plane so long as their freaks are free to fly?"

Roalesk let out a low grumble, filled with unsettling clicking and chittering. "Just because the city is in danger does not mean the sins of the past have been forgotten. You most of all should understand that, Vraska."

"How are we expected to entrust the city's survival to those whose leaders we do not know?" posited Tolsimir, pushing off his mount to regain his stature.

"Would you rather see it burn?" interjected Aurelia, voice booming with magical amplification.

"A seed can always bloom from scorched earth, but it only suffocates in rot. You know as well as I that a city ruled from below is no city worth saving."

The throng fell into a deeply uncomfortable silence as the guild representatives bickered, each slung word or spat insult ratcheting the tension. Dack could feel his skin crawl with nervous energy as the sounds of squabbling started to fade into an incoherent mess. We just said we don't have time to waste! Why can't these idiots put aside the politics for one gods-be-damned day? His frustration fell flat, however, as he had no idea how to break through to these people. There's gotta be some way to hurry this shit up.

Then, as the argumentation began to reach a boiling point, Dack's question was resoundingly answered by the sudden, explosive sound of a bolt of lightning flying up from the stage and puncturing a smoldering hole in Svogthos' roof, displacing a group of crows that had been roosting overhead. The unexpected spectacle halted all other noise in the room, and everyone turned to see who had summoned it. The culprit readily stepped forward, a man with silver-streaked hair, bearing the telltale red-and-blue uniform of the Izzet. He had a massive, whirring contraption strapped to his back and wrist, the latter of which now showcased a wafting trail of gray smoke.

"Alright, I think that's just about enough." Though he projected his voice to the far back, his tone did not resemble a shout or a scream. To Dack's surprise, the man who had just blasted a hole in the ceiling of the Golgari guildhall spoke evenly and precisely.

"Leave it to the Izzet to act without thinking," Roalesk muttered from the back, both pairs of arms crossed over his chest and abdomen, respectively. "There's a reason your scientists die thrice as often as ours."

The electromancer smirked. "And yet the city seems to run on Izzet technology instead of flying merfolk or five-headed sharks. Funny how that works."

Roalesk seemed prepared to strike back against this affront to his people, but before he could, Vraska turned to him. "Ral, there had better be a good explanation as to why you decided to partially destroy the sacred hall of my guild."

Her pointed words sliced through the air, and whatever bravado Ral had built up to let off his lightning now shrank in her intimidating presence. "Well, yeah, there is. I needed to stop you all, since at the rate you were going, you would've let the city burn down before you finished arguing with each other. Look, the city's in danger, and we need to help it, together, whether we like it or not. If I recall, your guilds had a similar response not too long ago when I tried to form an alliance and elect a new Living Guildpact. Now, those efforts… failed…" Ral's voice trailed off momentarily, his gaze locked on Vraska. In the moment before he regathered himself, Dack could have sworn he saw a flash of unbridled anger behind his eyes. "But they could have gone a damn long way to preventing all this. Just how oblivious are you, that you'd make a mistake, see the consequences, and then make it again? The Izzet call that experimentation, but I know damn well the rest of the guilds call it foolishness. Now, I don't give a shit about guild politics, but you all came here to help, so are you really going to let all your people die just so you can be right, or are you going to be the heroes they need?"

Stunned silence fell over the entire room. Ral's words lingered in the air, crackling with an invigorating static. All the guild representatives who had spoken thus far now quietly ceded the floor, staring at Ral with wide eyes and shut lips. Dack, ever the outsider, could not help but chuckle. For a guy who says he doesn't like the guild politics, he's damn good at them.

After a beat, Ral clapped his hands together, the noise now thunderous in its isolation. "Great. Well, I guess I'll take my turn then. Hi, I'm Ral Zarek, here on behalf of Interim Guildmaster Maree, acting leader of the Izzet Guild." His voice stumbled on this introduction, eyes darting furtively to the massive bronze dragon head leering at him. "I recently came from Nivix, and I can confirm that my guild is now actively working to repel the Eternals. By now, our scientists should either be out in the field or hard at work figuring out the next steps to stopping all this. We have teams analyzing lazotep structure for possible weaknesses and collecting ambient mana samples from the Planar Bridge in case there is a cancellation frequency available. I know that's a lot of jargon, but suffice it to say, the full support of the League is behind these efforts, and we will pull whatever resources we need if they will help."

