A hail of crossbow bolts thundered across the room, tearing books apart and shattering the glass jug on the table in front of the Prophet.

An iron bolt ricocheted off of the ward around Gavriel and slammed into the wall. A second bolt hit the ward in the center, an inch from his face. The bolt fell to the ground, but the ward shattered and tiny fragments of magic dissipated into the air.

Gavriel fell, landing in a mess of broken crockery and shredded paper. He checked himself, making sure he hadn't been hit.

No blood.

He looked back at the Prophet and saw blood leaking out of the old man from countless holes in his chest.

"That was unexpected," Aurelian muttered to himself as he rose to his feet. "Once I realized what was happening, it was already too late."

The Prophet glanced at him with those piercing eyes. “Are you ready, Gavriel Talos?”

The assassin tried to back away, but the old man gripped his coat and lifted him off the ground.

Black tattoos rippled across the Prophet’s face, and his eyes turned electric blue.

Another bolt tore into the mage’s arm, but it didn't matter; the Prophet seemed impervious to pain.

The mage held up a hand and an aura of power surrounded it. The energy crackled around between his fingertips and a sphere of light grew until it filled the whole room. In its center was a shimmering green-white orb.

It floated there, pulsating, like the heart of a dying star.

"Take it," cried the Prophet. "I was never going to survive the calamity.”

“Let me go!” Gavriel shouted as tried to pull away.

“I pass this blessing and this curse over to you, young man.”

Gavriel had no idea what the old man was saying. This wasn't the time for light shows, it was the time for running and hiding.

“Take it!” the Prophet’s voice, full of magic, boomed in his ears

Gavriel stopped resisting as the magic compelled him to obey. He reached out shaky hands and took hold of the blinding orb.

The light began to spin and Gavriel could see that it was full of cracks, like a mirror that had been dropped. The light inside began to fade, and the sphere exploded into shards that flew through the air and scattered across the room.

Gavriel looked down at the glowing orb resting in the palm of his bloodied hands and watched as it was absorbed into his skin. Tattoos spread out his hands and up his arms like black lines crawling across his flesh like vines.

Aurelian the Prophet stood nearby, looking on in wonderment as Gavriel's tattoos shifted and morphed. They became brighter, more defined, filling his skin with color.

"Save the Monster and save the world," said the Prophet, "But if the Hunter dies, the Monster will kill us all."

Aurelian touched his blood soaked robes and smiled a final time before his strength gave in, and he collapsed on the ground.

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Gavriel heard the shouts of the guards as they came running down the corridor. He looked through the cracks in the wall and saw hooded figures moving.

He didn't hesitate. He crossed the room and leapt out of the window without a second look.

He landed on the ledge and jumped again and swung himself up onto one of the spires.

He pulled himself along the wall and scanned the rooftops for signs of pursuit. He saw no signs of the guild, but he knew that they would come.

Rule three of the Assassin’s Guild. Leave no loose strings behind. His Master had set him up and used him as a decoy. Gavriel swore that she would pay for that.

He breathed in deep and focused all of his energy on sensing his surroundings. It was an old Shenshin technique taught to all assassin apprentices, and one that Gavriel had mastered when he was still young.

The warm, spicy scent of the ocean filled the air, caressing his senses as he listened to the gentle rustling of leaves, stirred by the ocean breeze.

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Overhead, an owl's wings flapped nearly soundlessly. Meanwhile, rats scurried along alleyways, their focus unbroken by the silent winged predator above.

Gavriel strained to hear more... and in the distance behind him down the street he heard it. The faint scuff of a hand against cloth, the soft thud of padded feet on rooftops.

So they have come after all.

He didn't understand if the guild were planning on pinning the murder on him or if he had heard something he shouldn’t have. Whatever it was, he knew he needed to reach the docks and leave the city as soon as possible.

His pursuers kept to the shadows and moved silently across the rooftops. He knew that a Fist was after him. Four assassins with crossbows and one mage. Nothing escaped a Fist when they got their sights on you.

He kept wondering why they were hanging back. He wasn't the best assassin, not by a long shot. There was a reason he’d never been trusted with any jobs before tonight.

So why are they being so cautious? Are they waiting for something… or someone?

A roof tile shifted under Gavriel’s foot, almost tripping him. He caught himself and leapt through the air, landing on a clothesline. He wobbled, trying to regain his balance. He was losing time. The assassins would be on him any minute now.

