Snippet #2438790

"The future, the present, and the past," Taima replied. "The stone shows its bearer many things, but how it will aid you in your path is something that even I cannot know," she explained.

As her hand fell away a sense of vertigo hit Messor and the observatory faded from his perception only to be replaced by events already gone and past.

He was standing atop a rooftop and all around him chaos tore through Wing City. Cyborg abominations threw themselves against hastily erected blockades that the defenders of the city used to try and stem the flood, and the roar of engines and the whirring pulse of helicopters filled the air in an effort to lend air-support to the battles below. Overhead a Reverence loomed as for a time anyways even former enemies put aside differences to face a common enemy.

It wasn't this that drew Messor's attention though. It was the sensation of lustful glee that filled him and the words that snaked their way free of his lips.

”Denizens of Ásgarðr, Be wary.”

In those moments, he wasn't just observing the speaker. He was the speaker. As the vision began to fade from his mind's eye his sense of self separated from the speaker atop the roof, and for a moment the face of Hatchet hung before him before that too was gone.

With his senses returned to him, Messor would find himself alone in the observatory with no sign of Taima remaining - and only the stone of visions in hand to suggest she had ever been there at all.