The Pathway constricted his movement. The Elderon was fighting back.

For as long as he could remember, the Manifestral Pathways served as connecting passages between the Planes, the eight worlds spinning in a chaotic, seemingly balanced system connected together by the ninth core Plane - the Elderon. Over the years, the Pathways grew more and more difficult to traverse, but his diligent searches came up empty.

After all these years, the Elderon may be privy, he thought.

Aerinas laughed in spite of it all as he sped along the Pathway toward the distress signal he'd sensed. As a Planeswalker, Aerinas had powers beyond all other magic users, including the ability to hone in on Balancer Markers: residual energies left over from a rift in the Planar system. These rifts were occurring at an elevated rate in recent times, but he'd never sensed one so close to the Elderon before.

The spirit of Sheevos, the Goddess of Light, resided in him since the Alignment, granting him abilities no other Planeswalker possessed. In the past, a Planeswalker of his type was defined only as "servant", alluding to function over personal identity. Indeed, that's the how the Elderon preferred its Planeswalkers: slaves with no conscience, likened unto itself. But Aerinas was unlike any Planeswalker before him. Coupled with one of the twelve gods who designed the logical system of balance known as the Elderon, Aerinas overcame the system's stranglehold, preserving his elven identity from his time spent on the Plane of Vaalüna. The Elderon wasn't pleased with the anomaly Aerinas presented to its regimented logic.

As Aerinas fought his way through the Manifestral Pathway connecting Valistus - the Plane of Light - with the Elderon, the distress signal began to pulsate with increased strength.

"Strange," he muttered.

What's strange? Sheevos asked.

"The Marker doesn't appear to be originating from a Plane, the Drift, or the Elderon. It's coming from somewhere just outside the Elderon's core."

I cannot advise a course of action, Aerinas. The Elderon now acts outside of the Twelve's knowledge, and therefore cannot be predicted. Since I have bound myself to you, I know what you know.

"I was afraid you'd say that," he replied, frustrated. "It's getting desperate, if it feels such a thing."

Yes, and my only advice to you is to proceed with extreme caution. Might I advise wielding the Godsword?

"Already ahead of you, Sheevos." Aerinas drew a symbol in space, which glowed with white hot energy. A small hole opened in the Pathway. He thrust his arm inside and withdrew an immense sword. The blade, shaped like a falcon's wing, shimmered with blue and white ethereal light. There was an element of transparency to it, almost as if it shifted in and out of existence. The hole in space closed.

You know you only have a limited amount of time, so I now suggest haste, Sheevos quipped.
Aerinas chuckled. "Ever the mother, Sheevos. You remind me so much of her." He paused and clenched his jaw. "The Marker's just up ahead. I must exit here."

Aerinas flashed another rune with his free hand and this time a larger hole tore through the Pathway's barrier. Aerinas rolled his body toward the opening and disappeared.

* * *

The weary figure, arms full of firewood, staggered onto the snow-covered porch of the dilapidated cabin. He'd left the door open just a crack so he could kick it open: one of many lessons he'd learned from years of isolation.

Once inside, he dropped the firewood to the floor, then turned and slammed the door shut. The sleeping dog in the corner of the room didn't even flinch. Slowly, the man sat down and began pulling his boots off. He coughed several times as the frigid air from his lungs expanded from the temperature change. Outside, the blustery frigid wind pounded the cabin. He'd grown accustomed the howling and groaning winter air. The seasons never changed. A perpetual onslaught of snow, ice, and freezing temperatures became his nightmare, a punishment for sins committed long ago.

The dog lazily opened one eye as it watched the man struggle with his boots. It knew when not to approach for affection or beg for scraps of food. Like the man, the beast had learned difficult lessons.

Once his boots were off, the man began picking up the logs one by one and placing them in the bucket near the stone fireplace. A fire to match his intensity raged within the hearth. Day and night he toiled over the life-giving flames, much as he did the magical Marker. Each day, a supply of firewood awaited him in the shed outside. He stopped asking where it came from long ago; he'd grown accustomed to its provision.

The firewood stowed, the man shuffled over to the rocking chair near the fireplace and sat down. The snow trapped in his long beard and unkempt hair began to melt, and his wet coat started to steam as the fire warmed him. With his thumb and index finger, he pulled the wad of chewing tobacco from his mouth and tossed it into the flames, which protested with a hiss. From his pocket he drew a pouch of tobacco and carefully balled another wad.

