Balance

Author's Note: This story is based on Shadows over Innistrad, the upcoming MTG set, and its spoiled/leaked information, cards, and artwork. There is practically nothing in this story that's been confirmed as true canon lore yet. This is the artwork that primarily inspired the story.

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Regret was not an emotion Sorin Markov felt often.

He had lived far too long by his whims to let regret guide his thoughts or actions. It was not an emotion that was needed in his life, so he had cut it out best he could. It had been many, many years since he had last felt the pull of regret on his heart.

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There were still unsolved problems running amok on his plane. Nahiri was still on the loose, hellbent on vengeance. There was a demonic cult that would soon enact what would likely be the biggest demon summoning in the history of the plane. And both the humans and vampires were in complete disarray, but for different reasons. Yet Sorin had returned to the ravaged Markov Manor for none of these things. The plane's balance had to be reestablished.

No one should understand the balance of Innistrad more than the being standing in front of him.

"Avacyn."

The bloodsoaked archangel met his gaze evenly, black on gold. "Vampire."

Sorin sensed rather than saw the telepath and the moon sage begin to retreat. He was glad they had sense, especially if he could use their help in the near future. Avacyn's strange blooodlust was insatiable and the telepath already looked half-dead. The vampiric planeswalker was likely the only person on the plane able to subdue his creation.

"What has happened to you." It was more of an observation than a question.

"I do not understand." Avacyn tipped her head, bloody wings rustling. "I am the light of all true believers, the pinnacle of faith people have in the holy magics. I am their guiding force, their lamp in the dark, their sword against evil. My light is eternal, and those who cast shadows must be smited down. I am salvation."

"No." Sorin shook his head wearily. "You were."

The battle was short but brutal. There was a reason Sorin had created Avacyn to be one of the most powerful beings on Innistrad. It took extraordinary power to match her when she was at her best. Even the moon sage and the telepath, both extremely powerful mages in their own right, wouldn't stand a chance against Avacyn in this state. But Sorin was far older, far stronger than them. He had been old before their ancestors had been conceived, and had been a god before planeswalkers were depowered. Not to mention he created Avacyn; he used to know her better than she knew herself, before this transformation.

It didn't matter. He knew her well enough to do the right thing for Innistrad.

Eventually Avacyn collapsed, unable to stand up to her maker. Sorin turned his back to her as she started dissolving into black spectral energy. He sheathed his sword.

"It is finished," Sorin stated. He clenched his left fist, ending the spell. Avacyn immediately exploded into black smoke, quickly dissipating. Sorin continued to stare straight forward even as he destroyed his greatest creation.

The mind mage broke a long silence. "It's over."

"Not entirely," Sorin rebuked. "I still have to figure out a way to stop my plane from falling into chaos and end a feud with another planeswalker. I expect you to help as well." He ignored the telepath's splutterings as he strode away from the scene.

Yes, this encounter had been necessary. Innistrad's balance was now more stable without Avacyn and her madness. Not perfect, but a step in the right direction. There was no way to recreate Avacyn, but he'd find a way to save Innistrad regardless.

Still, Sorin thought he felt something deep within his heart that he hadn't for countless years. It was faint, making it hard to guess, but it almost seemed like regret.