Chapter 50: Commence the Endgame
Liliana did not need the vision provided by thousands of Eternals to see Niv-Mizzet's resurrection, nor did the Dreadhorde's lack of functioning ears prevent her from hearing the dragon's resounding decree against Bolas. The gilded spectacle washed over the whole city, even the infernal citadel. It cut through the maelstrom of dark magic that engulfed the roof, though it failed to disturb any ravens from their perches. It had managed, however, to drown out the incessant clawing of the Onakke spirits within Liliana's head.
She thought she had dealt with them adequately. All day, she had borrowed from the Chain Veil's reserve of ancient power. She had set a limit for herself, taking no more than was necessary to keep the Dreadhorde coordinated and herself invigorated. Each passing hour that saw more Eternals step through the Bridge forced a greater strain on her burdened shoulders. Without thinking, she began accepting more and more of the Chain Veil's help. Even as her attitudes shifted, she could not help but lean more heavily on its influence to keep up with Bolas' unspoken orders. It was so incremental that she had not noticed how tight the Chain Veil had grown around her face, how bright her tattoos had become, or how overbearing a presence the Onakke voices had developed. Liliana had acclimated to the gradual changes, too wrapped up in her own tortured servitude to acknowledge external stimuli. That is, until such stimuli could no longer be ignored.
The attempt on her life was enough to rouse her from her stupor. More accurately, what had pulled her out of her own head was the warning she received. Without the Raven Man's whispered message hidden among the flapping of jet-black wings, Liliana knew she would not have survived. Even with it, it felt like a miracle that she had escaped without a scratch. She would never describe it as such, though. As she had learned on Innistrad, the label of "miracle" does not simply denote an act's improbability. An unlikely event only becomes a miracle when its audience benefits and deems it such. In the past, she might have described her unscathed state like this. This was not the case, not after the weight of the day had thoroughly pressed Liliana's resolve into the dirt.
Surviving the assassination attempt held no benefits, only a keen awareness of how truly malodorous her situation had become. Once the torrent of hailfire summoned by Bolas settled, having leveled the surrounding districts into craterous dust, Liliana had to contend with her reset awareness. Without the dull of time's razor, the Onakke spirits filled her head like howling demons. They threatened to overwhelm her senses, not just with the volume of their cries, but with the scraping, agonizing instigations that constituted them. Their offers for power smothered her face and dragged along her inked skin. Were it not for the spike of adrenaline that had allowed her to deflect the assassins' attacks, Liliana would have likely collapsed then and there.
But she stayed on her feet. She grabbed the sides of her head, tight enough that her mauve-painted nails penetrated through her thick nest of hair and dug into her scalp, as if she could compress the Chain Veil's calls back to what they once were. She knew, unfortunately, that there was no going back. Once one relinquishes themselves to the Chain Veil, what is lost to it cannot be retrieved. The best she could hope for now is to not give any more of herself over to the Veil in exchange for its power. With the Planar Bridge closed, and the Dreadhorde hemorrhaging troops against the still-building forces of the guilds, this seemed doable. It did little, however, to quell the tempest roaring in her skull.
The persistence of the Onakke may have been the overt plague upon her mind, but it was far from the most damaging. While her reintroduction to the Chain Veil's palpable influence stung like rusted blades, reckoning with the assassination suffocated her body with viscous sludge. Liliana was no stranger to people wanting her dead, and she had buried enough would-be assassins and murderers to fill the bogs of Benalia. Every other time she got off scot-free, she could dismiss it with a grin and a healthy dose of necromantic retribution. This time was not so easy, as this was the first time she had been targeted by someone she, until recently, would have categorized as a friend.
She never saw any trace of the assassins, even with the myriad eyes of the Eternals, but this absence of information was all she needed to understand who had orchestrated this attempt on her life. Who else but Jace Beleren could have devised so methodical a plan? Who else knew enough to build the perfect portfolio for killing Liliana Vess? Even if he was not the one to fire the arrow or conjure the kraken, Jace's fingerprints coated every detail of the attack. The realization flattened her stomach and leadened her limbs, as if the significance of the knowledge made it manifest a physical weight. Their history together, far back on this plane and in her mind, only added to the crushing burden.
