by John Delaney
“Mm.” Jhoira blinked and looked to her friend. “Wait. What do you mean?”
“I mean the waiting. The watching. The standing. The helplessness and frustration. It’s maddening. You’ve been doing this for a thousand years, haven’t you? Is this how it always feels when mortal beings leave the fate of the world to godlike planeswalkers.”
Jhoira thought for a moment. “No,” she said. “It’s usually much worse.”
“Oh.” Teferi twisted his staff back and forth, working it deeper into the dirt. “I had no idea,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Jhoira smiled at him, shaking her head in either amusement or exasperation. She looked back up into the rift and extended her hand to her friend.
“I forgive you,” she said. “Now be quiet. I’m trying to watch.”
Teferi said nothing, but he extended his hand and felt Jhoira’s warm fingers squeeze around his palm. Together, they watched and waited as the fate of the world was decided without them.
The huge portrait of Karona grew larger and more vivid. Jeska drifted back from the Karona image’s outstretched hand, ashamed and relieved to see Radha slide in front of her. The false god’s fingers broke through the two-dimensional surface and extended toward Jeska, and the Pardic woman shuddered.
“This is it, isn’t it?” Radha spoke in sharp, pragmatic tones. “That’s the enemy. What are we waiting for? Let’s go kill her.”
“Together.” Venser’s eyes were locked on the ever-growing figure of Karona. “Jhoira said we must work together.”
But Jeska felt paralyzed, overwhelmed by the danger her former self posed. The fact that they were all seeing Karona instead of their own visions worried her. The interior of the rift was Karona’s, and here Karona was as she had been outside, the sum and total of all life and all magic.
“I can’t,” she said. “She’s too much.”
“What are you talking about?” Radha said. “We hit her and she falls apart. She’s not even the real thing. She’s just an echo, a ghost.”
“No, she’s not. She’s me, she’s…everything.”
“She’s not me. She’s not Venser. She’s not you either. I’ve been you, remember? This is something else, something definitely not you.”
“You haven’t been me. You’ve only been in my mind.”
“So have I,” Venser said. “Maybe not as completely, but we have shared of ourselves. I look at you and I see Karn’s partner. I look at her and I see mindless primal magic. You can do this, Jeska.” He moved closer. “We can do this. Take my hand. Whatever happens to you happens to me. I could not help Karn, but I swear I will help you. Wherever you go, whatever you become when this is over, I will find you. I will bring you back.” He extended his hand.
Jeska stared at the pale young man as if she had never seen him before. “Why would you do all that? Why are you doing any of this?”
“Because I can. Because I want to.” Venser smiled. “It’s the Urborg way.”
He was so earnest and guileless that Jeska almost laughed. The image of Karona was very close now. The entire upper half of her body had broken through the rectangular portal, and she was almost touching Radha.
Jeska’s fear evaporated. Jhoira and Teferi were right. This was the way things had to be. She seized Venser’s hand and thrust the other forward to touch Radha’s. She focused every last iota of her power, all of her will, everything she was on these two unlikely heroes and the dreadful advancing form.
Radha turned back. She nodded at Venser and then Jeska before she turned her back and faced the Karona image, stretching her long arm out behind her. “Do it,” Radha said.
Amazed, Jeska stared at their hands. These two insignificant mortals were willing to throw their lives away on the slight chance Jeska would do the same, and all for some vague, desperate half-victory…if they could even claim that.
“Hurry up,” Radha said. “You get to have all the fun, and I have to stand here and take it. You make me wait much longer and I’m going to change my mind and start stabbing things.”
Jeska reached out. She took hold of Venser and Radha’s hands, inhaled, and her face snapped up toward Karona, the Pardic woman’s eyes sharp and her expression defiant.
