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- Urza’s eyes glittered in their gemstone aspect. Extending a hand outward, he made a certain sign. One wing of the Phyrexian host swung in upon the other. Fiends leaped on fiends, bit through brains, sliced off heads. With another sweep of his hand, Urza dragged fallen beasts from the dead pile by the wall, digging free his ranks of scorpions. The machines hauled themselves from the slimy darkness where they had been buried and clambered toward the new line of advance.
- “That should hold them for a moment,” the planeswalker told himself. He drifted back down within the walls.
- ***
- Time Streams, Chapter 17
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