Ral's head swiveled back and forth, landing for extended seconds on the faces of the other guild members. Seeing their silence, he then turned to Jace and Gideon, who had been standing on the sidelines during the debate with varying shades of uncertainty. Now, Gideon offered a beaming smile of approval, while Jace's maintained a muted expression and slight nod. Satisfied, Ral returned his attention to the crowd, who seemed to generate a lofty air of expectation around the well-spoken storm mage. Rather than bask in the current spotlight, Ral noisily cleared his throat and allowed his posture to slump.

"Yeah, so that's all I have to say. Looks like we're on a roll for guild approval, that's good, but this isn't everyone yet. Who else is here?"

He squinted over the crowd, searching the myriad faces for Ravnican recognition. He did not have to look long before a hand, encased in an iron bracer and draped in a blue cloak, raised above the sea of heads.

"I believe I should take the floor next," came a hardened voice from the spot where the lofted hand now sank back beneath the surface. From his vantage point, Dack could only see the back of a head swathed in cobalt robes.

At this announcement, Ral's eyes lit up momentarily, and he beckoned the speaker forward. "Did you want to come up here to speak?" he offered. "If I somehow earned a spot up here, you certainly deserve one."

The veiled figure held up their flat palm and shook their head. "That won't be necessary, I believe they can hear me from here." Pivoting on her feet, the figure turned to face the back of the room, and Dack saw a harsh face and tightly cropped hair framed beneath the robes. Just by looking at her, he knew right away which guild she represented. "Greetings to you all. My name is Lavinia, and I am a former arrester for the Azorius Senate and Steward to the former Living Guildpact, Jace Beleren. I wish I could present you all with better news, but unfortunately, the Azorius will not currently be offering any assistance to this cause."

As soon as Lavinia's words left her mouth, a shockwave of indignation undulated across the crowd. Dack winced as mutterings and movements all became incomprehensible in the sudden deluge, but the overall sentiment was clear. He could hardly hear himself think from within the cacophony, which only grew louder with each passing second. Of course the Azorius go and ruin everything, he bitterly mused. Forget settling down, we'll be lucky if they down tear this place apart. Then, just as this thought left his head, Dack saw a flash of magic from where Lavinia stood. Before he could react, runic rings composed of golden arcane energy swept over the crowd like ripples on a pond. As the spell passed through the gathered masses, they fell silent, the telltale binding magic of the Senate wrapping over their mouths and forcibly quieting them. When only the sounds of confused shuffling filled the air, Lavinia's curt voice rose once more.

"If you would all calm yourselves for a moment, I will gladly explain the position of the guild."

With a snap of her fingers, the runes evaporated into the air. The moment they lifted, the chatter reappeared, though with a curbed intensity. Lavinia moved to continue, but she was cut off by a stern voice from the back of the room. "Then why have you chosen to come here?" Dack looked and saw the accuser was a young man with black hair, sporting an impressive gold breastplate and an exotic glaive. "I do not know much of this city, but if your guild will not help defeat this monster, surely they are on his side. We have no use for such traitors here."

A general murmur of agreement floated from the throng, but Lavinia swiftly dashed it. "I understand your position, and I find no fault with it. Know that, though I have come to speak on behalf of the Azorius, I do not side with them. I care only about upholding the safety and security of my city. That was once the mission statement of my guild, one that was propped up by every Grand Arbiter who presided over us. That was, until the untimely passing of our previous guild leader, which led into the rushed appointment of a new one. That bastard Baan cares not for this city, and I believe that he was instrumental in Bolas' plans. So, until the Azorius can be freed from beneath his jackboot, their resources are out of reach. I am here in full affront to what the Azorius has become, and I will pledge myself and all the Senate dissenters I can find to this cause. Our knowledge of the enemy and the city are at your disposal."

Lavinia brought a firm hand to her chest, locking her posture in a tight salute. Dack followed her line of sight and found that, through the course of talking, she had turned her full attention towards Jace, as if her decree were meant for only his ears.

"And why should you be so easily trusted?" inquired the man who had interrupted earlier. "I must assume what you have said of your guild is common knowledge to those who live here, but how are we to believe you are not simply working on behalf of this Grand Arbiter?"

