Journey Into Nyx

by Jenna Helland

  “Why is he doing this?” Elspeth cried.

  “He’s lost the power from the revels and replaced it with this,” Ajani said, moving to a celestial stag nearest them. It scraped its hooves pitifully against the marble as it tried to escape its bonds.

  “We need to destroy the flames,” Elspeth said. “We have to save them.”

  As Ajani wove a mystical shield to smother the flames, Elspeth used her blade to cut the stag from the gray sinews that tethered it inside the flames. She freed the stag, which bounded away beyond the fiery prison. But the flames closed the gap before she could attend to another creature. Hundreds of celestials were trapped in the burning landscape around them. They seemed to sense that the planeswalkers were trying to help them, and their haunting cries grew louder.

  Through the shimmering flames, Elspeth saw the gray mound stir and shift. The mound wasn’t part of the landscape as Elspeth first thought. As it rose higher, it became more defined. Red handprints were smeared on a sickly surface. Shoulders came into focus. Gargantuan arms stretched out with a grinding noise as joints snapped into place. Finally, the horned head of the God of Revels came into focus. Xenagos pulled himself to his full height. He now had the horizon-dominating, monumental stature of a god. But by dousing the flames, the planeswalkers were diminishing his power, and he could feel it. He spun to face them, and the flames parted above them.

  As he stared down from his lofty height, Xenagos’s eyes met Elspeth’s, and then they settled on her blade. His expression didn’t change—there was neither glee nor distress. There was an absence of human emotion. She wanted him to be afraid. The blade had been crafted by Purphoros and claimed by Heliod. It was wielded by a mortal champion who had crossed through the gates of Nyx. The Satyr-God breathed deeply, and the mystical flames flickered. Nearby, a white Nyxborn lion roared in pain as Xenagos absorbed more energy from the suffering creatures. Elspeth wanted to carve the features off Xenagos’s stolen face, but she couldn’t leave Ajani. He couldn’t disperse the flames on his own.

  She needed to enlist help, but rank-and-file soldiers would just be absorbed into Xenagos’s horrific mass. During their time in Meletis, Daxos had shared hundreds of god-stories, including the archon saga. She knew the power of the archons-of-old and their epic battle with the gods on the Four Winds Plateau. Daxos had described their nature to her in painstaking detail. An archon would not quail before a god. An archon could avoid the consuming fires. The spell felt as natural to cast as the wind lifting a banner high above a field of battle. She imagined Daxos standing next to her as she summoned an archon to their aid.

  With a deafening sonic explosion, a celestial archon materialized just above the flames. The faceless, hooded rider was mounted on a winged beast with eyes of fire and hooves of bronze. Elspeth shouted for her new ally to fly, and the archon spurred its mount along the length of the fire. The beating of its white wings sent a cold, ferocious wind sweeping across the jagged plain of Nyx. The oppressive wind flattened the flames to a mere flicker against the glittering stone. The archon circled around with astonishing speed and then doubled back. The wind nearly drove Elspeth to her knees, and Xenagos’s cruel flames retreated into nothingness. Reeling with the loss of his fire, Xenagos roared in disbelief and stumbled back into the darkness of Nyx.

  As the archon prowled the skies, golden light sparked from his body and rained down on the freed celestials. Ajani sent a wave of healing through the former captives. A Nyxborn wolf was one of the last creatures to escape the flames. The wounded wolf was four times the size of an ordinary wolf, and dozens of creatures shadowed it even after the flames disappeared. Its flank had been sliced open, and inside its body Elspeth glimpsed a vision of an infinite forest. Ajani raced to the creature’s side, bowed his head, and placed his hands on the majestic wolf. As soon as he touched it, Elspeth knew that this was no celestial creature.

