Yvraine was dead.
She had died at the hands of Lelith and the bugs. At least, that was what everyone watching the arena believed.
The agitated Visarch and the Wych sisters wanted to descend from the air to save Yvraine—or at least reclaim her body.
But Lin Fan knew this was the critical moment. He broke free from the cage, grabbed Visarch by the arm, and refused to let him move an inch.
"Hey, calm down, you lot. Yvraine isn't dead yet. She's becoming a chosen one."
"Becoming a chosen one? Why was there not the slightest sign of it in my prophecy?"
Lin Fan curled his lip. Of course you couldn't foresee it. That god of death had only just awakened and was still trying to hide from Slaanesh's search.
"Just watch." Lin Fan held Visarch back and calmed the other panicked Wych girls as well, then leaned against the window to watch the scene below.
Just as Lin Fan had said, within the chaotic and disorderly Warp, the Aeldari god of death awoke amid its surging tides. Perhaps the impending doom of the Aeldari race had revived this deity from Aeldari mythology, the god who represented utter death.
After all, before Slaanesh was born, the Aeldari would simply reincarnate endlessly in the void instead of being tossed into Slaanesh's mouth like chicken nuggets.
Feeling the overwhelming might of the four unshakable Chaos Gods within the Warp, the god of death knew he would have to keep a low profile. He needed to find someone who walked in the physical universe and have them spread the path of death.
He sensed a soul, a soul on the verge of fading away. The god of death gathered that frail soul in his hand and swiftly scanned through her life.
Hmm...