Denner Fabellian was convulsing, but even through the pain, he could tell that there was something different this time. The torment was somehow duller, not the sharp, stabbing pains throughout his entire body that he had endured for months, but rather a steady, consistent agony. His convulsions were less violent, yet more consistent.

And they weren’t stopping.

Denner was lying in a hollowed out tree on Oorkonde. The tree had been carefully and thoroughly lined with natural spider silk, woven and shaped not into a sticky, deadly trap, but into a surprisingly comfortable bed. Or, it would have been comfortable, if not for Denner’s current, unceasing attack. He had just returned from Morvata, the Glide Viper in hand, when the effort of his ‘walking had triggered the convulsions. This time, though, those convulsions would not cease.

Standing beside and over him was Lady Nasina. Her dark face, usually a mask of stoicism, was etched deeply in concern. She pressed a damp rag against Denner’s forehead, and she was speaking to him, but Denner could not make out the words. She may have been whispering, but the Delver couldn’t be sure. He was too busy thinking about his future, what little of it there likely was. Denner had lived with this poison for too long not to recognize the change in it, and no change that his poison underwent on its own could possibly be good for him.

He hurt everywhere. There was no part of his body that didn’t scream pain into his mind, no place where he could cast his attention to distract himself. His body was failing him, and his time was coming. He could still move his right arm, but his left had fallen useless at his side. His left eye was twitching constantly, and whenever he closed just that left eye, his vision remained unchanged, but when he closed just the right, everything went dark. He could feel his heart, constantly pumping blood and poison into one another, pounding against his chest, threatening to escape. He suspected it could not take the strain for much longer.

Denner Fabellian was about to die.

With considerable effort, Denner raised his working arm up to his forehead and grabbed Lady Nasina’s hand. He pulled it away from the rag with the last of his meager strength, and forced himself to look up into her dark eyes. They were quavering as they stared into his. Denner took as deep of a breath as his convulsions would allow and then spoke, or at least he thought he spoke. His ears seemed intent on ignoring the sound his mouth made. But whether she could hear him or not, Denner needed to say what he had to say, just once, before he died.

“Thank you, Lady Nasina. Thank you for everything. You helped me when no one else would. You did everything you could. I mean that, everything. Thank you. Thank you.”

Then Denner’s voice gave out. He could see tears welling in Lady Nasina’s eyes as she stared down at him. Then she started looking up and down his body, as if looking for something. He could see her look turn to one of panic, and he suspected he could guess what she was thinking. It was time. He had found three of the four venoms he needed, but there was no way to know the fourth. It had been a mystery, and a mystery it would remain. There was no more time. Denner tried to smile, hoping to give her a reassuring look, but he found he couldn’t. The pain was dulling now, and Denner could not feel his body anymore. He knew he still held her hand, but he could no longer feel her skin.

Then the light faded completely, and Denner Fabellian could feel nothing more.

Lady Nasina had been trying as hard as she ever had throughout her entire life to hold back the tears, but as Denner’s eyes closed, she could hold them back no longer. There in her humid jungle sanctuary, she let out a long, mournful wail that shattered the silence of her valley and even sent many of her spiders scattering from her in surprise. She stayed that way for several minutes, unable to bring herself to move, even though she knew time was short. When she finally composed herself, she saw that her spiders had nearly completed their work. Denner Fabellian was almost completely encased in their webbing.

It was the same webbing that Nasina had suspended him in before analyzing his blood in the first place. A rare breed of spider she had found long ago and brought to her sanctuary had a fast-acting and non-lethal venom that slowed the victim’s heartrate almost to the point of death, and its webbing kept it safe and alive. In the wild, this was so the spider could feed on its victim at its leisure. Right now, it might be the only thing that could save Denner’s life. She laid a hand atop the webbing directly over his heart and could feel it beating slowly. She had acted in time, but now, there was almost no time left.

Lady Nasina needed to do something, and she needed to do it immediately.

But what? The spider woman had no idea. She had done everything she could. She could make up a batch of antivenom from the Glide Viper that Denner had brought back and even mix it with the antivenoms she had created from the Corsair Spider and the Deviltail Scorpion, but without the fourth venom, it would do nothing for the Delver. The entire time Denner had been gone, searching for the rare components of his cure, Nasina had continued to test, to study, to research. But she had nothing to show for it. She was no closer to discovering the fourth venom than she had been the first day she tried.

