Amidst the ethereal moonlight, the ancient city of Astraeus stirred with a hushed energy. The mist, like a shroud, seemed to wrap the city in secrets, obscuring the familiar streets and alleyways. It was a night when whispered tales and half-imagined legends came to life.

In the heart of the city, at the crossroads of Elm and Oak Street, Gavriel Talos crouched low atop the roof of the old mill, watching for movement in the streets down below.

He'd been there since dusk, when he'd woken up with that damned feeling in his gut, the one that told him that something bad was about to happen.

Only a few streets away from his hiding spot was the Arcane University, home to all those mages who were not part of the King's Cadre, or the Sixth Order.

As Gavriel watched, a lone figure exited the building. From his vantage point, he could make out the purple robes that signified the man was no other than Arch Mage Aurelian.

The Arch Mage was the greatest mind to come out of the University of Arcane arts in millennia. He was also the only living person in recorded history to enter the valley of Shalegos and return with the Armament of the Nameless King.

But it was that which made him famous. It wasn't even his all encompassing intellect or his boundless power. No, it was his gift of prophecy. That one thing placed him higher than any other mortal.

Many worshiped the Prophet as a god, but Gavriel knew better. The Arch Mage might be brilliant, but he was predictable, like any other human.

Each evening at midnight, the old man left the university down the same street, pausing briefly at the cemetery before heading to the docks.

The Prophet would spend an hour watching the black waves crashing against the lighthouse. Some nights he’d pass through Lavender lane and procure a high class prostitute for the evening, on other night's he’d lie on the lawn in the academy grounds smoking his pipe and reciting bad poetry.

Gavriel had watched the man every night for a month now, and he was sure that tonight the Prophet would be returning home alone.

He slipped off the edge of the roof, landing lightly on the clothes line that hung between the city buildings.

The thieves had long ago reinforced the lines with thick coiled iron rods, turning the cloth lines that spanned the city into a secret highway.

Gavriel stepped lightly on the cord and with a handful of swift steps he crossed onto the other side. He lifted himself onto the roof and padded along until he reached the edge of the next building.

His tar dipped moccasin shoes were virtually silent as he leapt over to the next rooftop, where he crouched again, peering down at the guard stationed at the university gates.

Gavriel waited for the guard to face the opposite direction, and after five painfully long minutes the man finally turned his back and began sauntering off to a nearby tree to relieve himself.

He dropped from the rooftop, landing in a roll and springing to his feet. The guard never knew what hit him, a single blow to the head sent the man sprawling.

Gavriel dragged the unconscious man behind a thicket of brambles, seeped in darkness.

When he was sure nobody else was around, he passed through the gates and into the university grounds.

Fortunately for him, once he was past the guard post, there was no longer any security in the building. Nobody was foolish enough to rob a building full of mages.

Gavriel paused as he heard a girl giggling close by. There was no point in hiding now. He stood straight and walked as if he belonged there. He passed around the corner and saw a young couple pressed together.

Gavriel grimaced at the sight. If there was one thing that was bound to make him feel lonely, it was seeing a couple kissing in an alcove in the moonlight.

He shrugged off the unwelcome feelings. He’d given up on relationships, it was the price he paid for his trade. There could be no attachments, that was the first law of the guild.

He passed a water fountain with a statue of a naked girl posing with a snake in the center of it. He spared it a brief glance and continued on. He’d spent enough time around the whore of Cheapside to not be bothered by the sight of nudity.

A group of young mages dressed in black robes laughed as they exited the building. Gavriel ran a hand through his hair to disguise his face and nodded a greeting at them.

He scanned the second floor windows as he did a quick loop around the building. He knew that there was no way to go unnoticed if he took the stairs, so the only way to the Prophet’s chambers was by scaling the wall.

He spied an open window a few minutes later. When he was sure that there was nobody else around, he grappled up the side of the wall effortlessly until his hands gripped the second floor window sill.

The window was warded, of course. Gavriel was not a magic user, so he couldn't see wards, but the Guild Master had prepared him for this obstacle.

