Chapter Text
"You never know what is enough unless you know what is more than enough." - William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell.
Arcavios
Elspeth’s wings beat hard against the roiling air.
In her previous life, she’d have been cold, or tired, or something, something other than the endless serenity that has filled her up so entirely, there is simply no room for anything else.
The past was the past. She was whole now. Complete.
A part of her shies away from that thought. She doesn’t follow it.
Instead, she reaches out with her senses, searching with a frown for the coiling, clicking, hissing sense of unlife that all Phrexyians left in the magic of a world- not a presence, but a conspicuous, gnawing absence.
The magic that suffuses every plane is unique to it; after traversing the void of the Blind Eternities, an experienced planeswalker knows where they are, usually before they even draw breath.
This is Arcavios. And the plentiful magic here prickles, like running your hand the wrong way against your feathers- in constant war with itself, but in that conflict, driving itself forward. Like iron sharpening iron.
A strange place, but Elspeth has been to far stranger. And one not untouched by the might of the multiversal Phyrexian Invasion.
She’d already put down three lingering Phyrexians today. She, of all people, had a duty to this plane to make certain they were safe from the lingering threat of Phrexyia- that every plane was free, forever. She is the living reminder that of the failure to totally eradicate the machines that had led to their second rise, and the countless lives destroyed in the aftermath.
Her forerunners had failed. She would not.
She soars over a mountain pass- physically present in the world to better sense threats- but moving at a speed unlike any creature of nature. On the other side of the mountain range, a small city spreads before her- the six different districts divided sharply in color and style, but each the same size- clearly planned and curated by some greater authority, radiating out, one on each of the five sides of the district in the center.
The power in the air is palpable, even from this high up. Elspeth closes her eyes, bright curiosity biting at her for a moment, and adjusts her vision- a little trick she’d picked up on New Capenna.
Her wings falter, and she drops out of her glide for a moment stunned, before she recovers- something inside her dulled heart echoing awe.
Below her is a veritable maelstrom of magic, now visible to her celestial eyes, slowly but steadily spinning around the central district like the eye of a titanic hurricane, in a blistering array of colors- and as she focuses outward, she realizes the central storm isn’t the only one, as there are five different, small magical confluxes feeding the massive force in the middle.
Over the district closest to Elspeth is a tangled, steaming snare of blistering heat and icy cool, while further beyond, a second snarl has stern order hammering in circles at laughing chaos; beside them, in the third, playful light and solemn shadow pursue each other in an endless spiral. In the fourth, wispy dreams and solid reality spin in a complex dance that makes Elspeth’s mind ache to even contemplate, while in the last, verdant life blooms, even as blackened death reaps.
Opposite magics that by all rights, ought to be warring with one another.
Instead, each vortex of equals, by finding balance, only increases each other’s strength and rotation, feeding the larger storm at the center of the city- a concentrated roil of intensely pure power.
It’s a titanic feat of magic, and clearly the work of generations on generations of mages. They should be proud, Elspeth thinks faintly, and lingers over where that specific emotion used to sit in her heart, like a child worrying over the absence of a tooth- before the strange sense of loss ripples away in the balm of peace.
In the distance, there’s a strange, yet familiar, echo in the swirling, roiling, sweeping typhoon of magic over and within the city below.
Elspeth frowns, her introspective mood broken, as her hand automatically reaches for the hilt of her sword. The familiar feeling brushes past her senses again, and Elspeth has a flash of memory- that feels like-
Certainty snaps into place. There’s a planeswalker down there.
She squints, concentrating, and the tumultuous riot of color in the air fades from view, leaving only a vast, malefic darkness within the mangrove swamp district, the one where the forces of life and death are in a constant push and pull between themselves.
They do know what they are doing, Elspeth has to admit, begrudgingly. A planeswalker by their very nature alters the fabric of reality around them, and with the amount of power this one has collected- within the earth beneath the entire swamp- it would be incredibly simple for them to destabilize the district’s roil, and by extension, the massive storm at the center.
On the other wing, this amount of power and that level of skill, means that a planeswalker of massive, dark intent is currently within that district of this remarkable city, and cannot have good intentions for any who reside within.
Elspeth wracks her mind for who this could be, but comes up empty. Too many planeswalkers died, or lost their sparks, and Elspeth’s memories can still be scattered, in certain spots. Too much time spent in the Blind Eternities, where the living and the dead should not tread.
