Omenpath to Naya

Vanishing is the whole gag here, and it works because it sits on the one permanent type that is supposed to be permanent. A land that fixes for the three Naya colors is nothing; a land that fixes for exactly four upkeeps before it sacrifices itself is a punchline dressed as fixing. The typeline names an Omenpath, the multiversal doorway threaded through recent story sets, so the four time counters read as flavor made mechanical: the road stays open only briefly before it closes behind you. What lands under the humor is a real tension, because a land normally represents durability, and this one is priced as a resource that expires, paying out three colors while a clock ticks down every upkeep. That makes it a strange thing to lean on: a land you cannot count on holding is a land you have to spend before it spends you. The design lives comfortably in the tradition of cards built to be funny first and functional a distant second, where the reward is the double-take at the oracle text rather than a slot in any deck. Watching a permanent behave like a countdown is the category error that sells the bit, and the fixing is real enough that the eventual sacrifice stings a little (it goes to the graveyard, not exile, so it at least remains available to whatever recursion cares to fetch a doomed road back).