The first thing Vas did was examine his cell. It had been white, once, a sparkling, gleaming, numbing white, but even that hadn't survived the Ascension. Now, it was a little yellow here, a little gray there, and very ugly everywhere. The aesthetic wasn't propped up by the furnishing either. A bed, a chair, a toilet, and a sink were all the creature comforts offered by the tower. The only break in the room was the enormous glass pane door, magnetically sealed after they had tossed Vas in there. It offered a view of the tower's circular 11th floor, the exact same as the 10th floor, which itself was the same as the 12th floor. The layout of the Tower was simple- eight rooms on the outside of a ring, looking in towards a hollow center. Eighteen rings stacked on top of each other, all accessible by only one lift.

Outside of each of the eight cells, a camera looked in from above, with unfiltered access to every inch of the room, spare the toilet in one of the corners. That was probably for the guard's benefit more than the prisoners. To Vas' slight amusement, the cameras were the same he had spent years effortlessly alluding. There was a certain irony to that.

Bored, he watched one guard march a lonely patrol around the ring, the same patrol as seventeen other guards, one for each floor. There were other guards, of course, more at the base, and even more in the security room on the 9th floor, where they watched the prisoners every moment of every day.

He settled into the chair, already a little defeated. As he'd been carried up, he harbored one or two delusions about escaping, both the tower and maybe even Tella. Those hopes had been quickly dashed. He was stuck. There was no such thing as an inescapable prison, but, at least for Vas, the Tower was pretty close. If he wanted to escape, he had two chances. The first was when they moved him. The second was if the 19s won.

Vas remembered the mining rig, a hulking behemoth of steel built to tear apart stone, crumpled into a ball in mere seconds. He gulped. The 19s wouldn't win. There would be no help coming. He doubted they would help even if they won. He'd betrayed them, after all, and it wasn't like he'd been all that popular before. No, Vas was well and truly alone- always and again.

Suddenly eager to stand, he rose from the chair and approached the window. He looked to his left, and saw he had no neighbor on that side, at least he thought. Then, he looked to his right.

There, standing at the glass, a man Vas thought he recognized.

The graying hair and bright eyes were familiar, but that wasn't it. He hadn't gotten a good look at those in the dark. No, Vas recognized the mud-stained gray coat. He realized it was the same man he'd seen in the alleyway on his way to report to the 19s. The one who'd declined his advice. The one with a strange parcel under his arm.

Wait... coat... why did he have his coat? Vas looked down at his own clothes reflexively. He'd been given a stained white prison uniform. Every prisoner had one, except for...

He looked back at the man, to find him staring back. Speckled golden eyes parsing him up and down. “I thought it might be you.” The man said through the glass. His voice was muffled but clearly audible.

There were several questions on his mind, but Vas had to choose one. “Why are you here?” It seemed as good as any.

“Because I wanted to be.” The man responded with a tilt of his head. “And because I was brought here.”

Right, Vas had forgotten. The man was mad. He considered sitting down again, but ultimately figured some conversation would be nice, madman or not. “What'd you do wrong?” He asked.

“Now that's a good question.” The man paused. “I failed, I suppose. Reached for a destiny I wasn't fit for.”

Vas actually laughed. That hit a little close to home. “Yeah.” He muttered. “Me too, actually.”

The man smiled. “Couple of failures, we are.”

“Yeah.” Vas grinned.

The guard passed them on his route, shooting a nasty glare at Vas, but seeming to ignore his new friend, which was just typical. The motion sensor camera followed his patrol, only moving back to Vas after he had marched another ten or so paces away.

“So,” The man began, drawing Vas' attention away from the camera. “What'd you do?”

It was a topic Vas didn't want to linger on, but he was in an honest mood. “I tried to steal something.”

“Something valuable?”

Vas snorted. “Yeah, you could say that.” He was following the guard again, watching his route.

“What do you think they're going to do to you, Vas?”

“Who knows, probably send me...” The realization hit like thunder. He whipped his head away from the guard and toward the man. “How did you know my name? I never told you my name.”

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“Do you even know what you tried to steal? I mean really know?” The stranger said, ignoring the question. He knew. How did he know? “A Hand of God, a real Hand of God, is not a tool, Vas.” He emphasized his name. “ It's something more, much more. It's a piece of divinity, if you want to call it that.”

“Who are you?”

“So, I ask again. What do you think they will do to you?”

Green eyes stretched wide, Vas stood speechless. Possibilities flew, but he dismissed each one. Who was this man? How did he know? What were they going to do with him? In the end, he could only shake his head.

The man nodded. “You can't know, how could you?” He smiled. “I, however, know what you think will happen. You think you'll get away with it, someway, somehow. Life in prison, or even execution- the thought doesn't occur to you.”

