Unpacking the Strange Space Between Worlds—And the Horrors That Live There
“There is a place between places, a time between time. Where thought collapses, and matter becomes undone. Where the screaming winds are made of fire, and the stars have teeth.”
—Ancient Thran proverb, source disputed
A Shimmering Madness Between Planes
The Blind Eternities is not a place, not in the way you and I understand places. It is not a realm you can live in, nor a battlefield you can draw maps of. It is not even a dimension with rules, not really. It is the space between all planes of existence in the Magic: The Gathering multiverse—a seething storm of raw mana, undefined reality, and elemental chaos. And for those few who can touch it, survive it, or worse, become part of it, the Blind Eternities is a name whispered with awe, terror, and wonder.
Imagine this.
You are falling—not through air, but through thought. Your body isn’t weightless; it isn’t at all. Flesh turns to color, then to feeling, then to scream. Blue fire crackles across your nerves like words you almost understand. You smell light. You taste time. And there is something out there—watching.
This is what it means to step into the Blind Eternities.
A Multiverse in Fractals
The multiverse of Magic is made up of countless planes—self-contained worlds, each with their own skies, laws of physics, ecosystems, and mythologies. Dominaria, Ravnica, Zendikar, Kamigawa, Innistrad—each is a bubble of reality, floating in a vast, unknowable sea.
And that sea? That un-space between bubbles? That’s the Blind Eternities.
It is not a void—it’s everything. All five colors of mana swirl there in their purest, wildest forms: white’s rigid geometry, blue’s swirling clouds of thought, black’s oily shadows, red’s screaming firestorms, green’s primal pulses. There are other forces too—ether, æther, and nameless currents older than mana itself.
This is what a Planeswalker must endure to leap between worlds. For a brief, soul-wrenching moment, they pass through this storm, their bodies reduced to sparks of will holding themselves together against dissolution.
That is why the Planeswalker’s Spark is more than a blessing—it’s a shield.
The Eldrazi: Things Born in the Blind
Not everything that touches the Blind Eternities is content to remain ephemeral.
The Eldrazi are perhaps the most terrifying expression of this space’s alien nature. Titans like Emrakul, the Aeons Torn, Ulamog, the Ceaseless Hunger, and Kozilek, Butcher of Truth do not come from any one plane. They are expressions of the Blind Eternities, forced into form. A scream made flesh. A concept given limbs. They do not eat in the way we understand—they unravel worlds. Their presence bends gravity, logic, and even time.
When the Eldrazi manifest in a plane, like they did on Zendikar, they are not fully there. Only a sliver of them can pass into our reality, like a shadow cast by something far, far larger. The rest stays behind—in the churning madness of the Blind Eternities.
It’s like poking a single finger through the surface of a pond. But the finger is a god, and the pond is your entire universe.
Navigating the Impossible
How does a Planeswalker survive it?
Older pre-Mending Walkers—gods in mortal skin—could travel the Eternities almost effortlessly. Their sparks were infinite, their minds vast. For them, it was like stepping through a curtain.
But post-Mending Walkers, after the magical cataclysm that reshaped time and space itself, must feel their way through. They use sheer willpower to maintain cohesion while flinging themselves between infinite chaos and fixed reality. For a heartbeat, their body is nothing but a suggestion. It is said that some never come out quite the same.
And then there are the unlucky few who tried to harness the Eternities itself. Project Lightning Bug. The Planar Bridge. Nicol Bolas’s twisted machinations. Each was an attempt to reach into that roiling madness and make it obey.
Each ended… badly.
What Lives There Now?
It’s hard to say.
We know that mana flows through the Blind Eternities, and that spells and knowledge sometimes leave traces there. It’s like graffiti on a hurricane. Whispers of forgotten incantations. Faint outlines of planes that have long since been lost—like Rabiah, like Serra’s Realm, like Muraganda.
There are hints, too, that the Blind Eternities is aware. That it is a living, pulsing thing, or at least that something within it is. A presence that sees through the folds of planes like eyes behind frosted glass.
Some claim this is where true gods might live—not the divinities of Theros or Amonkhet, but unknowable titans from before the concept of time. Others believe the Blind Eternities is a wound, a scar left from the creation of the multiverse, still bleeding raw magic.
And still others say that if you listen long enough, in the screaming void between planes, you can hear the names of planes that haven’t been born yet.
The Cost of Crossing
Even with a Spark, passage is not without cost.
Kaya once described the experience as being “peeled like an onion, rebuilt from bones outward, and reassembled on arrival.” Jace has hinted that each crossing leaves echoes in his mind—phantom thoughts from other Walkers, or perhaps other selves. Chandra claims she smells “burnt cinnamon and metal” every time.
It changes people.
Nissa once said that she could hear the trees of Zendikar weep in the Eternities. Whether that’s poetic or literal is hard to say. Either way, it’s telling.
Final Thoughts: Beauty in the Terror
The Blind Eternities is a paradox—utterly hostile, and yet the very thing that makes the multiverse possible. A roiling canvas of chaos and mana. A storm of creation and erasure. For Planeswalkers, it is the price of freedom. For Eldrazi, it is home. For the rest of us, it is a reminder that the Magic multiverse is far stranger, and far more terrifying, than any one world could ever be.
So the next time you cast a spell, or send a Planeswalker to battle, remember:
They had to walk through fire, madness, and stars with teeth just to arrive.
And something may have followed them through.