Bolas - Invisibility or Planeswalking

Tezzeret shrugged. '"Bolas does not wait for you,"' he quoted. '"You wait for Bolas."'

"I've never cared for that expression." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, carried on the wind, echoing throughout the canyon. It was deep, the rumble of the mountain's roots as the earth shifted slowly above; it resounded in their ears, utterly unimpeded by the raging blizzard. "It makes me sound so pompous. I despise other people making me sound pompous."

The canyon before them began to darken, as something unimaginably huge took shape. "I prefer," the voice continued, "to do it myself."

And then he was simply there. The eldest plane-swalker. The Forever Serpent. Nicol Bolas.

He filled the canyon, a living mountain of muscle and scale, fire and fang. His dark hide shown green against the backdrop of blinding white; the smoke that rose from his nostrils was thick and red, and rain fell from the heavens where the heat of his breath melted the falling sleet. Vast wings spread wide, extending hundreds of feet from the chasm on each side-and then, impossibly, he drew them in, tucked them tightly against his body and lowered himself to the canyon's floor. The great head turned, aiming a single eye at the two insignificant humans, and within they saw themselves reflected in a black and bottomless abyss.

***

Agents of Artifice, Chapter 16