[Chapter 179. The Harbinger’s Shadow]

Before him, in the vast, echoing silence of the inner chamber, lay a young woman. She appeared to be in her early twenties, though her presence carried a weight that defied the passage of mortal years. Her robes were just as pristine as his own, white silk that seemed to catch and hold the ambient light of the room. She shifted slightly on her velvet couch, her golden hair falling like a silken curtain to the side as she turned to look at him. Her eyes were a bright, piercing gold—vibrant enough to illuminate the shadows.

"Archbishop Sintarius," she began, her voice a melodic echo that filled the chamber. "The Golden Purge. I have foreseen your coming to these hallowed halls long before your boots touched the marble. But throughout all my attempts to understand what it is that keeps you so perpetually on edge, it seems that something—some dark, insurmountable force—is preventing me from seeing the truth."

Sintarius stood still, his hands tucked into his sleeves. "You are awake?"

"It appears so," she replied, her voice void of any human emotion, sounding more like a recording of a memory than a living woman. "Tell me, why does an Archbishop visit me in my gilded cage? It has been centuries since the Order saw fit to stir the dust in this room."

Sintarius looked around, his gaze sweeping over his shoulder to ensure the heavy doors were sealed. The room was utterly void of any other living or spiritual being; not even the high priests were permitted here. "The Order is in desperate need of your daughter, Lumina. Or should I call her by the title the masses whisper? The All-Seeing Goddess?"

"My daughter is unwell," the woman replied, her golden eyes dimming slightly. "Visions of something... terrible... have plagued her. They started two weeks ago, a rot in the fabric of her sight. She hasn't had a restful night ever since the first shadow crossed her mind."

Without saying more, one of Sintarius’s rings pulsed with a soft, amber light. A scroll materialized in his hand, looking similar to the one he had used at the gate, though this one radiated a heavy, oppressive presence of its own—a gravity that made the air feel thick. He knelt down, his movements stiff, and presented the scroll with both hands.

The woman’s eyes widened, the lingering tiredness falling away from her within a heartbeat. She stood up, her movements fluid and ethereal, and closed the distance between them. She took the scroll in her delicate hands. Unlike lesser magics, this scroll did not vanish upon being opened. She unfurled the parchment and read the contents in silence. As her eyes scanned the script, her gaze darkened, and her brow furrowed in a rare display of concern.

"This is impossible," she whispered.

"And yet, we have written reports of this person existing in the flesh," Sintarius spoke in a soft, gravelly tone. "The reports are verified by the blood of the scouts who sent them."

The scroll rolled itself back up with a snap. The young woman looked toward the inner sanctum. "You are aware that if she attempts to find him, he will take notice. A soul like that does not go unobserved."

"This is a direct order from our Primarch," Sintarius said, his voice firming. "My writs are bound by his divine order. Bring me to your daughter. We can wait no longer."

The woman led him through a hidden passage into another chamber deeper within the sanctum. The air here was cooler, smelling of incense and old parchment. Within the room, a young woman of the exact same appearance sat in an armchair, staring blankly at a book in her lap. Dark rings under her eyes stained her breathtaking beauty, making her look fragile, like porcelain that had begun to crack.

"Lumina, someone is here to speak to you," the mother said, her voice a soft breath of air that carried through the room.

Lumina didn't look up from the book, though her eyes weren't moving across the pages. "Who is the man I'm seeing in my dreams?" was the only answer she gave.

Both the Archbishop and the mother closed the distance. "A person that shouldn't be," Sintarius answered. "What is it that you saw, child?"

"He is clad in black," Lumina spoke, her head slowly turning toward the ceiling as if she could see through the stone. "A creature made from metal and purple light that is barely visible against the shadows that surround him. He moves like a predator in a world that has already been devoured."

At the description, Sintarius took a half-step back, his heart hammering against his ribs. "You know about him? You have seen the Harbinger?"

She nodded slowly. "In my dreams, I see glimpses of the void. Glimpses of him standing at the center of it."

"By the order of the Primarch, you are to use your gift to peer into the heart of his existence," Sintarius said, kneeling in front of the girl. "We must know his location and his intent."

Lumina finally sat upright, looking at the old man with a hollow gaze. "You want me to use my gift fully? It will make him aware of me. It will be like lighting a signal fire in a dark forest full of wolves."

Sintarius reached into his robes and took out a necklace of white gold. It was an ornate piece of jewelry of unfathomable quality, the central gemstone pulsing with a pure, white light. "The Primarch grants his personal protection. This relic will shield your mind."

"Then I will do as asked," she whispered.

He took the necklace and fastened it around her neck. The moment the clasp clicked, she closed her eyes. In an instant, her hair began to glow, shining like the sun itself. Her eyes flew open, radiating a light just as bright as her hair, turning her into a beacon of celestial energy.

When she spoke again, her voice had shifted—distorted, as if spoken by many voices at once, echoing from across time.

"I see a spire of pure black... violet light pulsing through its structure like blood through a vein... it pierces the very clouds," she chanted. "On top of it stands a man. No, a creature... a creature that has already taken the lives of millions. His gaze is locked downward onto a city of unknown architecture, surrounded by high walls. They are greater than the walls of the Imperial Capital of the Warmongers... He smiles as the world around him shifts in an ever-burning flame."

Suddenly, the white gold pendant she wore began to vibrate. A spiderweb of cracks appeared on the gemstone. The light that had filled the room began to dim as unnatural shadows began to crawl up the walls, closing in on them from all sides.