He somersaulted to the ground and rolled to break his fall. He sprung to his feet and ran along the moonlit road, his gnarled hand thumbing the leather wraps of the dagger at his side. His fingers were itching, ready for the fight they knew was coming.

If he survived the night, he’d be a legend. The thought excited him. Finally, he’d get the recognition he deserved,

A torch flickered as Gavriel ran by. He would be out in the open around the next corner; the docks lay ahead, and there were no buildings left to hide his pursuers. If they wanted to make use of the shadows and the high ground, they would have to move soon.

The inside of his skull itched as his enemies' bloodlust became palpable. Like vipers ready to strike. He reached into a pocket and pulled out his get out of jail free grenade. It was one of his own inventions, a combination of fire salts, ice chalk and shadow haze dust.

A scraping of wood on a nearby roof alerted him.

Gavriel dropped to the ground as an iron crossbow bolt flew inches above him. He rolled to his feet and smashed the dark vision grenade onto the hard ground. Oily smoke burst out around him. The green mist rolled across the ground, crashing against the sides of buildings like waves against the rocks.

Gavriel ran towards the docks under the cover of the fog as bolts flew past him.

A loud incantation carried on the wind reached his ears. A voice shouted from the rooftops and a gust of powerful magic rushed past, almost knocking him over and sweeping away the mist that hid him.

Ahri Fetar had finally arrived. With a roar, she leapt from the rooftop of a building overhead. She seemed to float as she descended, chanting an incantation in a rough voice. Her long red hair flying in the wind, like an angel of wrath.

In her hands, she formed two orbs of dark mana that crackled and sparked golden light. With a word of power, they shot out at Gavriel, arcing across the sky like black lightning.

The air cracked like thunder, and the earth shattered below Gavriel as cobblestone fragments scattered in all directions.

He propelled himself backwards, carried by the force of the spell and narrowly avoiding the attack. Still flying back, Gavriel launched two daggers at the descending Guild Master.

The weapons sped straight at their target, the second blade hidden in the shadow of the first.

Ahri gestured with her hand and threw up a ward of black shadow. The first blade bounced off of the oily, shimmering shield and fell to the ground. A heartbeat later, the second blade appeared in her vision. Ahri, caught off guard, spun in the air with a flourish of her cloak, dodging the second lethal weapon.

“Why attack me, Master?” Gavriel called out in a clear voice. “I have always been your loyal servant.”

“It's just business.” Ahri Fetar’s voice seemed to emanate from all places simultaneously. “This city will fall soon enough. It is in our best interest to be on the right side of the coming war.”

“What war?” he barked. “What are you talking about?”

“The Prophet had to die, but it looks like he gave you the Nameless King’s Armament at the end. The Lord of Darkness doesn't want anyone to have that power. It’s nothing personal.”

Ahri advanced like a striking cobra. Black lightning shot out of her pale extended hands. The powerful blast of energy flew straight into Gavriel's side. The impact threw him backwards and pain ricocheted through his body, blurring his vision.

He dropped to one knee, exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him.

Assassins dressed in black leather leapt at him from multiple directions; one pounced from behind, splashing a puddle of water as he jumped.

He knew that he was about to die.

Time seemed to freeze and then abruptly the tattoos rippled across his body, covering him from head to toe.

The moment took on a startling clarity. It froze like a diamond and rotated before his eyes. Every facet gleaming, futures shearing off and sparkling. Gavriel looked from his Master on his right hand to the assassins in midair.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the end.

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The air changed. The scent of blood and the ocean was gone, replaced by the smell of books and dust.

Gavriel opened his eyes and saw that he was back inside the Prophet’s room. The walls were destroyed and the furniture shredded and covered in blood.

Something moved, and he looked down at the bloodied form of the Prophet lying at his feet. The man was barely alive.

“What just happened?” Gavriel breathed.

The Prophet coughed out blood and said in a weak voice, “You saw a fraction of your future, boy. Don't do it again. It leads to madness.”

“What the hell is happening? I saw myself die.”

“The enemy has made his move, and all of my paths lead to my death. I chose to pass on my mantle to you, Gavriel Talos. You are the last hope your world has. Save the Hunter. Save the Monster. We will need them both.”

Gavriel heard the shouts of the guards as they came running down the corridor. He looked down at the lifeless body of Arch Mage Aurelian, and then he turned and ran straight at the guards.

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