Such an abhorrent betrayal demanded an outburst. Liliana did not know whether to cry, or scream, or dig into her own flesh until she drew blood. Despite its insistence on catharsis, she could not muster a retaliation towards Jace and his associates. After all, the worse part of this revelation, of knowing that a friend to whom you had pledged so much of your time and your limited earnestness would do everything in their power to kill you, is that she knew he was right to try.
Jace was the smartest person she knew, and while this had caused her unending grief since the moment they met, it also instilled a sense of authority in his judgement. If one of the most intelligent beings in the Multiverse knew something with enough certainty to act upon it, then it must be true, and immutably so. She thus understood with dreadful clarity. If even Jace could not find reason enough to offer Liliana anything but death, then she had long passed the point where her actions could be forgiven. She had not realized she was still holding out hope that absolution was within reach until it was snatched away. This left her with little more than doubt and loathing, and a chorus of spirits ready to seize upon these insecurities.
Clutching her head, Liliana fought to keep herself in control. Not even committing her focus to the dwindling Dreadhorde's operation could push these thoughts back into her mind's periphery. It was only when she felt her connection to Rhonas go dead, followed summarily by Kefnet, that she received a reprieve. These significant severances focused her attention, just in time for Niv-Mizzet to draw the focus of the entire plane. For this short period, the only sounds she heard were the dragon's voice, and the only sensations she felt were the radiating beat of his wings. In Niv-Mizzet's golden presence, Liliana felt a spark of hope strike the kindling in her chest. Maybe the dragon's resurrection was the last thing they needed, the last piece of Jace's plan that could end Bolas' reign. She could not fight against Bolas without dying in vain, but if the Ravnican forces could defeat him, she had no qualms with throwing herself at their mercy. It seemed like the only option that promised both survival and freedom without the need for her to compromise on either. The rogue planeswalkers had already struck down so many tentpoles of Bolas' plan that she dared to dream, just for a silent moment, that the strength of the Living Guildpact could be the key to Bolas' defeat, and her salvation.
Such flights of fancy, however, could never last on so oppressive a day. Niv-Mizzet's shining moment soon passed, and he disappeared back amongst the endless sea of spires. The echoes of his words and the wisps of his gales faded, allowing the tempest of war to resume its dominance. For the city, this meant the din of battle and the vortex of the Elderspell. For Liliana, it meant the resumption of the preying hisses of the Onakke.
"Why do you resist us?"
"You have nothing left."
"All that remains for you is our power."
Dark necromantic energy overtook her hands. Enough! I get it already! She tore them from her head and lashed out at the disembodied voices. Tresses of black magic trailed on the wind away from the citadel. I've already given you all far too much of me. The Dreadhorde is shrinking, and I don't need any more of your power to do my job.
"You do not need it for his will, but what of your own?"
"With our power, you could escape."
"We can protect you from his curse."
"If you relinquish control, we can protect you from everything."
"From everyone."
"Even from yourself."
And why should I trust the voices in my head? You'd tell me anything just to get your way. Liliana balled her fists, but no further mana leapt into them. I have no desire to live a life that I have no control over.
"And yet what would you call this life of yours now?"
"Without our power, what are you?"
I am Liliana Vess. She clenched her teeth in anger. The internal words bubbled from deep within her core. I am a planeswalker. I am the strongest necromancer in the Multiverse!
"No, you are not."
"You are a slave."
Be quiet!
"You are weak."
"A puppet…"
I said bite your tongues!
"Useless…"
"Powerless…"
"Forsaken…"
PATHETIC.
At once, the Onakke retreated to the Chain Veil, swept away by the only mental presence strong enough, and threatening enough, to scare the ancient spirits into submission. It took Liliana a few moments to realize that this last insult did not belong to the Onakke chorus. There was only one creature, likely in all the Multiverse, who could project a single word with all the devastating force of a condensed thunderstorm. Liliana straightened her posture and reaffixed her prototypical scowl before she addressed Bolas.
"What was that?" she asked. They both knew that she had heard his word, as it was impossible to ignore a message so steeped in eldritch power. She did not yet know why, after a self-satisfied silence, Bolas would say such a thing now.
IT IS PATHEITC, IS IT NOT? THE DESPERATION WITH WHICH THAT DRAGON BELIEVES HE CAN CONTEST ME.
