Duel of the Gemini

Caress

The procession walked through a series of hanging curtains and carved arches into a small, round audience chamber. At the far end, an exceedingly beautiful woman wearing the robes of the Vampire High Queen sat stroking at a small animal, which made a strange noise Sorin guessed was similar to a purr. The woman spoke impatiently as they arrived, without looking up.
“Where have you been? I was expecting you days ago. And why did you… Wait! Who…?” Black smoke filled the space where she’d been sitting moments before, startling the pet. Instantly the woman appeared behind Sorin with a dagger poised beneath his throat. “Explain yourself.”
“You’re Liliana Vess?”
“That’s one wrong answer closer to me spilling your blood.” Sorin felt the blade tip press deeper against his skin, heard the unmistakeable sound of vampires licking their lips around him and reconsidered his next answer.
“I was sent to find you.” The blade withdrew a fraction.
“I think I can guess by whom,” she replied, “But why would I want to speak with you?”
“For starters we may end up being useful to each other – but a short discussion will discover that faster than a bloody murder.”
“Perhaps,” she hissed. The blade moved away, agonisingly slowly. Sorin took a tentative step forward, spun and assumed his rightful position opposite Liliana across the room. The outstretched knife hung in the air between them. “Speak quickly!” she ordered, “Before I reconsider.”
Minutes passed as Sorin recounted the events that had seen him hurtling off a rooftop chased by fire only to land face-down on the grass outside the borders of a Zendikar forest. As he spoke his eyes made careful note of his host, scanning her face for reactions. Her features, untouched in the slightest by age, preserved by unknown quantities of dark magic, were as still as her hand, which seemed to be able to her blade perfectly still indefinitely. Only her eyes betrayed any emotion, and only three specific times, each corresponding to the mention of an individual: the mysterious Planeswalker Eldranis, the lion-kin from the vault and Chandra Nalaar. As he finished she made a small motion towards an unremarkable chair, which he accepted gratefully, noting the apparent placidity of the guards. It was clear from the way their weapons hung loosely at their sides that they were not regularly needed – a frightening testament to the abilities of their leader.
“Why did you think I was Eldranis?” he asked, returning his full attention to Liliana. 
Finally emotion swelled strong enough within the woman that her face betrayed her feelings: annoyance that her mistake had been so easily understood. The guards shifted nervously, recognising her tensions. She spoke slowly, considering her words.
“The mana in you… it feels the same as his.”
“That’s not possible…” Sorin began, but the sounds of swords being drawn on either side of him indicated that disagreements would not be tolerated. Liliana allowed a small smile to replace her earlier frustrations before waving them down.
“You noticed his eyes, did you not?” she asked teasingly.
“I was hoping you may know something about that,” he replied, soberly.
“I suspect that when we understand why he has the eyes of one who does not use White mana, we will understand him.” There was a musical quality to her voice, but it was not an inviting sound. It rang out as if to say ‘this may be the last thing you will ever hear.’ It reminded him of another ringing….
“That man who passed me on the way in, who was he?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“Well for one thing, he tried to kill me.” Liliana smiled again; Sorin noticed it seemed to be the recurring reaction whenever his life was at stake.
“I don’t think you’d still be here if he had. He’s just not very good at conversation.” He resisted the urge to point out the understatement, and waited for her to go on. “In any case I can see little harm in you knowing. He’s a Planeswalker: an Original. He calls himself Jace Balaren, or at least he has for the last few centuries. Not much is known about him before then. But now it seems he’s taken on a new master, though how he can live with the shame of it…” Her face turned away, the voice trailing, talking to no-one in particular. Looking down he saw the knife was still pointed squarely at him. He did not doubt she could strike him dead in an instant, even if her attentions were elsewhere. Finally she turned back to him, something like enthusiasm building behind her eyes.
“Tell me more about the lion-kin you saw in the vault.”
Sorin said what he knew, about the burning sensation he felt when he looked at it, about the aura which tore at the Black mana he carried. Liliana seemed to flush with excitement. She turned and spoke quickly to her guards in the language of the tribe. For a brief moment the hall buzzed with noise, until she raised a hand to silence them. Turning back to her guest, she lowered the knife to a small table and spoke a single word: “Ajani.”
