"Great heavenly god, grant us a revelation! Tell us how we should fight those enemies who blaspheme against you!"
Deep within the bridge of Bloodwheel Heaven's capital ship, an absurd and eerie ritual was underway.
The captain, clad in gold-trimmed red robes and wearing a crown of bone, knelt before a massive Altar with both hands raised. His voice was hoarse and trembling, as though he were holding a desperate conversation with some unseen being.
Around him, dozens of divine emissaries likewise prostrated themselves. Golden scriptures covered their robes, necklaces strung from human finger bones hung around their necks, and intricate totems had been painted on their foreheads in blood.
The Altar had been carved from a single enormous black boulder. Its surface was densely covered in grooves and patterns that spiraled inward, ultimately converging on a bowl-shaped hollow.
Countless bones lay piled around the Altar: skulls, ribs, arm bones, leg bones...
They had been carefully arranged into some geometric pattern, casting distorted shadows in the dim candlelight.
The air was thick with the smell of blood and incense, mingled with sweat, tears, and something deeper, a presence like fear itself.
The divine emissaries began beating drums and gongs.
The strange, unsettling rhythm was sometimes as rapid as a downpour, sometimes as slow as dripping water, as though imitating some inhuman heartbeat.
They loudly chanted obscure scriptures. The syllables were ancient and awkward, each word seeming to carry a heavy force that pressed against the chest.
Their bodies swayed to the rhythm like puppets pulled by invisible strings. Their movements grew faster and more frenzied, sweat sliding from their foreheads and soaking their robes.
They hoped to halt the Imperium through divine power.
They hoped that prayer and sacrifice could stop the torrent of steel crushing their defensive lines with