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[center][sup][h1]The Strings of Fate[/h1][/sup][/center]
[center][sup]Part I[/sup][/center]
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There was solace; breaths cut gelid and close. Nabu in his ear: guiding him, directing him. The room around him was quiet, he sat in its black; arms folded, he was levitating atop an ankh inscription. He was reaching, searching for the beacon that was the JL tower and more importantly, the souls within. They all appeared as wisps; then in one flash of even dimmer energy, he could see them disappear. There was another disturbance that the group was rushing to, but he could not make out what. 

Saban was yet no master of the helm, and in moments such as these--where he knew combat was imminent--he let Nabu nudge him in the right direction. Fate opened his mind to Nabu’s hidden knowledge; he looked for the right spell, blue glyphs flashed before his mind and scrolled along. He found the right set; the ankh found harmony with the picture in his mind’s eye and its golden energies shone bright,

[i]”Fini alahi theuma!”[/i] and then those energies encircled him. Where he found himself next was transversing a plane of red, beside him people and places and time all moved compressed, like one congruous and large mirror--each compressed together and linear, but disjointed all the same. He heard words, voices, cries of joy, cries for help, birth, death. And then, mere seconds later, he was there at the tower.

He appeared in a flurry of golden light, his body levitating while vertical, arms at his side. From beneath the helm he saw a ladder and some stragglers from the group who had mostly gone out. To them, he offered his first words as Dr. Fate,

[color=gold]”Forgive the delay. I am Dr. Fate, and today, fate is at your side.”[/color]