Nasina balled her fists and slammed them down on the hollowed out log that formed Denner’s bed. She shrieked out loud, her frustration again bubbling over and out. She could feel thousands of eyes staring at her, projecting their concern and their sympathy. She was like a mother to them, and they were as her children. But right now, there was nothing any of them could do for her, just as there was nothing she could do for Denner. All she had wanted to do was to help him extend the story of his life, but despite her best efforts, her best intentions, it just didn’t seem to be in the cards.

Lady Nasina froze as a cold tingle ran up her spine and along the sides of her neck and head. For a moment, her mouth hung open. Then she simply shook her head, and finally even managed to laugh. “Nasina, you old fool!” She said aloud to herself. Then she looked down at the Delver, lying cocooned in webbing. She laid one hand over where his forehead would be and patted it. “There is no guarantee this will work, Denner Fabellian, but please, cling to your life. You have not lost it yet.”

She turned away from him and, moving as quickly as her spider legs would allow, she ran across her makeshift lab and down into the hollow that served as her private chamber. The spiders, her children, never came here, and Nasina allowed nothing to interrupt her there, not even light. As she crossed over the threshold, she tripped an ancient enchantment, and the rock itself slid together, forming a seal that blocked the light of both the sun and the intertwined moons of Oorkonde. Then she set to work preparing herself. She did not work magic much anymore, and the spell she was about to attempt was powerful. It was never easy to send messages through the Blind Eternities, but Lady Nasina was determined. She would not fail.

The Magician had had an awful day. He was on Ravnica, biding his time and trying to sell Aubedore readings for pittance to pay for some half-way decent lodging. Unfortunately, he had had few takers today, and they had been unwilling to pay what the readings were worth. He had indulged them anyway, because while he was not yet desperate, his slim savings of Ravnican zibs was beginning to run dangerously low. On top of everything, he had felt strange all day, as if something were crawling on the back of his neck. The thought made him shiver. That was the last thing he needed today.

Nasperge closed his eyes and allowed himself one long, tremendous sigh.

He should have never left Thorneau. Of course, he hadn’t exactly had many options. A revolution was not a good time to be a showman, and with the aristocracy’s view of Mages dimming even further than usual, it was certainly not a good time to be a Magician there. Still, he missed performing in an actual carnival, and there was no way Nasperge was going to join up with one of the Rakdos troupes. So, for the time being, all he could do was wait and see what happened, and where his fortune led.

But something else was bothering him, and Nasperge could not quite explain it. Some thought, some impulse, had been nagging at him, but he had been unable to put it into words. So now that his day trying to sell readings in the Tin Street market was over and Nasperge was alone in his tiny rented room, he took a deep breath, calmed himself, and did what he usually did when he was bothered by something like this. He gave himself an Aubedore Reading.

In a single, well-practiced gesture, Nasperge withdrew his favored Aubedore deck from inside his cape with no pockets. He quickly began to shuffle the cards, allowing himself to relax as much as possible, and concentrating on the feeling that was distracting him. He allowed himself to get lost in the motion of the shuffle, a rote movement of his hands and the cards that he had performed so many times in the past that it felt almost like breathing. He could feel the cards attune themselves to his purpose as they ordered themselves to tell him what he needed to know.

When he finally felt like they were ready, he dealt out three cards in a simple identity pyramid. The Pyramid was usually the first pattern that Aubedore readers learned, and most practitioners knew that it could be expanded to learn more about the patron for whom they were doing the reading. What only a few of the greatest readers knew, though, was that there was another way to expand the Pyramid, not by adding more cards to the pattern, but by expanding what the Pyramid was reading. Most readers only ever thought to read for their patrons, or perhaps themselves, but Nasperge used the patterns for deeper purposes, to read the identity of problems, of feelings, and of fears.

