Return to Ravnica

In a sacred grove in the Tenth District, Emmara bowed before Trostani, a being composed of three dryads merged into one. Each of Trostani’s three upper bodies moved and spoke independently, each one a beautiful, foliage-haired woman, each one a powerful voice of the Selesnya Conclave. But their lower bodies converged into a single sinuous trunk, like a mighty tree. Trostani was the leader of the Selesnya, but Emmara knew she was more than that. Trostani was a living symbol of her guild’s belief in unity, the embodiment of the power of the masses bound into one.

“The wild beings of the world are open to you, Emmara Tandris,” said Trostani. As the guildmaster spoke, the three different dryads wove their speech together, not actually speaking in unison, but blending their words into a single voice. “Your talents as a healer are great, but we desire to see you weave greater magic still. Call on the mighty elementals of nature. They still answer when we summon them, so long as we continue to believe in the world as a single entity, as they do. You are their ambassador now, and they are your guide.”

Emmara bowed again. “My deepest thanks, Guildmaster.”

“Your gratitude is well-meaning, but premature. The time of peril approaches. Gather together all that you hold dear, for the day nears that our unity shall be tested.”

Emmara thought of the Izzet’s secretive project, and of the paranoia among the other guilds. “Guildmaster, is there a way to preserve the guilds without the Guildpact?”

“Only if we become one,” said Trostani, the words flowing gracefully from the three dryads. “The guilds are an expression of the beliefs of this world, and we cannot survive without them any more than we can survive without belief. But remember, the individual means nothing. Boundaries are an illusion. If you are to mend us, healer, you must dispel barriers. You must not allow the ten to splinter, or we shall all come to ruin.”

Emmara felt unworthy of this charge. She bowed to Trostani, and the three dryads bowed to her in turn, their trunk-body bending like a graceful willow. Emmara turned to leave the grove, and she knew who she had to convince to help her, whether he was willing to join her guild or not.

Before she had even left the Selesnya grove a courier ran up to her, clearly seeking her out. “Emmara Tandris?” he asked. When she affirmed, he handed her a rolled-up letter. “I’m told the sender was someone named Berrim.”

“Thank you.”

Berrim was the alias Jace had used when he and Emmara first met. She unfurled the letter and read it.

Emmara,

I apologize. I understand now why you tried to convince me to join you in reaching out to the guilds. I understand now why the guilds feel afraid and hostile toward the Izzet, and why you and your guild are seeking all the help you can find for the times ahead. But I am afraid I cannot be the one to aid you.

My compatriot Kavin and I have discovered clues that led us to the source of the Izzet’s plans. But unfortunately this must be the end of our investigation. I have brought grave danger upon us, and Kavin has convinced me that the best route for us is to abandon our research completely. In fact, I intend to go one step further: I will soon destroy our memories of ever having learned of these matters. If you ask me about any of this at any future meeting, I will not recall these events, including this letter, and I will not understand what you ask. This letter is to inform you of the reason for my future behavior, and to seek your pardon for my reluctance.

I am sorry. I know this will come as a disappointment to you. I hope in time you will understand my reasons. In the meantime, my friend, I hope you will consider your own safety, and consider abandoning your concerns with the actions of the Izzet.