By Doug Beyer
As soon as upon a time, the airplane of Alara was once shattered into 5 planes, every one highly populated with relative mono-magical tradition that displays all of the 5 shades. Now, the planes are starting to realign and merge as soon as more.
As nefarious forces paintings to hasten the cataclysmic realignment for his or her personal achieve, the populations of as soon as ordered planes fight to come back to phrases with a brand new planar order during which lengthy separated struggles among contrary conflict once again; martyrs face executioners, fireplace and water, earth and air, progress and rot, the innate as opposed to the artificial.
Amid this chaos, Ajani, a fierce leonin planeswalker, struggles to deliver justice and determination to his brother's dying. Noble warrior Rafiq searches for the resource of the of this evil that has invaded his international. And Sarkhan Vol, planeswalker and dragon hunter, faucets right into a energy so natural and historic, it threatens to eat him at the same time he revels in its unadulterated totality.
An motion packed tale from the brain of 1 of the creators, Doug Beyer opens up the Shards of Alara(TM) set like not anyone else can.
From the Paperback edition.
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Additional info for Alara Unbroken: A Novel of Magic: The Gathering
And but, there he was—climbing all the way down to an elvish shrine with a sphere of black dragonscale. He crested the final of the foothills at nightfall, and the valley unfolded earlier than him. The Relic of Progenitus was once down there—he may well simply make out the torchlight of the shrine. It used to be time to do what he continually did: deepen his sin, and wish his soul survived. He held up the dragon-scale sphere to his eye, thinking about what the magic inside it will do to the elves within the valley. ESPER The lighthouse keeper sank very quickly. The vest pulled his head down, and his physique started swimming downward into the chilly depths. He might see not anything sooner than him, however the reflectors at the vest twirled quickly within the darkness, making him rather seen to something that would be having a look. You went to lots of attempt simply to drown me, he suggestion on the mentalist. She stated not anything to him. He was once by myself. The strain started to construct speedily. The water pressed opposed to his lungs, making it demanding to maintain his unmarried breath inside of. It used to be painful. He sought after desperately to blow out the air, yet his physique saved his diaphragm unnaturally inflexible and his mouth close tight. Down, down, down he swam, not able to avoid wasting his personal lifestyles. anything moved within the darkness. there have been lighting fixtures. A vast, lightly curving floor, just like the hull of a boat, slipped silently earlier him within the darkness. The fibers that made up his vest started to glow, catching the reflectors and immersing him in a corona of blue mild. What was once that factor? What’s occurring? Am I bait? I’m bait. You’re fishing. nonetheless downward he swam. His head tilted as soon as to appear at the back of him. His brain recoiled at what he observed, yet his eyes didn’t: the hulking sea creature was once in the back of him. dual rows of small, around eyes had locked at once onto him. The beast’s mouth used to be just like the hatch of a massive shipment send, the jaw commencing downward to scrub him into its inner most holds. His limbs pumped frantically, sinking him deeper and deeper. He had by no means swum so quick earlier than, or thus far into the chilly blackness. His head became back off to the depths and he observed whatever else: the spire of an underwater mountain. His physique used to be swimming instantly for it. It used to be encrusted with blue coral and razor-sharp barnacles. He was once getting shut adequate that he may well nearly see the thousands of tiny barnacle mouths and their wispy tentacle-tongues. His breath was once approximately to offer out—or probably it had already long past out, and a few magic conjured through the mentalist used to be forcing a trickle of air into his lungs. His eyes stayed locked open, yet he was once wasting his recognition of what he observed. His head felt love it used to be being overwhelmed; he may well consider the fragile bones in his ears bending painfully. might his physique maintain swimming after he handed out from loss of oxygen, he questioned? could he slam into the reef mountain lower than, or be swallowed through the ocean creature above? remain wakeful, the voice in his head commanded. So she used to be nonetheless observing, he idea dimly. what sort of mad online game was once it? His techniques swam with bizarre imagery—the blue glow of his vest, the coral mountain, the lenses within the optics room.