"You throw Squee at Yawgmoth. Squee can't die. Squee fight and fight and die and die and last of all kill Yawgmoth."

Tahngarth rumbled, "The idea has merit."

Desperation welled up in Squee's green eyes. "You not gonna!"

"Of course we're 'not gonna,' Squee," said Gerrard dismissively. "That's not our plan. It'd take a genius to come up with that plan. Do we look like a couple of geniuses?"

Embarrassed relief came to Squee's face. "Of course not. Give Squee hug!" He darted across the bridge and grabbed onto Gerrard's leg in much the attitude of an overeager dog.

"All right, Squee," said Gerrard, patting the fellow's warty head. "That'll do."

"Squee just so happy he don't fight Yawgmoth."

"Yes. That's fine now. Okay. You can stop."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"Squee!"

"Right," the goblin said, slinking back. His hobbling gait was made all the more unsteady by the sudden sinking of the ship. It slipped perceptibly downward, slowing in its turn. With a shudder, the engine started up again.

"That's my cue," said Gerrard with a sad smile. "Thanks, all of you. It's been great." With that, he turned and descended through the fore hatch.

Sisay and the others simply stood dumbfounded as Gerrard left, taking the Urza head with him.

The engine stalled a second time. Weatherlight jiggled, as if gently shaking them from their reverie.

"You heard the commander," Sisay said, her voice both quiet and authoritative. "Prepare for an emergency landing. Battle stations, everyone."

The others nodded and headed to their respective posts.

Tahngarth lingered a moment. He and Sisay had been the core of this crew long before Gerrard, yet both had grown to rely on the man.

Tahngarth rumbled quietly, "What do you think he has planned ?"

Sisay shook her head. "I don't know, but it'll be good."

Karn knelt beside the massive engine. He felt as though he were kneeling in prayer. He should have been.

It had been one thing to imbue a machine with his intelligence, his soul. It was quite another to keep a brain-dead body going as long as possible. Karn grieved for Weatherlight. He shuddered to move through her corpse, but unless he did, the ship would fall from the sky.

Gerrard and Urza at last arrived. They entered the steamy murk of the engine room and approached Karn. Gerrard knelt, setting the head of the planeswalker beside his knee. From Urza's strange eyes streamed a weird light.

"Hi, Karn," Gerrard said in just the way he used to as a boy.

"How's the engine?"

Karn lowered his gaze, seeing readouts scroll across his eyes. "Failing," he murmured softly.

Gerrard gave a tight smile. "Well, do your best. We have an idea-something that might save us all."

"I'm game," the silver golem responded.

Gerrard lifted Urza's head. "Tell him."

Urza's eyes twinkled. His mouth opened. Through blood-rimed lips, he spoke. "In my first battle against Yawgmoth, I became a planeswalker. In truth, I had been at war with my brother, Mishra, but when I discovered that he had become a minion of Yawgmoth's-a Phyrexian-I slew him with a fireball, and slew half the world with the sylex blast."

"Every child knows these stories," Karn said, his jaw gritting as the engine shut down yet again. The ship sagged in its orbit. It pitched to port, cutting a sharper line toward the mana column and Urborg. As he struggled to restart the machine, Karn said, "Forgive my tone. I did not mean to offend."

"You have not," Urza assured. "And though every child knows of the Brothers' War, few know that the Weak- and Mightstones that drove my brother and I in fact joined in the sylex blast in my head, making me a planeswalker. Fewer still know that these stones were once a single crystal, cleft to open a permanent portal between Phyrexia and Dominaria. And fewest of all know that these stones bear the personality of Glacian of Halcyon, the genius who had opposed Yawgmoth's rise to power. Glacian is imprinted in the crystals, the two halves of his bifurcated mind instructing me and Mishra in artifice. He knew from the start who Yawgmoth truly was. He shut Yawgmoth away for five thousand years. He empowered me to shut him away for four thousand more. If I sacrifice these two stones, make them part of Weatherlight's power matrix, it will produce such a blaze of power that Yawgmoth himself will be unmade."

"You know this?" asked Karn flatly.

"I believe this," replied Urza.

Karn nodded grimly. "Whether or not Yawgmoth is unmade by it, you will be, Urza Planeswalker."

"Yes, that is a certainty. As will you and Gerrard. He must remove the stones from my skull and place them within your chest, to complete, at last, the Legacy."

Karn looked up at the man he was sworn to protect. "Why must Gerrard do it? I could pull the stones from your head."

Urza blinked placidly. "Because he is not just the heir to the Legacy. He is a part of it, just like you. Engineered of flesh instead of metal, but an undeniable part. He is the spark that will catalyze the whole reaction. When he places the stones within you, the Legacy will be complete, and it will generate a field that will annihilate Yawgmoth ... and all of us."

Karn turned his eyes on Gerrard. "What choice have we?"

He smiled. "Only this choice. The choice of heroes."

Chapter 32.

Death Meets Death.

It was midnight over Urborg, a moonless midnight, thanks to Weatherlight. Even the cascade of white mana had ceased, absorbed in rocks and seas. It had been an easy thing for Yawgmoth to withdraw his presence while white mana encased all of central Urborg in a sarcophagus. Now, he closed over it all, he closed over the world.