Venser and Radha seemed to flow up her arms, their minds and their magical essence flowing into her like twin forks of a river. It took a moment to sort through the rush of information and experience, but Jeska held tight as their thoughts buffeted her. She was Venser on the edge of the Blind Eternities, facing off against the mad Weaver King. She was Radha at the foot of the mountain, rushing out to meet the warlord Greht in single combat as thousands of brutal voices howled and jeered. She was herself in the Cabal pits, Phage battling Akroma, and Karona herself battling Kamahl. Their shared history was full of lost causes, outclassed by the opposition in one hopeless trial after another.
Yet they were still here, all three of them, united in their purpose, giving all they had to give to see it through. Jeska’s mind stopped cycling through the different thoughts and personas she held and felt them all at once, whole and complete. Jhoira and Teferi were right: Together she and her two allies were far stronger, their shared abilities and attitudes far more intense, than they ever were alone, or even in pairs.
Fire flared in Jeska’s heart, and the last of her doubts shriveled in the blaze. Phage, Akroma, and Zagorka had combined to form the original Karona, united by magics incalculably vast and profound. The false goddess had been born into Dominaria as a result of a clash of conflicting magics and personalities, born from the combination of three uniquely powerful beings: an ally, an enemy, and Jeska herself. She stood now alongside a willing ally and an erstwhile enemy, uniquely powerful beings all.
Jeska allowed herself to join with Venser and Radha amid arcane energies that equaled those at Karona’s creation. Their three minds stood in perfect opposition to the composite creature inside the rift, and rather than fighting each other they were all focused on the same goal.
Rife with purpose, Jeska rushed forward. She was not Karona, or Phage, or even Jeska, but Jeska Planeswalker. She had possessed a dormant spark before she helped create Karona. Karona took power from the world, from all the mana on Dominaria, but Jeska’s was the transcendent force that gave the false goddess life. Now Jeska’s power, her infinite planeswalking spark, would be what banished Karona forever, along with the time rifts and the mana-leeching distortion her presence created.
She began to do as she had done before, working through Radha to encompass the entire rift. This time, instead of drawing the image of Karona into Radha, Jeska herself plunged into the Keldon and pulled Venser along with her. Their bodies vanished, and Jeska became a thing of pure will and pure magical force. She was not a being but an action, a direction, a planeswalker’s power made manifest and driven by her own mortal desires. She and no one else would choose what she would be next.
She still felt Venser’s hand on hers, coaxing her forward. She still felt Radha’s fierce heart beating in synch with her own, grounding her, allowing her a firm foundation from which to strike. She still felt her own strength, her own titanic force of will, and in that moment of pure, cohesive purpose, Jeska made a choice.
Karona finally reached Radha, pressing her fingers through the Keldon warlord and, at long last, touched Jeska. The Pardic woman’s thoughts reeled. Now there were too many minds combined, too many spirits occupying the same space. Karona was the rift. Jeska was Phage. Radha and Venser were Jeska. They were the rift and the vibrant new force that opposed it.
A single wave rose above the tempest, reaching higher and taller than the rest. This was her now, her alone. She was Jeska and the rift and Karona. She was Kamahl’s sister and Phage and Jeska Planeswalker all at once. She was all the things she had been, and if she ever wanted to have a say in what she would become she knew she would have to speak now. No one else could do it for her even if she allowed it, and she had already decided she would not.
They all scre
amed. Then Jeska surged free, tearing away from her allies. The connection between them broke, but Jeska felt no loss of strength or determination. She was undiminished as the avatar of the strange, new power the three had combined to form. She felt a fierce, Pardic war cry forming in her chest, but before she released it she reached back to Venser and Radha.
Good-bye, she said. And thank you.
Two voices started to speak, to object to Jeska’s sudden gambit, but the Pardic woman sent Venser and Radha back to the real world with a thought, almost the last thought she had to spare before reaching the now-giant figure of Karona.
That place of honor was reserved for another. Karona regarded Jeska’s approach through her golden visor, alien and aloof and entirely unconcerned. This echo of the false goddess lacked the original’s threadbare appreciation for lesser beings. She was completely inhuman.
