Nissa - Worldsouls

Only silence followed. Nissa couldn't understand. On Zendikar, the Worldsoul was as close to her as her own breath. It communed with her. Trusted her. On Innistrad and Amonkhet, the Worldsouls were hostile; on Ravnica it was hidden; but on every plane it was at least there. Here, on Dominaria, it was as if a rot had festered deep inside the plane. No, not a rot—a hatred born of wounds unhealed and betrayals never rectified. The nature spirits who'd spurned her earlier made their presences known:

You are not one of Gaea's children, they said in unison.

Gaea? Yes, that was the name the Worldsoul had chosen for itself. Nissa could sense Gaea close by, watching how she responded to the judgment of her agents who held dominion over Dominaria's untouched wilds.

There are invaders upon your plane, Nissa implored. You must help us defeat them!

The blighted ones have returned. We know.

Visions invaded Nissa's mind of dozens—hundreds—of battles taking place that same night. Massive, gray-skinned warriors led by stained-glass angels battling back Phyrexian horrors boiling up from the city sewers. Elven lords bedecked in warpaint riding atop metal war machines while human mages in flight hurled spells down upon many-horned beasts. Minotaurs desperately defending their sacred stone halls from biomechanical monstrosities, aided by goblin peasants showing no fear. Was this the nadir of Dominaria, the time just before its end?

You are a meddler come to drain Gaea's strength when her children need it.

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THE BROTHERS' WAR | CHAPTER 5: EXODUS