A/N: Well, you can pretty much read Parts 1 and 2 of the prologue interchangeably. Their events sort of coincide. I released part 1 first since I wanted to give you a sneak peak into what's to come.

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Rogen rounded the rocky cliff and came to a stop before a dying shatterhound. A black bone-like structure protruded from its chest, from which a stream of blood oozed out, coating the once magnificent pure-white hide with a thick mat of the vile-smelling blood.

The hound noticed her presence and lifted its head to stare Rogen in the eyes. It attempted to growl, but all that escaped was a series of short, pained rasps before blood bubbled out instead.

Rogen felt a pang of pity for the creature. Shatterhounds were a dying breed. Their hide was highly prized in the Three Realms. It was incredibly sturdy, resistant to four schools of magic, and largely substance-proof -- water, dirt, etc. all fell off with a single shake, leaving behind only the shock of white. The one exception, of course, was the shatterhounds’ blood. University researchers still haven’t figured out why the blood dissolved the fur on contact.

This wasn’t the work of poachers, however. No, this was far too messy. Most poachers utilized the paralysis techniques from the Eastern schools or commissioned for spark glyphs to be fixated onto their weapons. They would capture the hounds first and drain the blood through a siphon at a later date – an all-around nasty trade to get into. This had been a battle. Rogen noted the scuffs along the ground and the claw gashes in the cliff face. She turned her attention back to the jet-black impalement.

“Must’ve been one strong sonovabitch,” Rogen thought, “to be able to penetrate that hide.” Rogen had fought a few shatterhounds over the centuries herself, but still couldn’t confidently say she could do the same. Often, she had to rely on a few tricks picked up during her time in the East.

"Shit... Where is this person... " Cursing, Rogen threw up an Ice ward just as she heard a grunt behind her. She turned around and saw a huge rock flying precariously close as crystal lattices began to form in the space surrounding her. Rogen was lucky that it rained yesterday. Ice wards typically formed the fastest, since it merely froze and rearranged water around the user, but for it to be effective, there had to be water in the atmosphere or nearby to begin with.

There just wasn't enough time for the ward to form, though, before the rock made impact. However, the impact slowed the rock just enough for Rogen to twist out of the way. The rock crashed down behind her and the half formed ice crystals began to break and reform to follow her every move. She crouched low and released a wave of power into the ground to set up an earth ward as well. Bits of sand and loose particles began to swirl up around her, picking up more as she retreated behind the shatterhound.

She reached into her belt to pull out a pair of lenses and put them on. She also grabbed a handful of flat glass discs, let loose a bit of power into them,  and flung them past her wards. The discs bobbed in the air and began their transmission.

“Ugh…” A wave of nausea rocked Rogen. No matter how much she trained, she just couldn’t get used to the feeling of viewing the world in third person.

Her wards were condensing. The swirling ice was growing thicker; more and more rocks were being compressed as well. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to see past her own wards, hence the glasses.

Through her lenses, Rogen watched a woman in her 40’s staggering out. Her dark, braided locks had come undone and stuck out wildly from her head. There was deep gash in her side, the blood bright against her black skin. She limped closer and drew her weapon from the now-dead shatterhound.

“What do you want?” asked Rogen.

The woman remained silent. She stepped closer, and Rogen saw that the weapon actually was a  large bone carved into the shape of a pike. From what creature, she couldn’t tell.

“Again, what…”

The woman lunged forward. Huge cracks spidered out from the point of impact and Rogen gulped as she stared at the tip of the pike mere inches from her face.

Rogen ducked and rolled to the right. Her wards fractured and let her through, but followed close behind. Given the chance, it would reform at any moment of pause.

She scrambled to her feet and sprinted forward, putting faith into her speed. She reached into her belt and grabbed the flame glyphs she had fixed onto paper. After a few yards, Rogen spun around, ready to fire off a few flame bolts and cursed at herself.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Stupid, Rogen, stupid. Why’d you even put on the lenses if you weren’t going to use them to check on the woman’s position.”

