Hector Hall sits alone on a throne of stone in his tower, blood pulsing through his temples. The Helm of Nabu whispers dark things at him, but he pushes the skittering voice aside. He will not fall to chaos. Doing so is unthinkable.
So why don't you just cast off the helm? says the voice. He has no answer. The misery has gripped him since he
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"If you're already talkin' to yourself then might be more of a toys in the attic sort of thing Hector." It's a mark that she's feeling strongly about all this that more of that backstreets of London accent is showing through. She doesn't realize how much she sounds like her uncle when she does that.
"Might be better t'hang out with someone and keep centered an all."
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"I can feel it gnawing at me, Gemma," he says. "The voice of Nabu is silenced. There's something dark shouting it down. It wants Fate to itself. It wants me gone."
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"Touch m'hand Hector. Feel it, you're still human under there an we won't let you give in ok?"
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"Rose Psychic says she has an idea, but she needed to summon help. I don't know who Dr. Fate calls for help."
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Fate gestures, and light emenates around him ... not forming the customary ankh shape, but instead the form of hawk wings. He seems unaware ... or at least indifferent ... to the change.
Colors cascade around the heroes, and reality blurs and spins, until suddenly, they are in a golden orb, underwater ... with the magnificent city of Atlantis before them.
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"This will lead us to the temple, to retrieve the amulet we are in need of."
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What he can sense is this: The voice, while sounding alien, also has a certain half-remembered dream quality to it's magical resonance - and that the guardian of order is very, very not himself today.
"Fate! Stand down. You are not making this go any faster and people - my people - may well be dying while we debate this. Present your case, Rose - quickly."
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He's doing his best to hold onto the medallion...
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"This abomination seeks to control the power of Fate, Garth of Atlantis. And Fate is no mage's slave!"
The ankh-shaped bolts of mystic energy fly from his fingers with devestating force.
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And then there's the force speaking to them, drawing them toward the unknown.
She needs to make a decision. She needs to think. And then it dawns on her.
"It's about Atlantis!" she shouts in desperation to Tempest and Fate. "What's at stake is not the city, but what it represents! The city at the heart of Magic! That's what the Witch Queen's seeking!"
And there's more ... there's more ... something the woman's not seeing. An unknown.
And in that moment of understanding, a decision is made.
"Tempest and Flash, use your powers to create a torrent ... wash Fate and us toward the vortex! The voice is correct ... if we battle here, all is lost!"
And then the voice chimes in, ringing in Tempest's head.
"Listen to her, Garth. Atlantis needs a champion at this moment ( ... )
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