  This was Nylea, who had come to fight Xenagos after his ascension. When she’d seen what he’d done to the celestials, she’d let herself be taken by the flames rather than permit her creatures to suffer alone. Under Ajani’s care, the wound on her flank closed, and the vision of the forest was gone. Unsure of what world she had glimpsed, Elspeth marveled at the mysteries of the gods and the secrets of creation that Nylea protected within herself

  Still in wolf form, Nylea loped to the edge, but the rescued creatures didn’t follow her. Instead, they stayed their ground with Ajani and Elspeth. At the last second before Nylea bounded into the cosmos, she paused and looked at Elspeth. She didn’t speak words, but Elspeth sensed her message. It was like a seed that Nylea had planted in her mind, and it was beginning to sprout: The celestials are yours to command. I must find Heliod and warn him not to take vengeance upon you.

  When Nylea disappeared, a horde of Nyxborn satyrs hurtled out of the darkness where Xenagos had vanished. Much like Xenagos’s ruined statue at the edge of Nyx, their features appeared melted and their bodies distorted. Grotesque parodies of the natural world, these satyrs were mindlessly determined to slaughter them. The celestial creatures sped forward to intercept this wave of enemies as Xenagos reemerged from the shadows. He stood like a pillar above the battleground, with his attention riveted on Elspeth. Fire still burned in his eyes, but it was diminished. Elspeth glanced at Ajani, who took his place beside her.

  Flying just above the fray, the archon sent gusts of wind through the hordes of satyrs, sweeping them over the edge of the battleground and clearing a path to Xenagos. The Satyr-God sent a barrage of fireballs as Elspeth and Ajani approached. He ripped huge slabs of marble from the ground, set them alight, and launched the fiery rocks into the midst of the celestial army. The archon dodged the flaming projectiles and made a frontal assault at Xenagos. He sliced his blade across Xenagos’s neck. The blade cut through immaterial flesh, and Xenagos wasn’t harmed. The archon prepared another assault, but a massive rock slammed into his winged mount. The archon vanished in a burst of light, but before it dissipated, it imparted Elspeth with its inhuman strength and speed.

  As Ajani intercepted the haphazard attacks from crazed satyrs, Elspeth drew closer to Xenagos. It was like approaching a mountain. As in the battle with the Rageblood, she knew she couldn’t go head to head with an opponent of greater size. Xenagos’s immense hand reached out, swiping at her like a mosquito, but she dodged and sliced into him. Elspeth’s speed was uncanny, and the god could barely track her. In constant motion, she circled around and slashed him over and over. And with every cut, she said Daxos’s name inside her mind. Daxos. Hundreds of times, she paid homage to the fallen oracle with the cutting motion of her blade. And she would say it a hundred more, because even though she wasn’t killing Xenagos with her gashes, she knew her blade was damaging Nyx.

  The Godsend was flaying the foundations of the god-realm, and the ground beneath them rumbled as if reacting in pain. The battle between the celestials and Xenagos’s satyrs raged behind them, and as he promised, Ajani had abandoned his healing magic and protected her with his axe. No foe could approach her as she waged her personal war against the Satyr-God. Finally, the ground under Xenagos crumbled inward, and the god seemed to sink lower into the black marble of the battleground. His height was diminished, but he could track her more easily. Elspeth recognized the new danger, and she dashed back to Ajani to avoid Xenagos’s oncoming blow. But she wasn’t quick enough, and Xenagos slammed her into the ground.

  Ribs broken and body bruised, Elspeth lay stunned on the roiling marble, gasping for air as Xenagos loomed directly above, lording his power and dominance over her. Here was her worst nightmare. She was trapped and overwhelmed. She could hear Ajani shouting as he rushed to her aid, but there was no time. Xenagos’s eyes were wild as he raised his fist to crush her into oblivion. His gaze flicked to her blade. Instead of killing her, he hesitated. He would have the sword forged by Purphoros and claimed by Heliod. He would be the lord of the pantheon, the greatest of all the gods.