The man's question brought along an air of unease, but it had no time to settle before a voice from the stage fanned it away. "You have nothing to fear with trusting her," Jace loudly proclaimed, his tone conveying a challenge to any who disagreed. "Lavinia has been a loyal ally to myself and the city of Ravnica for far longer than anyone I know. You would have more to doubt with me, or any other person on this stage, than with her. So, if I already have your trust, so should she."

The man stared at Jace, crossing his arms over his armored chest and pursing his lips in consideration. After a moment, he seemed to make up his mind, ceding his opposition with a dip of his weapon.

Lavinia nodded to the stage. "Thank you, Jace. I understand the apprehension, which I have felt since the moment I abandoned my guild, but it is nice to know that there are still those who will listen with open ears." Unlike her cold and precise tone from before, these words fell from her mouth warmed and gentle. Dack could only speculate what that meant, but he had little time before she caught herself and returned to her previous timbre. "And, if my words are not enough to prove myself, I have also fulfilled the mission that was given to me for this group. I believe it is their time to speak now."

Stepping to the side, Lavinia gestured to the figure standing at her right. Up until now, Dack had barely noticed the individual next to her, and without her indication, he never would have paid them any more attention than anyone else in the room. They were average height, the top of their head blending seamlessly into the crowd, and they were entirely shrouded beneath a plain, dingy cloak. The only visible part of their anatomy was a pale, wrinkled mouth framed by unkempt blonde locks. Compared to the cadre of wildly dressed planeswalkers occupying the hall, this person's mundanity made them practically invisible.

From the pulpit, several eyes narrowed in judgement. "And who exactly have you brought here?" Vraska asked, resting an idle claw on her cheek.

"We are still in the middle of official guild business," Aurelia added. "Whatever they have to say can wait until after we've finished."

The figure, seemingly unfazed by these rebukes, let out a low chuckle. Their voice reverberated uncomfortably throughout Svogthos, sounding almost like multiple people attempting to talk simultaneously. "Vraska, Aurelia, I feel I should be insulted that you don't recognize me. Then again, if you all knew my face, then I would not be doing my job, would I?"

As soon as they spoke, Dack saw Vraska's eyes go wide with realization. Before she could ask the question that he saw practically falling from her lips, Lavinia stepped in. "By the request of the former Living Guildpact, Jace Beleren, I present Lazav, the current leader of House Dimir."

"Thank you for such a kind introduction, Lavinia," Lazav said, voice still singularly echoing from beneath their cloak. "When you came to me and asked for my guild's help in stopping this extraplanar threat, well, how could I refuse?"

From the back of the room, Roalesk let out a gargling shout. "You expect us to trust the Dimir, of all people? Their entire organization is built upon secrets and lies!"

"I agree," Tolsimir chimed in. "They have done more to upend this city than anyone."

"Why thank you, both of you," replied Lazav, piled voices filled with mirth. "I do pride myself on my guild's reputation. You neglect, however, that it is because of our motives that the Dimir have more to lose from Bolas than any of you. My agents are spread farther than your zeppelids, our plans run deeper than your roots. I cannot have Bolas undo all that we have worked for. That is why I agreed with Mr. Zarek at the guild summit, and it is why I now lend my syndicate's intel to this cause."

Hesitant murmurs once again floated to the surface, but it seemed that no one could contradict what Lazav had said. Dack knew the Dimir, he assumed, better than most of the others present, and though he did not like it, he believed the guild leader's words. This sentiment seemed to be shared by the two arbiters of this meeting, as both Jace and Gideon nodded in acceptance.

"I wasn't sure if you would accept our invitation, Lazav," conceded Jace, "but I am glad that your guild's values have not clouded your reason."

From beneath their cloak, Lazav let out an icy sigh. "Of course. This is our home just as much as it is anyone else's. To continue scheming while the city burned, why, what kind of monster would I have to be to let something like that happen?"

Jace's eyes narrowed for a moment, and his lips curled in cold calculation. A stiffness filled the space between the two, and Dack could feel the battle of wits being waged within the gap. After a beat, however, Jace peeled his gaze away, a look of dissatisfaction smeared across his face.

Gideon quickly stepped in to dispel the disquieting silence. "We will take all the information you can give. Any strategic advantage we can gain on Bolas and his troops could prove indispensable." He paused, and his look towards the emissary turned wary. "Do you think any of your agents could slip into Bolas' fortress?"