Jeska slammed into the false goddess like a lightning bolt. She bore the weightless image back, feeling it dissolve against her, feeling it soak into her being like water on sand.
And then, silence. Merging with the heart of the rift was distressingly familiar, evoking memories of Karona’s universal sway. Everything and everyone came to her, drawn as starving, shivering masses to a well-heated banquet house. Her journeys across the Multiverse had left her with a comprehensive picture of all the myriad planes she had visited. If she concentrated she could see them lined up in the actual positions they held in this grand, cosmic array.
Jeska drifted as she adjusted to her situation. Her eyes and ears and voice were all functioning, but there was nothing to see or hear or say. Her body felt vast and diffuse, shapeless and without structure. The strongest sensation she had was of the boundary where she ended and the rest of the Multiverse began.
The endless array of planes and void spoke to her, not in words, but as a fresh trail speaks to a seasoned tracker. She saw the impact planeswalkers had, the great, disruptive fissures that were caused by transcendent magic and the tiny, hairline cracks that each conscious planeswalk created. Teferi and Venser would probably describe what she saw as a system taxed beyond its capacity, a machine whose structural integrity was failing each time it was employed.
Jeska saw it otherwise. The Multiverse was both playground and power source for these godlike beings, yet they injured it every time they exercised their unique abilities. These rifts in time and space were the Multiverse’s ire, its pain and rage manifest. It had been wronged, injured by the same primal forces it had granted to the tiniest fraction of its sentient beings. It did not literally desire to punish, but it was seeking to correct the imbalance as water cuts through a cave rock to clear its path to the ground.
She summoned her strength once more. Jhoira had sent her here to fix the Otarian rift, to give Dominaria a chance to restore itself, but Jeska had chosen a grander course. She was in the Otarian rift, connected to all the myriad others as Karona had been connected to all mana. The universe didn’t need to shatter and fall to restore the balance. It merely needed to reclaim the infinite power that had been taken from it time and again.
Soft voices carried up from below her. She had no head to crane, but she focused her attention on the sound. Venser was there, and Radha, and Jhoira, and Teferi. They were miniscule, tiny as grains of sand. But they were alive.
Beyond these mortals, Jeska felt Teferi Planeswalker looking on. Multani was with him, and Freyalise, and Windgrace. Behind them all stood Karn, wise and patient and proud. They were all in here with her, all ready to support her in this last, noble act.
Outside her perceptions, the Blind Eternities churned and drifted. All of their troubles could be laid at the feet of finite beings wielding infinite power. She was Jeska, Thrice Touched by Infinity, and no one understood this better than she. She felt the eyes watching her, the heroes and villains and titans who had brought her this far. She hoped they would agree with her decision, but in the end it was hers alone to make.
A glittering wave of force rolled out from her, rippling across the Blind Eternities. The void and all its endless realms swirled and melted. The rifts that remained inside and outside Dominaria were washed away or plowed under as Jeska expanded herself and her power expanded across the entire Multiverse.
Good-bye, Karn, she thought. Any good I have ever done was because of you.
Then Jeska forced the last vestiges of herself outward, straining until she reached the very edge of existence. The void bled away, replaced by a haze of gossamer white, and Jeska smiled.
* * *
—
Jeska floated. Incorporeal, surrounded by darkness that was somehow warm and comforting, she felt spent, exhausted, unable to muster the slightest interest in where she was.
You did it, a deep voice said. Well done, Sister.
Trembling with fear, Jeska oriented on the sound. Kamahl strode forward from the void, big and brawny as ever. He was dressed in his druid greens and carried a long, wooden staff instead of a sword.
“Where have you been?” Her soundless voice was choked with weariness and sorrow. “I missed you. I need you.”
I’ve gone where everyone goes, sooner or later. I’m sorry we couldn’t be together. Kamahl smiled warmly. But I waited for you. I’ve been waiting for a long time because I knew you’d come. I wanted to be here to greet you.
