As you approach the study you see the heavy oak door slightly ajar. A thin shaft of light cuts into the hallway as if it was a fresh wound from a sharp sword. The blood red carpet in the hallway only makes the image stronger. You peek inside to see Issar Roon hunched over a thick book on the edge of his desk. As the weight of your foot causes a floorboard to creak, he turns and sees you peering in.

Ah, I see you have returned once again. Perhaps you are becoming interested in the vast knowledge of my library and I?

The heavy book balances precariously on top of dozens of other worn and beaten volumes, all looking older than the last. It appears as if the only thing preventing the book from falling is the long-forgotten tales underneath. He sees your gaze and his eyes shine with a smile.

Yes, I was just reading this passage on a very old planeswalker. Serra, her name was. Perhaps you have heard of her? No? Then come in. I will tell you a beautiful tale about one of the most beloved planeswalkers there ever was. But I warn you! It does not end happily like some silly love story.

You hesitantly step towards the old man and look for a place to sit. You see nothing in the room but books, scrolls, and parchment. The stools present during your first visit have mysteriously disappeared. Issar Roon sees the dismay on your face and gestures for you to sit on the floor.

It will be more pleasant for you if you ignore the mess and make yourself comfortable.

Seeing a soft-looking carpet covered in some ancient symbol you walk slightly to the right of his desk. With only a small portion of the symbol revealed you can only guess as to its meaning, and so sit down and ignore it.

Little is known about the beginnings of Serra. Most say she was named after a goddess, but a few believe she was the goddess herself. Either way, she became to be revered as a goddess during her lifetime.

Why? Well, she created her own plane, among other things. I imagine most people would feel the need to fear or worship such a being.

He sees your mouth open, and waves a hand for you to close it and be patient.

No, no. Beings who create planes are not that common. I apologize if I’ve given you that belief. You see, the stories I derive the greatest enjoyment from telling are the most fantastic. And well… I would say that powerful beings who create whole worlds on their own can be considered fantastic. Would you not agree?

He motions for you to stand and look at the book with him. As you bend over, making sure not to accidentally knock a supporting book out, you begin to make out sketches of a fabulous world.

Serra’s plane was not like Phrexia at all. In fact, one might say they can be compared to each other as day and night would be. Phrexia was a hive of evil and death, but this plane was filled with white mana. In fact, even though all five colors of mana existed, Serra banned the use of black mana for fear of corrupting the plane’s essence. Because white mana dominated the plane, it was a plane of law and order. Among the many beings that lived there, one stood out, angels. Many stories tell of Serra’s Angels, and their devotion to her. Following her out of their own free will, they upheld order within the plane, and dealt punishment to those who would do evil.

Floating islands were created so that all of Serra’s followers would have a place to dwell. The sun was permanently set on the horizon, as if it were rising anew each time one looked. Indeed, even the flowers were in bloom at all times. It was a paradise created in Serra’s image.

He hesitates to go on, as if saying anything further would ruin the beautiful images forming in your mind. Slowly, he speaks again.

Sadly, her paradise would not last. In fact, it was Phrexia that altered Serra’s realm. You see, Urza appeared on the plane after being wounded in an attack by Phrexians. Serra, with her mind and heart devoted to healing, allowed Urza to stay and rest. Eventually, he thanked Serra and left to continue his journey. Unknown to Serra, the Phrexians were pursuing Urza, and attacked her realm. Her angels and followers fought bravely, but the Phrexians brought with them massive amounts of black mana. Her plane became corrupt, and she was forced to flee what was no longer paradise.

You wait, expecting the old man to continue his story, but he remains silent for a long time. Finally, he moves and casts an angry look towards you.

What are you doing still here? Get out! I’m an old man and cannot be bothered by prying eyes and curious minds!

Surprised, you move quickly to the door and pull the heavy thing closed behind you. Your last image is of Issar Roon bent over the book with his head in his hands.

This is a work of fiction based on the stories and entries provided by Wizards about some of the early characters. The author takes some liberty with the story for dramatic purposes. So the story portrayed here may not be the exact story according to Magic Canon. The author has found references and art to use in the following locations: Encyclopedia Phyrexianna and the MTG Salvation Wiki. Written by Brendan Weiskotten.