Prologue
The Weeping Seer sat immobile in his crystal pavilion walled up with golden living metal of the Ancestors. In half-slumber he reached out beyond the psychic shields plunging into the fickle tides of tainted aether. The Womb of Destruction was never calm, its roiling waves ceaselessly carried the lost craftworld round and round the warp whirlpool.
Voices of enticement and danger were never silent in this cursed place. Almost caught by She-who-thirsts, Craftworld Altansar couldn't rely on the intricate warp-crafts of their race anymore. No one but the Seer ever dared to look into the Sea of Souls as all the others had almost given up their warp-sight, many even choosing the path of a Solitaire. Dire need forced the doomed denizens to uncover long-forgotten heirlooms in the deepest, darkest parts of the Webway.
Many a brave explorer ventured out for the fabled derelict cities, and the Weeping Seer guided then, unraveled twisted strands of their futures to deliver them from harm. Some returned with warp-worn pylons, some brought the most precious living material feared by the Neverborn. The Ancestors used to grow it like wraithbone, he knew from the old lore, but somehow had managed to make it resist the never-ending warp corrosion.
'You have arrived, Eitleog Nightfall.' The Weeping Seer awoke from his contemplation when the Exarch approached the pavilion. 'The Harvester of Souls still far away, I can trust this to no other than the Shrine of Relentless Time.'
'What have you seen there today, Seer?' The answer came in a sinister whisper.
'A stranger desires to rob the Crooked Sky of its abhorrent secret.'
'This has happened for many times since we sealed the abomination's hall.'
The Weeping Seer felt the sickening smell of musk and blood once he recalled the cursed craftworld. 'The stranger bears a mark not seen since the Defilement of Iarmailt. I see countless of our kind dead in every future where he retrieves what he seeks. A foe long forgotten, a foe of insatiable hunger even the Ancestors feared.'
Eitleog Nightfall touched the barrel of his weapon. 'My cannon never misses.'
'If I only needed a warrior who can shoot straight, would I have called upon you?'
'The Vault hasn't been opened while I've been wearing the Reaper's mask.' Now Eitleog couldn't hide his trouble from the Seer's psychic glance.
'I would have advised you to awaken the Avatar on Iarmailt but Altansar cannot allow the finest of its fighters to sacrifice himself without truly extreme need.'
'One who is already one with death isn't afraid of dying.'
The Weeping Seer closed his eyes, ready to continue his dream-quest into the countless futures. 'Up to you to decide, Exarch. Yet you should haste as two more figures have just been added to the board. Insignificant they may seem but the change they are to wright has already tangled most of the fate's strands.'