Hour of Devastation as Told by Flavor Text

"On every plane, there are those who run toward danger." —Gideon Jura

The angels did not deceive. From the start, they were clear their allegiance was to the God-Pharaoh and to him alone.

"This storm will calm. We must believe that."

"It is evidence that some pure corner of the world must still exist." —Djeru, former Tah-crop initiate

In the chaos brought by the new gods, swift-winged aven served as pathfinders, leading the last of the people away from the ruins of Naktamun.

Without the viziers to oversee their actions, some anointed went to extreme lengths to fulfill their directives.

"I was promised an afterlife, not this. Samut was right. The God-Pharaoh lied." —Djeru, former Tah-crop initiate

Buildings crumbled and monuments fell. The river bled and the sky wept tears of fire. All the while, servants silently continued their work, oblivious to it all.

"Gideon, how easy it must be to play the protector when you think yourself untouchable. How wrong you are." —Nicol Bolas

"This is the final trial! Rejoice, for the God-Pharaoh soars among us!"

In the first moments, the gate to the afterlife opened, and the people were prostrate in the light of the God-Pharaoh.

"It appears some mummies have begun to observe a hierarchy all their own." —Elekh, vizier of embalming

"Oketra's arrow is my spear, and her love my shield."

To the end, all Oketra did was for others.

The sands of Amonkhet can be as much a boon as a bane. It depends entirely on which way the wind blows.

The arrival of the God-Pharaoh marked a betrayal of both gods and mortals.

Deserts are inhospitable, not uninhabitable.

In the midst of disaster, heroic acts became almost ordinary, and ordinary warriors became heroes.

Outnumbered, but not outmatched.

"Kefnet taught us to turn obstacles into advantages." —Neponem, vizier of Kefnet

"Our best chance against the Eternals will be tactics they've never seen and styles they've never trained in."

The Eternals had long since mastered every technique taught during the trials.

Initiates who had been through the Trial of Knowledge learned to see everything as pieces of a larger puzzle.

"If creating the Eternals was Bolas's plan here, what is his plan for the Eternals?" —Jace Beleren

Those wound tightest are first to unravel.

To serve as an eternal is the afterlife granted to the worthy.

Liliana always knew Jace's illusions would come in handy.

"I had hoped for more from you, Jace. But I expected as much." —Nicol Bolas

In his final moments, Kefnet reached into the minds of those around him, desperate for logic within the consuming chaos.

The sphinxes began to speak only after the Second Sun aligned. They whispered dire warnings, though no one listened.

"It's not wise to keep glory waiting."

"The truth? It's been here all along. The Hours as we understood them are lies."

"They were once our brothers and sisters." —Etha, former Rhet-crop initiate

"Bolas remade this place in his image. He has the advantage here. We must approach carefully." —Jace Beleren

The denizens of the Luxa River woke angry on the currents of blood.

The Locust God's children were numberless, relentlessly eating away every trace of the city's protection.

Though Kefnet's followers feverishly searched his last words for some final riddle, they found only the gurgles of a dying god.

Skills mastered by initiates are preserved within cartouches, so Eternals remain adept at their preferred combat styles.

"If I die, it will not be alone."

To the last, Bontu wanted only to be first among the God-Pharaoh's subjects.

The banished have come home to roost.

"This place has outlived its usefulness." —Nicol Bolas

No cartouches to earn. No afterlife to enter. Only the glory of a well-struck blow and the growing pile of felled enemies at her feet.

The gods of the trials also faced the opportunity to prove themselves worthy.

For many years, servant mummies toiled in the mines to extract lazotep. The emergence of the Eternals revealed the sacred substance's true purpose.

Initiates once believed defeat was the worst fate possible—a sentiment they quickly abandoned.

"All the power you have gathered for yourself, Liliana, I can take away." —Nicol Bolas

The dead that swept across Naktamun came in all shapes and sizes.

With the Hekma destroyed, the wandering dead that sought entrance to Naktamun had free rein to lay waste to the city.

"My work here is complete. The people have done everything required of them." —Nicol Bolas

Before the monuments, before the first trials, before Naktamun itself, Bolas culled the plane of its adults in order to rebuild it for his own designs.

Liliana insisted on coming to Amonkhet to confront one of the two remaining demons to whom she is bound.

"The blood ritual is complete. The end approaches."

From every shadow came the dull scratch of teeth on bones.

Yell for help, and that may answer.

"Your God-Pharaoh has returned."

Like a carpet unrolling for their god, the scarabs poured out from the necropolis.

The Scorpion God's sting sends venom strong enough to poison blood, bone, and spirit.

The glyphs writhed and twisted, spewing out dark, vengeful magic.

Perfectly adapted to cross the wastes in life, they bring the wastes with them in death.

The desert is a voracious beast, devouring both flesh and stone.

Samut battled her way through the hordes, shouting the names of those who'd died in her crop and those she hoped yet to save.

"There is no afterlife. Not for me, and not for you. So think again before getting in my way."

