Heart of the Gemini

Trinity

Teysa Karlov stood silent before the Guildmaster of the Selesnya conclave. Even with her ivory mask removed, none of the Trostani’s faces could see clearly through Liliana’s magic. To the Guildmaster and her court, the woman standing before them was none other than the Scion of the Orzhov. Meanwhile, the angel and the vedalken had each returned to their respective guilds, and were now busy welcoming powerful guests of their own.
In the golden fortress of the Boros, Gideon Jura stood before the glorious angel Razia, who stood flanked by a pair of her angelic lieutenants. A proud soldier in his own gleaming armour, Gideon had once served as both a warrior and trainer in Razia’s Legion. But those days were far behind him.
On the other side of the grand central plaza, surrounded by the cold-blue marble of the Azorius Senate, Sorin Markov stood inside an enchanted circle, from which even a Planeswalk would be all but impossible. Here he waited impatiently to answer the charges laid against him, as the potential leader of the upcoming Orzhov coup. His judges to be were a set of three Azorius judicators, lead by none other than Augustine IV himself.
“If we are all assembled,” the supreme judge started, “we will begin. Time is, after all, of the essence in this case.” Augustine’s voice was weary with age, but his words carried much further than the confines of the echoing halls. The telepathic powers of the Trostani were being used like never before, connecting the minds of the three Guildmasters and their witnesses, conveying their thoughts between them. For the sake of the trial, the Selesnya had for the first time in 10,000 years agreed to share their telepathic abilities. In this way, each guild was to interrogate one witness, but remain connected throughout.
Razia paused for a moment to let Augustine’s words fill her mind, then spoke with the booming tones of an angel born of magic.
“The witnesses are assembled. They answer the charges that a conflict is being constructed, wilfully and deliberately, by the Orzhov Syndicate. As a result, those Guilds for whom their magic is based, at least in part, on Black mana, have aligned and have launched direct and deadly assaults.”
Gideon, by virtue of being the ‘witness’ directly in front of the angel, was the first to respond.
“Razia, you know me: many times we have fought together in battle. Would I offer my support to a force seemingly so willing to destroy the peace on Ravnica?”
For a moment Razia looked swayed by his plea, but then Augustine’s voice arrived via the psychic link.
“The Church of Deals does not require common interest to ensure obedience. It would be enough for them to offer something of significant value in return for your skills as a warrior.”
Razia looked wounded by the implication that Gideon’s values could be so easily bought, but her role as a Guildmaster forced her hand, and she fell silent. Sensing her pain, Trostani spoke.
“We have called others who may more clearly speak to the Syndicate’s intentions. We would hear from Sorin Markov, as it is by his very existence the Festival of Balance is to be wrought.”
Sorin’s fists clenched at his sides. He never asked for the Orzhov to begin worshiping him as a God. Was it his fault that his magic happened to align with a guild that was already an established religion, and for whom fanatical worship came easily?
“I have already given my answer to the Baroness,” he said, louder than was necessary. In the deep acoustics of the Azorius hall, his voice carried over several times. “I will not fight a war against the Guilds.”
“Lies!”

It was a voice that immediately filled the minds of everyone involved. It was the voice, perfectly imitated, of Teysa Karlov.
“Sorin Markov is the being who will lift the Orzhov to its rightful place, far beyond the bureaucratic interferences of the Azorius or the zealotisms of the Selesnya. No longer will our quest for dominion over the souls of Ravnica be hindered by your petty squabbles!”
Instant, paralysing shock radiated through the shared minds of the collective Guildmasters and their two Planeswalker witnesses. For a moment, none could find the words to speak – then everyone began to protest at once.
“Inconceivable!” Augustine was yelling. “It is against everything for which the Guildpact has stood for over 10,000 years!”
“It is a declaration of war!” shrieked Razia. “How can you speak so rashly?”
“My Lady, what has come over you?” roared Gideon. “You never spoke of such plans before!”
Only two voices in the psychic collective were silent – Sorin Markov and Trostani. The Selesnya Guildmaster reclaimed her composure first.
“Silence.” Her voice was a whisper but it was carried so strongly though the telepathic link that all other voices were immediately quieted. “We will discover the truth. Teysa Karlov, present yourself now to our mind’s eye.”
“That is unwise,” came Augustine’s chide.
“Agreed,” offered Razia. “We have already proven that the Orzhov cannot be trusted, her most of all. For you to connect with her mind now would be most dangerous.
“And to not would be to waste our last chance of uncovering the truth of this situation.” Everyone felt the conviction in the shared voices of the Trostani, and to a one they knew she was right. Without another word from any of them, the three faces closed their respective eyes and began to read the mind of the fake Teysa.

Colliding images flooded the collective minds of Augustine, Razia, Gideon and Sorin. The Dark Temple and the surrounding Orzhova, beneath the twin moons; a silver army wearing the star-shaped insignia fighting the combined forces of the other guilds; dark clouds swirling overhead parted by devastating column of light. Then all was consumed by the light, blinding in its entirety. When it cleared there was nothing: no temple, no life, no magic. Nothing remained.
Sorin felt the air rush out of his body and steadied himself on the banister near him. Was that really the future was going through the Scion’s mind? Was that the vision the Guild of Deals truly desired?
As Trostani separated from Teysa’s mind, Sorin felt something familiar. But by the time he realised the truth, it was too late.
“It’s true!” Razia roared. “The Orzhov have declared their war!”
Augustine’s fists were as clenched boulders colliding with the arms of his floating chair. “This reality will not be allowed to come to pass! By special purview of the Guildpact, the Orzhov must be stricken from its lists!”
“No, wait! It’s not Teysa! It’s…” Sorin tried to yell, but his voice was silenced by Liliana’s magic, having long-ago gained control over the Trostani’s telepathic link.
Gideon’s voice rang out against the mental collective, and Sorin found himself surprisingly grateful for the White Planeswalker’s protests. “Augustine, please, you can’t do this! Razia, tell him!”
“You are wrong, Gideon. This is the only way.” Razia’s voice was heavy with pain, but it changed nothing. The triple-swords of the angles plunged into the stone alter as they made their decree: “By the Boros!” they yelled.
Augustine IV and his fellow judges signed floating writs in ink and mana, their quills flying across the parchments of their own enchanted accord. “By the Azorius!”
The three faces of Trostani were the darkest of all, but together they raised their eyes towards the flowering treetops of their sanctuary and cried out as one “By the Selesnya!”
Sorin felt his stomach drop and his heart break. Piece by piece Ravnica was preparing to tear itself apart, and for us much as Liliana had orchestrated its demise, by his very existence it had been made possible. The voices of the Guildmasters were deafening now, each competing to outdo the other as they addressed their respective audiences. “In the name of peace and justice on Ravnica…”
“And for the good of all her citizens…”
“The holy sight of Orzhova must be torn down…”
“And the Church of Deals removed from its lands…”
“Let the word go out, so that all may know…”
"The Syndicate will fall..."
“The Orzhov must be destroyed!”

Ravnica was at war.