"Come 'ere," he mumbled without turning his gaze from the hungry flames.

The dog rose from its bed and stretched, then meandered its way over to the man with head and ears hanging low. The man gave the dog a few scratches on the head and tossed a small piece of dried beef on the floor next to the chair. The dog consumed the morsel in a flash. But it wasn't satisfied, and gazed questioningly at the man.

"You know that's all there is by now, don't ya?" the man replied. "Unless I give you my portion, and you know that's not gonna happen."

The dog hung its head, dejected, and plodded back to its corner bed. The man turned back to the fire and waited. In this place, waiting was all he could do.

* * *

Aerinas sped through the Planar door and slammed hard into a solid structure. He immediately felt a rush of assaulting cold air mixed with the warm sensation of blood running down his face. His left arm ached from the impact, and he'd dropped the Godsword. Exiting a Manifestral Pathway, more often than not, proved to be a jarring task, so he wasn't surprised. But since the Alignment, he'd been all but impervious to pain other beings experienced.

"What madness is this?" he yelled. The din of the snow storm drowned out his voice, and snow caught in his throat. He tried to stand up, but groaned as the pain in his left arm shot throughout his entire body.

I told you: I have no information to give you. Obviously, the protections my spirit grants are null in this place. I suggest you find the Godsword and figure out where we are. There is a small cabin nearby, and it appears to be occupied.

"What gives you that idea?" Aerinas asked, still grunting in pain and favoring his left arm.

Smoke rises from the chimney.

Aerinas turned and shielded his eyes. Through the blinding snow he saw the shape of a small cabin. The windows revealed faint light inside, and thick gray and black smoke rose from the chimney, only to be whisked away by the tumultuous wind. Aerinas had slammed into a smaller structure close by when he tumbled through the Planar doorway. He saw the familiar glow of the Godsword beneath the snowline and retrieved it. Throwing his black cloak around his body to protect him from the bitter cold wind, he waded slowly through the snow toward the building, hoping that someone or something within could offer answers.

* * *

The man had dozed off in the rocking chair. Brown tobacco spittle dripped out of the corner of his mouth onto the coat as his head tilted. The inescapable recurring nightmare returned to him much as it did each time he slept. Beautiful and alluring, she beckoned him from a distance to come to her. He did, reluctantly, knowing the outcome. Looking down at his hands, he couldn't stop the painful transformation of his shapeshifting limbs as they writhed and twisted into the various instruments of death. He strode toward her, and the same innocent and unwitting smile formed in her face. He knew she couldn't see which weapon he wielded this time; she never could. As a Morphic, he was able to transmute his body into anything he desired within the confines of the governing biological factors. Most often he used this power to alter his arms into sword-like weapons. Other than this demented variable, the nightmare played out the same.

His methodical steps turned into a run. He looked down at his arms; the right had formed into a simple translucent blade. Perhaps she'll be spared a quick death, he thought, though he knew better.

The closer he came, the more terrified she became, noted only by the confused expression on her face. He tried to call out to her, begged her to flee, but she stood resolute, almost if she expected him to not follow through with the execution.

At the last moment, the elven queen screamed and turned away with intent to run. But it was too late, as always. He reached out and clamped his left hand over her mouth. Unable to control his actions, he pulled her head back and silenced her screams. The blade exploded from her chest through her back. Blood sprayed across the frozen landscape in stark contrast with the white snow. Her last breath exited as a sigh. Tears streamed down his face when he gazed into her dying eyes.

"My love, I'm sorry," he whispered, to which he received no response.

He dropped her lifeless body to the ground. The cacophonous thud startled him. The man woke abruptly to the impact outside . At first, he thought his nightmare had become a reality. The dog jumped from its bed and began growling low. Its muscles tensed and hair bristled with anticipation.

"Easy, boy. It's just the wind," he lied.

Exiting the rocking chair with a heightened sense of urgency, the man rushed to the window and peered toward the firewood shed. The impact had vibrated the layers of snow off the shed's roof. The gray structure stood out clearly now in spite of the driving snow, but he couldn't see anything else around except a source of light beneath the snow off to one side.

"He's here."

Smiling, the man hurried to the cabinet near the fireplace and withdrew a small leather pouch, then returned the chair. He waited, almost unable to contain his excitement.

* * *

Aerinas knew he didn't happen upon this place by accident. He still had the Godsword for a little while longer, so he wasted no time making for the cabin. It stood in the middle of nowhere, defiant. White snow engulfed everything. No trees, no signs, no roads, nothing.

