You creep closer to the old man's study late at night. Your movements hold no secrecy, but a bold walk through the dark monastery is too much for you to muster on the eve of a new moon. Careful not to trip over rugs or benches along the dark corridors, you arrive safely at the room of Issar Roon.

Afraid the old man may be asleep, you avoid knocking and quietly open the slab of heavy oak so that the barest sliver of light may escape. Before you are able to open the door any further to check on the old man, your query is answered by two voices freed from the study. As you turn your mind to the words, an unfamiliar and high-pitched voice speaks.

"Master, I cannot know the answer. All scouts that enter vanish, and our contact with Melira and her Sylvok was severed many moons ago. Our best spies are unable to approach the ancient tree to see if what you say is true."

A voice, one you recognize as the old man's, answers the unknown.

"Well, what about the creatures emerging from the Tangle? They are surely not of the enemy, yet did not exist just a year earlier. Do you claim that they suddenly appeared from the AEther?"

"Certainly not, but it is impossible for us to know. There is change in the Tangle, and many fear it is a new plot of the enemy's. Many have been shaken by the recent propaganda, and now this. They are starting to truly believe that they will die defending the old Mirrodin."

You are unsure of the details, but the word "Mirrodin" hints at the old man's stories of a war with Phyrexia. Has he finally convinced another of his crazy ideas?

"They knew it was a very real possibility, yet they ignored our offers of flight. We are still behind them, remind them of that."

"Yes, Master."

You contemplate leaving the vague conversation, but before you can come to a decision, the old man clarifies things with a question.

"What of the enemy? Are they divided as the others say? Have you found proof?"

"Yes. It appears that as they have infected the creatures of the plane, they absorbed too much. They no longer fight with a unified mind. Battalions will withhold from a battle, just to see another leader's weakened, as we fight for our lives. I have even seen a praetor strike down a servant of another out of sheer pleasure.

"They are now controlled by emotions and a desire for personal power. It seems that without a strong leader, they have given into fighting for supremacy amongst themselves. I wish it weakened them, but they still number the Mirrans that remain by the thousands."

"Have the myrs been of any help?"

"They have, and their newest numbers are highly effective against the enemy. But . . ."

"Spit it out! I have no time for second thoughts."

The high-pitched voice resumes, hesitantly, as if fearing punishment for the news.

"But we are still unable to control them at times. Many wonder if the legends that tell of a greater master of the myrs are true. We know that Memnarch no longer remains, but it is unnerving to think of their independence when we rely so heavily upon them."

"Thoughts of their 'master' are not unreasonable, but I do not believe you have reason to fear them."

"Yes, Master."

"And what of Him? Have any of you learned more concerning His condition?"

"It would seem, Master, as though His mind has splintered fully. What it means, we do not know."

"I know what it means. It means that He has succeeded in preventing the infection from taking complete hold of Him, but it has the direst of consequences. He has become two beings, separated in belief and desire.

"It means that if such a thing were possible, He would take two forms, twins born from the same being, but with opposing paths. We can only hope that the half-yearning to heal His child, His world, will prevail. We must do all that we can to encourage whatever part of Him that survives to take that path."

"But how will we know if He follows it?"

"We will know as we lie dying at the hands of His darker path, but you need not worry yourself of such things. I believe recent events foreshadow how He will choose.

"For now, you must concentrate on the Tangle with all available resources. It is there that the secrets lie, and it is there that Mirrodin's fate will be decided. The core of this conflict and its resolution will emerge from within Him and the Tangle."

"Yes, Master."

"Now be gone with you. I have much more to do, and only half of the night remaining."

"Yes, Master."

A peculiar sound follows the last line, one that might come with a rushing wind into a small hole, or water barreling down a flooded river. Then, silence.

You realize that whatever voice spoke with the old man has gone, and there is nothing left to hear. As quietly as possible, you replace the oak door in its frame and step away, grateful that your presence has once again gone unnoticed.