Mantle of Protection Vision

You ask Lubash to hold the cloak of rainbows to the mirror, and the scene fades.

The first thing you see is a field of clouds, glowing, bright and many colored, lit as if by the setting sun. And you see delicate fey hands pulling on these clouds, weaving threads out of the sky and binding them together. You see a cloak coming into being from these threads as the clouds themselves are distilled, the light of the sunset is distilled. You see the weaving motion as the the fay creature who is creating this cloak begins to weave back and forth, back and forth, repetitively building up many, many layers of these cloud threads together. The light sparkles off them, and the sparkling light, the bright, shimmering image, remains flickering on the mirror.

The scene shifts, and you see a war. You see a soldier, an orc wearing the cloak. Armed, armored, wearing heavy plate mail, carrying a giant sword, fighting desperately as twisting tendrils of black energy wrap around his hands and pull him back. He staggers to his knees. And then you see Apollyon, in full power, wearing flowing robes, wearing a dark iron crown on his head. He steps forward, and it looks like he speaks just a single word. The orc dies instantly. Apollyon steps forward and picks up the cloak, casts it on his shoulders, and begins to walk, the shimmering light around the mirror lingering.

The scene shifts. You see Apollyon sitting brooding, wearing the cloak. He is in a room high in a tower; you can see the sky out the window. He’s arguing with a man wearing bright robes, with an elegant face, flecks of silver scales in his skin, and red eyes. They seem to be having a heated argument: the man with the silvery scales and the red eyes is pounding on the table, seemingly yelling at Apollyon. The red-eyed man stands up and begins to vanish. As he does, he turns around and he looks back at Apollyon, and speaks. It is a strange sensation, like you can almost feel the echoes of these words through the mirror, as he says “You will pay for this betrayal.” The words echo everywhere, and you can almost see the vibrations of the sound as these words spread, and the red-eyed man vanished.

The scene shifts, and you see Apollyon, now sitting by himself, some time later, lost in thought. The bright shimmering still surrounds the mirror as the scene shifts once more.

You see now a scene not too dissimilar to one you had seen before. You see Apollyon wearing the cloak, carrying the scepter, wearing the crown. He is standing before a large crowd, in front of a very large statue of himself, at least 20 feet tall. He is holding up the scepter, and he’s pulled the cloak around himself. The people in front of him are bowed before him, as if in prayer or genuflection or awe. He seems to be commanding or orchestrating them with the scepter. The statue behind him - this enormous statue of Apollyon - seems to glow and pulse and collect sparkling tendrils of the cloak as Apollyon speaks to the adoring crowds before him.

And then the scene ends, and the mirror goes black.