Chapter 5

Iskander hung suspended in the air, miles above a shadowy reflection of Macedar. It was not a true reflection; the details were hazy, as if he were looking upon the city through a layer of shifting smoke. The creations of man did not often manifest in the world of the spiritual unless they were of lasting significance. Each of Macedar’s citizens, those living, of course, was a candle flame amidst the shifting darkness. Iskander cast his eyes to the location of the academy at the north of the city, where the souls of the mages within burned brightly in this place, miniature stars pushing back the darkness.

All was well, as it had been every night for the past two hundred years, since the last of the raiding parties of the Ishk tribesmen were repelled. None had dared encroach upon Macedar’s land since. Not the proud Styrians in their marble city to the south, nor even the Poldark people that held the western coast, who had long looked upon the status and prosperity of Macedar with jealous eyes.

Iskander focused his vision, seeing past the lives below. The currents of fate swept lazily through the city, swirling in slow eddys around the slumbering inhabitants. Iskander scanned the shifting blue fog of fate, looking for any aberrations. The mages inhabiting the academy drew currents of fate to them by the very nature of their existence: to perform magic was to rewrite reality at a fundamental level. With such a high concentration of magical power present, the normally lazy currents of fog morphed into a frothing whirlpool of blue light. Fate tended to converge around individuals of great power.

And there, amidst the blue, Iskander the Immortal saw what he had hoped not to see for the next millennium; the reason he maintained this nightly vigil in the first place. Buried under the sea of blue was a sliver of crimson light, a flow of fate that had been tainted, corrupted, by His influence. The Fallen God.

With a thought, Iskander descended miles in an instant, following that ribbon of red light that promised doom. Perhaps he had reached it in time. He could excise that corrupted sliver from the sea of fate as a gardener would prune a rotten branch. The Gods would not punish him for meddling with the flow of fate. They understood the danger of the Fallen One better than anyone.

As quickly as his flight had begun, Iskander drew to a halt. The corrupted flow of fate had latched on to a sleeping form and was absorbed before his eyes, its influence forever altering the planned destiny of the boy Iskander now stared at with unblinking eyes. Of all the students for this to have happened to, it had to be the Tantalus boy. He mentally removed obliteration from the list of possible resolutions to the situation. The Tantalus family had been in the city since before even his arrival, and over the centuries they had been stalwart defenders of Macedar and reliable allies of the academy. Iskander would not repay that loyalty by smiting the family’s newest talent. What was his name? Asmodeas, yes.

His brother had caused Iskander a number of headaches in his time at the academy. It seemed the second son was trying to do the same, however unwittingly.

The boy’s destiny was now irrevocably altered. The influence of the Fallen God had altered his future in a manner that even to Iskander’s sight would only be apparent as the years stretched on. The smallest deviation from fate in the present always resulted in further straying from the planned course of fate, deviations that only grew in magnitude until a future could be completely derailed in a matter of years.

The Gods could tell him the most likely course of Asmodeas’ fate, but Iskander would not lower himself to beg them for an audience. Regardless, this alteration of fate could be a boon to both his own plans and the future of the boy if handled correctly. First, he needed more information. All that he had thought certain regarding the academy’s future would now be in flux, as the boy’s altered fate warped the futures of those he encountered.

If the Fallen One had cast his influence in search of the Tantalus child with deliberate intent then he might have to strike him down regardless of the consequences. Though if that were the case, the enemy would have known that the alteration would not escape Iskander’s notice. That raised a troubling question. Did the Fallen God want Iskander to kill the Tantalus boy?

The more likely possibility, Iskander considered, was that the god was simply stirring; His power recovering and his consciousness beginning to come to the surface for the first time in five hundred years. As His power waxed, His influence would spread across the world, carrying His malice and ambition on flows of fate. If that were the case, then perhaps that corrupted strand of fate had been drawn to something within Asmodeas; his own innate ambition or desire for power? If that were the case, all Iskander would have to do would be to keep an eye on the boy and keep him constrained to some semblance of his original path.

As he considered the situation further, his anxiety lessened. If this were some plot of the Fallen God, the other Gods would have intervened if the Tantalus boy were to be a harbinger of catastrophe for the future. The Fallen God’s stirring would not go unnoticed nor unopposed.

Iskander withdrew from the boy’s room with a thought, resuming his vigil among the stars. He would contact some old allies, and make some inquiries about the Fallen One’s status. Fate, he would have to continue to monitor, revising his predictions as the effects of the Tantalus boy’s altered fate became apparent.

For Asmodeas personally, this could be a great boon. His planned future was now on a path to complete derailment. With a guiding hand, these changes could be controlled, bent towards a greater purpose. With luck, he could achieve greatness that would never have been possible if fate had continued on its ordained path. Or he could spell disaster for the future of Macedar. Either way, it seemed the relative tranquility that had embraced the city of Macedar for the last few years was to come to an abrupt end. Despite his better judgement, Iskander looked forward to seeing what would come to pass. Asmodeas Tantalus had a chance to show him a new future.