Joy lifted Jeska up, though she felt her own bitter tears on her cheek. Kamahl opened his arms wide, and Jeska closed her eyes, rushing forward to embrace her brother once more, and to cling to him forever after.
Venser stood on the shores of Zhalfir, peering out at the Kukemessa Sea. Storm season was coming, and he watched the thick, dark clouds roll in, heralded by jags of lightning.
“Venser?” Jhoira said. “It’s time.”
The artificer turned away from the ocean and faced his companions. Jhoira looked the same as ever, young and intelligent and beautiful in her red Ghitu garb. Teferi had traded his wizard’s finery for a common traveler’s robe, but he still carried his spine-shaped staff.
“My friends,” the bald man said, “I have been back and forth across the globe in my time, to the very edges of the Multiverse. I will not miss it. I am glad to be home.
“The rifts are all sealed,” Teferi continued. “Mana has begun to flow normally again. Our time together has ended, but a new life begins for all of us.” He looked deep into Jhoira’s eyes. She smiled at him. “And I still have much to answer for from my previous one.”
Jhoira said, “How will you be received in the subcontinent?”
Teferi shook his head. “No idea. Much has changed. There are small clusters of civilization. Suq’Ata and Femeref are the dominant nations, but there is much to be done before this region can be called peaceful and strong.”
“What will you do?” Venser asked.
“I will walk,” Teferi said. He smiled and added, “On my feet, of course. I used to cover twenty or thirty miles a day when I was a boy. I plan to hike across the desert until I find a place with lots of people. I thought I might look for work as a loreweaver…or maybe a court mage.” He winked at Jhoira to show he wasn’t serious, and she laughed, shaking her head.
“Anything that lets you talk too much,” she said, “would be perfect fit.”
Teferi stepped forward and embraced his oldest friend. “Thank you,” he said, his lips at her ear, “for everything we shared over the past thousand years.”
Jhoira pulled back. “Everything?”
“Let’s say almost everything. The next time we meet, we can make a list of the stupid things I shouldn’t have said to you.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Leave yourself at least a month,” Teferi said. “It’s going to be a long list.” He smiled mischievously. “And that will probably be the first item on it.”
He stepped back from Jhoira, turned to Venser, and offered his hand. “I am glad to have known you, Venser. The era of planeswalkers like me is coming to a close. The future belongs to you and yours.” He pu
lled Venser in close and draped an arm around his shoulder. “I have a favor to ask.”
“I’m listening.”
Teferi stepped away from Jhoira, steering Venser beside him. He didn’t go so far that she couldn’t hear them, but it seemed important that this part of their farewell was man-to-man. “You have learned so much,” he said. “I like to think that I helped you master some small part of it.”
“You have,” Venser said. “Much more than a small part.”
“Good. I’ve always been an academic…a student, a researcher, an experimenter. Even as a wizard and a planeswalker, I always had pupils. Knowledge is priceless, Venser. Far more valuable than power.
“My favor is this: Share what you have learned with others. There have to be more beings like you and Radha out there. They will be as diverse and as different as you are from Radha, but they will have the same potential. If you meet them, if it’s possible, encourage them to develop their skills. Help them to be planeswalkers, but also help them be what they can be, what they want to be. Most importantly, help them be what they ought to be.”
“I will,” Venser said. “I’ll try, in any case. My plans never seem to come out the way I mean them to.”
“Then you are indeed a planeswalker,” Teferi said. He stepped back from Venser and bowed. “Farewell, Venser of Urborg. Good-bye, Jhoira of the Ghitu. I will pray daily for the chance to see you both again.” Without waiting for a reply, Teferi turned and started down the incline toward a sprawling expanse of white sand that seemed to have no end.
Venser and Jhoira watched silently until Teferi slipped out of sight behind a dune.
Jhoira took Venser’s hand. “I also have a favor to ask.”
“Name it. I am at your service.”
Jhoira smiled. “There’s some place I have to go. Something I have to do alone. Now that your ambulator is redundant—for you, that is—I was hoping you might lend it to me for an extended time.”