The woman was just a few feet behind her. She swung her pike left and right, flinging large chunks of Rogen’s wards to the side. She thrust forward and barely missed Rogen, who dodged using the few precious moments granted to her by the weakened ward.

Rogen leapt towards the woman, aiming to buffett her opponent with the flying chunks of rock and ice. When she drew close, however, she noticed that both the woman’s arms were broken. Rogen looked up and saw a feverish white glaze coating the woman’s eyes.

Her mind had been shattered.

“Wait, stop,” Rogen shouted, grabbing the woman’s shoulders. “Stop, I don’t want to fight. You need treatment. I could help.” A shatterhound’s bite injected a highly hallucinogenic venom that lasted hours. Victims went mad with rage. Rogen had once seen a man beat a wall until the bones in his fist had been pulverized before the venom wore off.

The woman shrugged her off and prepared for another thrust. Rogen spun and grabbed a vial from her belt. She flung its contents in a 60 degree arc in front of her and leaped forwards, a cold chill running down her spine as she heard the shattering of Earth and ice behind her.

Transitioning from a forward leap into a somersault, Rogen channeled power through her arms into the ground to the contents of the vial. Vines rapidly began to sprout from the ground, wrapping themselves around the shattered woman's legs. The woman hacked at the vines, but they grew too quickly for her, and her broken arms were swinging at odd angles. It wasn't long before she was completely overtaken and went still.

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Rogen was cursing at herself again.

"Stupid...stupid...stupid..." she muttered as she hacked away at the vines. Flora wards were great defensively, but their major flaw was that they were largely sessile. They only stayed where they were planted, so there wasn't a lot of synergy with Rogen's fighting style. She mainly used them as snares or traps, or as a last resort barrier. Its other major flaw, which Rogen was really despising at that very moment, was that it didn't just disappear after she stopped supplying magic. Instead, she had to cut her way through the growth. She was losing a lot of valuable time she could be using to treat the woman's wounds. Recuperating magic already wasn't her specialty - it took 89 years of recuperative meditation to heal her recent injury. The dragurs of the Wrait Crag’s noxious breath had seeped into her ward and combusted, leaving her critically injured. She barely escaped with her life and holed herself up within 8 layers of wards. She’d only woken up from the restorative hibernation a year ago.

Rogen finally pulled the woman free, pulled off her arm guards, and began tracing out the recovery sigils across the woman's arm over and over again. Rogen was rapidly using up her magic reserves, but even with that boost, she could see that the woman had lost too much blood and that the new blood production couldn't keep up. Still, she kept trying.

A few minutes passed before the woman sputtered awake, back arched as she took in a huge breath and her eyes wide open, the amber flecked irises now clear. She coughed a few times and slowly looked up at Rogen.

“You know, you’re incredibly strong. I’m pretty confident about my wards, and you nearly destroyed them.”

The woman barked out a short laugh and went silent. Tears started to streak down her face.

"I'm dying, aren't I."

"Shhh. Shhh. Tell me your name, little one." Rogen stroked the woman's hair back gently with her free hand.

"Nal'ari," she whispered. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away, tears still falling. "Why'd it have to jump out at me?"

The question hung heavy in the air.

Nal'ari turned back to look at Rogen with pleading eyes. "Save me, please."

Rogen didn't say anything.

"Please, I need to go home and protect my wife."

"Strength, little one. Stay strong. Protect your wife from what?"

"It will be soon... Too soon… The calamity... The Oreclai... "

At that moment, a thunderous clap sounded and bright red pillars extended to the sky from multiple directions. The color began to spread out from the epicenters, engulfing the noon sky in a crimson red. The hue shifted from red, to violet, to a deep blue, green, and finally a bright burst of blinding yellow.

"It’s beginning..."

Rogen looked down.

Nal'ari was dead.