“I know what I did. I know the penalty.” Said Vas.

“Sure you know. You just don't think it will apply to you. You'll escape, you'll get away, something will save you. You’re like a child learning about death. You know it’s real, you just can’t understand it. Am I wrong?”

He was getting angry now- rising rage overcoming his initial surprise. “ And what of it? Is that so bad? To fight your fate until the end?”

The man laughed lightly. He had a kind face. “Sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I think it's a good thing, actually. Explains a lot, if I'm honest.” He smiled, creasing well-worn wrinkles.

Vas calmed down. However, like a pulley, as his anger abated, his confusion rose. “How do you know all this?”

“As I said- I figured it was you.”

“That doesn't answer...” He paused. The guard walked by and shot Vas a glare. Vas rose his hands defensively and the man passed without comment. “That doesn't answer anything.” This time he whispered.

The man's expression was sympathetic. “After I saw you in the alley, I figured it was you. So, I looked. I saw bits of your past, parts of your future.”

“That's not...”

“Play too much with time and even a god will fall off the precipice of sanity, but I saw enough... I saw Tartur. I saw the end of your destiny.”

In a moment, it left Vas. The stranger had been right. He hadn't given up. Escape, freedom, a grand destiny of his own- he thought it all possible. For his whole life he'd thought it possible. It was what had always made him different. Always. And then, one word ended all that- Tartur, the Dead Planet. It had another name, once, Prime.

There was some small part of him still fighting. The man was mad. He knew nothing- playing with him that's all. The rest of him accepted the truth. He slumped against the glass. The Dead Planet, the end of his life, of his dreams, of his self. It was over.

As Vas reached his lowest moment, the man watched him, curious expression, as if remembering something.. “But,” He began, eyes full of sympathy. “What if you could change your destiny?” Vas looked up, not really believing, but willing to listen, willing to let a spark survive. “A better one or a worse one- I don't know, but a different one.”

Vas shook his head, laughing. “Oh, and how would I do that?” His tone was mocking, eyes nihilistic.

Then, something Vas couldn't explain happened. Something he couldn't believe. The man turned and simply walked through the wall into Vas' room.

That changed his tone in a hurry. Vas fell on his ass, scrambling backward. Instinctively, his eyes fell down from the man's face to his left hand. A Hand of God, it had to be. Except, there wasn't one. The only thing he saw was a satchel wrapped around his shoulder and hanging at his waist.

“Understand what I am offering you, Vas.” He was walking forward as Vas slid back. “A power that predates the Gods, Humanity, or even the Kulari. A power forgotten but always there. The greatest gift and the most dreadful curse- Magic. Real, terrible, beautiful, frightening magic.” He reached for the satchel. “With it a destiny, one not even I can guess the extent of.” Vas reached the far wall, nowhere left to go. The man grabbed something from the satchel and pulled it out. It was a book, enormous, and ancient. “Do you accept?” He offered it forward, within Vas' reach.

Vas thought. He thought of his Dad and of the shopkeeper, both swept so easily aside. He thought of Creighton and the Sons of Desire, petty tyrants hunting scared mice. He thought of Mar, who had promised to save the powerless so long as he was made powerful. He thought of Maurius and Talian, men so mighty they made the powerful shake in fear. He thought of a dead planet and a dead destiny's sad end. He thought of the world, broken and dying, no matter what the Order said. And he thought of the book, held by a man who knew things he could not know and did things that could not be done.

Then, he grabbed it.

He didn't know what he expected- earthquakes, thunder, calamity- but there was none of that. The book seemed ordinary. It felt old, but all books were. Vas hadn't held many, most had never held one. They were relics, made irrelevant. His dad had a few for his research, but they were the only others Vas had seen. It was a while ago, but they hadn't seemed much different from this.

He looked to the man, whose name he still didn't know, expecting guidance, some words of wisdom. Instead, he said. “Put it behind your back.”

Confused, Vas obeyed. He was grateful he did. The guard passed a moment later. Vas panicked. He would see the two of them together. He would go straight for the alarm.

That didn't happen. The guard gave Vas an odd look but passed the cell without comment.

“Huh.” Vas murmured, turning back to the man above him. He was smiling, amused at Vas' expression. Wordlessly, he removed the satchel, handing it to Vas, before turning and touching the glass pane that was the door. “I wish you luck, Vas.” A second later, he walked out.

Worried, Vas rose. “Wait!” He whispered harshly. “What do I do? Where do I go?”

The man turned back, confused. “Down, I think.” Then, he walked out of vision and away for good, leaving Vas alone again.