He drew a cantrip bell out of his pocket and rang it a single time. He heard the unmistakable sound of the ward cracking. Once he was sure the ward was down, he crawled inside, pulling the shutters closed behind him.

The room was small, barely large enough to hold the bed along with its heavy wooden frame. There was nothing valuable in the room, but that was not the reason Gavriel was there.

He'd been given a mission from Ahri Fetar, the Guild Master herself. His mission was straight forward, but definitely not simple. He was there to kill the Prophet.

Gavriel smiled, this would be the big break he needed. The kill that boosted his career into legendary status. The only question and the one that had kept him up at night ever since receiving the order was, how would he kill a person that could see the future?

The answer had come to him in the dead of night as he sat upon the tavern roof watching the patrons enjoying their drunken revelry. The answer was simple. You kill a Prophet by having so many paths leading to death that it would be impossible for him to see them all at once.

He wasn't a religious man, but Gavriel said a quick prayer to whatever god was listening, and then he exited the room.

He made his way down the corridor towards the Arch Mage’s quarters. He knew the layout of the building by heart. He’d spent three silvers buying a map of the building from a housemaid.

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He rounded a corner into a darkened hallway. He didn't need light. His eyes were trained to pick out details in the darkness, but still he waited until his eyes had adjusted completely to the darkness before continuing on.

Finally, he stopped outside the Arch Mage's chambers, the door was locked. He pulled a set of lock picks out of his coat’s many pockets and set to picking the lock.

A few seconds later there was a soft scuffing noise followed by the sound of tumblers falling into place. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open.

Too easy.

Once inside, he pulled on his leather gloves and drew out a vial of black asp venom. The vial had cost him a small fortune and could only be procured from snake smugglers coming from the islands south of Westwind.

The poison was so lethal that even a drop on a person's hand would lead to death within a few minutes. Gavriel applied a thick layer of the venom on the door handle. He then dipped a long pin into the vial and fastened the pin to the cushion on the arch mage’s chair. He placed a few drops inside the water jug and then rubbed the poison all along the inside of a mug.

Once he was sure that everything that could be poisoned was poisoned, he climbed into the rafters of the building. He drew out a small crossbow and waited.

Rule number two of the guild, always confirm the kill.

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Gavriel woke up with a start. How had he fallen asleep? He still had the crossbow in his hands.

He looked down and saw the Prophet sitting in his chair drinking water from the poisoned mug.

Gavriel raised the crossbow, aiming it at the man’s head.

Aurelian the Prophet smacked his lips and sighed heavily. “So, you are finally awake, assassin. Good, I was getting bored.”

Gavriel remained silent. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. His finger strayed to the trigger of the crossbow.

“Trust me, you don't want to fire that weapon,” said the old man.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Gavriel said as he squeezed the trigger.

He heard a loud clanking sound and the iron bolt fell to the floor. The screws holding the crossbow together had been removed, and the weapons fell apart in his hands.

Aurelian chuckled. He reached into his mage’s robe and drew out a vial of white liquid and placed it on the table.

Gavriel’s hand strayed to his own pockets.

Oh, shit!

He realized three very bad things at the same time. One. His gloves had been removed from his hands. Two. The trigger of the crossbow was wet and sticky. Three. His vial of antidote was sitting on the table in front of the most powerful mage in the city.

I'm a dead man.

Gavriel scrambled out of the rafters and dropped to the floor in front of the old man. He still had his dagger. If it came to it, he could slit the man's throat and be done with it. He wasn't sure what his chances of success were, though.

“Give me the antidote,” he said in his most threatening voice.

Aurelian tossed the vial into the air and muttered a single word under his breath. A shimmering bubble surrounded the vial and suspended it in midair, high above the two men.

“What do you want?” Gavriel asked as he eyed the antidote and thought of the quickest way for him to reach it.

The old man spread his hands in a sign of innocence. “I just want to talk.”

“Give me the vial, and we can talk as much as you,” Gavriel barked. “Hell, we can even spoon after if that's your thing.”

The old man laughed.

“Why aren't you dead?” asked Gavriel.

The man was the picture of health. “You look healthier than me, and you’ve already ingested enough poison to kill a stable full of Alturan pack mules.”

