Eternity swirled around them, and Vendon's stomach churned within him. The strange void they seemed to fly through felt as if it was made of razorblades, filleting his flesh off with every inch they traveled—and they seemed to be moving at an incredible speed, traveling millions of miles. Of course, he also felt like he was standing completely still, immobilized, paralyzed, utterly helpless.
With an inaudible snap that Vendon seemed to feel, rather than hear, reality collapsed into place around him once more. No longer was he standing under the large weeping willow in the middle of his park, the familiar scenery now replaced with marble floors walls. Barely able to control his rapid breathing, he glanced around to see his girlfriend, Stona, shuddering next to him, with his best friend Bennet on the other side, who made a hacking noise before unloading the days breakfast on the ornate floor. Bennet's brother, Trav, stood next to him, looking as if he was torn between patting his younger brother's back consolingly and throwing up himself.
In front of them all stood the strange man who had approached them in the park, the man who had instigated all of this strangeness. The man who had, apparently, kidnapped them. He was tall, with shoulder-length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and eyes that had no visible pupils or cornea, but instead seemed to be formed of molten gold.
“I assure you, the first travel through the Multiverse is always the worst. You'll get used to it, in time.”
“You son of a bitch!” Vendon roared, in a decidedly uncharacteristic fit of rage. He reached within himself, recalling the Arcturus Plains north of his hometown of Onegas, drawing power from the memory, shaping it just like he had for the first time last week, before throwing his hand out in front of him, letting loose the energy in the form of a blazing white sword.
The man in front of him frowned, almost imperceptibly, his fingers making a small design in the air. Vendon felt the power he summoned fade from him, and the sword he was forming with it seemed to falter during creation, dissolving in the air like a glowing white smoke in the wind.
“I tussled with Mishra, boy,” the man said, a stern look on his face. “With Urza. Yes, I was there at the Brother's War, countless years before you were a twinkle in your father's eye. I have fought demons, and wrestled control of them. I have faced angels, and had them bow before me. Dragons that have lived for thousands of years are at my beck and call.” Slowly, he walked closer to the young man, before placing two fingers under his chin and tilting his head up so that their eyes stared into each other. “I'm afraid you're not quite evenly matched with me.”
Bennet stood straight, wiping his mouth on his tunic. “What do you want with us, then?” he asked, his voice quivering.
The man looked in his direction and seemed to deflate. He sighed. “I want to teach you,” he said. “If I wanted to hurt you, you would have already been destroyed in EbonHurst. And I tell you the truth when I say that it was a valid possibility. Four sparks igniting at once, all on the same plane, amongst friends? It's unthinkable. Unprecedented. Absolutely impossible. And yet, it happened, not a week ago, and that is something remarkable. Had I not traveled to EbonHurst to yank you out of there myself, I guarantee you that another Walker would have. It most assuredly would have been a more...unkind meeting, if you catch my drift.”
Stona sank to the ground, a look of puzzled despair on her face. “I have no idea what's going on, here,” she finally said, hanging her head so that her long, lustrous blonde hair covered her face. “We're going to die, aren't we? I knew something like this would happen. As soon as all of those freaky things started happening to us. I know enough about sorcerers, warlocks, wizards, to know that none of us fit the bill for one of those.”
The man snorted. “Hardly. They pale in comparison to the might of a Planeswalker, that I can assure you.” He offered her a hand, and she reluctantly took it before being pulled to her feet once more. The man looked at each of them in turn, before saying, “Planeswalkers are a breed apart from everything you've known before. We alone have the ability to travel the Multiverse, exploring realities that sometimes defy logic. We have the ability to draw power from each of these planes, using this raw mana to our own ends, to summon allies under our control, or cast fantastic spells.
“One in every million sentient beings born across the Multiverse is born with the spark, the raw potential to become a Planeswalker. Of those, only one in every billion actually awakens that spark, gaining the ability to draft mana from the planes. And each of you have done that. Now, if you prefer, I can take you back to your plane of EbonHurst. You can experiment with your abilities on your own. And in maybe as long as a month's time, another Walker will seek you out, and they will not have nearly as kind of intentions as I have. If you're lucky, you'll die quickly.
“Or, I can show you to your individual rooms, have the servants prepare a feast for tonight, and begin teaching you how to use your newfound abilities on the morrow. Which would you prefer?”