Phil watched in horror as Hellfire was gunned down. Casting a shield, the young sorcerer tried to get himself in between the would be assassin and his downed teammate. Automatic gunfire ricocheted off the magic barrier.
“I’ve killed a lot of people a lot stronger than you. That’s why I brought [i]this[/i].” Deathstroke drew the enchanted sword once more, and suddenly lunged at the young Fate. Phil reflexively raised his arm above his head as his shield flashed in between the two combatants. The sword first cut into the spell, then into flesh and bone. Pain seared through the sorcerer banishing all thoughts. Phil's senses returned to him a few seconds later, and he found his arm mutilated, Deathstroke no where to be found, and a giant hole in the burning wall.

"Wh-what happened?" Phil asked the empty room. His arm was encased in gold light; he recognized it as a spell, but he didn’t remember making it. 

[i]”Your power was faltering, and your will is insufficient. I needed to step in.”[/i] The voice seemed to echo in Phil's ears, but he didn't know where it was coming from.

"Who is that?" Phil asked tentatively, peering around the room. The fire was beginning to grow and expand. Where was Frostburn when you need him?

[i]”You are wearing the Helm of Nabu. This is [b]my[/b] helmet. You have [b]my[/b] power. You must follow [b]my[/b] rule henceforth. Refrain from asking any further idiotic questions. It gives away my position. Now, just let me take control, and I’ll finish him––”[/i]

[i]I can do this myself,[/i] Phil shot back. [i]Besides, I need to help my team mates.[/i]
As the young Fate began unearthing Fenrir with his magic, Deathstroke reemerged, preceded by a volley of automatic gunfire.

Nabu's voice whispered once more in Phil's ear. [i]"My powers have been squandered on you far too long. If it was in my power to relinquish the Helm from you, I would. When your will fails again, I will take control once more."[/i]