She can shed those histories that no longer matter. Every history, every tale, every fable that exists is either for unity or against it. Stories without purpose, stories that do not extol the glories and virtues she now sees so clearly.
Boughs bend, steam sears sinew, leaves slice like razorblades. The spirits of Towashi do not take kindly to her intrusion, nor the intrusion of her fellows. When it is done-the creatures named and granted boons, the climate carefully crafted, the earth shaped and polished-he appoints his own successor, Memnarch, to oversee it. As a sculptor chipping at marble, he shapes his world. The same spark of creation that birthed him burns brightly in his breast. The wizard Urza creates an heir from pure, unvarnished metal.
It plummets through the air, landing like so many other hunks of metal upon someone's unsuspecting crown. There is an iron ring binding the scroll. No, as they pour out from the building screaming, it is only the visceral that drives them, the corporeal-the falsest parts of their existence. People could never be so reliable when trapped by flesh and mortal fear. No-not like ants, whose carapaces lend them strength, who act as one in all things. Before long it will be impossible to read any of the characters-but that is no worry for someone like her, someone who knows these stories better than she knows her own.Ī Phyrexian centurion bashes in the roof of a building. Oil seeps from her fingers onto the parchment. Hovering over the neon skies of Towashi, she holds the scroll in hand. Like the oil, she'd found the story had seeped into her mind, begun to change it into something she did not like. Afterward, just as Urza's metal heir had set himself upon the task of creating a plane, she'd set herself the task of recording it. This is only the way it starts there is more, much more. An awful affliction spread through Mishra's armies-a black oil that changed everything in its path. Worse, it allowed evil without compare to blossom. The war spanned decades and took untold lives. But Mishra hated him bitterly, and soon a war began. So wise was he that all the mages of the Multiverse flocked to him for advice so powerful was he that only his brother Mishra stood as a potential rival. Many eons ago there was a great wizard by the name of Urza.
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