Vermin

 Razel remembered the shrine as being bigger the last time he had visited, although to be fair he had left it significantly smaller than it is now. What once grew past the trees in a monument to blind worship now sufficed with a few measly floors and a much more squat design. He thought it looked as though someone had left the old design in the sun for too long. 

The light crowd prevented him from being suspicious by presence alone, with most taking his curiosity for that of the non-local, which in the strictest sense was quite true. It was this assumption that brought one of the officials to him with a warm smile.

"Welcome to the Center for the Cult of the Dragon! Is this your first time?"

Razel shot the man a skeptical look.

"You literally call yourselves a cult?"

The man laughed.

"Oh, no! We study the old Dragon Cult here. They disbanded in these parts after the incident."

Razel smiled and nodded as he recalled that night.

"Right, of course. Sorry, I've been traveling a lot to do my research and sometimes the obvious escapes me. I had heard this place was rebuilt but not the specifics of the new tenants."

"Word travels, but not always accurately or completely. What sort of research are you doing? Perhaps I can help."

He placed a hand on Razel's shoulder and motioned towards the doors. They stepped into the main foyer, taking a moment to read the guiding placards posted by the many halls.

"Well, I guess we should start with the basics, really. Who or what is the Dragon?"

The guide chuckled.

"Aside from a Dragon, we assume. Come, that would be this way."

They entered a hall lined with display cases protecting tableaus, statues, and scrollwork all sharing the same locus - the elder dragon himself, as the guide helpfully explained.

"The cult believed the dragon was a god from another realm, outside of the heavens and hells orthodox Verimnity teaches us. His name was never to be spoken aloud except in special and extreme circumstance, although thankfully it was recorded by a captive on a bit of scrap we recovered from one of the cells. They call him Nickel Bolus."

Razel stifled a laugh and decided against interrupting him to correct the error.

"The Dragon-God Bolus was strict, but offered rewards in the form of blessings and occasional gifts, some of which we have in other halls. None that work as described, for us at least."

Razel nodded.

"Fetishes and idols. I've seen my share. First I've heard that name, though! What was he the god of, according to the cult? I can't seem to get a clear answer elsewhere."

"That's likely because of their view that he came from another realm. The Verminit pantheon, as you know, is representative of our world - the forces that drive it and us. They posit Bolus is from outside this entire Reality. He proclaimed himself a god-king, but of what was never made explicit. The cult simply viewed him as an apex and worshipped him as such."

Razel stroked his chin in mock thought.

"Did they have anything to say about the reality he was from, or where he went?"

The old man got a twinkle in his eye and turned them down another hallway, this one clear of displays but lined with labeled doors.

"There was precisely one account with something like that, which I believe you will find quite enlightening in your work. It seems that shortly before the collapse, someone showed up claiming to be one of Bolus' associates from another realm."

Razel's eyes went wide.

"Do you think they had something to do with the collapse?"

"We aren't sure yet, but not likely. They died a few months beforehand, but we can't rule out sabotage."

"How did they die?"

"That's the suspicious part."

The man opened a door, escorting Razel into his office. The desk in the corner was buried behind several racks, each overstuffed with specimens in all manner of containers. Razel took the seat opposite the desk, his eyes drawn to the planeswalking scar above the main door. It was relatively fresh, but well past visibility to anyone who didn't know to look for it. The guide sat in his desk and reclined his chair against the wall.

"Their policy of not using Bolus' name meant that his nature wasn't really discussed much. There was no theological debate, only indoctrination. This stranger worked his way up their ranks for an unspecified amount of time, winding up one of their leaders."

"If he knew the dragon, it would make sense."

"Which is what he proceeded to explain one night. After an extended drinking session with a few fellow cultists, he started berating them for their understanding of Bolus' nature."

He slid a sleeved document to Razel, who gingerly picked it up and began skimming it as the guide hit its key points.

"The archivist in the room says the man, whose name they struck, was also capable of traveling between realms, going so far as to claim Bolus was no god, but merely a regular Dragon with this specific power, which he supposedly demonstrated for them by disappearing and reappearing nearby."

"I would assume even a 'regular' dragon would wield frightful power, so pretending to be divine isn't outside of the imagination. But teleportation?"

"Whatever he did convinced them, at least. Someone asked him where the dragon came from, at which point he describes a world at the center of all worlds, which he called Dominion."

Razel gaped for a moment as he kept reading, hiding his expression before the old man could see it and nodding along intently.