Lazav simply chuckled, throat filled with multiplied frigidity. "You outworlders always underestimate my guild's prowess. Yes, I would say that some of my agents could do so. In fact, we already have."

Though Lazav treated this bit of information no different than any other part of the preceding sentence, its effects were instantly felt. The murmurs picked up once more, this time hurried, more excited, as if the inhabitants had collectively taken a shock to their systems. The sentiment was shared by those on the stage as well, as Gideon, Jace, and the assembled guild representatives first balked at their suggestion, then, as realization trickled down their spines, left them visibly impressed. Their trust, it seemed, was not easily bought, but not impossibly out of reach.

"That could prove to be just what we need for the plan," Jace wondered aloud, turning to Gideon. "If the other steps can be completed, that knowledge could prove the key to taking Bolas down."

"And what exactly are these 'other steps' of which you speak?" The question came from the midst of the crowd, where a woman with a shaved head and fluttering sleeves stood with arms splayed. "You made mention of a plan in your summons, yet you have not shared with us any of its details."

The crowd seemed to share the woman's sentiment, forcing Jace to step fully back into the stage's center. "You are correct, I have said that there is a plan in place. Since we have concluded the reports of the guilds, I believe we can now fully begin."

"Wait," came the mucous-soaked voice of Roalesk, "we have yet to hear from the Rakdos and the Gruul. Have they brought no one on their behalf?"

Heads in the crowd began to pivot back and forth, combing the room for any signs of the holdouts. Jace, however, made no attempt to find them, as if he already knew where they were. "Unfortunately, neither the Rakdos nor the Gruul have decided to assist us. It seems that Rakdos has kept his people sequestered in their crypts for the most part, though I can only guess at a reason why."

Vraska rolled her eyes. "Because they'll have more fun either helping Bolas topple the city or picking through our charred remains than stopping him."

"They never cared much for the condition of their own sector," Tolsimir added bitterly, "so why should they care for the rest of it?"

"Also," interjected Ral, "Rakdos may bear us some animosity after what happened to Hekara." His voice dropped a register as he spoke this name aloud, and Dack could tell that, though he knew no one particularly cared for those Rakdos clowns, this was an incident of a grave nature.

Hearing the evidence, Jace let out a exacerbated sigh. "Fair enough. And the Gruul, much like the Azorius, are on Bolas' side through all of this. They're so consumed by their desire to destroy the city, I imagine their leader wants nothing to do with us."

"Actually, I don't believe their leader wants much of anything anymore." Dack turned around in surprise as Ashiok's rasp made itself known. Their mouth was curled into a bemused smirk, a stark contrast to Jace's furrowed brow.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the former leader of those barbarians is dead. Domri Rade, I believe his name was. He was the first victim of Bolas' spell, the first planeswalker to lose his spark. I saw it myself, with my own two eyes." This last comment was swiftly followed by a hollow, dissonant laugh. The rest of the room did not share in Ashiok's amusement, instead filling the air with the discomforted shuffling. This did not extend to Jace, however, whose skeptical eyes were suddenly alit.

"If that's true, then it's exactly what we need. From what we have gathered, the Gruul were not loyal to Bolas, they were simply following Domri's example. With him gone, there's a chance we can gain their help. We'll have to find the new guild leader and convince them, but it is possible. If we can reach out to both the Gruul and the Rakdos, it could work."

Jace's excitement infected the crowd, sending a brief buzz throughout. It did not affect everyone, however, as Tolsimir once again spoke up. "I appreciate the notion of unity, but do we really need the help of those barbarians and those sadists? I'd think we'd be better off without their chaos mucking around in our strategy."

"Agreed," spat Roalesk.

"It does seem a bit unnecessary," Lazav hummed. "They don't have the strongest numbers among us, and those they do have aren't the most skilled fighters. Shoring up our numbers is all well and good, but I doubt it is worth either the risk or the resources to do so."

Kaya crossed her arms over her chest. "It was hard enough getting my own guild to help out. Maybe we'll be fine without them. It'd probably be better to get out there with what we have as soon as possible, right?" Her voice was tentative, and her eyes flashed to the other guild representatives standing beside her on stage, as if she had asked a question whose answer was obvious to everyone except her.

