Unnamed farseer POV, Ulthwe
The threads of fate were long, and vast. A twisting expansion, a cycle with no beginning, and with no end. Some were weaved more tightly than others; threading around the Mon'keigh world called Cadia, across the great ocean to Terra, Ullthwe, T'au, The Brass citadel, The Palace of Slaneesh, the garden, the labyrinth and more. An infinite variety of ever shifting colours, ever changing tides and ripples. But, like blood in water, like poision in flesh, change was coming. Great threads, prophecies planned for and around since time immemorial were fraying, destiny becoming uncertain as to their place in fate.
In their place, tendrils and plague, great black gouts of fire and flame burning them down.
A citadel Breached.
A Garden burned.
A Palace felled.
A labyrinth passed.
Destiny denied and spat back out. Was this beginning of the Rhana Dandra, or the end?
Who knows? I most certainly do not!