He breathed deeply. Days had passed and he saw them all as one. Past, present and even glimpses of that which would yet happen. He felt their movements, saw their actions, knew their attacks before they were even here. The vision had been passed to him via a stone of deep, rich purple embedded in his forehead. The vision had happened at least an hour ago and he was still planning every one of his moves in coordination with it. He adjusted the string on the bow and calibrated the weights. Soon he would have to garb himself in his cloak and armour, for now he knew where it lay and the mental connection with it told him it was safe. Soon though, soon it would all happen, soon blood would be spilt. It could not be helped. Some things have to happen to keep the balance, he told himself. Some things never change.
He lay back against a giant stone head from Easter Island and felt its magicks swirl into him and waited. Soon they would arrive and this museum would become a bloodbath.