Ill Omen Lore:
Come what may.
The Witch.
The Adherent.
Eris Morn placed both cards down on her worktable, the illuminated faces gleaming under the sharp light of her lamp.
The Deck of Whispers had not sat idle since her metamorphoses had concluded. The cards had been consulted occasionally by herself and others, each supplicant approaching with a question and leaving with a new perspective. For now, this was all the cards could provide.
They no longer whispered to her since her vengeance had been satisfied. But Eris could still feel the push and pull of the Hive spells woven through their being. To any other practitioner, they would be no more than flat images, a hint at some deeper meaning. However, they were so intimately tied to her that she could still read them, even without her terrifying morph.
Savathûn and Xivu Arath. Where had they fled to? What were they planning? The sisters were at odds once again, the natural bond of their love and logic restored.
Eris placed a third card beside the others.
The Harbinger.
So, she still had a role to play in all this. She stared down at the image of herself, running an ungloved fingertip along its edge.
They would come for her soon.
For a fleeting moment, Eris remembered the shape of her own claws. The power of the Hive in her grip. And best of all, the terror, the fear, the heartbreak as Xivu Arath was removed from her throne.
The feeling evaporated. The card faces stared up at her. The three of them united once again: Eris Morn, Savathûn, and Xivu Arath. The cards spoke of confrontation, but also sorority. Xivu Arath had called her sister. Was she still?
One final card.
Lament.
The visage of Oryx, his Dreadnaught, his logic and his laws. That phantom with a shadow so long it lingered over them long after his death.
She tensed for a moment, her eyes lingering over the card face before picking up each one and returning them to her deck.
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