The following are some of the visions of Immanola. She has had many visions concerning the destruction of the Order.

One of Immanola's oldest visions, she has been having it on an irregular basis for the last hundred years. The figures atop the towers change from vision to vision, sometimes they are similar, and sometimes they differ widely. She believes that they represent four power bases within the Order, or maybe even outside it, who will war between themselves and in doing so bring destruction down upon everyone.

The land stands in darkness. A full moon lights the sky, but there are no stars. The horizon is lit by fires of burning forests and cities, and the men of the world war upon each other until the very end.

Amongst it all stand the ruins of four great towers, and atop each tower stands a magus of power, commanding their armies of men and spirits and elementals. They fight amongst themselves, and lay waste to the land around.

Immanola started having this vision in the winter of 1204. Since then, she has had it every few months though with less frequency until towards the end of 1208, when it become the most prominent of her visions.

An island stands alone in a sea of mist. A white tower stands at the centre of the isle, and flames burn around the top of its walls. At the top of the tower stands a woman, with dark hair flowing out behind her as wings of darkness. She watches over a wasteland, where slaves bring great stones, building up a city in dedication to her.

Just lately, during the Winter of 1209, this vision first came to her. The woman is the same woman from her previous vision, though the towers are different. While the former was tall, smooth and unnatural in nature, this one is far more mundane.

A great white tower stands within a ruined city, laid waste by the work of man. Atop the tower stands a beautiful woman, her face cruel and cold, surveying the world beneath her. Long dark hair flows out behind her, casting shadows across the land. In her hands are two still beating hearts, their blood dripping across the land and burning it where it falls.

Beside her stand two young men. One carries a crown, the other a sword, and both suffer wounds where their hearts once were.

At the base of the tower, a line of women, each carrying a child, walk into the tower. Each is dressed in white, with a hood covering their heads. Above the women circle ravens, who swoop silently down to herd them back into line if they stray.