She flickers out of the physical realm, and invisibly dives down, toward the massive copse of trees in the center of the bayou. As she approaches, she realizes that the mangroves themselves are the halls and homes of this place, warped and shaped into spaces for the inhabitants to dwell; while below, at the waterline, the roots of the giant trees peek above the murky swamp, as elevated boardwalks snake between, providing pathways to the busy residents moving about their days.
She follows the cool shadow of darkness and the pulsing sense of something in its wrong place, to the largest and most inhabited tree of all, and floats upward; incorporeal, she’s no longer obligated to the laws of gravity, and her wings don’t need to beat for her to fly.
It’s a school, she realizes with some awe, looking into the amber-sap windows as she passes by. Like the lyceums at home- halls and classrooms filled with young people of every possible kind, but all in similar uniforms; sitting at tables and scribbling notes while an instructor lectures, standing over cauldrons and dropping in ingredients, caring for massive, squirming bugs.
Elspeth drifts in front of a large set of amber windows, and freezes, as for the second time today, she nearly falls out of the sky.
It’s a vaulted lecture hall- rows of desks filled with a handful of diligent students, the walls lined with articulated skeletons of all kind and manner of bird and beast- the largest of which is the adult drake suspended overhead, its wing bones frozen in a mockery of flight.
At the front of the hall, opposite the bank of windows, is a woman. She is leaning on the edge of the lecturer’s desk, speaking with authoritative calm as she looks out over the class, her eyes keen and bright. She’s dressed entirely in black, from her knee length boots to leather trousers, to her lace-trimmed, low cut blouse and long, dark coat.
Elspeth’s breath catches. She doesn’t want to admit it- but the woman she’s staring at is the most beautiful she’s ever seen.
Faint, elaborate, filigree-like tattoos creep and curl over every visible portion of her pale skin- but they only enhance her allure, drawing attention to her raven dark hair and her startling violet eyes.
She’s one of the most wanted people in the multiverse.
She’s also supposed to be very dead.
Peerless Necromancer, General of the Eternal Dreadhorde. Wielder of the cursed Chain Veil, Killer of Four Demon Lords. Scourge of the Guilds of Ravnica, Forsaker of the Gatewatch. Slayer of Nicol Bolas, the Elder God. Planeswalker, of noble Dominaria, and haunted Innistrad.
Liliana Vess.
Liliana, who is apparently alive, well, and has hidden herself in this school- where she sits like a spider in a web, waiting for new prey in her snare.
Elspeth doesn’t hesitate. If Liliana has any warning, it might already be too late.
The amber-sap stained glass shatters into a thousand pieces.
Liliana’s lecture in her Essence Siphoning seminar was humming along perfectly fine, in her elevated opinion- though it was clear from a few of her drooping students that they found the topic more soporific than stimulating.
The crashing sound of the windows exploding was enough to rouse them.
The shimmering, golden archangel who materialized in front of the recently vacated window frames also might have had something to do with it.
Liliana resists the urge to pinch her nose. Now she’s got to deal with this, and it’s going to take for fucking ever to get the feathers out of her classroom afterward.
Blinking her eyes for a moment, to adjust against the truly obnoxious glow the archangel is emanating, Liliana looks the hovering angel up and down- while her own magic stretches and saunters toward the warmth of the intruder’s aura.
Not unattractive, from what little Liliana could see in the light. But then again, angels never were; though far be it from Liliana to accuse such elevated beings of vanity.
Her magical sense oozes around the archangel- no, Liliana realizes, around the planeswalker, as the familiar, displaced feeling of her own kind shivers down her spine. Her power flicks out a wisping tongue, like a serpent tasting the air.
Citrus and smog, from urbane Capenna. Oil, from nightmarish New Phyrexia. Golden wheat, from chivalrous Bant. The familiar mold of the bogs at home, on Dominaria. A whiff of ozone from stormy Tarkir. But most of all, the sea-salt-spray of a planeswalker who has spent a great deal of time on Theros.
The familiarity stings, somewhere in her chest.
She ignores it.
“Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to destroy my classroom, or is this just bog standard angelic arrogance?” Liliana drawls, not even bothering to rise to her full height.
Eliminating the pest via necrotic blast would be child’s play- but that involves significant collateral damage.
