By Dex Anschutz

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Dobrin winced as he pushed some foliage out of his face, not having been entirely as prepared for the journey as he’d expected. There hadn’t been much to read up on this destination plane—the little there was seemingly millenia out of date—so he’d had to make some logical conclusions.

He wished his logical conclusions included something to deal with the bugs.

Dobrin’s heavy robes and ornamental platemail were cumbersome as ever, and in this jungle heat, near unbearable. Sailing the oceans of Ixalan hadn’t been so bad, but investigating each island he came across was like delving into the infernal pit of Rix Maadi in his formal attire.

The young Azorius mage wore all his court regalia in his eager attempt to put his best foot forward when he met his hero .

The parun of his guild.

Dobrin stood tall with squared shoulders just thinking about the great honor of meeting him.
Most of his guild and the rest of Ravnica believed Azor to be a man who’d given their plane a great gift and passed a peaceful death long, long ago. Most people were not as blessed as Dobrin to be able to traverse the Multiverse and read accounts of his parun gracing other planes’ shores. He knew Azor to be a grand sphinx, and to be the father of many governments of many planes.

Dobrin wasn’t so naïve as to believe Azor would return to Ravnica when he was so busy instilling order across the Multiverse, but he hoped Azor would have the time to mentor a fellow Planeswalker such as himself.

“Who goes there?”

Dobrin startled at the voice, and quickly scanned the skies for the source, mouth falling agape before he quickly shook himself to his senses and bowed before the descending form.

Azor reached his paws for the ground as he gave a few last powerful beats of his wings to steady his landing. Holding his head high as he looked down at the interloper, he hummed at the runes proudly displayed on the breastplate of his gleaming armor and blue cape.

“Supreme Judge Azor I,” Dobrin addressed with great respect. “I am Junior Elocutor Dobrin of the Jelenn Column and I have sought your counsel regarding your extraordinary work on Ravnica.”

He tentatively looked back up as he heard Azor’s wings shuffle and hoped he wasn’t being too presumptuous.

Azor gave an unimpressed hum. With a critical eye, he looked over the Planeswalker before him and dispassionately stated, “It has been some time since I met with a Ravnican Planeswalker. A decade at least.”

Dobrin didn’t know if that was good or not, and he nervously adjusted his robes as he explained, “Born and raised on Ravnica. I spend some time helping Bant with their plight, but indeed, I’m a Planeswalker of Ravnica.”

“Bant,” Azor echoed. “Hard to imagine such a bountiful plane struggling. Were they really unable to keep the Unbeholden from insurrection? Pity.”

“A little under thirty years ago, its edges were jarringly reunited with Naya and Jund,” Dobrin explained.

“Keeping order has been quite the ordeal since.”

“Ah, I would imagine,” Azor said, remembering the brief time he’d traveled through the shattered realms of Alara and decided it wasn’t worth his time.

He lowered his whole body to get a closer look at Dobrin and squinted as he tried to decipher his intentions. This young Planeswalker was a link to outside this world; he was a lifeline that Azor would be wise to hold close. “It sounds like you are upholding your duty to the Multiverse then, if you are assisting less fortunate planes to provide stability.”

Dobrin momentarily forgot his nerves as he perked up and nodded. “I’ve read so much about your work, and I was hoping you would mentor me so I could help even more!”

Azor’s stoic face was unreadable as he sat back on his haunches, stretching his wings while he thought this over. “Mentor you, you say? Yes, I suppose I could make time for that.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

Just over two months passed and Dobrin made weekly treks to visit Azor, prompt for every meeting just as a proper Azorius mage should be. Azor was intrigued by the young hieromancer, perhaps only because it was a break from the monotony his personal prison had forced upon him. Their conversations were simplistic to a great sphinx, but for a human, Dobrin was sharp and eager to use his gifts.

Azor smugly curled his tail over his paws as he thought over the key phrasing for a human. He listened to the man wax poetically about the peace he hoped to bring Ravnica and Bant both with his involvement, and the sphinx offered judgements on the problems dropped before him.

Week after week, Dobrin came back thankful for his help and hoping to learn more. He was a good listener, and evidently put Azor’s advice to some moderately beneficial use, but Azor could sense he was inclined to following and too unsure to reach his own judgements.

It seemed unfair that the fledgling Planeswalker had a spark when Azor knew he could put it to much better use. This thought occurred to him early and often, and the sphinx planned to right this grave wrong.

Azor longed to be on the shores of another plane after all the time sacrificed to this backwoods of the Multiverse. He longed to be free from the island the Failsafe had sentenced him to, and with this naïve Planeswalker’s help, he believed that dream would soon be realized.

His plan was pushed to the back of his mind as Dobrin finished another long-winded speech, and he focused on pleasing the hieromancer’s need for recognition.

“Yes, to answer these angels’ sigils must be a great honor,” Azor agreed, familiar with the system of handing out obligations others were grateful to fulfill.

“Everyone does their part,” Dobrin downplayed. Two small sigils were pinned to his armor, only standing out from the Azorius platemail in their golden nature. “The angels have so much to tend to, all the knights do their best to support their commanders.”