Niv-Mizzet, thought Liliana. That's it. He was talking about the reigniting of the Guildpact. She had not realized she was holding her breath until she let it out in a prolonged sigh.
"I can't rightly say," Liliana said coolly, still determined to directly show Bolas only detached composure. The façade, she knew, had grown thinner and thinner as the day went, now only barely held together with the last scraps of her resistance. "The Living Guildpact is a formidable force here on Ravnica, from what I understood of it."
THEN YOU UNDERSTAND VERY LITTLE, Bolas snorted. THE LIVING GUILDPACT MAY COMMAND THE LAWS OF THIS PLANE, BUT I HAVE ALREADY BENT SUCH LAWS TO MY WILL. THE STRENGTH OF A PLANE CANNOT STAND AGAINST ITS GOD.
Her lips curled in disgust. It was one thing for Bolas to refer to himself as a god. Had Liliana established a rapport with his other servants, she could have drawn quite a bit of amusement over betting against the number of times Bolas would mention godhood per speech. But to declare himself the god of Ravnica, a plane he had only just arrived at with the express purpose of draining every resource from its surface, did not sit right with her. She wished she could do something about it besides offer hatred thinly masquerading as wryness.
"If the Living Guildpact doesn't matter," said Liliana, "then why go through the trouble of destroying it in the first place? Or did you not foresee the rebuilding as a possibility?" Ever since Bolas told her that he knew her every thought and action, she had noticed her obstinate nature coming through in more of their interactions. He was too occupied with his conquest to pay it any mind, which made her protests feel all the feebler.
AS ALWAYS, LILIANA, YOU ARE BETRAYED BY YOUR LACK OF INSIGHT.
She winced. The insult stung more than she had expected. "And what exactly haven't I grasped?" she asked, futilely hiding her pain.
YOU HAVE MISTAKEN GENIUS FOR OMNISCIENCE. THE LATTER IS A FOOL'S IDEAL, SOUGHT ONLY BY THOSE TOO IGNORANT AND INDOLENT TO UNDERSTAND HOW A GREATER MIND COULD WORK. OMNISCIENCE IMPLIES THE ABSENCE OF INTELLECT, OF KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT THE ENERGY OF UNDERSTANDING. IT IS NOTHING MORE THAN LOATHESOME LISTLESSNESS.
MY PLAN IS NO MERE EXERCISE IN PRECOGNITION. I CAN DO FAR MORE THAN SIMPLY 'KNOW' WHAT WILL OCCUR. I CONSTRUCTED THIS DAY AS A CULMINATION OF MEANS TO MY ULTIMATE END. FROM EVERY STEP, FROM EVERY ACTION, THE RIPPLING CONSEQUENCES REVEAL THEMSELVES, SUBSERVIENT TO ONLY MY COGNITIVE PROWESS. I HAVE UNCOVERED THE POSSIBILITIES OF THIS DAY, AND THROUGH MY GENIUS ALONE, I HAVE LEFT ONLY THOSE EVENTS THAT OFFER ME NO OPPOSITION.
IT IS NOT THAT I DID NOT KNOW NIV-MIZZER WOULD BE REBORN AS THE LIVING GUILDPACT. I FORESAW ITS OCCURRENCE, AS CLEAR AS EVERYTHING ELSE THAT HAS TRANSPIRED BENEATH MY PURVIEW THIS DAY. I MERELY FIND IT… INCONSEQUENTIAL.
Behind the Chain Veil, Liliana grimaced. It had been at least a few hours since Bolas' voice had been so present in her mind, and the continuous barrage of his grandiose bellows brought old agonies back to the surface. Within Bolas' eventual pause was the clear intent of cruelty. He was lording his superiority over her, twisting the knife in Liliana's back and seeing which way she would squirm.
As always, she chose the path of most resistance. "That seems more like rationalizing your losses."
I DEAL ONLY IN THE TRUTHS THAT I HAVE BORNE UNTO THIS INSIGNIFICANT PLANE OF EXISTENCE. I HAVE EXPERIENCED NO LOSSES THIS DAY. EVERYTHING HAS PROCEEDED IN ACCORDANCE WITH MY GOAL.
