JUNCTION
 

I could not fulfill the purpose projected onto me through my descent - I realised this soon. My physical inadequacy prevented the execution of the plan the Sisterhood intended me to be a part of on two different levels: the physical and the mental level. I couldn't give the Sisterhood my offspring, and while I was and still am the central node in a structure of many outward relations, I realise I'm unable to form a similar structure on the mental plane like the Sisterhood intended me to. However, one ability the Sisterhood might have hoped for has indeed manifested itself in me, and in her reports to her Sisters about me, my wife deliberately kept this from them. We both realised the part this faculty would need to play in the future.
-Count Hasimir Fenring, in conversation with Adros-
 

Slowly the static retreats, moving coloured patches growing sharper.
A sphere of yellowish brown - a planet - softly slides into focus.
Smaller objects, darker, form its army of cosmic companions.
More of them are winking into existence every second.
Still, all is silent.

Fifteen centuries they've lived there - black-clad widows at the center of their web.
The web's strands led to all parts of everything, wrapping around each cornerstone.
"One thousand five hundred years is a long time", they sometimes said to themselves.
"For our own safety it might be best to go somewhere else."
Now it's too late.

Strange music swells as the planet's surface grows nearer.
An odd composition of sounds corresponding to the movements of this world.
Sound makes experiencing death so much more cruel.
Only the worms can hear the arrival of the end.
They cannot scream.

He led them to this planet - the wisdom of a hundred lifetimes could not prevent this.
Overwhelming love and the Dreamer's subtle strength helped destiny unfold.
Now, unseen by normal eyes, he floats down to the sand.
This desert is a faint reflection of where he gave his first life.
Will he now give his last?

The ones of many faces assemble, their gambit almost ended.
Adros dreads what will transpire here, but knows it must.
The players are moving into their predestined positions.
Many developments are nearing their point of convergence.
Will there be a family reunion?

Inside his hiding place, the Dreamer senses the approaching danger.
His is another plan that is nearing completion.
His father, his priestess's son - a vessel for his mind.
His servant of many incarnations - a tool for his aspirations.
He knows he will not fail.

The witches have fled back to their place of assembly in time of danger.
The head of the whores has been crushed under their heel.
The remnants of the body are engaging the new threat.
Their blinding speed of sinew and muscle has helped bring down empires.
It is not enough.

Heretics of the Jihad, merging man and machine.
And many amongst them have followed the path of the Tyrant.
The worms of the sand heed their call.
Shai-Hulud synchronized with choreographed destruction.
The desert stains red.

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