Heart of the Gemini

Threshold

In the moment when Trostani had connected to the mind of the woman they believed to be Teysa Karlov, Sorin alone had known the truth. He alone had felt the soul of Liliana Vess, felt her demonically-blessed magic send dark visions through the telepathic link, terrorising the hearts of the Guildmasters and pushing Ravnica into war. Before he could explain himself, the Azorius judges declared him an enemy of the Guildpact, and attempted to imprison him. A forced escape by destroying part of the glass-domed roof was hardly going to achieve the impression he desired, but he could no more afford to be locked in a magical cell while the metropolis that had survived for a hundred centuries destroyed itself.
His only option had been to return to the last place in the planet-wide city that was still prepared to welcome him. Landing atop the gargoyle-adorned rooftop of one of the smaller churches, he let the familiar taste of Orzhov mana fill his lungs. It was sweeter now, after ten years of abstinence, and the White influence no longer bothered him. If anything, he felt his wounded arm healing faster now, and his powers growing stronger, just by being here. Maybe the Guild of Deals had been right all along: perhaps he belonged here?
No one even seemed to notice him as she walked the streets towards the Dark Temple. All around him panic and confusion reigned as the Church prepared for invasion. Even the thrull sentries at the entrance to the main halls seemed anxious, barely leaving Sorin’s head on his shoulders long enough for him to pull out the stone amulet Teysa had given him.
Once inside, he found Gideon conferring with two men who, despite their advanced age, held themselves with all the discipline of years of military service. As he approached, the men saluted and quickly left.
“I thought only priests were allowed in the Temple?” Sorin asked. Despite everything, there was a part of him that had hoped Gideon would have left the plane already. Though he no longer found his White mana as offensive as he once had, he could not be sure Gideon would not still try to hurt, or kill, Liliana rather than helping to save her.
“Given the situation, a few soldiers inside the walls are the least of their concerns,” Gideon replied. His disapproval for all things Orzhov was thinly veiled, forcing Sorin to ask his next question.
“What are you still doing here? I thought your contract ended when we got back?”
Gideon kept his eyes trained squarely on Sorin, as though to look away would be to admit weakness. “Teysa Karlov was abducted, right here, inside the Temple. No one knows yet how it even happened. The general opinion around here is that I’m lying, because such a thing would be impossible, but...”
“But that wasn’t Teysa speaking to Trostani in that trial,” Sorin finished.
“No,” Gideon replied. “But I know who it was. There’s only one person who could kidnap someone as powerful as Teysa, and fool the Guildmasters into believing she was her.” Gideon’s voice was a deep growl, a threat that Sorin was taking very seriously.
“I’m here to help you stop her. You know that, or you would have tried to kill me already.”
“Tried to?” If possible, Gideon’s voice got more threatening. Sorin put up both hands in a sign of peace.
“The real Scion wants peace, I still believe that.”
“She does,” answered Gideon, “Which is why I came back. It I’m not here to serve the Orzhov... my bargains with them are over. I’m here because something terrible is about to happen on this plane, and we have to help stop it.”
If there was one thing Sorin hated, it was people like Gideon Jura: self-righteous soldiers-without-fortune who would fight, even when they had no reason to.
“There are terrible things happening on a thousand worlds,” he said finally. “What is it to you if Ravnica destroys itself?”
Gideon stepped closer, so that their faces were apart by inches. “This has nothing to do with being a Planeswalker, Markov. I’ve lived with these people, served in the Legion. I believe in the justice they fight for. And now your beloved Queen is tricking them into throwing that all away. I... we have to stop it.”
Sorin was silent. Watching Gideon’s eyes as he spoke, he had no doubt the White Planeswalker would try to kill Liliana if he had the chance.
“You’re right, Gideon. This had nothing to do with being Planeswalkers. We have to fight because we both have things we want to protect.
“Something is clouding her mind. I don’t know what’s really going on here but I believe if we can find out who’s truly behind this war then I can save her.” He held a black-gloved hand out in front of him.
Gideon seemed to weigh his words carefully. “If we can get them both back, Teysa and Liliana, and still stop this war, then I will help you.” Slowly, reluctantly, he clasped Sorin’s hand in his own. “But I will not hesitate to kill her if I have to.”
Sorin nodded. Though not quite a solemn bond, the two very powerful beings had come to something of an understanding.

Nearly twelve hours later, high atop the smooth stone walls of the Orzhova battlements, Sorin basked in the momentary silence awarded to him there. Above the preparations for a war that was poised to tear a world in half, he let his eyes trail even higher towards the morning sky. As he watched the first stars disappear on the horizon, he found among them Ravnica’s twin moons – the first, bright and full, gleaming silver in the reflection of the rising sun, the other, dark and empty. Even those celestial shapes, unaffected by men or mana, seemed to be choosing sides between the light and the darkness these days.
Behind him was a sea of steel and heavy blades, representing the amassed forces of the Orzhov militia. Only days before, the same courtyards had been filled with servers and entertainers, preparing for the great Festival that was supposed to take place in two nights. Now, the wooden stages had been converted into barricades, and the decorations replaced with racks of weapons and armour. He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes, focusing on the noise of it all.
How had it come to this?
A man and a woman walked up behind Sorin, dispelling his thoughts and breaking him from his revelry. The man was dressed in his usual brilliant gold and silver armour, with a long multi-tailed whip hanging from his arm. His eyes were dark depths of distrust fused with a warrior’s desire to face his enemy head-on. The woman was deathly pale, but beautiful despite it and dressed in the exquisite white and black robes reserved for Orzhov nobility. A soft glow around her leg betrayed the enchantment she wore that allowed her to walk – and if needed, run – normally.
“Scion,” Sorin said, with a genuine bow. “It’s good to see you unharmed.”
“Lord Markov,” Teysa replied. Her voice bore the stress of long, sleepless days. “I must admit when we struck our bargains, I had not expected to be taken prisoner by your darker-half.”
“No one could have foresaw these events, My Lady.” The guilt in Gideon’s voice was clear, though as far as Sorin understood, he was no longer Teysa’s protector at the time Liliana had attacked.
“If I may ask,” entered Sorin, “how did you escape?”
“I didn’t,” Teysa replied fiercely. “Vess released me. I can only assume my usefulness as her hostage ran out.” Her voice was sepulchrally musical as she played with the irony that to anyone else on the plane she would have been as valuable a hostage as could be asked for, worthy of the most grand of rewards. Sorin looked into Teysa’s eyes burning back at him.
“Are you ready?” he asked. He pushed aside his concerns for Teysa and Liliana, for anything other than the situation in front of him. Much more than his love for her was at stake now, and if the time came, he would have to kill her to stop her destroying this world. His hopes of saving her were a luxury he would earn if they survived the day.
“Dawn is almost here,” she replied. “We’ll be ready, or we’ll die.” Her blunt, business-like tone still caught him hard, but there was truth enough in her words. Turning back to face away from the Dark Temple, he tried to make out the far edge of the advancing army on the horizon. Even at this distance their marching footsteps echoed to the very gates of the churchyards.