When the assassins of the ret-Syrris family killed Kahr's father and attempted to kill him, his Spark ignited, and Kahr found himself on Thorneau, in the city of Torche. It soon became apparent to him that he was not dead, but instead a being of profound power. The matriarchal society ill-suited the new planeswalker, and he soon left the city, wandering into the carnival nearby, where he met Nasperge, who told him what it meant to be a planeswalker.

Realizing his new-found godly powers and the truth of his ascension, Kahr learned how to 'walk from the Magician, and used the knowledge to return to Arbagoth, and Skavlakur. His power was such that he easily defeated Vrok-ret-Syrris and took back his throne. Kahr, furious over the attempted assassination, brutally destroys every living ret-Syrris, as well as any of the nobles he suspects plotted with them.

After Kahr demolishes the nobility out of his paranoia, he turns his rage to Skavlakur's enemies, particularly the floating Cloud Forest of Ailanian. The Aven of Ailanian put up a significant fight, but eventually Kahr's power overwhelms them, literally tearing the Cloud Forest apart and killing nearly all of the population of the floating island. This action brings the forces of the Confederation of Agator, Skavlakur's southern neighbor and devoted followers of the Ailanian myth, into a bloody war with Skavlakur, and while many lost their lives, Agator was no match for Kahr-ret-Taris's planeswalker powers, and the Pharaoh laid most of the confederation to waste.

After Kahr destroys two of Arbagoth's kingdoms, the others begin to grow nervous, and matters begin to escalate to a full-blown world war. The kingdoms split their allegiances, tearing continents in half. The kingdoms of Kraygen on Maisa, Tymocia on Bongara, The Oakumbra Duchy on Feoldon, side against Skavlakur, as do both Veretna and Lakrymos on Volbog Island. Xoraal on Maisa, Dezdikaad on Bongara, Sidia on Feoldon, and the Nakor Archipelago side with Kahr and Skavlakur, mostly to oppose their continental enemies. Only Vhron on Maisa and Crystalys on Ermaf remain neutral.

The war is hard-fought, bloody, and costly in terms of lives and resources. Much of the Endless Green burns. But eventually, Kahr and his allies win. Borders are redefined, continents re-divided, and new allegiances formed. One significant and unfortunate casualty of the war was the Grove of Omens in Veretna, so Kahr travelled to another plane to find a new species of tree to plant in their place. He discovers the Burnwillow, and returns to Arbagoth, planting a ring of Burnwillows on the former spot of the Grove of Omens. Here, he convenes a global council comprised of five of the remaining seven lands of Arbagoth (Crystalys and Vhron were not invited.) Kahr is, of course, named the head of the Burnwillow council, and for all intents and purposes, rules Arbagoth.

Once the Mending hits, Kahr's power wanes, but the effect is only noticeable to him. By that time, Kahr's political power is unquestioned, and Kahr is able to stay alive and young with the help of the Pyre of the Devout, which Kahr uses with impunity to keep up his youthful, warrior physique. Kahr rules Skavlakur with an iron fist, ever mindful of the assassins who killed his father and tried to kill him.

Penelophine, who had been living on Arbagoth, had no interest in involving herself in mortal affairs, and for a time, simply hid in her grotto, but eventually decided to leave Arbagoth completely and find a plane where she could be left alone. Due to this decision, as well as the lack of the Grove of Omens, neither she nor Daneera were on Arbagoth during the events of the War of the Wheel, and therefore, Arbagoth is spared the wrath of the Dual-Walkers. Kahr occasionally planeswalks, but spends most of his time on Arbagoth, ruling, feasting, and putting down any possible threat to his godly rule.

Ithala held her breath as she stared upward through the floorboards, praying to a forbidden goddess that her two young children Rayha and Turbi could manage to do the same. She was frightened. She was frightened because no matter how long or how far they ran, the Inquisition found them. No matter where or how well they hid, they were always found. It seemed that nowhere was safe from their piercing eyes.

Kalun, Ithala's husband, was taken first. When news of the Inquisition had reached them, they had hidden in the back room of a tavern, owned by people sympathetic to the cause. They were found in only a few hours. Kalun delayed the soldiers long enough for Ithala and their four children to escape, to run, to hide. By midnight that night, the Inquisition had found them again, and her oldest son, Parel, followed in his father's footsteps, in more ways than one. The next evening cost them her youngest, her daughter Loriu. All because they worshiped the goddess of Hope and Peace, in a land that despised both.

They had been running for three days now. Twice more after Loriu had been taken, the Inquisition had found them, and they had escaped. Sometimes, Ithala wondered if they were allowing them to escape on purpose. After all, each new hiding place was a safe house revealed. Ithala didn't understand. She had brought her children to the safest, most secure and most secret of the goddess's havens, places where the Inquisition could not possibly have found them. And yet, somehow, they always did.

And now, they were here again. The floorboards creaked against their weight, the dirt from their boots fell over Ithala's face, and the dim light above was imperfectly broken by their shadows. Ithala and her remaining children were silent, not even daring to breathe. Of all of the safehouses, this was the safest. There was no reason to suspect it, and the entrance to the basement crawlspace was so well hidden that even Ithala, who had been here before, struggled to find it. They had to be safe here. They had to be...

Suddenly, from above, a man's voice shattered the silence. "They're here," he said, as Ithala's blood froze. She could almost hear the cruel grin on his face. "They're right below us."

Ithala looked around her, searching for a path of escape. There was none. The only way in or out of the crawlspace was the staircase, covered by the false masonry against the wall. Their only hope now was if the Inquisition failed to find that entrance.