Nasperge reached for the first card and flipped it over. It was The Shadows. The Magician stared for a long moment at the card and its dark, swirling pattern. This was a particularly ominous card to begin any reading with, particularly one aimed specifically at the thing that was bothering him. Shaking his head slightly, he turned the second card. It was The Wanderer in its inverted position. He furrowed his brow, but pushed on, laying a hand on the last card. He hesitated for a few moments before turning it, revealing The Spider, his least favorite card in the deck. He stared at the three cards for a long time, his hand shaking slightly as it hovered over this final card. Then, needing more, he flipped the Eye, the top card of the waiting deck. It was The Healer. Nasperge nodded, sighed heavily, gathered his cards, and vanished.

Darkness dominated. There was nothing to provide light, nor anything to allow it to seep through. There was only eternal, unbroken darkness. So, when Nasperge the Magician stepped out of the Blind Eternities and into the plane of Oorkonde, Lady Nasina had nothing more than the slight rushing of air to alert her. Even without it, though, she would have felt his presence. While not as flawless or unchanging as Denner Fabellian’s, Nasina had a long memory, and she never forgot a friend.

“Hello, Nas,” she began softly. “I feared you would not receive my message.”

“It has been a very long time,” the Magician answered, his voice just as soft. “I hope you have been well. Sometimes, when I don’t hear from you for a while, I get worried.”

She laughed slightly and pleasantly. “You are very kind, my friend. I have been well, but I am afraid I did not ask you here for pleasantries. Please do not consider me rude, but I need a favor, one I think only you can grant.”

“This is rare,” Nasperge said. “It isn’t often I’ve heard you ask for favors.”

“I do hate to impose,” she said. “But there is no time, and I have no means to accomplish what I need alone. You are the last chance he has.”

“Who has?”

“Denner Fabellian. He is my…patient. He is a planeswalker who has been poisoned, and his time is nearly here.”

“I’m no healer,” Nasperge said into the darkness. “You are far more qualified to help a poison victim than I am.”

“It is not administering the antidote for which I need your help, Nas. It is finding it. It is a magical poison, constructed of four venoms. One from a Glide Viper, another from a Corsair…” she stopped short. “Well, it does not matter. What matters is that the fourth venom has eluded me. For all my skill in alchemy, I cannot find it out.”

There was a very long moment of silence before the Magician spoke again. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Please don’t ask me this.”

“I am sorry, but I must. His life depends upon it.”

“Please…” Nasperge breathed, begging. “Please don’t…”

“Forgive me,” she whispered back. When she spoke next, her voice was louder. More forceful. “Will you please give him a reading? Please, use your cards to learn of the fourth venom.”

Even through the darkness, she could feel the Magician shaking. “I…I can’t…” His voice broke as he tried to manage the words.

“I know that you can.”

“You don’t understand,” Nasperge whispered. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I am sorry, my friend,” she said, her own voice sorrowful and low. “I know precisely what I am asking, and I regret that I need to. But I do need to. I have sworn to do whatever I can to save Denner Fabellian’s life, and you, my friend, are the only one who can help me.”

“If we were truly friends, you would not ask this.”

“It is your fear that crafts your words, not your heart,” she told him. “You know the depths of our friendship well. Would I have taken your name as my own if it were otherwise?”

Nasperge laughed. It was a slight, broken, and nervous laugh. “So, you’re still calling yourself ‘Nasina,’ are you?” His laugh died almost immediately.

“To honor you, Nas.”

There was another long silence. “I can’t…I can’t give a reading in the dark.”

Lady Nasina was silent herself for a long moment. Finally, she nodded her head, although she knew that the Magician could not see her. “I know. I will need to take you to him.”

“Nasina, please don’t ask…”

“I swear, Nasperge, no harm will come to you. This is my valley, and all who live here obey me. There is nothing to fear.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Nasperge snapped suddenly. “Intellectually, don’t you think I know how foolish this is? Don’t you think I know what you and others must think? Do you think any of that helps?”

His breathing was heavy, and irregular. “No,” Nasina admitted, trying to calm him. “It is irrational. I understand that. But I also understand the strength you possess. I understand your desire to help those who need you, those who deserve it. And I believe he does.”

There was a long silence, and Nasperge did not answer.

“I would be in your debt, Nas,” Lady Nasina said. “More than I already am.”

