The Seraph watched in its new mirror-sphere, watching its fleet slip into the warp and head towards the territories of the Vermillion Knight.
Mirrors. Perhaps only the Seraph had seen their power. It was likely born from its youth, when it had been mortal and vain, checking its flawlessness in mirrors. If two mirrors were put together, however, with the right curve you could see endless reflections. Mirrors contained infinity. This chamber contained infinity. The only challenge was refining this to certain points. The Seraph was getting better all the time - he had gazed upon the Imperial Palace from afar, he had seen the Byossos at the heart of the Eye of Terror, the very spot where Slaanesh had been created. He had looked back in time, to see Horus fight the Emperor, to see the Fall of the Eldar, and it looked ahead to divine the future.
Now it could see, faintly, a thousand skirmishes, battles between allies. Khorne did not make real cities, they were only ever temporary resting places for their inhabitants, bar those who would rest there for all eternity.
A wooden coliseum creaked with the weight of the howling audience, waiting for bloody games to begin. Many were fighting in the stands, unable to wait.
So crude and barbaric. This Vermilion Knight may be a thinker, but with animals for servants the war would be won easily.
It smiled, and steepled its fingers. Things were going well.