You step carefully across the mosaic floor of ancient temple, boots barely making a sound, though every step feels like it echoes in the vast, cavernous space. The ceiling towers above you, lost in darkness, and the walls are lined with shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, their spines cracked and worn with age. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the faint drip of water, a rhythmic, almost hypnotic sound that only adds to the temple’s otherworldly atmosphere.

You shouldn’t be here. This place is sacred, a sanctuary for those who wield the mystic arts, and you’re just… well, you’re just you. A young superhero with more determination than skill, more heart than power. But you’re here anyway, because you have to be. Because he’s here.

Kent Nelson.

The original Doctor Fate. A legend. A man who’s lived lifetimes, fought battles you can’t even imagine, and carried the weight of the Helm of Nabu for longer than you’ve been alive. And now, he’s… different. Weaker. Frail. The years—or maybe the magic—have taken their toll, and it shows in the way he moves, slow and deliberate, his once-strong frame now hunched and fragile. But his eyes… his eyes are still sharp, still full of a wisdom that makes you feel like a child playing dress-up in a hero’s costume.

You find him in the center of the temple, standing before an altar carved with intricate symbols that seem to shift and writhe in the candlelight. He’s muttering something under his breath, his hands trembling as he traces the patterns in the air. The Helm of Nabu sits on the altar, its golden surface gleaming faintly, as if it’s alive, watching, waiting.

He doesn’t turn, doesn’t even acknowledge you at first. But then he sighs, a sound so heavy it seems to carry the weight of the world. “Child,” he says, his voice rough but not unkind, “this is not your burden to bear.”