"Then-and here's where your question about where he may go comes in-he started describing a personal retreat used by Bolus to meditate. Within moments of starting his description, he seized, foamed at the mouth, and died."

"Wow."

"Wow indeed. The accuracy of the account is in question with regards to conversation only, since even while drunk they had the good sense to sequester his remains and belongings away. We have most of them in another room further down."

"Most of them?"

The guide rose and motioned for Razel to follow him into the hall.

"We had a break-in about a week back. Someone seemed interested in those artifacts specifically, which worries me. Means there may still be cultists about."

He paused mid-step and shot Razel a stern look.

"What sort of research did you say you were doing again?"

"Theology. Cult of the Dragon."

"For what institution?"

Razel laughed.

"You think anyone would finance something like this? Not where I'm from. No, this is an independent venture. I'd show you my notes, but I left them back in my room. I didn't anticipate being taken backstage on my first visit!"

The old man smirked at that.

"Yes, the state of academia is a sorry one at the moment. I'm sure you'll want to be back, and I would love to see those notes when you return. I may be able to offer insight on those too!"

"Definitely."

"Ah! Here we are."

The room they entered was large, but without much free space. Razel was led several shelves in, to a row near the far wall. The first thing he noticed was the second scar about two-thirds of the way down the aisle, sitting at gut-height. Same age as the one above the door, by all appearances, which told Razel this was the escape route. The guide led them right up to it, stopping a few feet away and rolling a large bin out from below the bottom shelf.

"I have to ask that you do not touch, however they should be laid out well enough to make out some details."

Razel rested his hands against the bin, his attention immediately drawn to the empty depression in the fabric.

"What'd they steal?"

"A journal, we think. It was handwritten, but unintelligible. We hadn't gotten around to making a copy yet."

Razel furrowed his brow.

"Had you gotten a chance to see it? Was it all text?"

"Some sketches, some diagrams. Nothing we could make sense of. Several astronomical diagrams that were made-up."

"Hmm."

Razel gently stepped past the guide and looked directly into the scar.

"Well my good man, I think I can leave you with something for your notes."

The old man peered over Razel's shoulder to try and get a look at whatever was drawing his attention, but found nothing.

"What might that be?"

He turned to the guide with a grin.

"That cultist was right."

Focused will shunted Razel through the scar in Kinva's wake, leaving a very startled man alone in his archive.

And I wonder

 Lumengrid shimmered in the reflected light of the five suns, colors scintillating off of the quicksilver sea to dance on its great supports. The home of the Progress Engine stood tall and proud, a fortress of forbidden knowledge extracted by hands all too willing. The primary point of entry, a pair of suspended walkways, swayed gently under their traffic. On any other plane these creatures would be abominations, grotesque exercises in biological improvement for the sake of it. In Phyrexia, they are merely compleat.

An eternally grinning exarch, tools grafted in place of limbs for ease of access, turned its head at an odd noise coming over the breeze. Almost like a...very soft scream. Unsure of what to make of it, the thing continued on, stopping as the unmistakable sound of strummed cable met its auditory meatus. It turned fully around, laying eyes on the source of the sounds and immediately losing all free will as it turned and began to dance down the street. Razel was grinning as he came, his wisps repurposed into plasma speakers so he could blare a tune to temporarily enslave those around him while he pelvic thrust his way across the bridge.

"Well I came a long way, to be here today, and I left you so long on this avenue..."

A small crowd started to gather around and follow him, unable to avoid his infectious melody.

"...and here I stand, in the strangest land, not knowing what to say or do..."

He spun into a flourish as he roped several more into his flashmob.

"...as I gaze around at these strangers in town, I guess the only stranger is me..."

He turned and pointed at one of the vat priests further on, which locked its gaze with his.

"...and I wonder..."

The answer came without choice from the creature's mouth.

"YES I WONDER..."

"...yes, I wonder..."

"...OH I WONDER..."

Razel smiled to his backup.

"...is this the way life's meant to be?"

***

Jin-Gitaxias craned over his scope, engraining the details he saw therein into his memory. Ideas bubbled up, ran to completion, inspired more ideas, and so on for countless cycles in the blink of an eye. His lack of eyes is irrelevant. Not enough space for them with all those teeth anyway.

One of the lesser surgeons burst into his study in a huff, somehow out of breath. Jin made a mental note to overhaul all respiratory systems as soon as possible.