He continued to praise his student, ready to push towards his final plans and needing all the misplaced faith he could foster. “Serving the greater good is an honorable use of one’s time.”

Dobrin smiled a little bashfully and said,” I took inspiration from the great arbiters of justice before me.”

They discussed politics, Azor careful to present himself as agreeably to Dobrin as he could. The Azorius had grown soft, and the young Planeswalker had balked at some of his early comments in their meetings, particularly in his tolerance of skipping a jury if the summary judgment was important enough.

Dobrin was short sighted, but he could use that.

As the Planeswalker finished his visit, he asked,” Next week, same time?”

“I will actually need next week to prepare, but I think you’re ready to really serve the people of Ravnica.”

“I am. I’m ready to help Ravnica in any way possible,” Dobrin said with an earnest nod. Azor grinned appreciatively and Dobrin mirrored the smile. “Two weeks then.”

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“How I wish you could return to Ravnica with me. The guildless grow more unruly and the guilds abandon tradition more every year.”

“I’ve been working on a project that may help with that, actually,” Azor said after a hushed pause. He gazed down to the naïve elocutor with full attention, and Dobrin felt the intensity of being observed by a great mind, but tried to maintain a firm stance. “I would need your help though.”

Dobrin’s eyes lit up, but he held his reserved tone as he said, “Of course, I would do anything to help.”
He made it too easy, Azor thought, but this little charade was just a stepping stone before he could mediate real challenges again. Calling forth the artifact he’d crafted, he balanced the tiny thing on the pad of his paw and held it low for Dobrin to take.

It was gleaming gold and inlaid with jade, a maze of runes that Dobrin couldn’t immediately decipher. He looked from the device up to Azor inquisitively and asked, “What does it do?”

“It will allow me to borrow enough power to return to Ravnica.”

Dobrin ran his fingers over it in wonder as his eyes returned to the gorgeously crafted artifact. “Wow, to travel the Multiverse at will without a spark? There aren’t many stories of that, and most of them are just stories. How did you manage such a wonder?”

“The wonder will be all yours, Junior Elocutor Dobrin. Your spark will lend me the strength I need to leave Ixalan. It will be nothing compared to the strength I wielded in my prime, but it will be enough to grant me a single safe journey”

Azor walked the young Planeswalker through the simple steps, and Dobrin didn’t let him down as he followed every instruction without hesitation.

“Now, it will burn a little,” Azor warned as Dobrin finished winding the lock and prepared to press it into place. He didn’t want Dobrin to startle and break the seal before it could take hold.

“I’m ready,” Dobrin assured him, taking heart as Azor dipped his head in agreement and signaled for him to finish the task.

Azor wasn’t lying. It did burn, but it felt cold and hollow.

It felt like holding ice in his hand until it melted. He closed his eyes against the uncomfortable feeling, willing the spell to take hold quickly.

Dobrin’s brow crinkled with perplexion as he opened his eyes and felt an… emptiness. He didn’t know how to describe it other than feeling like he was missing something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

A sinking feeling hit him as he realized Azor’s words never guaranteed he would be able to return to Ravnica with Dobrin, and he swallowed thickly as he asked, “What did you do?”

“It is a pity, but some people are destined for more important roles in the grand scheme of the Multiverse,” Azor said, calling the artifact back to himself. Dobrin tried to hold onto the bauble, but his meager mortal grip was nothing in the face of an empowered sphinx, and it sailed back to Azor, shining in the sun like the beacon of power it had become. “The greater good calls for those who are… less important to serve them in whatever means they are capable.”

Azor shook his head and concluded, “A mere Jelenn recruit can’t offer the structure and stability this Multiverse needs. A plane needs my guiding wings, so that justice may soar. This spark will be put to better use now.”

“My spark-” Dobrin’s voice caught in his throat and he shook his head in disbelief as he replayed the weeks upon weeks in his mind, how he’d played right into Azor’s paws.

Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and a wave of denial that his idol would do this washed over him. The sobering realization that no text on any plane claimed Azor to be kind broke over him just as quickly, and he hung his head in both hands.

“By coming here and speaking on Azorius affairs, you have come on behalf of the Azorius, ergo on behalf of its parun: Me,” Azor spoke, lacing hieromancy into his words as built up to his final condemnation. “As per the punishment decreed by then Living Guildpact, Jace Beleren, Azor may not interfere in the life of sentient beings.”

Dobrin was stuttering and Azor easily powered through another issuance of hieromancy before the man could string two words together. “I now find you guilty of breaking this decree, and thereby sentence you to be the warden of Useless Island, a solitary punishment that I must leave you to.”

Azor allowed himself a rare smile as the elocutor sank to his knees, speechless. “You must forgive me. One with such righteous purpose as myself cannot stay detained on this island, depriving the Multiverse of my gifts.”

He flexed his wings and breathed in deeply as he felt the spark ready to carry him to the shores of a new plane. With no further delay, he took flight and pierced the fabric of Ixalan, breaking free into the Blind Eternities and beyond.