>>6035057Ahriman steps forward.
“My lord, are you sure?”
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">I have no choice. </span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">The moves were made long ago… </span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">But the game is still being played. You will speak of the future, and I will give you my soul. But I will not give it away. </span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">No? </span></span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-b">No. A wager. You like you pacts, don’t you? Then grant me this: speak your knowledge of the future to me, and I will prove you wrong! If I cannot, then, of my own free will, I will pledge myself to Tzeentch! </span></span>
Kairos is silent for a moment, then bends over, the <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-s">daemons</span></span> heads twisting and turning, making a sound as they bob up and down, a hacking, wheezing noise. You realise it is laughter.
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">SEALED</span></span></span>
Flame erupts around one of Kairos’ outstretched hands, flames which form into symbols, which form into words, which float out around Magnus. The gigantic daemon draws itself to it’s full height, at least twice the size of Magnus himself, and stamps its staff on the floor. You do not see it, but you hear the pages of the book at its end begin to turn, as if blown by a great wind.
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">I will grant you eight questions. You may ask whatever you wish, and we will answer. If you prove us wrong at any point, we will leave and you will be free. When you cannot, we will take your soul to the Impossible Fortress, there to serve in eternal servitude to the Changer of Ways, Tzeentch! Now speak, Magnus, for your time is brief! </span></span>
