the statue

The Akroan guard reacted to the cloaked woman coming down the road with a sense of recognition. “Here for Scotus again, are we? Best not be causing trouble.”

“No, sir, I’m not here for Scotus today. I’m here to deliver… news. And I’m looking for Akros’ best sculptor. Maybe it’s time you found out what’s actually going on. Please, come with me. Do you know somewhere private? It’s best we have this talk out of the public eye. I promise there’s a good reason.”

The guard seemed uncertain, but led her into town and into a secluded barracks. On the way, the woman looked around at the men and women walking the streets, the temples to a vast pantheon. She remembered coming here and learning the tale of Kytheon Iora and his irregulars, who fought the god of death, Erebos.

If only they knew what a hero he actually was.

When the door to the barracks was closed, she took a breath. “What if I told you… there was a vast multiverse, beyond the world of Theros. Other worlds, as numerous and diverse as people. They might hold people that you, a man from Theros, might see as a monster, but they’re just as much sentient beings as you or me. And… what if I told you, there were some certain people, who can travel between those worlds?”

“What…?”

“Promise me you won’t attack me.”

“What do you-”

“I need you to promise. I’m harmless.”

The man squinted in suspicion, then nodded. He jumped back against the wall when the illusion suddenly dropped, and standing there was a person-shaped fox with horns, leathery wings and a brassy, scaled tail.

“Do you remember when I said I was a soldier? I wasn’t lying. I am Z’arith Vutha-inik, Queen of Darastrith on the plane of Chrontomus. My people are bards and warriors, and being their queen I must keep myself just as honed, if not moreso, as my army.”

“In...credible… what are you?”

“I’m… half-dragon. I’ve found it to be a condition unique to my plane. Dragons in my home are sentient, thinking beings. There are other planes like that, but… so far mine alone has had dragons that think of themselves as equals to the people. It’s a lonely existence.”

“Then your business with Scotus…?”

“He is, too. I’ve needed to speak with him about matters on other planes… recently, a plane broke out into war. All manner of people like me fought, and were slaughtered.”

“Oh, Iroas...”

“...I come bearing news about Kytheon Iora.”

The guard’s heart nearly stopped at those words, and he clutched at his chest. “Yes, you have my attention.”

“Kytheon was the leader of a resisting army. We all united under his banner to stop what was rapidly becoming a horrible despot of a god. He tried to take the tyrant down himself… and sacrificed himself that another might live. I came here to commission a grand statue, to make monument of what he did for the entire multiverse. I only knew him for a short time, but I saw in him myself. I saw everything I should be. Kytheon was a hero, who learned from his pride.”

It took the guard a few moments to recollect from this news. If she was telling the truth, this was momentous, and heartbreaking. “How do I know you’re-”

Without a word, Z’arith presented a piece of uniquely Theros-made armor, dented and marred, covered inside and out with ash and blood. “This was his. I thought you might want proof. I plan to commemorate the statue with a funeral ceremony from my home.”

“… I’ll bring word to the best sculptor in Akros.”