Nissa - Senses Zendikar's Leylines

As Ashaya made a fist and pulled it into its chest, so too did Nissa. "Yes I see this, but . . . ." Nissa's breath hitched. She had just unfurled her first finger, and streaming out from it was a glowing green line, one that dove down into the land on the far side of the corruption and then emerged again further on, winding around trees and twisting through the leaves of plants. It shimmered with power.

Not daring to breathe, Nissa unfurled her second finger. Another line appeared. This one extending in a slightly different direction then shooting upward and weaving through the tallest branches of the forest.

Three more fingers, three more powerful connections. The world opened up before Nissa, glowing green and radiating power. These were the leylines; Nissa had heard of their power, the power of the land, of Khalni Heart, the power that flowed through the whole world.

A final leyline streamed out from her skyward-facing palm. This was the thickest of the lines, with the girth of a sturdy root. It stretched from Nissa's palm out to Ashaya, winding in and out of the roots and branches that formed the elemental's chest, arms, and legs. This was the line that connected Nissa to all that Ashaya was, this was the line that connected her to Zendikar's soul.

One.

It was not a word—not spoken aloud—rather it was a feeling that came to Nissa from Ashaya.

One.

The glowing, green power spread then from Nissa's palm up her arm and into her chest, and she understood. This power, these connections, they had been here all this time, they were what Ashaya had been trying to show Nissa. Now Nissa knew how to look.

Nissa moved her fingers one by one, feeling out the network. It was as though she had hundreds of new appendages, fingers that were trees, brambles for fists, the land itself for her arms and legs. The force of Zendikar surged through her . . . and pulsed from within her.

One.

She had been wrong. Hamadi had been wrong. Zendikar had not asked her to do this alone. It had not chosen her; there had been no choice to make. She was part of the world, connected to it like every other living thing. A tree does not choose a branch, the branch is merely part of the tree; it is one with the tree. When the tree grows, when the tree bends, or when the tree falls . . . so too does the branch. And when the branch rustles, when it sprouts leaves or bears fruit, so too does the tree. Nissa could not be chosen by Zendikar and she could not choose Zendikar, for she was one with Zendikar.

***

After just a few steps, it was clear that the forest was an utterly new place . . . and it was incredible.

Though she had run through the trees countless times before, she had never experienced anything like this. This, Nissa thought, is what it's like to be truly bonded to the land.

The world reacted to her presence. Each time one of her feet landed, it was on a clear patch of ground. Holes that might turn her ankle closed. Roots that might trip her instead cradled her foot and then launched her forward, propelling her to the next bramble that would spring her toward a branch, which would catch her and swing her to a gentle landing on a bed of moss. This was what it was like to be one with Zendikar.

Ashaya loped along at Nissa's side, her presence a given—Nissa did not need to exert any energy to will the elemental to move, nor to direct her on a path, for Ashaya knew. She knew where Nissa would go, she knew what Nissa needed, she knew what Nissa felt.

***

FOR ZENDIKAR