"This is a prison."

I share your assessment, Aerinas. This is outside the boundaries of the Planes, the Pocket, the Drift, and the Elderon. This is a place of exile, a sort of special type of banishment. I would think it similar to the Plane of Zamas, but not as sinister. No, this place exists for a special purpose.

"My thoughts exactly. Someone is here and able to send a Mark signal. I'm inclined to think we're expected."

You, maybe, but not I.

"Let's hope not."

Aerinas, with as much caution as his shivering body would allow, stepped onto the cabin's porch. The wind swirled and howled around the wooden support beams and window sills, buffeting him from every angle. He raised his hand and knocked on the door, the Godsword held unthreateningly at his side.

A muffled voice from within rang out. "Who goes there?"

I would not recommend giving your true name.

Aerinas didn't respond audibly, but gave Sheevos a knowing nod instead. "A cold and weary traveler. Might I come inside and warm by your fire?"

A pause. "How do you know I have a fire going?"

Thus the game begins.

"I spotted smoke rising from your chimney as I approached. Now, kind sir, please allow me to come in. I'll freeze to death out here soon."

After what seemed like an eternity, the latch clicked and the door cracked open. No one appeared, however. "Come on inside, but beware of the dog." Aerinas could hear a low growl emanating from within.

Aerinas pushed the door open slowly, but drew the Godsword behind his back so as to not alarm the man or dog. The wind snatched the door from his grasp and it whipped open. Aerinas nearly fell to the floor trying to recover the door. Once he did, he closed it and turned to regard the pair.

"Lower your weapon," said the figure, a man by all outward signs. His voice was deep, raspy, and menacing. He smiled at Aerinas through stained teeth and the Planeswalker could smell the rancid odor of tobacco.

"Call off the beast first," Aerinas retorted.

"Off," was all the man ordered, and the dog, though reluctant, lay down.

Aerinas lowered the Godsword, rested its tip on the floor, and leaned his elbow on the hilt.

"That's better," said the man. "Come get warm. Your…trip…has undoubtedly left you cold to the bone."

Aerinas paused, noting the familiar tone in which the figure spoke. Did this man know who Aerinas was?

Only one way to find out, Sheevos said. You may want to consider putting the sword away and letting it recharge in case you need its full power.

Aerinas motioned with his hand, drew a rune in the air, and slipped the Godsword into the resulting space. The man never flinched.

"You know who I am," Aerinas said matter-of-factly. "Let's not play games."

"Indeed I know who you are, Planeswalker," the man replied, smiling. "After all, I summoned you."

Aerinas nodded, scrutinizing every aspect of the man's demeanor and body language. He let the man continue.

"You are Aerinas, son of Tristandor and…Nimoni, Bane of Hydrais, and Savior of the Planes. Am I missing anything?"

"Not that I can recall from that time. It's been so long since the Alignment. How do you know of all this?"

The man stood, turned toward the hearth, and spit into the fire. The flames' glow illuminated many more of the man's more subtle features. "Because I was there. I used to be what you are." His demeanor changed in a heartbeat. The deep-seeded pain in his voice couldn't be hidden.

Aerinas stepped back and narrowed his eyes. "Servant," he breathed. "No!"

"Yes," replied Servant. "The translucent Morphic Slave, I am."

Aerinas could hardly find the words. "Servant, I…I thought you'd passed on long ago. After the Alignment-"

"-you left and never looked back, I know," Servant interrupted. "Funny how things come full circle, ain't it?"

"How did you end up in this place? Who did this to you?"

Servant brushed locks of his greasy gray and black hair out of his face. "The Elderon, that's 'who', though 'what' may be more appropriate. As to how I ended up here, that's a question only it can answer."

"You were loyal to the Elderon," Aerinas stated.

"As you can see, this is what loyalty purchases."

"But why?" Aerinas was dumbfounded. All the past memories came flooding back. If Servant was here, outside of the Planar system, then the Elderon had gone more rogue than he or Sheevos had imagined.

"Because I became emotionally compromised, against my design and function," Servant answered, a bit more somber than he'd been a moment before.

"Emotionally compromised? But I thought you couldn't feel emotion like regular beings."

Servant's eyes glassed over, and he became angry again. "Blame your mother for that one."

Again, Aerinas startled. "My mother? What does she have to do with this?"