"This was just the present," Lumina gasped, her light pushing back against the shadows that reached for her throat. The walls of the cathedral began to quake, and deep fissures cracked open the marble floors. "There is a shift... I feel a fury and a hatred that is all-consuming. I see broken walls... the flag of the Empire laying in the dirt, covered by ash and blood. More flames... they consume the Great Forest of Nakira. A sun is dying... I... I see..."

She began to shudder violently, her hands gripping the arms of the chair until her knuckles turned white. Blood began to trickle from her eyes, staining her pristine robes in a horrific display.

"I see myself," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "Sitting among many other, we are all wearing clothes that barely cover our bodies... We are inside a chamber of opulent luxury. The walls are black... the floor is polished to a mirror finish. The reflection..."

She screamed, a raw, jagged sound. "Something is shifting inside the reflections! There are to many eyes, and yet none. Its looking at me!"

Archbishop Sintarius sprang up with a speed that was unbecoming of his age. His palm slammed onto her forehead, and a torrent of golden light exploded forth, banishing the shadows and the encroaching cold. The shaking of the cathedral stopped instantly as Lumina collapsed, unconscious, into his arms.

"Sintarius, what was that?" the mother cried out, her composure finally shattered. "That was not like her normal visions! That was... a conversation!"

"It was an answer to our question," Sintarius spoke, his voice grim. The bright light of Lumina’s hair dimmed before snuffing out completely, leaving them in the flickering candlelight of the room. "The being seen by her is indeed the Harbinger of Destruction. She didn't just see him; something far older has his eyes on him."

"What do we do now?" the woman asked, her voice returning to a forced calm, as if she were trying to distance herself from the horror.

"This being has proven that the protection of the Primarch is not enough," Sintarius said, carefully laying Lumina down on the armchair. "Your daughter will stay here and rest. She has touched the void. You, however, will come with me. We must prepare the crusade."

She nodded, and together they left the room. As they walked back into the main chamber where the priests and priestesses waited, another scroll materialized in Sintarius’s hand. He held it high, his face a mask of absolute authority.

"By order of the Primarch, the Golemancers are to awaken their ancient creations!" he barked. "The Wayfinders and the Pathfinders are to be mobilized immediately. They will scout every world until they find the one the Harbinger is perched upon."

The priests and priestesses looked at each other, a silent, terrifying understanding passing between them. The Golden Order was going to war.

"An old power has taken notice of our attempt to scry him," the Archbishop continued, his voice laced with a gravity that commanded their total attention. "We must eliminate him before he can grow into a being of immense power—a power far beyond anything we have encountered in the history of the Order. We must prepare for the inevitable. The Order will not be caught unawares."

The scroll in his hand ignited, burning away in brilliant golden flames until even the ash was gone.

---

The feeling vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

The whole ordeal had lasted less than sixty seconds, yet it left Searanox panting on his hands and knees on the pristine granite of the Inner District. His body was slick with a sudden, cold sweat that made his clothes cling to his skin. He looked up at Carmen, and for a fleeting moment, the mask of the calm, calculating Lord was gone. Something else gleamed in his eyes—a look of pure, concentrated hatred and murderous intent that made her blood run cold.

He didn't speak. He didn't have to. Several Intermediate Recon Drones materialized out of thin air around him, their metallic forms shimmering into existence before scattering in all directions in the blink of an eye. Their sensor lights, a harsh and unforgiving blue, swept across the empty streets and into the dark interiors of the nearby villas. Simultaneously, two Intermediate Defensive Drones appeared, hovering just above them and projecting a shimmering, translucent protective barrier.

Searanox pushed himself off his knees. His movements were stiff, deliberate, and crackling with suppressed violence. His Magitech Rifle materialized in his hand with a soft, hungry hum of charging energy. He stood tall, the weapon leveled at the empty air, his finger resting firmly on the trigger.

"Searanox, what's wrong?" Carmen's voice was a thin, trembling thread of sound. She was even more frightened now by the sight of the drones and the predatory gaze that swept across the deserted street. The casual, almost human intimacy they had shared moments ago over chocolate and chips had evaporated, replaced by this sudden, alarming display of raw power and barely contained rage.

"I'm not sure..." he said, his voice rough and strained, like stones grinding together. He looked around, his eyes taking in every detail—the pitch of the pagoda roofs, the shadows beneath the ornamental trees, the faint shimmer of the streetlights. The architectural beauty of the Inner District now seemed menacing, a perfect landscape of hiding spots for an unseen enemy.

"Something is off. Something is... very wrong."

He could still feel the phantom memory of the intrusion tingling at the edges of his consciousness, like the lingering, oily chill of a ghost's touch. It hadn't been a simple attack; it had been a scan—a deep, invasive probe that had bypassed his very being.

His drones circled the block, but they found nothing. They reported empty streets, unoccupied buildings, and stable energy readings. Their sensors swept methodically across the facades and manicured gardens, yet they revealed no trace of whatever had assaulted his mind. He remained there for several minutes, his body coiled like a high-tension spring, every muscle tensed for an attack that never came.

Finally, as the silence of the city remained unbroken, his drones dissolved into sparks of blue light, vanishing back into his inventory. His rifle was stored again with a soft flash of blue light. He took a deep, shuddering breath and straightened his coat, smoothing out the wrinkles. `Whatever that was, it had not been a friendly greeting.` The thought echoed in his mind, cold and sharp as broken glass.

"Carmen... did you feel anything just now? Anything at all?" he asked, looking down at her frightened face. Her dark eyes were wide, a mixture of terror and genuine concern swimming in them as she looked at the man who was supposed to be invincible.