More silence.

Lady Nasina was just about to speak again when the Magician whispered, “I’ll try.”

Nasina breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Nasperge. I shall never forget this.”

“Neither will I, I’m sure,” Nasperge said, trying to put a note of levity in his voice, despite its shaking.

“The area has been cleared. I will open the door, and direct you to Denner. I will be sure to stay behind you, and direct you where to look.”

“Alright,” Nasperge managed, taking a deep breath.

Lady Nasina closed her eyes, concentrated, and triggered the spell that closed her hollow off from the rest of her valley. The stone groaned and complained and finally moved apart, allowing the bright sunlight to stream in. Nasperge immediately turned toward it and, with his head lowered and his vision directed at the ground in front of him, he started to walk very slowly.

Nasina followed behind him as quietly as she could manage. He had agreed to help, but anything could potentially send him into a blind flight off the plane. She told him where to turn and which direction to angle toward, but she tried to stay as far back as she could manage. As she directed him, she looked him over. It had been a very, very long time since she had ever laid eyes on the man. He looked much older now, his hair whitening with age, his frame a bit larger and bulkier than before. But she could still sense in him the same fire he had had years earlier, the same desire, the same goodness.

Nasperge slowed even further as he reached Denner Fabellian’s hollowed out tree. Even from behind him, Lady Nasina could see the Magician tense as he saw the webbing encasing the Delver. She should have warned him about that, she supposed, but it was too late now, and would have just given him something more to worry about. Nasperge stood over the tree bed for a long moment, and then slowly reached into his cape. Just before he could withdraw anything, though, something moved quickly over Denner’s cocooned body, and Nasperge panicked.

The Magician let out a sudden scream of almost primal terror and lurched backward flailing his arms and falling hard to the ground. Even as he landed, he continued to scramble backward, getting his long blue cape caught underneath him. Lady Nasina crouched down as low as she could so that when Nasperge bumped into her, which he did, he ran into her human-like torso rather than her spider-like body. When he did, he started to look around behind him, but Nasina was there, placing her hands gently on the sides of his head, urging him to look forward. She spoke to him then, as soothing and pleasantly as she could.

“It is nothing, Nasperge. Merely a leaf, blown by the wind. Take a deep breath. Remember, there is nothing here that will harm you. You are alright.”

The Magician was breathing too heavily now to speak, but he seemed to be calming slightly. He followed Nasina’s advice and took a deep breath, and then another, and then a third. Nasina held him there for a long time as he finally managed to get his breathing under control. Finally, he nodded.

“I’m alright,” he said, closing his eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Nasperge lifted himself up to his knees and crawled forward a bit, but did not attempt to stand. Instead, he cleared a small area in front of the hollow tree in the dirt and withdrew his Aubedore cards. He stared forward at the small bump of webbing he could see from his vantage point that could only have been Denner’s head. He was still taking deep breaths as he shuffled his cards until he was satisfied, and then dealt out three cards in a triangular shape pointing at Denner.

Without a word, he flipped the left-most card, turning up The Library in its inverted position. He then proceeded to the right-most card, The Scroll, also inverted. Moving quickly, he flipped the final card, the one closest to Denner, which was The Seeker. Still without speaking, he turned over the top card of the deck, the Eye of the Pyramid, to reveal The Sufferer.

Almost out of breath, the Magician managed to speak, keeping his reading succinct. “He’s a man of great knowledge, and a constant searcher of more knowledge, but he suffers greatly, undoubtedly from this poison you mentioned.”

“That tells us nothing we did not already know, Nasperge,” Nasina said with a pleasant sort of displeasure. “Did you choose the simplest reading merely to finish quickly?”

Nasperge hung his head. After a moment, he nodded.

“I know this is difficult for you, Nas, but please. Time is nearly up, and even if you can discern what the final venom is, I still need time to obtain it. Please?”

Again, Nasperge only nodded, collected his cards, and began to shuffle. This time, though, he began to speak as he did. “I will use the Crossroads pattern. It will give us some information you may already have, such as where this man has come from to wind up here. But hopefully, it will tell us where he is going, and hopefully, that will be the cure. But be warned. The cards are nearly impossible to read specifically. I do not know what chance we have of learning what you need to know.”

