Tzeentch's Woven New Plan

Within the Impossible Fortress of the Empyrean, Tzeentch moved both hands, colored light swirling around them.

"Blackstone Fortress... Grael..."

His voice was pleased, while the face growing from the right side of his chest repeated in a deep voice, "Blackstone Fortress... Grael..."

Colored light rose in Tzeentch's eyes, and an illusory scene appeared before him.

He raised his right hand, and face after face kept growing from it.

He lifted his hand and seized the little black dot.

The little black dot rapidly enlarged, becoming a black Gothic warship.

"Simian Field... Space Ape... Old Ones..."

The great mouth growing at Tzeentch's waist spoke faintly, "Simian Field... Space Ape... Old Ones..."

He raised it, light flowing between his fingers.

His hand slowly flicked out, grabbing another fleet and weaving shining strands of silk.

"A new plan... change..."

As the mouth at his waist collapsed, the face growing from his left leg whispered in delight, "A new plan... change..."

950.M30.

At the edge of the "Eye of Terror," Cadia.

A world not yet discovered by the Imperium.

The young woman Inger-Sel slept deeply, a devout expression on her face.

She knelt on the ground, praising the names of the Four Gods.

Suddenly, a voice rang out.

"Chosen of the Gods, Inger-Sel."

"My lord." She lowered herself, bowing devoutly.

"Lorgar's steps are too slow. He has lost the divine artifact destined to belong to him."

"Ah!" Inger-Sel cried out in surprise. "My lord, does he have a chance to make amends and reclaim his divine artifact?"

"He is the beloved son of the Four Gods. He believes in the gods with all his heart. He shall receive their gift!"

"He will not always be the one who loses. He shall gain power through faith!"

Inger-Sel listened to the true words. "I will