"The door's right there," the man said, and the soldiers of the Inquisition were moving. Rayha screamed, and all of them fled to the corner, but it was too late. In moments, they were surrounded by soldiers, and hauled roughly upstairs at the points of a dozen swords. The children were forced outside into a waiting wagon, but Ithala herself was brought in front of their commander, a plain sort of man with an arrogant grin.

"Did you really think you could hide from me?"

Ithala spat at him. "May the goddess curse you, Commandant Fabellian."

Denner put on a show of acting shocked. "The goddess of Peace? Quite the perversion of your values, isn't it?"

"What does the Inquisition want with us?"

"Don't know, don't care," Denner said. "But I wouldn't worry about the Inquisition. Let your husband and your children worry about it. You can worry about me."

"What?"

"Do you think I hunt for free?" He laughed. "You are the fifteenth most beautiful target I've ever hunted."

Ithala's eyes grew wide. "I would never..."

"We'll see," Denner interrupted. "I'm sure there's some way to convince you. And trust me. I'll find it."

"Mother?" Beryl said as she stared into the mirror.

The young woman looking back at her furrowed her smooth brow at the question. "I don't know," she said, confused. "My name is Moira Trevanei. I have no children."

Suddenly, the reflection's face broke into a horrified expression. "Nasperge?"

"You broke my heart, Moira," a stern voice sounded from behind Beryl. She wheeled around suddenly, seeing his white bearded face contort in an expression of hurt and anger. "And now I'm breaking hers. And you."

"Nasperge, I..." the reflection began, even as the stone flew through the air. Beryl had half a second to scream in disbelief before the stone struck, and the mirror containing her mother's reflection shattered into hundreds of shards. Moments later, the hovering frame of the magical mirror crashed down, as well.

Beryl fell to her knees and ran her hands over the broken shards of reflective glass. As her blood began to well from half a dozen small cuts, she looked up at Nasperge, tears welling in her eye. "Why?"

Nasperge smirked at her. "Cruelty is its own reward. If you don't learn that, Beryl, you'll never survive. It was certainly something your mother understood well. Astria understands it, too, and look what she's achieved."

Beryl's eye began to twitch in rage, and she could feel her fire building within her. "Nasperge, I will never forgive you for this."

The Magician scoffed. "So don't. I never forgave Moira. Just learn from it." Nasperge turned to walk away, and then glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, by the way. Here are your boots." He tossed her pair of worn boots down on the floor, the boots she had used to mark her way home. He had even taken that from her. "By the way, remember how planeswalkers can't 'walk into this place? Well, we can't 'walk out either. Have fun."

Before Beryl could summon the energy to conjure her flames and lash out at him, Nasperge ducked behind another mirror and moved away. A moment later, an Aubedore card came floating towards her, settling down on the broken glass. With a trembling, bloodied hand, she reached down and turned it over, revealing the Endless Maze. Beryl looked around her surroundings, nothing but mirrors and doors for as far as she could see. Beryl put her face in her hands and, thinking about the mother who had been taken away from her for a second time, wept long and loud and hard at the cruelty of the Multiverse.

Raiker Venn was bored. He wasn’t through writing tragedy, of course. Not by a long shot. But sometimes, when you live as long as Raiker Venn had, you need to do something to alleviate the tedium. Today, it was a coin flip.

“And that’s all there is to it?” She asked him, her eyes quivering a bit.

Raiker smiled. “That is all. I flip a coin, you call it, and we see what happens.”

“I don’t know,” she said glancing to her side.

“I will not use magic,” he assured her with a smirk. “And the coin is true. You may inspect it yourself, if you wish.”

He flipped her the coin, and she examined it carefully, running a discerning eye over every measurable span of its golden surface. It was real. She sighed, and tossed it back to him.

“So the deal is…”

“You know the deal,” Raiker interrupted, mildly annoyed. “If you win, I open up a portal for you, to anywhere you wish. If you lose…”

Raiker Venn let the words hang in the air, and she didn’t do anything to break that silence. She knew what she was risking. But she just couldn’t live like this anymore. And if she lost, maybe she could defend herself. Maybe she could defend them both…

“What do you get out of this?” She asked suddenly.

Raiker considered this question. He took longer than he meant to. “If you lose the flip, I get a profoundly tragic poem.”

“And if I win?”

Raiker glanced to the side, to the same spot where she had glanced moments before. “Let us simply say that even I do not wish for everything to be tragic.”

She didn’t know why, but something in his voice rang true to her, and profoundly so. A tear came to her eyes, but she blinked it away. “Okay, Raiker. It’s a deal.”

Raiker nodded, but didn’t smile. Solemnly, he flipped the coin.

“Tails,” she said.

Raiker caught the coin and immediately turned it over onto his wrist. For a very long moment, he stared at her, and she at him. He didn’t lift his hand, or drop his eyes, he merely stared into her eyes. Finally, slowly, he raised his wrist up, shifted his hand, and looked. Then he stared again, this time at the coin, which was blocked from her view by his hand. Her heart stopped beating as she waited for him to speak. After an agonizing moment, Raiker lifted his eyes and met her gaze again, then scooped up the coin in his hand.

“Where would you like to go?” He asked flatly.

She grinned, broadly. “I won?” She said, barely daring to believe it.

Raiker paused for a moment, then nodded once. “You won.”

She immediately fell to the ground and wrapped her arms around the little girl sleeping soundly in her bed. After a long, long moment, Tryst looked up at the Poet, joyous tears in her eyes. “How can I ever thank you?”

Raiker looked down at the little girl and swallowed. “Thank me?” He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “Never tell her about me.” Tryst looked up at him, confused. “Never mention me. Never tell her my name. That is more than enough thanks for me.”