Removing the angel, while not causing her students grievous bodily harm, is slightly more complex. It’s going to take her a minute to subtly reanimate the conveniently located skeletons she’s got stationed around the room, and if she really needs to, start pulling from her supply of neco-crocodiles out in the swamp.
Oh well. Needs must. She’s got to buy time, keep the angel talking, while Liliana starts to send out threads of her power to summon her reinforcements.
“Liliana Vess.” The archangel thunders. “You will come with me.”
Liliana blinks.
She starts to laugh hard, her concentration nearly broken. “I quite beg your pardon?”
“You are the war criminal and traitor Liliana Vess, are you not?” The archangel flaps her wings, a gust of wind that sends her students’ papers flying. “You are wanted on at least two different planes. You will come with me, and you will cease your corruption of these young minds.”
Now that was downright offensive. Liliana wasn’t corrupting anything- enhancing preexisting predilections? Maybe. But corruption is a bridge too far.
Her students- some of whom had fallen off of their chairs- had been stunned into silence; now roused themselves, all of them coming to their feet.
“Get behind me.” The archangel ordered. “I’ll protect you from her.”
Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea- if Liliana needs to remove the angel directly, getting her students out of her direct line of fire is for the best.
To both Liliana and the archangel’s surprise, her students do not comply- instead, arraying themselves in a ring in front of Liliana.
Like they are going to shield her.
“Professor Vess isn’t going anywhere with you.” Dina says firmly, her leafy hair bristling, her green fingertips glowing viridescent, as she starts to commune with the massive tree that houses Widdershins Hall.
“She’s a danger to everyone around her.” The angel thunders.
Killian, in his customary monoblack, snorts derisively. “She’s actually the only reason we’re all alive.” His inkling, perched on his shoulder, puffs up, as Killian pulls on the shadows around him. “She held off the entire Phyrexian Invasion, literally by herself, after all the other professors were compleated. She saved everyone.” He adds firmly.
“I was trying to save the library.” Liliana objects. “You lot just happened to be there.” Her students ignore her, the brats.
“Do you not understand who she is?” The archangel’s wings beat again, and Liliana can hear just a hint of confusion.
(Liliana understands that sentiment, she’s just as befuddled as the intruder is. Why are they protecting her? Why would anyone? It’s not like she can’t defend herself.)
(Although things are going to get fairly messy if she has to reanimate her emergency giant that she’s got hidden in the Detention Bog.)
Quintorius makes a uniquely loxodon sound- a kind of disapproving sigh and elephant’s trumpet- all at once. “Obviously we know who she is- we knew even when she was pretending to be someone else. Do you not understand the admissions standards at Strixhaven? None of us are fools.”
Liliana can’t just let that one go. “Well, most of you.”
“Due respect Professor, but you do have your demonic contracts sort of literally written on your face.” Will volunteers, his fist already covered in ice.
Rowan snickers at that, her palm crackling with red lightning. “And an incredibly specific amount of knowledge on the best places to stab a demon overlord. Even I figured it out.”
“Gods know you’ve never cracked open a book.” Will mutters at his twin, while Rowen flips him off with a sparking finger.
The archangel looks at Quint, then at the twins for a long moment.
Shit, Liliana thinks, she knows. Time for a change of plan.
“You’re planeswalkers too.” The archangel says the quiet thing out loud, slowly. “The three of you. I couldn’t sense you beneath her shadow, but all three of you are newborn, aren’t you?” The angel turns her burning gaze onto Liliana, and frowns. “Why are you collecting new planeswalkers?”
“I assure you, I’m not. They just won’t stop following me around.” Liliana huffs. “Enough of this.”
The way her students are ringed around her is adorable. But it’s also perfect for what she does next.
Before the confounded angel can react, Liliana teleports, flickering forward past her charges with a surge of dark energy, as around her, her reanimation magic triggers.
Liliana reappears in front of her students and in the same breath, gestures her wave of skeleton creatures forward, shattering the displays they were mounted on. The bones of a hundred different creatures- birds, mammals, reptiles, vermin- launch themselves into the air, swarming the angel, snapping at her with their dead mouths, scratching at her armor.
The skeletal drake over head stretches its bony wings, and dives, the cables that held it aloft snapping; it slams into the archangel as she draws her sword, the creature’s jaws wide as their momentum carries them both back out of the shattered window frame and outside the Hall.