"No losses?" Liliana scoffed. "Is that how you'd describe it? I have eyes across the city, and I've seen how much you've already lost to the planeswalkers." Her fists balled tight enough to deepen the pale of her skin. From the depths of her sorrow, a defiant rage began to churn. "They've shut down the Bridge. They've extinguished the Sun. They've united the guilds and they've revived the Living Guildpact. You've lost countless Eternals, half your God-Eternals, and all your generals besides me, and it's not as though they haven't tried!" She had not felt the tears trickling down her face until they began dripping to her flaring lips. "I may not have your perception, but even I can see how much you've lost, and how much the planeswalkers have gained. And I'm sure they're not done yet."
Her chest heaved as she fell silent again, the Veil's golden links sounding like a light spring rain as they parted around her breaths. Bolas did not bother waiting for her to regain her composure.
NOTHING THE PLANESWALKERS HAVE DONE HAS CHANGED ANYTHING. MY ASCENSION IS AS GUARANTEED AS IT WAS THE MOMENT I ARRIVED ON RAVNICA. THEIR RESISTANCE IS STILL JUST AS MEANINGLESS.
"You're not worried they'll all leave now that the Immortal Sun isn't keeping them here and the Beacon isn't pulling them back? You can't ascend without their sparks, right?"
Liliana had to cut around the tremble that tried to creep into her voice. She did not wish to think of the possibility that the Gatewatch would abandon Ravnica to Bolas. It was not an unthinkable move, trying to deny Bolas the resource he so craved. It would also mean the obliteration of the plane from the Multiverse's map and the indefinite extension of her servitude. She was, however, quietly jealous that her former teammates were now afforded the option.
Her question did not give Bolas any pause. THE PLANESWALKERS ARE STILL TRAPPED HERE, BY A FORCE STRONGER THAN EVEN THE SUN OR THE BEACON. THEY ARE CHAINED HERE NOW BY MY PRESENCE ALONE.
THEY WISH TO STOP ME, AND THEY ARE FOOLISH ENOUGH TO BELIEVE SUCH A POSSIBILITY EXISTS. BELEREN, JURA, NALAAR, REVANE – THEY HAVE TRICKED THE OTHER PLANESWALKERS INTO BELIEVING IN NOT ONLY THEIR SURVIVAL, BUT THEIR TRIUMPH. SOME MAY YET RETURN TO THEIR HOMES, OR ATTEMPT TO HIDE IN THE REMOTE CORNERS OF THE MULTIVERSE, BUT MOST WILL STAY AND FIGHT UNDER THE ILLUSION OF THEIR OWN HEROISM. ONCE I HAVE HARVESTED THEIR SPARKS, THERE WILL BE NOTHING TO STOP ME FROM WIPING CLEAN THE PLANES FROM THE MULTIVERSE, AND THOSE SCANT REMAINING PLANESWALKERS ALONG WITH THEM.
Liliana could find no fault in Bolas' reasoning. She knew the Gatewatch too well to argue against their bullheadedness in the face of overwhelming odds, and she could only imagine the type of fuel the other surviving planeswalkers might add to their fire.
"You're right," she said, "I doubt they'd give up the cause now, even with their entrapment lifted. But now there aren't any more obstacles in their path. They'll be coming straight for you next, all of them. I'm sure they're planning something as we speak."
LET THEM PLAN. IT WILL SERVE NO PURPOSE. WHATEVER PLAN BELEREN AND NIV-MIZZET CAN CONSTRUCT FOR THEIR MEAGER RESISTANCE WILL ALWAYS PALE IN COMPARISON TO MY OWN DEVICES. IT IS SIMPLY A DEFICIT IN STRENGTH AND INTELLECT THEY CAN NEVER OVERCOME.
"Will you be devising a counterattack of your own?"
I NEED NOT WASTE MY TIME WITH SUCH DISTRACTIONS. THERE IS NOTHING THEY COULD DO FOR WHICH I AM NOT ALREADY PREPARED TO STOP WITH THE GREATEST OF EASE.
This caught Liliana off-guard. "Then you won't want me to consolidate your defenses around the citadel, or call Oketra and Bontu back to here as guards?"
ALL I REQUIRE NOW ARE THE ETERNALS NECESSARY TO HARVEST EVERY LAST SPARK THAT REMAINS ON THIS PLANE. AS IT ALWAYS WAS, THE DREADHORDE IS A TOOL THAT WILL SERVE ITS FUNCTION.