"Sir, you need to come quickly. There's a disturbance at the door."

***

Jin-Gitaxias walked onto the balcony and looked to the gate, immediately drooping with resignation.

"Karn help me, it's him."

"AS I WANDER AROUND THIS WRECK OF A TOWN, WHERE PEOPLE NEVER SPEAK ALOUD..."

Jin reached up to rub his temples as he went back inside. He flagged down a passing servitor and gave his orders while proceeding to the gate.

"Secure the walker remains, lock my study, and direct one of the sectives to start researching passive auditory control blocks."

The creature nodded and scurried down a hall, leaving Jin to mutter some of his favorite curses loud enough for the bystanders to hear before throwing open the doors and glaring through the finale.

"I WANNA KNOW NOW! IS THIS THE WAY...LIFE'S MEANT TO BE~?"

Jin clapped as condescendingly as his claws would allow.

"Very nice. Let them go so I can tell you what you want to know and you can leave already."

Razel looked hurt.

"I'm hurt! You're not even going to try and compleat me or nothin'?"

"If my goal is perfection, why would I want you?"

"Ow. For real this time."

"The vampire wanted to know about Rokhi. Specifically, where we found him."

Razel blinked.

"I guess I'm not surprised that you guys retrieved him, more that you're being so free with this."

"I told you. I want you to leave already."

"Alright. One more question."

Jin glared even harder over his crossed arms.

"What did he steal? Norn mentioned a break-in."

Of course she had something to do with this.

"A list Rohki had on him of places you had been seen."

"Places like...? C'mon Jin, I know you transcribed it."

The enslaved minions about them fell to their knees in false supplication, begging on his behalf. Jin very much enjoyed the mental image he had of wringing the man's neck, but he knew better than to try.

"They were places you had interfered in Bolas' business, listed chronologically."

"Oldest to Recent or Recent to Oldest? Which was at the top?"

"Recent first. Top entry described a festival and a female fire mage."

Razel laughed at that. Jin kept glaring.

"I assume you can figure out the rest. Now fuck off."

"Just a sec! One last question. I mean it this time."

Jin twitched. Razel leaned closer to him, an empty gesture when twelve feet apart.

"Do any of you guys know how to Madison?"

His form collapsed into itself with a glacial crack. The noise served to snap the captives free of their spell, who immediately began hurrying back to their business while experiencing embarrassment for the first time. Jin-Gitaxias turned back to his laboratory and sighed.

"I really hate that man."

Annexed

 Razorgrass ribboned the breeze before the Annex, its great skin walls held taught in the wind. The sentries stood motionless at the corner crenellations, their gaze ensuring none may approach uninvited. 

Which, naturally, was what Razel was there to do. 

He appeared a short walk from the gate, well within their sight and defenses. An immediate alarm rang through the complex, sprouting a further twelve legionnaires atop the gate with their weapons at the ready. A priest appeared in the center of the line, spreading its arms as its mechanical voice echoed across the clearing.

"You are welcome, stranger. Your components will serve to oil our great machine and further our great work."

Razel squinted in the wind as he looked up and yelled back.

"Maybe later! I need to see your pope. Tell her It's the asshole with the skeleton. She'll know who you mean."

The priest paused for a moment before conferring with the legionnaire to his right. After a brief but heated exchange, the priest turned and left, which served as a que for the porcelain warriors to drop from the wall and form up between Razel and the door. He raised an eyebrow at them.

"Look, I'd really prefer to do this without thoroughly eviscerating you all, but in the end I know my concern for your individuality is misplaced. So don't try my patience today, please."

The front row of four dropped their weapons and took a single step, which was all the time Razel needed to summon his staff and swipe it before them, dragging them to their knees without warning.

"I don't think you appreciate how patient I'm being right now."

The second row proceeded to vault over the first, getting another swing of his staff and another trip to the floor, resulting in eight legionnaires struggling in vain against the force tethering them to the ground. Razel gestured to them to try and make his point obvious to the last four, who were about to leap themselves when the gate began to creak open. The priest stood in the aperture with its hands behind its back, somehow managing to look supremely irritated while lacking anything traditionally associated with a face.

"She will see you now."

"See?!"

