Destiny streamed through the Aether, a silver bullet barreling through an infinite sea of miasma. It dallied little in the Planes, using them only to move through reality, so that it may tell the Warders of the Chosen. It binded their deaths to hers with golden chains and hooks. Unbreakable chains which would not be denied. Destiny can be a bitch. As Destiny's form shot through the Planes, its hooks and chains dangled from her belt. They were Unsheathed for this Occasion; reverberating with the twin powers of Cosmic Prophecy and Paradox, they could suppress even Free Will. The sixth had been chosen, and Destiny threw itself into the Winds to be taken to the seventh and final Warder. It was thrown around the Planes, the Hooks scraping up Aether while the Chains captured portions of the will and sentience of the Plane's citizens. A bit from here, a bit from there, and then Destiny found itself in Khazan with an amalgamation before it. The Seventh Warder, made from the very fabric of reality, Sdaehri is the essence of self-fulfilling prophecy. |