Servant chuckled. "Your mother is the reason I became emotionally compromised, Aerinas. I fell in what you would call 'love' with her. And now, she haunts my every step, every dream. The Elderon uses my memories of her as the ultimate weapon against me in this prison. I'd rather be in Zamas, if truth be told."

Aerinas put his hand on the mantle over the fireplace and shook his head. "But why now? Why did you signal me to come here? More importantly, how did you signal me to come here?"

Aerinas, I sense a disturbance nearby. You must make haste.

"How I did it is of no importance. The Elderon put me here and I want out. If you take me to Zamas to rest in peace, I will afford you the information I have in order for you to wage the war you so desperately want."

"I don't want a war-"

"-Don't assume me ignorant, Aerinas. I know you're waging a silent war against the Elderon. From within this icy prison, I see more than you know. The Elderon is logical, not intelligent. It makes choices based on probability, not reason. It placed me here in torment, but I have been able to see everything that happens in and between the Planes. I was biding my time waiting for your…seeds to grow." Servant grinned. "You are building an army of Planeswalkers throughout the system. Don't deny it because I know the truth."

Aerinas nodded. He knew Servant had him beat. "So you know about my plans…now what?"

"Your secrets are safe, that I can promise you. I can only see your progenies' impact on their respective Planes, not the secrets you impart on them once they're of age. Very wise of you to choose that method of building your army. Brash, reckless, immoral even, but wise."

"And all you want in return is for me to escort you to Zamas? You do realize that the Elderon will become aware of this and retaliate. Innocent lives will be lost as a result of this imbalance."

"The Elderon is changing. Its logic is being manipulated by an outside force that I can't even detect from here. Under the gods' noses, the Elderon is being used for a sinister purpose. If you don't help me, my knowledge will die with me."

Aerinas pondered for a moment. He silently asked Sheevos for guidance.

I can only surmise that he is telling the truth. He has been correct thus far on what he knows. Perhaps it would be wise to follow this lead, if your intention truly is war.

"Very well, Servant," Aerinas conceded. "Tell me what you know and I will escort you to the Plane of Death, where you will serve out your remaining sentence."

Servant bowed low, tears streaming down his dirty face. "I can steer you in the right direction. The Plane of Fire - Ampus - is where you will find one of your daughters. She's like you were in your youth: wild, rebellious, insubordinate. Her Balance Marker is strong, so the Elderon's forces will undoubtedly be coming for her."

"What is her name?" Aerinas asked.

"That I cannot tell you. You must find her yourself. I know only the general location of her Marker and that it's a female based on the similarities between her Marker and your mother's."

I will help you locate her, Aerinas. Do not fear.

Servant continued. "The Plane of Fire is home to only a few isolated populated regions, the largest of which is [city name here]. Many dangerous factions operate within the confines of the city. I can only imagine that your daughter is in mortal danger. It's imperative that you pay special attention to her and make contact by any means necessary. I don't know why, but the Elderon is scared of several of your progeny, this one in particular. You're fortunate the Elderon doesn't understand the nature of your plan, or else you'd already be dead or worse."

Aerinas clenched his fists together and licked his lips. "The Plane of Fire." He shook his head in dismay. "Anything else, Servant?"

Servant spit another mouthful of tobacco juice into the fire. "As I mentioned before, the Elderon is being changed and the system is falling into chaos behind the scenes since Alignment. An enemy far worse than Hydrais has taken hold. The Planes are becoming erratic and the Pathways are starting to close. It would do you well to rally your army of Planeswalkers sooner rather than later, or else you may find yourself alone without a world at all. Then you will know true dread, because you will be powerless to withstand the might of the Elderon and the gods, and alone you will be."

The Morphic picked up the small leather pouch off the mantle and tossed it to Aerinas.

"Take that and show it to the Church of the Cindermeld's High Priest."

"What is it?" Aerinas asked.

"Don't open it here. Do as I say and all will be revealed in due time."

This pouch is what's causing the disturbance, Aerinas. I suggest we leave as soon as possible. The Elderon is close and I can feel its logic shifting. Whatever is in that pouch has a strong aura of magic about it.

Aerinas steeled his gaze and offered an extended hand out to the former Planeswalker. "Thank you, Servant."

"I'm ready for Zamas." Servant turned to his dog, whistled, and scooped him up into his arms.

Grabbing a hold of Servant's coat, Aerinas drew the Walking Rune in the air. A gelatinous fluid and swirling lights filled the opening. The pair stepped inside the fluid and were whisked away on the Pathway toward Zamas, Servant's new Hell.