"Unfortunately," Jace interceded, pivoting so he could address all who had voiced their concerns, "we cannot proceed with the plan without the full participation of all ten guilds. Without the Gruul and Rakdos, there is no chance of success."

Again came the muttering, this time coursing with confusion and panic. Despite wanting to believe the best, even Dack found himself puzzling over Jace's enigmatic statement.

"And why exactly is that?" Lazav hissed. "What have you planned that we cannot do as we are now?"

Jace put his hands up in a gesture of acquiescence. "I know it may sound odd, but allow me to explain. I have kept this plan hidden in my communications thus far to limit the possibilities of it being intercepted by Bolas or his minions, but it is time that I let you all, who agreed to help, know just what we need to do. The biggest obstacle in our way of stopping Bolas is the power he has amassed. Elder dragons are exceptionally strong, and he is only growing more powerful with each spark he harvests. At this point, I truly believe he is stronger, and possibly smarter, than the entire population of this plane combined."

He paused, allowing this fact to sink in. Each word Jace spoke had gotten progressively more agitated, until he was talking only through the miniscule gaps between his teeth. As an apparent melancholy overtook the floor, a young man, wielding a crooked staff in one hand and holding a small dog in the other, spoke up.

"If that's true, then what more can we do to stop him? Should we evacuate those we can?"

Jace shook his head. "Though we will need to continue evacuating the citizens, there is still hope. There is one entity here that can outmatch Bolas, one whose power will force him to yield regardless of his fortitude. I am speaking of Ravnica, of the city itself. Its magic is deep and ancient enough that even Bolas cannot completely resist it."
"As long as he is on this plane, he must obey its laws," Lavinia clarified.

"Exactly, and he's broken just about every law in the ledger today. It's more than enough to detain him long enough for someone to strike him down."

"A job which I gladly take upon myself," declared Gideon, tightly gripping his sword's handle. He swung it forward to the audience, the metallic shing of it slicing through the air ringing in everyone's ears. "This blade, known as Blackblade, is the only weapon known that has felled an Elder Dragon. If we can lower Bolas' defenses, even for a second, I will make sure that it does so again."

An astonished look crossed Dack's face. He had heard legend of the Blackblade before from trips to Dominaria, but every tale told that the sword had been destroyed long ago. Is that the real thing, or is he lying to us all? Reading beneath Gideon's full-faced boldness was difficult, but Dack eventually resigned himself. At this point, it doesn't really matter. Real thing or not, it's all we have.

"But," Jace interjected as Gideon sheathed the formidable weapon, "none of that can happen without a way to enforce Ravnica's laws. Before today, I could have done it as the Living Guildpact, but Bolas severed my connection when he broke through the city's leylines. So, if we are going to defeat him, we need to reestablish the Living Guildpact, something that cannot be done without a representative of the will of all ten guilds."

To those with limited knowledge of the city, this held little bearing. The assembled delegates, however, met his claim with mixtures of pride, incredulity, and doubt. Jace, however, remained undaunted.

"To accomplish this will require several pieces to fall into place. Firstly, we must shut down the Planar Bridge, as it is not just the only way Bolas has to bring more Eternals to Ravnica, but its presence is the cause of the leylines disruption. With it shut down, Nissa can repair the leylines." Jace gestured to the seated elf, who simply looked over the crowd with wide-eyed acceptance. "Then, if we can secure the allyship of the Rakdos and the Gruul, we can conduct the proper rites to reforge the Living Guildpact."

"And I suppose you think it should be you taking up the mantle once again?" remarked Tolsimir snidely. "It may be your plan, but you no longer have any claim to the responsibility of this plane. Had you not abandoned your duties, this situation may never have happened."

"The elf speaks the truth," Lazav concurred, folding their hands out of sight beneath their cloak. "If you are to be the Living Guildpact, then you will not have my guild's support."

Lavinia whipped to her side, a sudden flash of anger overtaking her. "Now listen here, you-"

"It's quite alright, Lavinia," Jace interrupted, his voice surprisingly placid despite the attacks lobbed his way. "It is true, I failed in my duties as the Living Guildpact. As such, I have no intention of reclaiming my old station. Instead, I cede it to the individual who also devised much of this plan."