"The Dreadhorde is already spread thin. The planeswalkers have learned how to deal with them well."
IT MATTERS NOT. EVEN IF THEY FIGHT THROUGH MY ARMY AND STORM MY CITADEL, THEY WILL ONLY BREAK THEMSELVES UPON ME. THEIR CHARGE OF BATTLE WILL BE NO DIFFERENT THAN IF THEY WERE TO DELIVER THEMSELVES UPON ME WITH HEADS BOWED AND WEAPONS LOWERED. A POINTLESS RESISTANCE THAT WILL LEAD ONLY TO THE SNUFFING OUT OF THEIR PITIOUS EXISTENCE.
At this declaration, Bolas let out a sickening chortle that filled Liliana's skull. It was not an uncommon occurrence for the Elder Dragon to find amusement in his own superiority, but this time felt different. Liliana had noticed it while Bolas spoke, but it was only with his last sentiment and the cruel laughter that followed that she understood what had changed.
This is the first time he's ever been so short-sighted. Bolas has never underestimated his opponent before, and now he won't even estimate them at all. He usually plans out every step, takes every precaution to ensure victory. But now…
Doing her best to keep visibly still, Liliana peered out the corner of her eye towards Bolas. The dragon lounged against the back of his massive throne, talons knitted over his chest as he lorded over her and the whole of Ravnica. His scales no longer held any luster, save for the faint glimmer of the Elderspell that shone intermittently between the obsidian plates. His reptilian eyes were obscured by the bright glow of the sparks surging through him. And though his face remained stoic, it was clear that his focus was not on the plane over which he was waging his bloody war, but on the power he continued to amass. She looked away quickly, not wanting to be noticed.
The Elderspell, all those sparks from all those planeswalkers churning around inside him… Is that where all this arrogance is coming from? Even he didn't know what effects it would all have. Achieving godhood could bring with it a blinding sense of superiority, one so potent that you'd be too blind to even notice it happening. If that-
Liliana forced the thought to stop short. Even if Bolas had written off monitoring her thoughts as a waste of time, she had no reason to risk bringing the idea to his attention. So she kept her mind silent as best she could, though she knew the effort was likely unnecessary.
In the wake of his laughter, Bolas let out a massive exhale from his nostrils, bathing the entire roof of the citadel in warm, ionized gusts. As Liliana clutched at her dress to keep it down, the Elder Dragon's voice once again rumbled in her head.
MY CONQUEST IS NEARLY AT AN END. THE PLANESWALKERS' LAST STAND WILL SERVE AS THE FINAL STEP IN MY ASCENSION. PREPARE YOURSELF, LILIANA VESS. YOU ALONE SHALL BEAR WITNESS TO THE BIRTH OF THE LAST GOD OF EXISTENCE.
With a last, booming snort, Bolas extracted his presence from Liliana's mind. She shuddered from the sudden break and the deafening silence it brought over her mind. It did not last long, however, as the Onakke spirits had been lying in wait for the moment that Bolas ceased his psychic communication to resume their conniving prods.
As Liliana weathered their alternating attempts at goading, insulting, and affirming, she stared straight ahead over the citadel's edge. Her eyes felt heavy as she lifted them to gaze upon the darkened skyline, now partially squashed by Bolas' might. Somewhere out of sight, she knew the Gatewatch and their allies were planning their final assault to take down Bolas. Soon enough, they would descend on the citadel, fighting with every last breath to finally put an end to this war.
She wanted them to win, but she simply did not see how they could. As Bolas said, their defeat seemed inevitable. Gideon, Jace, Chandra, Nissa, they had all overcome so many threats before, but could they truly stand against a god? If they could not even kill her, what chance did they stand against the being that she served?
Heaving a weary sigh, Liliana refocused her attention on commanding the Dreadhorde. As she directed the Eternals back to the citadel, her thoughts once again wandered to her failed assassination. Unbeknownst to her, Bolas' megalomaniacal comments had brought with them a new reckoning in her memory. He had forced her to reconcile a thought that she had suppressed the moment it formed. The worst part of the assassination was neither the betrayal nor its correctness. It was that, for the briefest moment before she moved to subdue the attacks, she had seriously considered, for the first time, that there could be something more important than her own self-preservation.
END OF ACT II