“Without the attempt, we can know nothing,” Nasina pointed out.

Nasperge simply nodded, and began to create the Crossroads pattern. He laid the corners first, four cards at diagonals forming a rough frame. Extending from the centers of each of these cards, he laid another, pointing inward toward the middle of the pattern. These were the spokes, or the paths. Finally, he laid two cards in the center, the destination card, vertically, and over that, the fate card. Nasperge sighed deeply.

“Let’s see if this tells us anything.” He turned the first corner to reveal the inverted Wanderer. The next corner revealed The Twins, the third The Snake, and the fourth was The Spider. “Hmm,” was all Nasperge said. He then turned over the first spoke, the one connected to the inverted Wanderer. It was The Manacles, inverted. “You say he is a planeswalker?”

“Yes.”

“It seems that he was trapped somewhere, and could not escape, but was eventually released.”

“He told me of that. He was released by a woman named Syl, if I recall.”

For a moment, Nasperge froze. “Syl? Of the Dual-Walkers?”

“You know them?”

Nasperge shook his head. “Of them. Only of them, mercifully. Well, that explains The Twins. Let’s see their spoke.” He turned the second spoke to reveal The Hourglass. “It was they who poisoned him, wasn’t it?”

“It was.”

Nasperge nodded, and turned over the third spoke, the one connected with The Snake. The card was the inverted position of The Endless Maze. “Someone who was not to be trusted sent him on a long search, but not a directionless one.”

“It seems that at times, your cards are quite literal,” Nasina observed. “A snakefolk ‘walker named Cyrryc Adda promised to help him, but nearly killed him. Still, he had the only untainted blood sample, and without that, we could not have even begun a cure.”

Nasperge nodded and flipped the last spoke. “The inverted Ring,” Nasperge said, even managing a small smirk. “Leading from The Spider. I wonder what that could mean.” Lady Nasina shifted slightly behind him, but Nasperge continued on, plenty uncomfortable himself. “Inverted like that, it suggests a cycle incomplete. I suspect it refers to the three venoms you have found for him, and the one that remains to be found.”

“We have still learned nothing new,” Nasina said, disappointed. “Is there no hope?”

Nasperge shrugged. “There are yet two more cards. First, the destination card. If anything will tell us what the cure is, this will.” He placed his left hand over the two center cards, to hold the fate card in place, and then grabbed the destination card with his right hand and slid it out from under the other. It was The Healer. “Not quite what I had hoped,” Nasperge admitted.

“It seems your cards are not always literal,” Lady Nasina added dejectedly.

“No,” Nasperge agreed. Shrugging again, he flipped over the fate card. It was The Gravestone. Nasperge sighed. “It seems there is hope, but it is slim. The strongest pull of fate is pulling him to death.”

“Is there nothing else your cards can tell you, Nas? No clue they can give? Nothing?”

“I don’t know what…” Nasperge started, then suddenly thought of something. “Wait. Maybe…Nasina, I’ve never tried anything like this before. I can promise nothing, but…”

Nasperge quickly gathered up the cards again, all but The Healer, which he left lying on the ground. He shuffled the rest of the cards together again while concentrating solely on The Healer card, thinking about what it was that could possibly cure Denner Fabellian. After a long shuffle, he was satisfied, and he laid out three cards in another simple Identity Pyramid. He took a deep breath and flipped the first card. The Spider. He flinched, but continued, to reveal The Sufferer, inverted. Then he reached for the third card, the pointer. It was The Servant.

“Again, we learn nothing,” Lady Nasina said, tears threatening her voice. Nasperge, though, wasn’t so sure.

“There is something strange here,” he said, staring at the cards. Slowly, realization dawned on him. “I’ve had this precise reading before.”

“You have?”

Nasperge nodded, and then reached for the stack of Aubedore cards, turning over the Eye of the Pyramid. It was The Seeker. Nasperge stared at it for a long time before he noticed the small ashen smudge in the bottom corner of the card.

“Oh my Goddess,” Nasperge said, almost under his breath. “Maaskaraad.”

“What?”

