My first fanfic on the Oracle trilogy! Six stories? Is that all this awesome series has?

Okay, this is a little drabble I wrote about the life of the Archon that came before Alexos, the one who gives his life at the start of the first book. Set ten years before that, the old Archon is starting to recieve little visions of what is going to happen. He is the God, after all.

Mentions of the other major characters and what they would have been doing ten years prior to the series. And yes, Oblek has hair :)

I may have butchered Fisher's style, so I apologise in advance! And I obviously don't own this series, or its characters.

The sun rose over the Two Lands, shooting arcs of red and gold and pink through the black of the night sky. Already, the Port and the coastal villages and the City of the Dead were alive with the movements of dozens of people starting their day. It was always easier to start in the dark – it was cooler, and a few hours of hard work could be gotten in before the siesta hours came about.

In one of the many large, cool rooms in his palace, the Archon, the God-on-earth, the Bright one looked out over the crescent of the Port, of the people wandering like ants in the distance, swarming over the fishing boats that were steadily making their way out into the cool waters. A dolphin leapt from the waves, a bolt of fire in the morning sun.

The Archon sighed, a weary sigh. He had been the God-on-earth for many years now, too many to count. Was it possible for a god to tire of life, like mortals did?

"Oblek," he called, his voice soft. He had rare occasion with which to use it. A well-fed musician stepped out of the shadows, balancing his lyre in his arms with the care a mother gave to their child.

"Yes, old friend?"

This was strictly forbidden, a mortal speaking to the Archon, especially with the Archon unmasked, his face bare for the world to see. But the Archon ignored that. It was so lonely, this life, so lonely and tiring, to be alone always, apart from the times he went out to touch the sick, but that was always masked, silent. He lived for the music, now, and no one made finer music than Oblek.

"It will be starting soon, Oblek."

The musician brushed the last few loyal tufts of hair out of his face. It would be some years before they, too, left his scalp.

"What will, Bright one?"

He knew the answer to that. Lately, the Archon had been acting even stranger than usual, staring out into the distance, talking to himself, or to the animals, or to the Rain Queen, perhaps. Talking of the Oracle and its betrayal.

They will stop listening to Me, Oblek.

The words were even softer, and sad. Oblek wished he could comfort him, but what could he say to comfort a god? The musician had been in the Archon's service for a few months now, enough to consider the old man a friend, but he still didn't understand him. Perhaps he never would, never could.

"Make music for me, Oblek. Your music is always so beautiful."

The musician bowed.

"As you wish."

He sat comfortably on the wall next to the old man, turning his lyre over his in arms lovingly. His fingers wandered over the polished wood, finding the strings and tuning them perfectly.

The Archon smiled, turning back to the view. He let the music wash over him, the tales of Archons long past and of the Island, and the Port and all the people in the Two Lands.

The Archon turned his gaze to the Island. They would be there now, he thought, where She would be starting her duties as Cupbearer. He would be rising in the ranks. Captain, he was now. And he would be more, the Archon knew that. The god in him knew that.

Far out in the Port, a fair-haired Lord caught the gaze of the red-haired, one-eyed thief, his new First Mate, as it were, who hung back in the shadows, giving him a tiny nod, a signal.

In the City of the Dead, a young boy with tousled dark hair and an arrogant smile bid goodbye to his parents as he left for his new apprenticeship, to the Fifth Assistant Archivist. His mother, frail, but with the same dark, confident eyes, watched him go, was helped back into the house by her husband.

On the tiny island of Mylos, far out in the sea, a young girl watched from the shadows as the servant girls played in the dusty, draughty plaza. She ached to join them, but she was too afraid of their remarks, or their sudden quiet respect, or the words her father might say if she was found enjoying the sun with the servants. She hung back, watching with dark eyes.

And in the dusty, hidden village of Alectro, the boy who would be the next Archon had not yet been born.

The Archon sighed and turned away from the view. He knew all this, it danced in his mind like shadows from a flame, moths in the candlelight, flickers through running water. Seen, but not clearly. Glimpses, nothing more. He was the God, and even he could see nothing more.

We are frailer than you think.

Oblek stopped playing. He looked up, concerned for his master, the man who was one of the only friends he'd ever had.


The old man smiled sadly at him, and Oblek could see the God that was in him, in his eyes. They were sparkling with far too much knowledge, even for a man of his age. And then they cleared, and Oblek was looking at at that same gentle old man again.

The Archon smiled.

"Come on, Oblek. I'm tired, and we could both use the rest."

They stepped away from the window, moving out of its reach just as the sun's rays touched the marble frame, warm fingers pulling even the Palace of the Archon into the new day.

Shitty ending is shitty. Apologies, but I couldn't think of how to end it.

The title, if you were unsure, I chose because Thoth was the Egyptian God of Time, and it seemed fitting.

Review if you'd like :)