Perfect. Now Liliana can eliminate the luminous pest, and she won’t have to clean up the fucking feathers afterward.
She surges forward on a cloud of darkness, following the archangel up and out into the humid, muggy air that wraps around Widdershins Hall like an embrace, while gathers a measure of her full power around her like a cloak, steeling herself.
She’s glad she’s away from her students now. She doesn’t unleash herself like this around them, unsure if even the Witherbloom students could handle being in the blast radius of the raw necrotic power that’s rippling around her, in pulses of darkness.
She reaches out a hand, and magically summons her diadem, slipping it into place. She loves to remind angels of how badly they’ve erred as she destroys them.
The archangel gets a grip on both the biting, snapping jaws of the bone drake, and with a grunt of effort, rips the maw apart, breaking the reanimation spell on the creature. The bones fall, no longer held aloft; as the angel shimmers with light, and dispels the other magic on the remaining skeleton creatures still clinging to her armor.
Pieces and parts of bone rain down below her, as the angel shakes herself, dislodging the last vestiges of the assault.
Huh. That was remarkably restrained for an archangel- Liliana had half-expected her to go full nova; angels do love to solve their problems with a divine hammer.
Liliana’s voice ripples with her magic, making it deeper and more resonant, and she knows her tattoos are glowing. “Who are you?” Liliana asks, curious to a fault. “Just so I have a name, to tell people who I killed.”
The archangel pauses, a cloud passing over her lovely face as the brilliant light that veils her dims. Liliana gets a clear look at her features for the first time- long, dark brunette hair, blazing golden eyes. Plush lips, and a proud mouth, with her own angelic diadem crowning her head.
She’s not stalling, Liliana thinks. She just doesn’t quite know how to respond.
“Elspeth Tirel.” The archangel says at last. “I am Elspeth Tirel. Of Theros.”
She says it not with pride, but flatly, with sadness- which seems almost inconceivable to Liliana, who wears her own reputation like armor.
The name is familiar, though it takes Liliana a moment to place. “Aren’t you the one that big kitty cat was always so mopey about?” Liliana drawls, with faux shock. “Looks like I’m not the only one who is supposed to be dead.”
Elspeth stares at her, her face expressionless.
The archangel blinks, and suddenly moves. That lovely terrible face is just a breath away, as Elspeth tackles her, fast and hard, in midair- their momentum carrying them clear away from the Hall and into the Sedgemoor, where Liliana comes to a sudden, arboreal stop- her breath knocked out for a moment as the angel slams her into the giant trunk of a swamp mangrove tree, pinning her there by her shoulders, a foot above a massive branch.
The impact would have killed an ordinary mage. But Liliana has never been ordinary.
“Touchy subject?” Liliana asks dryly, ignoring the fact she’s currently being held to a tree by an enraged archangel, who is radiating heat and light as she glares with her golden eyes. Elspeth’s hands are hot enough to burn; while her armored body presses into Liliana’s lace and leathers, the edges hard and unyielding.
“You know nothing about my friend, or his suffering. Do not speak to me of him.” Elspeth snarls.
“I know plenty about Ajani.” Liliana replies, keeping her face cool and detached. “And as far as I know, he mourns you still.” She raises an eyebrow. “Unless something has changed?”
Elspeth opens her mouth, then closes it again. The harsh light that has consumed her eyes fades, leaving them looking more ordinary, albeit with molten gold irises.
To Liliana’s surprise, the angel gently sets her on the large branch below, and lands as well; taking a step back from Liliana, as they both stare at each other, considering.
Liliana could just kill her. Elspeth has made a huge mistake, throwing them into the swamp like this. Before, witnesses might have intervened; now there is no one here to stay Liliana’s hand.
Though Liliana is somewhat amused- it’s clear that the rest of the do-gooders did not tell Elspeth that Liliana had faked her own death for the Guilds, with the assistance of her own would-be assassins.
But there’s something else here that’s itching at her, prickling her sense of intrigue. Elspeth Tirel, last she checked, had been dead, then not, then a member of that force that assaulted the machine hub on New Phyrexia, then dead again. Speaking of Phyrexia-
“Did you really run Jace through?” Liliana asks, tilting her head, while at the same time-
“Why did you defend the school?” Elspeth asks in the same breath.
