Again you find yourself in the vast Chamber of the Weavers, deep beneath the surface of Agossa. The room is cavernous, impossibly wide. A canopy of glistening strands descends from a glowing light at the chamber's height, and down toward a gaping pit as wide as a lake. Around the hole sit the Weavers themselves, their twiglike limbs interworking the strands with terrifying facility, then sending them down into the darkness.
But there is someone else here with them: a man with horns like a ram and a face like a tangle of knotted vines. It is Daggoras, the God of Chaos. You watch as he cuts the strands of destiny one by one—trying to find the one that will end your destiny and stop your life. As each strand falls to the chamber floor, a black ichor pours forth where it has been severed, forming shining puddles that hiss ominously.
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