Heart of the Gemini

Worship

The Scion of Orzhova was well known on Ravnica, both as the heiress to one of the most powerful families on the plane, and as gifted mage. But her mask was well enchanted, designed to hide not only her face but her magic as well. For the moment at least, there was no way of knowing the truth of her identity.
“Jura…” Liliana hissed, and the sound of it made Sorin’s blood run cold, “It is not everyday an advocate of White magic appears uninvited in the middle of a vampire feast. If you intention truly is to protect this woman, then I would say you have done poorly.”
“I assure you, the safety of my charge is my greatest priority.” Gideon’s voice was calm, settled, as only a seasoned warrior could produce in such a circumstance. Above all it avoided any sense of challenge. “That being said, we would have travelled into the maw of hell itself for this meeting.”
A flash of memory burned through Sorin’s mind, the image of him standing in Liliana’s tent for the first time, her knife pressed against his throat as he bargained for his life. Meanwhile, Liliana stared at Gideon with burning eyes.
“Based on what you say next, light-mage, the maw of hell may well become your reality.”
If the Planeswalker was at all disturbed by the threat, he did not show it. “We are here because there is a matter of great importance that we must discuss… with Lord Markov.”
For the first time since their arrival the White Planeswalker cast a disapproving gaze around the crowded hall, acknowledging the thousand-strong presence of the vampire army. “Perhaps, this is not the best place for discussions?”

In the private audience chamber, fresh torches burned away the chilled night air. Sorin and Liliana took their seats on one side, leaving Gideon to accept a chair across the room, while the Scion sat to the side of her would-be protector. Wordlessly, she raised her arm and pulled back her hood with a slow, deliberate movement. The enchanted mask – polished ivory in the form of a long-dead matriarch – remained in place. Sorin suppressed a sigh of derision: the legend of the Orzhov vanity was rightly deserved. Gideon made to speak, but stopped when his charge raised her hand.
“My lady,” he whispered, bowing his head in acquiesce.
A strong voice emerged from behind the mask, unlike anything Sorin had heard before. It sounded like a battle being raged on the psychological level: confidence mixed with trepidation, arrogance laced with humility, and all of it false. It was the voice of the Scion, and it was not to be trusted or taken lightly. Teysa Karlov thanked her hosts for the audience.
“You were not invited,” Liliana’s replied, “As far as I’m concerned you are both trespassing. You would do well to explain yourselves quickly.”
“Of course,” Teysa replied. “As Gideon explained, we have come seeking Lord Markov.”
“What do you want with him?” she replied.
“I think you know.”
Sorin took a deep breath before answering. “I’m a hybrid,” he said slowly. Then, with greater emphasis, he added “an Orzhov hybrid.”
“White and Black mana – in perfect unison, and in one as powerful as yourself. It is everything we have waited for more than ten thousand years to witness!” The Scion’s voice betrayed the excitement in her words.
Sorin had to fight to keep his eyes on Teysa’s mask. It seemed as though part of the enchantment was to magically repel an onlooker’s gaze, as though staring directly at her were somehow blasphemous.
“That doesn’t explain what you are doing here,” he said.
“My Lord Markov, I thought you understood. I have come to bring you back to Ravnica.” Sorin heard Liliana hiss, but neither interrupted the Baroness.
“You must realise by now that you place is with us! The Orzhov are prepared to welcome you home… as their new God.”

Liliana was on her feet. From his vantage Sorin could see arcs of mana crossing the space between her clenched fist and the hilt of her dagger. It marked a particular favourite spell of hers: entering a teleport unarmed, only to emerge blade-in-hand. It was a technique he’d seen her use many times over the years, including against him. Jura noticed it too, and his fingers curled around his own sword.
“You sit behind that hideous mask and make such threats to us?!” she screamed. Sorin wanted to say something, anything, to calm her, to remind her that to the mind of an Orzhov the Scion’s words were not a threat, but a generous offer. Instead, Teysa responded by rising slowly to her feet. They watched in silence as she reached up and tapped lightly on the ivory mask. With a soft hum the enchantment failed, leaving the mask to float gently to the floor.
Several things hit Sorin at once. The Scion was beautiful, with pale skin as white as the ivory of the mask, and smooth, fine features culminating in deep eyes of faded blue. She was also powerful. Like Sorin, the Scion was a hybrid mage. Black-and-White mana cascaded through her body in a never-ending contest for supremacy. The former he recognised instantly, the product of the Zendikar swamps, the same mana used by the vampires. The latter was identical to Gideon Jura’s, likely sourced from the Planeswalker’s own body, a sub-duty of his agreement with the Syndicate. Sorin realised she must have been quietly gathering her mana from the moment she arrived, free from detection by the obscuring enchantment of the mask.
Though depleted by her journey, Ravnica’s mana clung to her clothes and skin. With the mask gone, Sorin could now taste the familiar flavour of Orzhova. In his mind he saw his last trip to the Dark Temple, the night Eldranis had helped him ignite his spark for the second time. But something was bothering him: the Scion was a powerful mage, to be sure, but ultimately human – and most definitely mortal.
“You are not a Planeswalker,” Sorin said, drawing all eyes immediately to him. “It is death for a mortal to try to cross between planes.”
“It is death for a mortal to enter the Blind Eternities,” she corrected. Though her fierce eyes held his without struggle, decades of training had stripped her features of any sign of emotion. One mask after another, Sorin thought with contempt. Teysa continued. “We bypassed the void entirely, using all the power of Orzhova to create a stable link – a direct path between two worlds.”
“That’s why you needed the heron,” Sorin mused. “You only had one trip.”
Teysa nodded. “When your rebirth was detected in the heart of the Temple, it was a time of great celebration. We had hoped you would return to us in time, of your own will, but there were those that knew you would not. Ten years were spent making the necessary preparations to find you and bring you back.”
Though Liliana had returned to her seat, her eyes remained firmly set on Jura.
“What is your part in all this, light-mage? Do you also worship at the altar of Ravnica’s church?” Gideon shifted uncomfortably, and took his time to consider his response.
“It is common knowledge that Planeswalks cannot be attempted by mortals. However, the Orzhov insisted that with the help of such one such as myself, and enough magic, it would be possible for they Scion to make a single journey. As you can well see, they were right.”
Liliana’s face broke into a smile as she sensed her adversary’s weakness. “So you sold your gifts to the Church of Deals?”
For the first time anger flashed in the soldier’s eyes. “They made a very generous offer, and in return I vowed to ensure the safety of the Lady Teysa Karlov.”
“What about her return?” Sorin interrupted. Liliana’s pride would have to wait: something in the story had him unsettled.
“It is as I explained,” Teysa answered, “The preparation of a portal capable of preserving human life took nearly a decade, even for the Orzhova. Unless you agree to join us and aid Sir Gideon in the preparation of another, I do not expect to be able to return.”
“So you are giving up your life… to deliver a message?” Suddenly, even without the mask, he found it difficult to continue looking in her eyes. If her conviction wavered even in the slightest, she hid it perfectly.
“Possibly. But I am duty-bound to give my life so that you may be returned to my people. It is my destiny as the Baroness of House Karlov, just as it is your destiny to lead the Orzhov to its ultimate ascension. With you help, we will prove beyond contestation the purity of our magic.”
In his mind, Sorin replayed his nightmares of late. He thought of swirling vortexes and the spires of Ravnica, and the rush of screaming voices. Now, with Teysa Karlov sitting before him, and the destiny of yet another world resting in his hands, he finally knew what they meant.