Nasperge quickly scooped up the cards, bundled them back up, and slipped them into his pocketless cape. “Nasina, listen to me, I know what it is! I know what the fourth venom is! You wait here, make sure he doesn’t die, and get everything ready! I’ll be back as soon as I can!”

“Nas, slow down!” Nasina said, standing up. “What are you talking about?”

The Magician did not risk looking in her direction. “The cards! They tried to tell me months ago, but I didn’t understand. I do now. The fourth venom is a frog! An obnoxious little screaming frog!”

“Are you certain?”

“No!” Nasperge said, hardly containing his excitement. “But I’m as close as I can get from the cards!”

“Well, here, take this with you,” Nasina reached around him and handed him one of her aethersilk web spheres. Nasperge shuddered as he grabbed it. “Throw it at the frog, and you can carry it back through the Eternal Web. Now, please hurry.”

Nasperge nodded, stood up, and vanished into the aether. Lady Nasina walked up slowly to where Denner Fabellian rested and again lay a hand on his head while hanging hers. “Please, Denner. Just hold on.”

She paused there for a long moment and then, with fresh determination, turned toward her table and set to work. She needed to be ready when Nasperge returned.

There was darkness everywhere, but it seemed to be dissipating, like a heavy fog burning off in the morning sun. Feeling started to return slowly, so slowly that it was difficult to note the change. He reached up with both arms to rub his eyes, but only one arm responded to his command. As he rubbed his right eye, his vision fell back into blackness, but the light returned as he moved his hand away. His entire body was sore, and he found any movement to be difficult. But the thing that Denner Fabellian noticed most was that he was no longer in pain.

As Denner awkwardly pulled himself to a seated position, a dark shape appeared beside him, and he forced himself to smile at Lady Nasina.

“I thought I had died,” he ventured. His mouth was dry.

“Very nearly, I fear,” Lady Nasina said. “How do you feel?”

“Alive.” He took a deep breath, and then looked up at her again. “Were you able to find any clue about the fourth venom?”

“More than a clue,” she said with a smile. “A friend of mine has obtained it.”

Denner’s eyes, or at least his good one, widened. “So…the antivenom?”

“I have already injected you with the antivenom while you slept. I mixed it with great care. I tried to match exactly the blend of the original poison, as best I could discern it.”

“And…” Denner ventured. “Did it work?”

“Only you can tell us that, Denner Fabellian.” Lady Nasina stared at him, hopeful.

Denner looked himself up and down. He concentrated on the areas where the pain had always been greatest: his heart, his neck, and his head. He concentrated on his fingers and toes, which had often grown numb to everything but the pain. He conjured the unpleasant memories of his months of anguish and compared it to how he felt now, at this moment. The pain was gone.

Denner grinned so wide it hurt his mouth. When he looked back at Lady Nasina, he saw that she wore a similar expression. “I think I’m cured! Nasina, thank you. Thank you for everything.”

He leaned over to embrace her, and she did the same, although Denner’s left arm still refused to move. After they pulled away from one another, he nodded down toward his arm, and then pointed to his eye. “So, do you think I’ll ever get these back?”

Lady Nasina laughed demurely. “There is no way to know for certain, but I believe you will, in time. Do not overexert yourself, and I believe you shall make a full recovery.”

Denner nodded gratefully. “Lady Nasina, I can never hope to repay you for everything you have done for me. Without you, I would…”

Nasina held up a hand to stop him. “Enough of that, now. You are most welcome, and I am merely pleased to have been able to soothe you. But we are true friends, you and I. We need not dwell on such things.”

Denner reached up with his good arm and wiped a tear away from his good eye. Then he nodded. “I’ve been living with death for a long time. I guess it’s time to get used to living with life again.” With effort, Denner stood up, stretched, and prepared to planeswalk away.

“Where are you going?” Lady Nasina asked him, her tone inquisitive.

Denner smiled at her as images flashed across his mind, images of Daneera and her search for her lover, of Lukas and his search for Gabrielle, and of Gale and her search for home. His smile widened as his Delver’s sense pulled him in one direction and then another, toward his friends, and toward the objects of their searches.

“I’m going Delving,” Denner said with a grin. “I have promises to keep.”