"Fire? Is that your only trick, Chandra?" —Nicol Bolas

The food chain doesn't end at sandwurms.

"We have to get out of the city, Djeru. All of us! Gather as many as you can." —Samut, former Tah-crop initiate

There were those who saw the death of the gods and the city's collapse as a final test of worth. Some believed it meant the God-Pharaoh had been killed. Only a few realized they had been deceived.

"Everyone here is a honed fighter. We'll respond the only way we know how."

A word of vengeance, and her arrows awaken in flame.

The God-Pharaoh's benevolence concealed the factory he created to produce an army of Eternals.

The plating of its horns is a token of honor from Hazoret, who favors creatures with great hearts.

"That one's not mine. Run!" —Nissa Revane

"Everything here exists or perishes at my whim. Including you, Gatewatch." —Nicol Bolas

"When the whole world is crazy, it's important to find something you can rely on."

"There is no tomorrow, so hold nothing back."

The minotaur stared at the Eternal bearing down on him—the embodiment of deadly skill he had aspired to become.

Sand into glass and flesh into ash—such are the markers of its domain.

While most Eternals were initiates who completed the trials, Bolas had plans for some of Amonkhet's other denizens.

"This is what glory looks like." —Nicol Bolas

Some khenra archers fashion their arrows with a personal touch.

"Neither the false God-Pharaoh nor his bugs will decide our fate." —Samut, former Tah-crop initiate

The bombardment of sand disorients, chokes, and ultimately tenderizes its prey.

Those who fled the destruction of the city stumbled into the territory of their prickly neighbors.

"Spent a lifetime learning from predators. Picked up a few tricks."

Though buried and muffled, nature's whisper still called to Nissa.

"Remember, brother, the eyes are always vulnerable." "I never forgot."

When Rhonas fell, his followers stirred with newfound strength—a final gift from a god they thought indomitable.

The desert had once been a place of endless horror. It was now the last refuge as the city of Naktamun fell.

Once favored companions, many cats were left to fend for themselves.

It basks atop the rubble of Rhonas's monument, which still pulses with latent power.

"What greater testament can there be to Rhonas's lessons?"

She trusts that the potent poisons of her darts will reach the enemy before the enemy reaches her.

Some refused to leave their shattered homes, vowing to rebuild at any cost.

With the Hekma breached and its protection removed, the deserts swept in.

"If you believe the God-Pharaoh tests you, charge with me to prove yourself. If you believe he betrayed us all, join with me to fight for tomorrow!" —Samut, former Tah-crop initiate

"The soul of this world is gone, Nissa, and I would gladly kill it again." —Nicol Bolas

"It's only the end if we allow it."

"Forward! Until the horizon is ours!" —Khemses, charioteer

"The ruin of the past is the topsoil of the future." —Sokar, former Nef-crop initiate

"Respect is earned through deeds—or the capacity to bite someone in half." —Sana, former Ahn-crop initiate

"This world was once so much more than the confines of Naktamun."

Rhonas continued to fight until his last breath and even beyond.

"Give me some room."

"Those who embrace the harsh land rather than fight it find they have a powerful ally." —Nissa Revane

"Rhonas's monument belongs to the wurms now. Look elsewhere for refuge." —Arnun, vizier of the menagerie

The crocodiles of the Broken Lands, long used to feeding on undead flesh, eagerly flooded into Naktamun for a taste of something fresher.

The destruction of Rhonas's monument released his collection upon the city.

"We are crops no longer. Reap elsewhere."

"It's a cruel thing to give such a sad song to such a colorful creature." —Sana, former Ahn-crop initiate

"We are no longer in control." —Elekh, vizier of embalming

Although long since dead, the banished dissenters finally took their vengeance.

The God-Pharaoh's angels stripped former initiates of their cartouches and the fortifying magic they provided.

Ironically, the statues had been constructed as a warning.

The embodiment of yearning, forever drifting the deserts to find what had once made it whole.

"Though the afterlife, the city, and even the God-Pharaoh himself were one great deception, the ideals championed by the gods remain true." —Djeru, former Tah-crop initiate

Most mirrors show your reflection. Others show your potential.

Decades to build. Hours to demolish.

"Why wander in search of a new home when the path is laid out before you?" —Pytamun, former Nef-crop initiate

The dead entered as worthy. They exited as Eternals.

The Curse of Wandering permeated Amonkhet long before Nicol Bolas. He simply harnessed it.

Amonkhet's desiccated land thirsts for blood.

When the last scrap of flesh is scoured away, the Curse of Wandering ends. Then the dead may sleep.

"What will happen to us?" they asked. The vizier paused. "I think . . . I think that's up to us now."

"All can't be lost. Nissa has shown me that."

Life will find a way, or it will make one.

"Bolas's power on this plane can't be absolute. Look around you." —Nissa Revane

As the Second Sun glided into its final position in the sky, a chorus of wings sounded to herald the return of Nicol Bolas.

The God-Pharaoh's most devoted took it upon themselves to follow his example.

"I do as I choose with what is mine. And it is all mine." —Nicol Bolas