Then, as if on cue, a massive roar erupted from the draconic bust hanging from the back wall. Gasps sprang up from the crowd like earthworms driven by the rain as its formerly shiftless eyes ignited with azure light. After a moment, the thunderous noise died down, and a low, rumbling voice filled every corner of the room.

"Greetings, all. I am Niv-Mizzet, the founder of the Izzet League and signer of the original Guildpact."

A wave of fear surged across the crowd, unsure what foul magics were now at play. This seemed to manifest most strongly with the other guild representatives, who stood straight with eyes wide as saucers staring at the speaking bust.

"Niv," Aurelia whispered, reaching a hand towards the stage, "is that really you? What… what happened?"

"What manner of trickery is this?" Lazav asked coldly, any former bemusement at the proceedings having been thoroughly sapped by this display.

The disembodied voice chuckled. "You will recall, Lazav, that the Izzet deal not in tricks, lest we infringe upon your enterprise. When I last came to you all, asking to become the Living Guildpact in preparation for this day, I still had my body. I was still alive. Now, I stand before you unable to do so, a spirit bonded to this vessel that I had commissioned by the Orzhov to act as a last resort. I tried to stop Bolas on my own, but I died in the process. I have quite literally given my life for this cause. None care for this city as long as I, and I will ask you again to allow me to protect this city with all that I… with all that we can muster."

Once Niv's roiling voice settled down, a stunned silence fell over the crowd. None of the guild members seemed to know how to respond, all retreating into various poses of contemplation or embarrassment. Dack hoped that this pause would not long, and fortunately, Jace saw fit to grant his request.

"There is none more capable of serving as Ravnica's protector than Niv-Mizzet, the Firemind, and it seems you all agree. As soon as all ten guilds are gathered and the Planar Bridge is shut down, the transfer can occur."

"And how will you shut it down?" asked a woman wearing a red and blue dress held up by an impressive lattice of twisted gold. "From my understanding, the Bridge is being operated from the plane of Amonkhet. We cannot planeswalk, and even if we could, we would simply be dragged back here."

Ruefully, Jace nodded along with the woman's words. "Thank you, Saheeli, for bringing that up. As I said earlier, this plan has several key pieces that must be accomplished if we are to defeat Bolas. In addition to shutting down the Planar Bridge, we will need to shut down both the Immortal Sun, the artifact that is tethering you all to this plane, and the Interplanar Beacon, the device which is still plucking planeswalkers from across the Blind Eternities and dumping them here." Suddenly, where Jace's voice had dipped before, it now began to grow like a bud in the springtime sun. "Bolas has created a scenario where he thinks the only outcome is his victory, but he is wrong. No plan is infallible, and no being unmovable. We have found the crack in his armor, and we must do what we can to exploit it. We will remove the Immortal Sun, dismantle the Interplanar Beacon, shut down the Planar Bridge, reforge the leylines, gather the guilds of this great city, resurrect the Living Guildpact, and finally bring the fight right to that dragon's doorstep. It is a plan that will not be possible without all of you. Bolas rules by fear and subjugation, believing that it is the only way to show true power. Looking out at all of you today, I refuse to believe that. We will show him what true power is!"

This unexpected candor from the usually quiet mage, which steadily swelled with each word until Jace was practically shouting in a fever pitch, sent sparks throughout the assemblage. All around Dack, he could feel the energy building, anticipation to finally fight back against the scourge that had trapped them here and threatened them with a death too horrific for even the most corrupted soul. He knew this because he felt it too, deep within his chest, a sense of duty that he had never fully realized until now. He saw Domri shrivel before his eyes, he saw Tibalt recede into nothingness, he saw countless other souls fly overhead whose fates must be the same. His fists clenched, and for the first time in gods know how long, Dack held his head high, ready for the task ahead.

Jace's confidence, the font from which this newfound unity bloomed, seemed as sturdy as a boulder. Unfortunately, all it took was one voice, one deep, demonic, black as coal voice, to show just how fragile the façade truly was.

"And what of necromancer?" Nixilis growled.

From up on the stage, Dack, along with countless pairs of eyes, watched Jace instantly deflate. All that fury, all that posturing, plucked away by a few simple words. "Um, I'm sorry, what… what did you say, Nixilis?"

"The necromancer, the one who is controlling Bolas' legions and killing the planeswalkers. Surely their death is a part of this plan as well?"