They stare at each other, until Liliana huffs. “You attacked me.” She points out. “This is my home. I’ll be asking the questions.”
The archangel sighs, conceding the point; then looks away, her voice flat. “I had no other choice. He was going to annihilate entire sections of the multiverse indiscriminately. I don’t even think we were sure it would have destroyed the Phyrexians, not completely. Without their total destruction assured, it wasn’t a viable option.”
“I’m not certain if I should slap you or kiss you.” Liliana drawls, rolling her eyes. “On the one hand- heroic idiocy. On the other- you did very much run through Jace.” She grins. “I’m certain that was entertaining.”
Elspeth raises an eyebrow, though there are two spots of faint color high on her cheeks. “I thought you two were attached. At some point.”
“He’s much more interested in snakes these days.” Liliana says dryly. “And I’m much more interested in making his life miserable.”
“But, he’s dead.” Elspeth says, confused.
“No, he’s not.” Liliana replies, confident and sure.
“No, he was revived by the Phyrexians- but he just died again. On Tarkir.” Elspeth argues back. “I saw him shatter like glass, with my own two eyes. I- I‘m sorry you had to find out this way.” She looks at Liliana with a strange expression then, and almost says something- before visibly restraining herself.
Interesting.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but Jace Beleren is alive.” Liliana drawls, mockingly.
“How would you know?” Elspeth snaps, as her wings beat the air.
Liliana raises an eyebrow. “I am the greatest necromancer who has ever lived.” She says, without a hint of modesty or shame- simply stating the facts. “Death is kind of my thing. When I meet planeswalkers who might irritate me later, I have learned the hard way to keep track of them.”
“You’re lying.”
“I literally do not care enough about you or this topic to lie.”
Elspeth blinks. “Jace is alive.” She says slowly, something like relief flickering over the serene blankness of her face. “I thought- I thought he was- how did he-”
“Alive and kicking.” Liliana shrugs. “That’s all I can say. I don’t go consciously looking for him, pain in the ass that he is.” She puts a hand on her hip. “Are we done here? Will you go away or am I going to have to make you?”
“No.” Elspeth says simply, startled, as though she had just remembered why they are here. She peers over at Liliana, something like curiosity on her calm face. “Why did you protect the school, Liliana? What is your plan here? Are you training the students to do your bidding?”
Liliana sighs and flicks her eyes in an elegant eye roll. “I can barely get my students to turn in their assignments; those idiots bungle even the most simple of tasks. How the hell would I expect them to do my wicked bidding with any level of competency?” She spreads her hands wide, mock dismayed.
Liliana chuckles darkly as she continues. “I don’t expect you to believe me- no one ever does. But this place, this school. This is mine. My home, my sanctuary, my respite, from the rest of the multiverse’s opinions of me.” She grinds her teeth, affronted by the very memory of the Invasion. “They had the audacity to try to take what is mine, and I will never allow that, never again.”
Liliana pauses, realizing that perhaps she’s revealed a little more than she intended to. The archangel stares at her, and she notices for the first time that Elspeth is at least a few inches taller than she is- a rarity, as Liliana is not a short woman by anyone’s measure. She towers over most men.
“You’ve lost much.” Elspeth says at last, and the inhuman perfection of her expression fades as she frowns, her lips pursing in thought. “You really aren’t lying. You found… a home.”
Liliana bares her teeth, uncomfortable with the level of perception. “We can fight, if you’d like.” She offers, trying to steer this conversation back onto more comfortable ground. “You will lose and I will probably kill you.” Again, simply matter of fact.
Elspeth shakes her head. “No, I-” She looks away, then looks back, her eyebrow raised. “You’re shielding the young planeswalkers from detection. You’re protecting them too, aren’t you.”
Liliana has had about enough of this, the golden eyed angel with the sad voice, and wings like the burning sun. She lashes out with a whip of pure necrotic energy, as Elspeth reflexively blocks, the whip coiling around her gauntlet as Liliana yanks her off balance, surprising the angel with her strength.
Elspeth stumbles forward, and Liliana leans into her supernaturally perfect face, unmarred by scar or stain. Liliana hisses, “I don’t normally give a warning, but consider it a professional courtesy. Leave. Do not return.”
She flicks her fingers and the whip dissolves. Without a backward glance, Liliana spins on her heel and vanishes, teleporting herself back to her class and her lecture hall, to do some much needed damage control.