  As he leaned closer, Els
peth saw the raw skin of Nylea’s wound visible on his chest. His body was still partially flesh, and Nylea’s arrowhead pressed outward as if it was trying to escape the confines of his skin. The rapid thud of his beating heart rattled the damaged stone beneath Elspeth. Xenagos had ascended, but he was still mortal enough to have a pulse.

  Just before he took the Godsend from her, Elspeth scrambled to her feet. With shaky hands, she aimed the spear-blade and prayed to Nylea for guidance. Elspeth threw the spear-blade at the divine arrowhead lodged in Xenagos’s chest. When the Godsend collided with the arrowhead, it exploded into a million razor-sharp shards inside him, and his beating heart was shredded. His remaining flesh became like tattered ribbons. Rivers of star field streamed from the gaping wounds in what had been his body. As his remnants crashed to the ground, the star field flowed back into the gulf he had created, and Nyx shone down on the mortal world again.

  “Erebos, I passed your ordeal,” she said. “I make my request.”

  “No, Elspeth!” Ajani roared.

  “I trade my life for Daxos’s!” Elspeth shouted.

  Ajani was shouting at her while Elspeth raced to retrieve her blade. With a wide arc, she made the final, deepest cut across the ground, and the glittering marble crumbled under the weight of the dying god. Elspeth sprinted back as the black marble disintegrated behind her. Ajani darted forward, grabbed her, and dragged her to a safe distance. They tumbled to the cold stone, and Elspeth clutched her blade to her chest.

  “Oh Elspeth, what have you done?” Ajani whispered.

  The winds carried Elspeth’s request to the Underworld, where Erebos rose from his golden throne and wrung his hands with anticipation.

  “What have you done?” Ajani repeated.

  But Elspeth didn’t answer. After Xenagos’s consciousness faded from him, his body diminished until it was as small as it once had been. He slipped through the crevices between realms and his shattered body came to rest in the Despair Lands. Xenagos’s satyrs were exploding in self-immolating fire, like the last moments of a revel, when fireworks explode in the sky. The celestial creatures bounded back into the vibrant night sky and resumed their walk across the ageless heavens. But Elspeth’s eyes were fixed on a blue speck flitting toward her. Amid the noise and chaos, a Nyxborn butterfly alighted on her hand that gripped the spear-blade.

  Nylea’s god-voice blossomed in her mind: “You have returned the pantheon back to its natural order. I forgive you for your transgressions. But you must flee Nyx before Heliod finds you or Erebos can claim you. I will help you if I can.”

  Elspeth’s body began to shimmer with celestial light. An aura of star field surrounded her as Nylea wrapped her in a cloak of stars. Stellar light dappled Ajani’s white fur when Nylea gave the same gift to the leonin. Bestowed with the essence of the stars, they had become like the Nyxborn.

  “Flee to the Shrine of the Gods on the edge of Nyx,” Nylea said. “You can escape into the mortal realm where Heliod must rely on his oracles to find you. The world is vast and deep, and you can hide from him there.”

  “Where are you going?” Elspeth called, but she already knew. Nylea would search for Daxos, who would soon be walking among the living. Elspeth grieved that she would never see Daxos again, but at least he could find happiness in his sparkling city on the edge of Thassa’s sea. The butterfly disappeared, and the horizon began to tilt on its axis, and the shrine of the gods spun into view.

  “Can you planeswalk?” Ajani asked. “I don’t have the strength.”

  At that moment, Elspeth was too weak to conjure a grain of sand. Nor did Nyx feel like a place from which she could enter the Blind Eternities. It did not seem to exist in time and space the same way that a plane did. And if they couldn’t planeswalk, they would have to run. With the little strength they had left, they hurried for the shrine, but a voice echoed around them as they ran. Raw and thunderous, it was ancient and devoid of compassion.

  “Heliod,” Erebos said. “You must deliver her to me.”

