Hymn to Tourach

The randomness is the entire design. Discarding two cards for two mana is a brutal rate, and the "at random" clause is what keeps it from becoming a precision instrument: the caster does not get to surgically strip the answer they fear, they get to thin the hand and let variance decide which two cards fall. The cost of that efficiency is selection. Where black's other two-card discard effects hand the choice to the target, who can shed the dead cards and keep the live ones, this spell takes that choice away from everyone and gives it to the dice instead. The opponent cannot protect a key card, but the caster cannot guarantee they hit one; the rate is bought with that uncertainty rather than with symmetry, since nothing here touches the caster's own hand. Cast in the earliest windows, against an opponent still developing and short on cards to spare, it functionally reads as a two-for-one before either player has committed to a plan, which is the whole proposition: spend your first turn or two to widen the resource gap, then ride the advantage. The flavor pulls in the same direction, evoking a corrupting chant that scatters thought rather than excising a single memory, which lines up with the mechanic better than most discard spells manage. It remains one of the cleanest statements of what cheap black disruption is supposed to feel like: cruel, slightly random, and over before the opponent has a turn to answer.