Yawgmoth's hold on Dominaria was complete. His armies had taken Benalia, New Argive, Hurloon, Koilos, Tolaria, and Urborg. Yawgmoth had taken all the rest. Under his dark presence, it was midnight everywhere across the globe. Now to tighten his grip.

He descended slowly on them-every elf and minotaur and dwarf, every goblin and dragon and human-to slay them all, to save them all. None but his own children, his Phyrexians, would survive the night. All would be Phyrexians by morning.

There was but a single dissident-the burned-out goddess who had tried to slay him. Rebbec drifted above Urborg, a wandering planet, a dying star. She had killed herself in trying to kill him. Now she hovered, fearing the inevitable embrace. She could not remain aloft forever, and once he had slain all her world, he would turn his attentions to vaulting up the heavens and ripping her down.

Ah, but she came to him. With furtive side-slipping motions, Rebbec descended. She came with the coy movements of a faithless lover, seeking forgiveness. Yawgmoth would grant it to her, forgiveness and mercy. In grace, he would kill her, rend away her faithlessness, and raise her anew in him.

Ah, here she came. He would wait. When she was near enough, his tentacles would snatch her from the sky and crush her against his core.

"We're losing lots of altitude," came Sisay's voice from the speaking tube. Her words wrestled with the sounds of the engine. "I don't know how much longer we'll be able to stay above the cloud. Whatever you're going to do, you'd better do it now."

Sweat prickled across Gerrard's forehead. "Yes, Captain. We're doing it now."

He lifted the head of Urza Planeswalker and stared into that ancient face, those strange eyes. The lines of this visage had been etched into the minds of Dominarians for forty centuries. Fabled Urza Planeswalker had always been the world's mad protector, the strange guardian of Dominaria. Soon, he would be nothing at all.

"You must hurry," said Urza solemnly. A jolt from outside and a sudden whine from the engine underscored his words.

Through the speaking tube crowded Sisay's words. "It's a tentacle! Another tentacle! Tahngarth's chopping at it with your soul-halberd-but hurry. There will be more."

Gerrard nodded. Clutching the back of Urza's head in his left hand, he lifted his right hand for the horrible operation.

Positioning two fingers on either brow, nails digging in just above the eyelids, Gerrard said heavily, "Good-bye, Urza."

"Good-bye, Dominaria," responded the planeswalker.

Gritting his teeth, Gerrard rammed his fingers into the man's eye orbits. The lids folded back under that insistent pressure, and fingertips curled along the interior of the sockets. The smooth facets of the stones gave way to sharp jaggedness behind. Strength-enhanced fingers closed on the crystals. Gerrard pulled. Urza's lips drew in tight agony over clenched teeth. With one more grisly yank, the stones came forth.

The head suddenly stilled. The muscles slackened. A strange look came to that ancient face, a look that could only have been called peace. Never before had the lines of Urza's face shown peace.

Gerrard gripped the gory halves of the stone, one in either hand to keep them apart. He knew the stories of Koilos and the explosive power of the stones when set together. He even knew of Radiant, the angel who had plucked these stones free once before and set them together to her annihilation. Gerrard clutched the Might- and Weakstones to his chest, his heart thundering as he looked at the dead head of Urza. It was as though all the care-lines in that old face had been etched anew on Gerrard's.

The ship jolted to port-another tentacle-and the engine sputtered under the new assault.

"Karn," Gerrard said breathlessly, "open the hollow of your chest. Open the trove of the Legacy."

Still kneeling beside the engine, Karn activated the internal subroutine that slid open the panels of his heart. Once, he had stored many of the Legacy items within these hollows. Now all were incorporated into the engine of Weatherlight, all except the eyes of Urza, and Gerrard himself. Once all were joined within him, Urza's greatest weapon would be complete.

Gerrard leaned forward. His hands clenched in bloody fists to his chest. He extended them. They trembled. The eyes of Urza. The soul of Glacian. The heart of Karn. The will of Gerrard. The salvation of the world ...

Reaching into Karn's chest, Gerrard gingerly placed the Might- and Weakstones where his heart would have been. He positioned them side by side, with their ragged edges adjacent.

Steadying his gory fingers, Gerrard gasped, "Here goes nothing-"

"Too late!" came Sisay's shout from above. The ship sank so suddenly that Gerrard floated from the floorboards into midair. "Yawgmoth has us! He has us!"

Tentacle after black tentacle arced over the rails and took hold. It was as though the clouds below were made up of a million kraken with eight million arms, and every last one gripped Weatherlight. Tahngarth had used Gerrard's soul-halberd very well against the first dozen or so, but now the minotaur could only reel into the tiny patch of empty deck. He swung the halberd, but it was no good.

With a terrible sucking sound, Weatherlight was yanked down into the dark cloud. Black walls rose on all sides, curled into a ceiling above the crippled ship, and began to descend. Weatherlight was in the heart of Yawgmoth.

Though Gerrard floated into the steamy air of the engine room, his hands remained upon the eyes of Urza, within the heart of Karn. Gritting his teeth, he forced the two stones together.

