Within a short moments, a blurry projection of light and shadow slowly emerged from the vortex. As the altar's runes flared with increasing intensity, the image grew clearer, eventually settling into a static scene.
In the picture, broken stone pillars were thrust diagonally into charred earth. Fine ash drifted through the air, and the distant sky was shrouded in dark red fire clouds, exuding a suffocating sense of pressure.
Byrne looked closely and could vaguely discern that these ruins were the Emperor's Square in Blackstone City. The gilded statue that once stood in the center of the square, symbolizing the Emperor's authority, had collapsed. Shards of gold leaf were scattered across the scorched earth, covered by a thick layer of black ash, with only a faint golden shimmer occasionally glinting under the dark red sky.
A lone figure stood atop a heap of bones, gazing into the distance. He wore blue-black power armor and gripped an oversized bolter. The surface of the armor was covered in scratches of varying depths, and many sections were encrusted with dried black bloodstains, clearly indicating he had survived a brutal slaughter.
Unfortunately, the person in the image stood with his back turned, making it impossible to see his face.
Is this divined image a scene from the future? If the Emperor's Square has fallen into such ruin, then what of Corol...
Byrne shook his head, temporarily pushing the terrifying thought to the back of his mind.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the altar, the tall cultist stared at the image in the vortex and asked in confusion, "Is this person the Child of Prophecy?"
The withered cultist beside him echoed with excitement, "To appear in the divination, he must be the Child of Prophecy! The Emperor's statue in the ruins has crumbled and shattered—this is the manifestation of the Lord of Change's will. The Child of Prophecy will overturn the old order of the Empire and reshape this corrupt land according to the will of the Lord of Change!"
The stout cultist gazed at the figure and shook his head. "It's a pity we can't see his face. How are we supposed to find him?"
These words struck a chord with the other cultists. The fanaticism on the faces of the other two dimmed slightly, and they turned their gazes toward the quill pen at the center of the altar. In this divination ritual, the quill pen—carrying the will of the Apostle of Tzeentch—was the ultimate guide.
The single eye on the quill pen contracted slightly. Purple light strands surged from the nib once more, and the previously stable energy vortex suddenly accelerated its rotation. The light and shadow within the vortex flickered like a water surface disturbed by a stone.
Seeing this, the tall cultist immediately spoke, "Companions, do not be impatient. The Apostle is piercing through the mists of fate. The will of the Lord of Change is unstoppable; we will surely see the true face of the Child of Prophecy."
As the vortex spun faster and faster, the static image at its center suddenly moved.
The withered cultist watched the vortex and said excitedly, "Look! The person in the image is about to turn around!"
The airflow within the vortex became increasingly violent. Purple and golden strands of light intertwined, emitting a piercing screech. But just as the prophesied person was about to turn his head, an anomaly occurred.
The smoothly flowing purple Chaos energy suddenly hit an invisible barrier and came to a dead halt. Subsequently, the condensed projection within the vortex shattered instantly, turning into countless flickering sparks of light that flew in all directions.
The quill pen atop the altar vibrated violently. The single eye on its body spun frantically, and runes flashed erratically within its purple pupil, as if it were battling an unknown force. The light strands at the nib flickered on and off, attempting to pull the image back together several times, only to be repelled by an invisible power. The strands even showed signs of minute fracturing.
The stout cultist questioned, "How can this be? Is the mist of fate so thick that even the Apostle cannot pierce it?"
The withered cultist slumped to the ground, staring at the fragmented images in the vortex. He said despairingly, "Is our sacrifice not devout enough, or have we misunderstood the will of the Lord of Change?"
The tall cultist turned and barked, "Do not speak nonsense! How dare you question the will of the Lord of Change!"
The reprimand echoed in the grotto, but it could not drown out the fading hum of the altar's runes. He forced himself to remain steady, staring at the vibrating quill pen, trying to catch a thread of the Lord of Change's will from the chaotic purple mist. However, more and more light strands at the nib were snapping, and the once-vibrant purple glow was rapidly receding.
The stout cultist retorted, "I am not questioning; I am stating a fact. Look at the Apostle's state—he must have encountered some obstacle to become like this."
Just then, the turbulence in the vortex above the altar gradually subsided, and the shattered image was restored. Due to the previous failure, the quill pen no longer tried to force the Child of Prophecy to turn around. Instead, it manipulated the image, gradually stretching and enlarging it.
Finally, the entire scene froze on the right hand of the Child of Prophecy, which was held behind his back. The eye on the quill pen stared at the right hand in the image—or more precisely, at a ring worn on the index finger.
Seeing the ring, the eye on the quill pen narrowed slightly. The remaining purple light strands at the nib no longer lunged blindly; instead, they converged precisely into a fine line, gently tracing the outline of the ring in the projection.
The tall cultist saw this and said excitedly, "So that's it! The Apostle is guiding us. This ring is the key to finding the Child of Prophecy!"
Byrne looked closely, and his pupils shrank violently. That ring was identical to the one he had scavenged from the skeletal remains.
The quill pen suddenly emitted a sharp hum. The purple light strands at the nib surged, stripping the image of the ring from the projection and suspending it above the altar. Having done this, the eye on the quill pen scanned the four people at the altar and spoke:
"In the name of the Lord of Change, I have glimpsed the true identity of the Child of Prophecy. He is a descendant of the Lanian family. Find the one wearing this ring; he is the Child of Prophecy."
As soon as it finished speaking, the quill pen suspended in mid-air slowly closed its eye. In the next second, it vanished.
The moment the quill pen dissipated, the runes across the altar lost their empowerment and dimmed instantly. The purple runes that had glowed for so long faded like extinguished candles, eventually returning to silence. The Chaos energy in the grooves lost its guidance and turned into wisps of purple mist, drifting slowly through the grotto. The heart-chilling sense of distortion in the air also weakened.
The divination ritual was over.
Beyond his shock at the identity of the Child of Prophecy—the Lanian family, who had been brutally massacred and wiped out a century ago—Byrne had only one thought in his mind.
Could it be... that the prophecy of the Furnace is real?