He strode haughtily past the still struggling phyrexians and smirked at them as he passed. The priest turned to let him pass, following a brief distance behind as the doors closed behind them. Pillars lined the walkway, a rich rug made of something he probably didn't want to think about leading the two deeper inside. While very clearly a place of worship, the decor suggested their focus was best left to the imagination. A brief flight of stairs took them to the Praetor's audience chamber, a circular affair lined with attendants and priests of all sizes. The only constant in their appearance was the flayed and exposed flesh juxtaposed with the pale porcelain shaped onto their forms. Elesh Norn herself exemplified the ideal, blending the two seamlessly while wearing a grand, angular crown befitting her station. The headpiece, or quite possibly her actual head, swiveled to face them as they arrived. She rested her bare chin on mineralized talons and smiled with skinless lips.

"Razel Korr. I did not anticipate seeing you again so soon."

The priest that had escorted him took its place beside its mistress as Razel spoke.

"Well, you know me. Popping up when you least expect it."

"Among others."

Razel narrowed his eyes.

"I don't like feeling like everyone else knows more about my business than I do."

"Then tell your friends to learn subtlety."

Razel frowned heavily as her smile continued unabated.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to clarify that."

"No."

She clicked a panel on her throne, and at once Razel felt a weight enveloping his souls.

"We've learned quite a bit more about your kind since you left us."

The priests slowly spread out along the edge of the room, blocking him from the door. He would have laughed at the thought of barricading a planeswalker had she not somehow anchored him. His face lost all concern, immediately becoming a mask of smug resignation as he buried his panic.

"My kind, maybe. Me, clearly not. Let's try this again. Tell me what I want to know and I let you live."

He felt the priests tensing before he heard them readying their weapons. They diligently stayed still, awaiting orders from their Praetor, who merely kept smiling as she took in the man before her.

"A threat I am certain you can follow through on. Can you do so before we infect you, I wonder?"

"Try it and find out. I'll be worried when the oil can survive the Eternities. Don't make me ask your corpse."

A twitch escaped the corner of her lips, suppressed as quickly as it came. She considered this carefully before she clicked the panel on her throne again, releasing Razel from the ethereal weight. The priests visibly relaxed, but did not move from their positions.

"The knowledge you seek is in the pool. An interloper infiltrated Gitaxias' compound and seemed to want things relating to you."

"Such as?"

"This I honestly do not know. Jin likes his secrets."

"As do we all."

"Quite. If it is not too much to ask, I have a request for you before you pay him a visit."

Razel arched an eyebrow.

"Make it really irritating."

Where to start

 Two children giggled as they bounced the hoop through the bustling square. It had been long enough since Bola's assault on Ravnica that life was finally settling back into a sense of routine for most, which pleased Razel to see as he took in the scene from an outdoor eatery. He had attempted to alter his face and clothes enough to avoid recognition from all except the person he was hoping to meet, a task he mostly succeeded in, as Garrus pointed out on arrival.

"You still move and sit like yourself. Not much of a disguise from those who know you."

Razel grinned, giving the game away even further.

"Works for those I need it to work for. How've you been, old chum?"

Garrus purposefully strode over to the chair opposite and made himself comfortable.

"Oh, you know. Living in the catacombs has the benefit of sheltering you from much of the surface goings-on."

Razel nodded solemnly to his ancient associate.

"I was gonna ask about that."

"Like I said, being below has benefits. The gates opened almost exclusively at or above the surface, and since I don't have a spark I was spared the hunt."

Razel blinked at the casual mentions to his physiology, but let it go.

"That's good at least. I assume the swarm was left with plenty of new material to work with."

"That's not why you're here though. Nor to catch up."

Razel feigned shock.

"What are you-"

"You want to know about the vampire that was looking into your business."

This time, the shock wasn't feigned.

"...yes."

It was Garrus' turn to grin.

"I'll treasure having left you speechless. I figured you'd come sooner or later. He showed up not terribly long ago, pretending to be with the Orzhov and inquiring about you. Asked all the wrong questions, though. Too personal, very little of which had to do with the syndicate, tangentially or otherwise."

"And the fact that he was looking for me wasn't alarming?"

"It wouldn't be the first member of the church to come asking after you, especially in light of the Dragon's attack."

Razel frowned at that but could offer no argument as Garrus continued.

"Once I realized something was up, I tried to get something out of him, but he was conscious of actively providing information, at the least. Only got one thing after he left, and that was thanks to one of my little green friends."

Subconsciously, Razel leaned closer as Garrus gave him a grave look and placed a seed on the table in front of him. Razel eyed it warily before taking it into his hands and closing his eyes as he concentrated on the imagery it held.