Immediate light erupted. It poured from every fissure along Karn's frame, and more-from every crack in the huge engine block of Weatherlight. The two were one, but it wasn't just two. It was Weatherlight and Karn, the Skyshaper, the Juju Bubble, the Thran Tome, the Bones of Ramos, the Null Rod, the Mana Rig core, and the Eyes of Urza all empowered by Serra's Realm, dozens of souls, the mind of Glacian, and the will of Gerrard. Together, these pieces made the ultimate weapon, not something Urza had designed whole cloth but something he had pieced together out of every arcane artifact and otherworldly power he could gather. As disparate and multifarious as these single pieces were, as mad as the mind that had assembled the puzzle, together, they formed a new thing. A new being.

Weatherlight had seemed godlike before, bathed in the radiance of the Null Moon, but then her power had been only borrowed. This new incarnation was truly divine. It was no longer Weatherlight or Karn or Urza or Glacian or Gerrard, but all of them.

All this, Gerrard perceived in but a moment as he hung between the plunging floor and the dripping ceiling. Then power struck him and hurled him against the wall. It was not painful, not really, for he was blind and deaf in the first keen stroke of it-power so sharp it cut painlessly. Something heavy struck his chest. In reflex he clutched it. Fingers found the orbits they had emptied moments before. He held the skull of Urza even as it dissolved in the onslaught of power. Then Gerrard's own fingers dissolved.

This was the end. The sense of touch died. A sharp breath obliterated smell too, and no doubt his nose was gone with the rest of his face, and his tongue, for there was nothing to taste. How strangely painless it was to die. Not just painless, but beautiful.

Though he had no eyes, Gerrard saw the beaming light that engulfed him. Though he had no ears, he heard the sweet soft voice that called his name. Though he had no hands, he reached out and grasped her hand, and walked away.

Gerrard was gone. Urza too. Soon Karn would join them.

Karn knew it. He was not as he had been. Nothing would ever be as it had been.

It was like kneeling in the center of a star. There was no matter, only ubiquitous energy. There was no space, only absolute pressure. Even if he still had his eyes, they were only holes through which the raving light could pour. Karn struggled to hold onto the engine, but his hands had melted away. His body turned to liquid.

He knelt at the center of a star, but why kneel?

Karn straightened. His body flowed all around him. Pure energy pitted and melted and alloyed with silver. He had lost half his bulk already. He felt light, like a leaf in a fire. Somehow at the same time, he felt full-burgeoning. There were essences within him, not solid things but the eternal soul of things. He sensed the Heart of Xantcha in his head, and the Eyes of Urza in his chest. He felt the Bones of Ramos, and the hundred thousand words of the Thran Tome.

Minds. They all were minds. They spoke to him-Urza, Xantcha, Ramos, the Thran Tome. Oracles, perhaps, or maybe just a village of well-meaning loudmouths. But all lived in him, a happy crowd.

In their midst spoke one voice clearer, cleaner than all the rest. A woman's voice, glad to have survived: Weatherlight.

The center of this star was crowded. Anywhere was crowded now, Karn knew, with this glad clamor in his head. Still, he could use a breath of fresh air. It was a strange concept. In a millennium of life, he had never taken a breath. Now he wanted one.

Stranger still, Karn simply stepped away from the star into another world, to a peaceful place he had heard of- the Navel of the World. There, on Mercadia, within the dense forest of the Rush wood, Karn stood beside the fountain of Cho-Manno, and he breathed.

In all her years at the helm, Sisay had never faced so bleak a proposition.

Yawgmoth surrounded the ship. His tentacles clutched every baluster. His black soul settled now toward Tahngarth. While every other crew member sheltered below deck-and, of course, Squee clutched Sisay's legs- Tahngarth yet fought the Lord of Phyrexia. He was the bravest creature Sisay had ever met, but what good would it do? Even now, as he took slices from the constricting legs of the god, Yawgmoth whirled down low to tear his own legs away.

Then came Gerrard's salvation. Light. From every grain, from every fold and panel on the vast ship, light poured. She seemed a giant sponge that had absorbed all she could of the radiance that lit her belly and now oozed it in thick concentration outward. Luminescence enveloped Tahngarth, as gentle as a rising balm. When it reached the soul-killing halberd he wielded, the weapon burned away with blinding incandescence.

Yawgmoth shied back. The cloud that had descended blackly upon ship and crew recoiled from this presence but not quickly enough.

The light recognized the true soul-killer-Yawgmoth. Unlike the white mana that had dumbly poured down upon this god before, this radiance moved with a will. It leaped out from Weatherlight and could no longer be contained.

Radiance stabbed into the heart of midnight, driving home its sacred spikes. It not only burned Yawgmoth but sluiced through him, seeking his black core. This was a voracious light.

It crawled through the Lord of Death, throwing wide every ventricle and sepulcher and bathing them with a new dawn. Purity killed Yawgmoth from the inside out.

Sisay saw it all. Bathed in radiance herself, she clutched the helm and guided Weatherlight through the cloud. Blackness burned before them. It opened channels to the sky, which lightened with the sun's rays.