  They were nearly at the shrine where the pillar of light shone like a beacon of safety. Originating at Heliod’s altar, it was the nexus point between the two worlds and their only escape from the god’s realm. Only the Nyxborn could cross from Nyx into the mortal realm, but Nylea had given them that ability with her gift. They were seconds from safety when a rippling shock wave of energy swept over the shrine and knocked them off their feet. Heliod had arrived. He looked almost human, with his dark hair and piercing eyes, but he was encircled by an aura of brilliance that made it hard to gaze upon him.

  “My champion,” he said. “Give me my blade.”

  The Godsend flew from her hand even though she tried desperately to keep hold of it.

  “Make yourself immune to my power,” Heliod taunted. “If you still possess the power to do it.”

  Elspeth had no strength left. He had taken her blade, and she was weary beyond all measure. In the insufferable light, she couldn’t see Ajani. She felt blindly for him, but she couldn’t find her friend.

  “Even if you hadn’t given yourself to Erebos, I wouldn’t have permitted you to live,” Heliod said. “You are too much like the satyr. Your eyes have seen things I can’t fathom. And a champion cannot know more than her god. I am lord of the pantheon. I am the greatest of these.”

  Heliod’s light blinded Elspeth, so she never saw him move to strike. She didn’t know he was going to murder her until she felt the Godsend pierce her chest. As it tore into her flesh, it broke in half and lost its divinity. Heliod had no use for a sword that could rend Nyx and slaughter a god.

  The pain was absolute. Her soul became like a physical extension of her body, a fragile thing mutilated by the spear-blade. The brilliant light faded, and Elspeth lay on her side on the black marble. So many battles she had fought, so many injuries she had endured. And now, she didn’t possess the strength to lift her head. Her vision was hazy, but she could see Ajani kneeling beside her. His face was a mask of pain; his body seemed rigid with shock.

  Heliod said to Ajani, “Carry her back to the mortal realm, leonin. Deliver her to Erebos. If she dies here, she will disperse to nothingness.”

  Elspeth cried out as Ajani lifted her and cradled her in his arms. Without a word, he carried her into the light of Heliod’s altar. Together, they passed into the mortal realm. It was a warm night, and the god-forms and celestial creatures were fully restored and glorious above them. Elspeth’s breath slowed as he took her beyond the boundary of Nykthos, Shrine to Nyx, and laid her upon the bare earth. He wouldn’t let her die at the feet of the gods. Black-clad figures swept across the bleak plains toward them. Erebos’s agents were coming. The God of the Underworld would claim his prize.

  Enraged with grief, Ajani picked up his axe and rushed toward them, but Pyxathor and his leonin warriors hurried from their hiding places. King Brimaz would want them to keep Ajani safe. They encircled the injured leonin and spirited him to safety. Elspeth watched him disappear into the night. There was an instant before Erebos’s agents reached her that Elspeth was alone. Her happiest memories with Daxos flashed through her fading mind. But as the world retreated into darkness, she thought of Heliod. Give me quiet. Give me peace. Give me rest at last.

  Nylea scoured the mortal realm. The God of the Dead was required to release Daxos in exchange for Elspeth. Elspeth had completed her ordeal, made her request, and Erebos was bound by it. Yet there was no sign of Daxos. Nylea took the form of a human woman and walked upon the earth. Her bare feet in the soil, with her bow in her hand, she wandered the wilds in search of the mortal she loved. She had no conception of time passing, and her heart was heavy with grief.

  Nylea’s journey ended on a cloudy day deep in the heart of her own forest. She came upon the ruins of an old Setessan outpost near a stream. In the mortal language, this idyllic place was called Hunter’s Crossing. The sound of the rushing water mingled with the sweet song of the birds. Nylea paused under the shadow of a silver oak and suddenly saw why sh
e hadn’t felt Daxos’s presence in the world.

  Daxos paced endlessly along the riverbank. He paused at a certain spot near the rushing stream where the violets were in full bloom. A gold mask covered his face as he searched mindlessly for the thing he loved the most.