The old man raised his mug and studied it for a moment. "Has the Assassin’s Guild really become so sloppy? You do know who I am?"

Gavriel’s hand strayed to the dagger on his hip, “Even if you can see the future, there was no way you’d see all the different outcomes.”

“You're right, young man, but I didn't read my future. It is not wise for a Prophet to read his own, no, that path leads to insanity and a quick grave."

Gavriel’s hands tightened around the hilt of the dagger.

The old man flicked his wrist and a bubble appeared around Gavriel locking him in place.

“Stop trying to kill me,” said the old man. “It's getting embarrassing. Has it gotten so bad that Ahri Fetar is hiring street thugs as assassins these days.”

Gavriel froze at that. The man knew the Guild Master's name. Nobody outside the guild knew that name and lived.

"If you didn't read your own future," said Gavriel. “Then how did you know I was coming?”

It was possible that there was a spy in the Guild. If Gavriel got out of this situation alive, then there was a chance that he could uncover the rat and save face that way.

The old man chuckled, reading his frustration, "I read the guard's future. It's a habit of mine.”

He flicked his wrist and the vial of antidote spun in the air. “Statistically, your own guards are the most likely to kill you,” he continued. “As saw the guard's future. It was confusing at first. The man was staring at a tree while he relieved himself, and then all of a sudden his vision went black. I figured it out eventually. Someone was going to attack him.”

The Prophet waved his hand and smiled again, “Don't feel too bad for the guard, though. He will fall in love with the healer that nurses him back to health. Unfortunately for him, he will die before he gets a chance to confess his love to her."

“You could have told the man,” said Gavriel, “Why let it go this far?”

“Why?” said the mage. “Why not, this is the most fun I’ve had all week. When I realized that you were sneaking in here, instead of going all the way to the harbor, I back tracked and waited a short distance from the bush where you deposited the guard's body. I read your future and saw you meticulously laying the traps for me.”

Gavriel said nothing.

“I knocked you out with a spell of Magical Slumber,” continued the Prophet. “Then I removed all the poisoned items and applied some of my own.”

Gavriel bit his lip to keep his frustration at bay, “Just give me the damned antidote, old man.”

The Prophet shook his head. “Strange how quickly the tables have turned. Would you have had mercy on me?”

He shook his head, “Of course not. By all rights, I should have killed you, but I need you alive.” He took another sip from his mug. “If you are going to survive what comes next, you need to start listening.”

This was taking too long. Get in and out quickly, no talking, no humanizing the target, that's the way of the assassin.

“Is that what you want?” Gavriel asked. “You want to hire an assassin.”

He realized something then. He should have been showing symptoms of poisoning by now. He should have at least had lightheadedness and blurred vision, but he was perfectly fine apart from being stuck inside a bubble prison.

“You didn't actually poison me,” he said.

The old man laughed. “You are a bright one. Good. You will be needing those smarts for what is about to come.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Change is coming, young man. Something big happened a month ago. Whatever it was, it changed all of our futures. I do not know the cause of it, but I know that our future hangs in the balance even now.”

Gavriel’s legs were going numb. He tried to move his feet, but they wouldn't budge an inch. “What future?” he asked.

He needed to get to the bottom of what the old man wanted so he could get the hell out of there. The Guild Master would not be happy with his failure.

“I’ve seen the future of guards, peasants and even nobles,’ the Prophet continued. “And they all end the same. In fire and blood. But when I looked at your future, I saw something quite unexpected.”

“Let me guess, you end up boring me to death?”

The old man shook his head and his beard waggled as he did so. “No, my young assassin. You are the only one in this city who is going to survive the horrors that are coming. You must be very talented or very lucky. That must be why the Guild Master gave you this assignment.”

“Actually, this is my official first job,” said Gavriel.

The Prophet’s eyes widened at that. He pressed a finger to his lips and shut his eyes.

Gavriel shivered as the room grew icy cold.

A moment later, Aurilean opened his eyes and Gavriel saw fear etched into the Prophet’s face.

The sound of a crossbow being cocked rang out in the stillness of the night.

“The future has changed,” the mage breathed. “You’re just the decoy.”

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