On the bridge of the Bucephalus, a profound silence reigned, the kind peculiar to spaces inhabited by a power too vast for words. The Emperor was motionless, His golden gaze piercing the veils of immediate reality to contemplate the tumultuous river of possibilities. Suddenly, an imperceptible tension coursed through His being. A minute change, a modulation in the infinite chorus of futures.
At His side, Malcador the Sigillite, sensing the subtle shift in his master's and friend's presence, rested a gnarled hand upon his staff.
"What is it, my old friend?" he asked, his muted voice breaking the silence without shattering it.
The Emperor slowly turned His gaze towards him. In His eyes burned the light of drowned suns and sealed destinies.
"The voices of destiny have just changed," He declared, and His voice held neither alarm nor joy, but was marked by an absolute gravity. It was the statement of a cosmic fact.
Malcador did not flinch. He had faced horrors beyond comprehension and wielded powers that would have reduced another to ashes. He waited, his sharp mind already seeking to measure the implications of these words.
"Is this good or ill for us?" he inquired finally, posing the only question that mattered.
The Emperor turned His attention back to the stellar void, beyond the ship's hull.
"It is neither good nor ill," He replied after a moment of reflection. "It is... a realignment. The forces We contend with, those that feed upon the weaknesses of our species, have shifted their focus. Their attention, once so... concentrated, is now divided."
He paused, allowing Malcador to grasp the significance.
"Their eternal machinations have encountered a new variable. They hesitate. They assess. A portion of their thirst for destruction is diverted, not by light, but by another cast shadow."
A slight tightening, almost a weariness, crossed the Emperor's perfect features.
"It may grant Us a respite. A breath within the storm. But a respite can conceal a trap, and a breath is merely a delay before the next one is drawn. The long-term threat could be multiplied tenfold, should this new shadow grow beyond all control. For now, the river has changed its course. Where it will lead, only the voices know, and they no longer sing the same hymn."