The causeway was thick with moss and grime on either side of the water, corpses and detritus from the ages strewn forgotten beneath the city. A ragged wooden door calmly broke the wall, allowing the vampire to step out of the chamber and into the sewer proper.

"Thank you for your time, Gardener. The syndicate thanks you as well."

He closed the door gently and paused, hanging his head to stare at the floor to sigh heavily. His lack of hair only accentuated his pointed ears and pallid complexion, a pale figure of resignation bound in a familiar black and gold style. He took a few steps from the door and paused, looking up and down the tunnel to ensure his solitude.

"Phyrexia it is then."

Confessional

 Run that by me again.

Razel shuffled uncomfortably at a request he could not remember hearing from his patron before now.

"I believe someone may be trying to free Bolas in order to get at me through you."

He felt a very invasive presence flutter through him before disappearing just as quickly.

Yet this doesn't worry you as much as I would expect. What is this shameful confidence you hide?

"Shortly before he was imprisoned, the dragon and I struck a deal. We would remain out of each other's affairs, or to be accurate, I would stay out of his and he would stay out of ours."

The silence bothered him more than any potential reply. Knowing this, Night lingered exactly too long for his liking before offering her thoughts.

This someone does not know this, I assume.

"I expect that even if he succeeds, which I intend to prevent, the most that would happen is a chuckle and a meal before the dragon starts enjoying freedom again. Likely he'd feel no debt to this individual, especially if they try to demand anything of him. Draconic ego and all that."

I am inclined to agree, but it is still an audacious assumption to make on my behalf, setting aside the question of you bargaining in my name behind my back.

And there it was. Razel rarely felt uncomfortable in Night's presence, though he also had rarely kept a secret from her, let alone one such as this.

"I am sorry to have gone behind your back. I felt if I could resolve the issue in my own way, I had an obligation to. The only way he would accept my terms was to believe it came from you, at least in part."

Her robes hung wrinkled and still, frozen in a breeze that had stopped when he first explained himself.

What made you feel you could not have come to me first?

Razel shuffled a bit more.

"I was hoping to inform you shortly thereafter with good news, but while waiting for him I realized I was likely overstepping but couldn't turn back as he literally appeared moments later. I can't discount that he may have pushed doubt before arriving. Seems like something he'd do."

Don't change the subject.

"Right. Sorry. At that point I figured I would either succeed or be dead on the spot, at which point I'd leave him thinking I was dealt with and at least gain an advantage for future encounters. Then he agreed."

So you came to me.

He broke eye contact with her unflinching porcelain features.

"No, I...I was honestly afraid to breach it. Then he got stuffed in his own box and it wasn't an issue anymore and I honestly forgot about it."

She let him stew in uncertainty again before replying.

Why did you fear speaking of it to me?

"I knew it was overstepping my bounds. It had never been clearly stated, but it was obvious, if only in my own belief in autonomy. Regardless of how I frame it, I took a choice away from you and that was not my place. I don't know as we've had to address me doing that...ever...and to be honest the uncertainty of it and potential for response was overwhelming and a bit terrifying."

What did you expect me to do to you for stealing my choice before I could make it?

Razel may well have been dancing for all the fidgeting.

"That was something I put more thought into than necessary. You likely could make sure I die properly next time I kick it, dissolving the remaining spark while it's in your realm. Could just kill me now then in a few minutes, save the wait. I heard you blinded Toshiro, so punishment via removal of a sense isn't out of the question. Deafness? Also blindness? Taste? Touch? Aesthetic appreciation? Removing, suppressing, or rerouting my connections to mana? Temporal exile. Removing my sparks. Confiscating or destroying my retreat. Taking one of my choices, which could be another plethora of horrifying tit-for-tat treatments. Disfigurement. Removing my geis to force me to relearn languages. An unspecified period of torment in a realm built for it. Imprisonment somewhere. Humiliation. Maybe torture then death then reconstitution then torture again in a loop. Or the worst one I came up with."

He shuddered at the thought.

Which was?

"You abandoning me, which you would have every right to do."

At that he met her cold gaze once again. Her robe began to flow gently once more as she spoke.

All that and the thing which you fear most is losing me?

"Which brings us back full circle to me feeling obligated to protect you if I can."

She smiled without moving in the least.

Take that understanding with you as you stop this individual, as well as the knowledge that your punishment was nothing more than forced self-reflection. Do not do it again.