[b][i]Your vision changes to a different time period and point of view. You witness a time frame before arriving on the Bloodwrath, but after the the discovery of the hourglass. This is 4 days after the Summoner and his legion arrive and explore the hourglass... [/i][/b] [spoiler]this is important because it is in the timeframe between RoB and PoE. It is an important key to unlocking what the hourglass is and why the summoner is tied to it. See if you can discover what's happening.[/spoiler] [b][i]Somewhere in deep space, the Hourglass ticks away. It's purpose still obscure. The Summoner's Legion has arrived, and his ships are clustered around the center sphere of the massive structure. Something unforeseen has put the mission on hold. [/i][/b] [spoiler]the following is a random conversation between a legionnaire and one of the Summoner's personal attendants. Both of these characters are now dead, along with many others.[/spoiler] "Jago" the old man greeted him, as the bulkhead doors rolled open. In a moment of rare expression beyond a false smile, Sevatar looked genuinely confused. One eye narrowed in disbelief as he stared at the hunched old man at the desk, surrounded by decaying bodies hanging from the ceiling on rust-spoiled meathooks. "Do you ever leave these quarters?" "Rarely," Trez admitted. Sevatar’s arrival had distracted him from his writing. "Is something wrong?" "No more than usual. My brothers are gathering here this eve, little man. Be somewhere else." Trez repressed a shiver, wheezing into his rebreather. "Where should I go?" "An intriguing question. The answer is that I don’t care. Go anywhere that isn’t here." "But Jago…" Sevatar turned very, very slowly. Even helmetless, the joints in his armour’s neck purred unpleasantly as he turned his head to face the archivist. "Call me that," he said, "one more time." Trez looked at the First Captain of the Legion Darkness (the Summoners Legion), standing amidst an abattoir of hanging corpses, his face so unhealthily pale he might easily be hung on a flesh-hook himself. The chainglaive resting on one armoured shoulder was taller than the warrior who carried it. "Sevatar" Trez amended, quietly. "Better. Shouldn’t you be aboard the Excoriator, watching over the primarch’s dreams?" "Not now," replied the old man. "He isn’t dreaming as you would understand it. There’s nothing behind his closed eyes, nothing but the absolute dark." "Fascinating. If you’re so devoted to staying, then at least keep quiet." "I will. Thank you, Sevatar." Sevatar grunted an acknowledgement, and walked through the hanging corpses to where Trez worked at the primarch’s immense round table. The very edge of one side was taken up by the archivist’s parchments and data-slates. The rest of the circular slab played home to a mouldering cadaver. It looked like it had been pulled apart by a surgeon using no tools, nothing more than his bare hands. Gobbets of blackening meat were stuck to the table’s surface, cemented there by dried blood and bodily fluids. Sevatar shook his head, reaching out to shove the corpse aside. "Don’t," Trez said. "Don’t, Sevatar." "Why not?" The warrior’s hand froze above the violated torso. "The Summoner talks to them." "So you said." "No." Trez cleared his throat, though his voice still stayed phlegm-wet. "I mean, he speaks to them as they are. “He knows when they’ve been moved, and it enrages him." Sevatar grabbed the body by its exposed spine and hauled it off the table. It lay sprawled on the decking after a dull thump. "We will deal with the primarch’s madness when he returns to us. If he returns to us." Said the captain as he keyed in a code on the interface now revealed, fingers tapping buttons crusted with gems of dry blood. Labouring hololithic generators flickered to life, beaming an image of the last display shown: the dead world of Tsagualsa, surrounded by its dense asteroid field. Sevatar blanked the image, and called up a local void-scry. The fleet resolved, though blood on two of the projector modules stained parts of the hololith in swathes of red. "He wasn’t always this way." Trez looked up from his work again. "Pardon me?" Sevatar hadn’t realised he’d spoken aloud. "The primarch. He wasn’t always this way. He had a vision of how best to bring worlds to compliance, and it was a vision we followed willingly. Now look at what he’s become. His private quarters are a reflection of the madness within. His own mind is eating him alive." Trez said nothing. Although neither of them admitted it, both pondered how the Hourglass could seize one such as the Summoner's soul... And what or who could do such a thing? The lights flicker in the room as a ghostly image of a man materializes in the corner, face pressed into it. The image is red and hollow, then fades out all together - neither of them notice.

Macha realizes she is like a ghost within this vision, unseen and unheard in this stream of time. She continues to watch, captivated by the events unfurling.

[b][i]The Red Man appears again, this time he's staring right at you... A smile spreads unnaturally slow across his face, revealing a jagged maw of needle like teeth. His eyes.... The pupils are shaped like an hourglass.[/i][/b] [spoiler]aaaaand cut[/spoiler] [b][i]Your eyes snap open, and you find yourself making eye contact with a large painting of Fulgrim that hangs directly over the door. The painting winks at you.[/i][/b]