[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/0pLJ5Hp.png[/img][/center][indent][color=fff200][sub][b]THE BOOK OF FATE[/b][/sub][/color][sup][right][color=fff200][b]Issue #1: HUMBLED[/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr][indent][color=fff200][sub][b]Salem Willows Park [color=1E90FF]♦[/color] Salem, Massachusetts[/b][/sub][/color][sup][right][url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Ry2pjYgiLU][color=fff200]The Price of Failure[/color][/url][/right][/sup][/indent]
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Kent Nelson had sat on that bench many a time before. Sometimes with Inza. Sometimes alone. It'd been there for quite awhile in one form or another. His favorite was the wooden one, made from the same Willows planted all 'round him, that they'd put up way back in the 18th century. This one wasn't great, he had to admit. It's deep black, wrought iron frame was sturdy, sure, but it was so uncomfortable. He hated what it did to his back.

Hell of a view, though. Hell of a view. Especially now when the sun was starting to dip underneath the water of the Ram Horn, almost like the channel was swallowing Earth's star whole. It's light cascaded across the open water like God throwing stones across a pond. They shot out in a spray of a thousand, individual tendrils of fire that reached from the horizon all the way to the stony shore. Every time Kent saw it it took his breath away. He thought he'd caught lightning in a bottle, and the next time he sat on this bench, the majesty of it would disappear. It kept, somehow. And that made it all the more special.

It'd been far too long since the last time, he realized. He couldn't even remember when the last time was. Kent felt a tinge of guilt in his chest. The only reason he'd come back was because he had nowhere else to go now that the Tower of Fate was locked to him. And he had the audacity to stain this poor bench crimson. Terrible as it might be, it didn't deserve to be bled on. 

"I've lost my way, haven't I?" He muttered, followed shortly by a sigh. A painful one. That last blow he'd taken to his side must've done more damage than he initially thought. Reaching down he pulled at the dark blue material of his costume, lifting it up to reveal the mangled flesh that still clung to his side. Blood, pus and dark magic dripped down it- all of it flowing from the big, ugly mark in the center.  

Arrogant. Stupid. Reckless. He should've known challenging Mordru in his own domain was folly from the start, and yet the mighty [i]Doctor Fate[/i] did it anyway. Threw himself into the fires of Hell and expected not to get burned. Even an amateur would've had the forethought to know it was a bad idea. 

"But not you, right, Kent?" Nelson laughed, only for it to transition into thundering coughing fit. "Kent Nelson, biggest moron in the Nine Realms, at your service."

The helmet was sitting in his lap, those empty eye sockets glaring up at him. [i]'I told you so!'[/i] They seemed to scream. [i]'I told you how it'd end, but you went anyway, and now look what you've done to me!'[/i] The Helmet of Fate was older than anything Nelson had ever encountered. Though he'd found it in an Egyptian Tomb, even then he'd known it was far more ancient than the Pharaoh it'd been buried with. It'd spent the vast majority of its existence spotless. Shining, like polished gold. Now Kent looked down at it and saw that polish fading. He could see small cracks along the faceplate and the crown. He used think the thing was indestructible.

Just like him.

But Nobu was dying. The Lord of Order had gone silent. If it wasn't for his uneven breathing in the back of Nelson's soul, Dr. Fate would've thought him dead. But his time was running out, and when he went so too would Kent. And there was no telling when existence would join them. Could be tomorrow. Could be in a hundred thousand years. But without Nabu...Without all of the Lords of Order...

Time was going to run out eventually.

"Stupid, Nelson. Stupid, stupid, [b]STUPID![/b]" Dr. Fate roared as he leapt up from the bench where he sat. With a great heave of his arm he chucked the Helmet of Fate, watching it sail through the air until it landed like a stone in the Ram Horn channel. Despite it's weight it didn't sink. Instead, the helm floated atop the water, refusing to flow with the current. Just sat there, staring up at the rapidly darkening sky.

"I killed us." He breathed, falling back down on that uncomfortable seat. "I killed us all."

"Death's not so bad once ya get used to it." A gruff voice, corrupted by one too many cigars over the years, called from behind Kent.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/CgWPrRI.png[/img][/center]

"I need your help, old friend, n' it sounds like you need mine."
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