A tall tower stood on the edge of the great patchwork city, a monument to the glory of a civilisation that looked as though it had been build overnight, and which could probably be torn down just a quickly. At the very top a balcony stretched out over the forest, a perfect view as far as the trees grew. The impending darkness seemed to bring little concern for the residents below, who sounded as if their frivolities would continue through the night.
Sorin stood with Liliana and two members of her personal guard. No blade had been near his throat in some time, and he was feeling optimistic. It had allowed more time for him to ponder the absurdity in the idea that he could have a significant role to play in the life of the woman before him: the most powerful dark mage ever known. His thoughts were cut short when she spoke again.
“Look out beyond the trees,” she instructed.
His eyes followed her outstretched finger to a spot in the distance, beyond the great forest to a clearing of some kind, where a faint glow burned. It was so far that at first the light blended with the horizon, and he thought it was the last rays of Zendikar’s setting sun. With a start he came to his senses and spun on his heels to confirm that the sun was still hours from its rest on the other side of the planet. Liliana did not follow his gaze, but waited for his puzzled expression to return to the light she had pointed out to him. Finally she moved closer to the guard standing next to her and spoke in a hushed tone, as though she were asking for a deeply personal favour. She gestured towards the city as she spoke the language unique to her people.
“Solourn, il-kilri,” she said. The guard shifted uncomfortably and considered his response.
“Kria! A-tel Eldrazi i-tora,” he replied. Liliana nodded slowly.
“Mia, tel Sorin a-tel Eldrazi se-toran. Solourn." Reluctantly, the guard began his descent from the balcony.
“What did you say to him?”
“I asked him to silence the village,” she answered. There was something a deeply troubling in her voice. Minutes passed in the city below and the roar of music and voices began to quiet. Finally an unnatural silence descended in its place, and Liliana spoke again.
“Now, listen.”
Sorin looked out towards the glow on the horizon, and concentrated. Immediately he could make out the sound of large objects crashing together and the violent breaking of earth. He tried to imagine the force that could produce such sounds, like strikes of lightning large enough to shake the world. The silence lasted moments before the noise in the city below resumed, the music somehow more intensely played, the voices from the conversations calling out into the night with greater urgency. Liliana was facing him now, watching his reactions. She spoke with none of the musical quality in her voice, as if the topic forbade it.
“Once, the beasts of these forests would roam day and night, never stopping. They were the giant prey my people lived among, tearing down trees and crushing they earth as they hunted each other with a fierceness we aspired to. Now, they are all silent. Now, they are all afraid.” Her eyes no longer held his, but looked out across the tree tops.
“My people make the noise now. They refuse to sleep in silent night. They are afraid, and now you have heard their fear.”
“Tell me what’s out there,” he said as he tried to imagine the sorts of creatures could strike fear into beasts and vampires alike.
“All the beings which speak on this plane call them the Eldrazi. It is a word of the language of my people: it means ‘Bringers of Fire.’” Sorin shivered at the translation, but did not interrupt. “They are monsters, raised from this world to bring destruction down on all living things. Their size is not to be believed, greater than mountains. At first there were only three, but they are spawning dozens, hundreds. And now they build monuments to some unknown purpose.” On the railing in front of her, her hands were clenching into fists.  “It makes no difference what they’re for, at this rate none of us will survive to see them complete.”
Once more Liliana turned and spoke softly, compelling. “I don’t expect you to understand why I choose to live among these creatures, or why I intend to fight to prevent the destruction of this world. Just know that your coming here has given me a hope that I had all but abandoned.”
This time Sorin was the one to turn away. He felt her hand land on his shoulder, and waited for her to continue.
“Planeswalkers like us; we’re given the power to affect great change. That does not mean we must fight in every war on every world. Whether you choose to stay and fight with us or not, that is entirely your decision.”
The harsh truth in her words tore through him, and he thought about the conflicts raging right now across the universe. So many times he’d had the chance to take a side, so many times he’d turned away, firmly believing it was not his role to end conflicts he knew nothing about. Mixed in with those beliefs, somewhere deep inside, was the sound of the music playing endlessly through the night in the city of tents. That music, the only weapon of a once fearless race, guarding against a sound they couldn’t bear to hear, the ever-present reminder of an inevitable fate they couldn’t possible comprehend.
“Tell me what you plan to do,” he said.