You carry a tray of food for Issar Roon toward his study. You don't like running errands for the old man, but a little hassle is worth keeping him placated. After all, he hasn't had one of his fits of anger in months, and there's no reason to assist in their return.

As you make your way through the halls, you have to fight to keep the tray steady against a forceful wind. As if to emphasis the importance of your effort, the dangling lights in the hall rock violently as if they were pendulums, swung by an angry hand, demonstrating what might become of the old man's food if you are not careful.

Afraid of taking your hand off the platter for more than a second, you quickly open the door, forsaking any attempt at a knock. The old man looks up with a small smile.

I knew you would be coming today. And you brought food! Great, great. Please, take a seat while I relieve you of your burden.

The old man bites into the cardoons voraciously, as if he hadn't eaten in days. The question of when and where he eats trickles into your mind, but you wonder if he would answer such an odd question.

Don't worry. I will not withhold my tale. You'll have to excuse my frequent pauses, but I believe you can handle that. Can't you?

Today I shall tell you of an elf named Glissa Sunseeker. Glissa lived on the plane of Mirrodin, a world currently overrun by Phyrexians, but it wasn't always so.

The old man pauses to munch on some cauliflower.

As I have explained in previous tales, Mirrodin was a world of wonderful life infused with artifacts. Entirely unique ecosystems and races lived and adapted to the world, and their worst fear was the crazed machine named Memnarch.

Glissa was born in the Tangle during the end of Memnarch's reign. In fact, it was Glissa herself who brought down Memnarch, along with the help of some friends. But I get ahead of myself; her life didn't start in the role of a hero.

When Glissa was young, the elves belonged to a very stringent society. Led by the trolls, guardians of Tel-Jilad, the elves worshipped the Tree of Tales. On its surface, the entire history of Mirrodin was transcribed for all to see. The elves did as the trolls bade to protect the Tree of Tales and keep outsiders at bay. This was their life, and they did not see a need to change.

Glissa grew up within this structure, but she did not fit. She distrusted the trolls, and refused to follow the other elves in having their memories "cleansed." As a result, Glissa began to have visions—or hallucinations depending on who you questioned—and these only strengthened her skepticism. They also served a secondary role, alienating Glissa from many of her fellow elves.

The old man stops again to take a large bite out of a kumquat.

Despite her distrust of the trolls, Glissa lived a fairly happy life as a child, eventually learning to ignore what she called "flares." One or two young elves stuck by her side, and her family loved her. It was when she became an adult that she was thrust into true turmoil and terror.

One dark night, Glissa was taken by the trolls in what she viewed as abduction. Ignoring their claims of protection, Glissa fought them and escaped their custody. It was only after returning home that she realized the truth in the trolls' words, for she found her home flattened into scrap metal and a group of levelers waiting for her. Though she fought, Glissa was vastly outmatched, and quickly fell to the machines. When she awoke, Glissa found herself trapped within a vast cavern, injured and with no idea of where she could be.

Fortune smiled upon her, however, and she soon found a fellow lost soul by the name of Slobad. An extremely gifted artificer and goblin, Slobad joined Glissa, and together they were able to escape the cavern.

I apologize for the simple explanation, but Glissa and Slobad never recorded much in the way of detail on their escape. When they did speak of their time together, it often involved their later adventures. I will stop flapping my lips and tell a small bit about that, but first, another bite!

The old man pops a few fiddleheads into his mouth before continuing.

Glissa's wound was serious, and the pair decided to heal her before any thoughts of returning home or seeking information could surface. Fortune smiled again for the elf, for Slobad had connections to the leonin kha, Raksha. The leonin of Mirrodin were renowned for their healing abilities, and the strange pairing of goblin and elf quickly set out for their capital, Taj-Nar.

When the two arrived from across Mirrodin's Glimmervoid Basin, Glissa found a surprise waiting. Raksha revealed that he had been attacked by levelers at the same moment as Glissa, bringing out suspicion and questions about her abduction. The two victims talked for hours, and promptly became good friends. After being mended by the leonin healers Glissa decided to forego a return home, and instead search for the hidden figure controlling events on Mirrodin.

I would like to relate the rest of my tale to you, but it seems I am almost out of food. It would also take a few days to explain the rest of Glissa's adventure in detail. So, I will summarize the rest, and you can read my books on the subject in the future.

Not at all interested in the old man's books, you are surprised to hear him state that you will be allowed to read them. It seems like such a sharp departure from his stance when you first met.

With the blessing of kha Raksha, Glissa and Slobad set off in search of answers. Their journey took them through the various environs of Mirrodin as well as multiple battles that nearly cost them their life. They met numerous powerful beings across the plane, including Geth of the Mephidross and Pontifax of Lumengrid. Eventually, they discovered the true puppeteer, Memnarch, and traveled deep into Mirrodin's core. They fought and lost, only to return years later and finally succeed in stopping the mad warden of Mirrodin.

In the end, many of Mirrodin's earliest inhabitants were returned to their home planes, and Glissa, along with Slobad and the head of Geth, were left as guardians of the plane. But that wasn't the end of Mirrodin's tale, nor Glissa's.

As the years wore on, stories of Glissa were told among the elves in the Tangle. With so few facts, and the strange disappearance of the trolls and many of their elders, they began to blame her for the changes that had come. She became a scapegoat, and was named a traitor to her people.

Funny that the elves used that word—traitor. Glissa ended up falling into a deep sleep, lengthened by the machines still working within the core. As she slept, the Phyrexian oil that would eventually corrupt the plane took hold of her. When she finally woke, she found the world had changed, and her allegiance along with it. She became exactly what the elvish stories told of—a traitor to her world.

With his final words, the old man eats the last of the nettles and sets the plate down.

That is enough for today. Be on your way, and I suppose I should thank you for the fresh food.

Without another word, the old man turns back to his desk, hunching over his books like a penniless thief protecting a loaf of bread. Knowing there is nothing left to hear, you depart the study, fighting to close the door against the rough wind still blowing.