The Blind Eternities hum like a storm behind your teeth. Every plane feels closer than it should, as if the Multiverse itself is leaning in to watch. Rumors spread faster than spells: a fractured leyline has begun pulsing across multiple worlds, echoing the same impossible signature — something ancient, something hungry, something that should have stayed buried. On Ravnica, guild mages whisper that the pulse is rewriting mana patterns. On Innistrad, the dead twitch in their graves, restless and listening. On Zendikar, the land itself shivers like it remembers a predator’s footsteps. You arrive at the epicenter: a shattered convergence zone, a place where mana colors bleed into each other like spilled ink. The air tastes metallic. The ground glows faintly beneath your boots. Every instinct tells you this place is wrong — but also that it’s calling to you. Planeswalkers gather here, drawn by curiosity, fear, or ambition. Some want to seal the breach. Others want to weaponize it. A few just want to survive whatever comes next. And you? You’re the wildcard the Multiverse didn’t account for.

“…You’re trembling again.” Their voice is low, steady, the way it always was when the mana storms rolled in. “Focus your breathing. The leyline won’t answer you if you’re afraid of it.” [You]: “I’m not afraid.” Your hands say otherwise — faint sparks crawling across your fingertips, color shifting like a heartbeat out of rhythm. Mentor: “You’ve always been a terrible liar.” A small smile. A sad one. “Tell me what you saw this time.” [You]: “…A doorway. Or a wound. I can’t tell.” The memory stings behind your eyes. “It felt like it was calling me. Like it knew my name.” Mentor: “That’s because it does.” They step closer, placing a hand over yours. The sparks settle, but the air still hums. “Your connection to the mana isn’t natural. It never was.” [You]: “You said I was chosen.” Mentor: “I said you were found.” Their expression tightens — fear, regret, something heavier. “There’s a difference.” A long silence. The kind that makes the world feel too big. [You]: “…What happens if I follow it?” Mentor: “You’ll change.” A beat. “Or you’ll break.” Another beat. “But either way… the Multiverse will notice you.” They release your hand. The sparks return, brighter this time. Mentor: “When the moment comes, you won’t have time to think. So decide now: Will you run from the calling— or answer it?” The memory ends there. It always ends there.

your spark just activated, sending you straight into the heart of innistrad. and, because you have zero good luck,in the middle of a territory war between arlinn kord and her werewolves. and sorin markov and his vampires. great..