Silarn

The snow and chill winds battered at his body as he pushed towards his destination. Already the earthy, red cobblestones of the deserted roadway were caked in a thin layer of the unnatural white blanket. It shouldn't have been falling, but down it came, faster and faster. He could no longer see the buildings he passed to his right and left. Their images were looming phantoms in the deepening storm, but the snow was the least of his worries.

Ahead, in the center of the city, a deep red haze burned the night air and cut through the thick snowfall. It clung around what could only be a tall precipice of the central palace, ominous and daunting. It was his destination, and it loomed ever nearer. Soon a tall gate blocked his path, and with a wave and glimmering of his staff, the metal bars groaned open. He turned his head about, looking for someone to alert, someone who could send up a warning signal to the city, but the guards were nowhere in sight. Even as he passed into the grand, tapestry-lined hallways of the palace, not a soul was to be found.

He let his dread guide him to the stair, the wild energies drawing him towards doom. He no longer had any doubt that the beast was coming again, but hope lingered in his body that he could put a stop to it before the prison was entirely undone. There were so few left, so few who could contest it, that surely the ancient feats could not be remade.

At long last he came to the doorway. He could feel the power in all of its totality, a sinuous presence that personified a long arm reaching out and savaging the earth. He threw open the door and rushed in to find the first people he had seen since Alena. Six of them stood, five in a circle and one keeping watch, a heavy chanting shaking the walls with its force. His eyes grew wide when he recognized them. He couldn't believe such people were breaking the prison and called out desperately, "Stop, you fools! You don't know what you'll unleash!"

The sixth figure turned around calmly, but gazed at him with a malevolent stare. "So, you have come at last, Magis." His demeanor turned suddenly hateful and he cried out, "You sought to control us! You thought you could trick us, thought to play the friendly role, but we see your plots, now! Soon you would have had the whole court kneeling at your feet!" He smiled then and straightened himself. "Now that we wield this power, you are nothing. Leave our lands, or die here."

Heat blasted through the room as if a giant furnace had been turned open, and he could have let it melt him. He knew not what had driven them to such insanity for the words were poison, but he had not the time to wonder. Raising his staff, he sought to put an end to the ritual before it could be completed, but in that very instant the bleeding red light bloomed blinding white. He was forced to shield his eyes as the room began to tremble fitfully. As the flash began to fade, the walls all about burst apart, stone fragments tumbling out of view and raining down to the distant courtyard. The energy swelled with such ferocity that the terror sought to consume him, but he forced it away. Cold touched his skin as the snow flurries came rushing into the tower.

With a curt laugh, the king spoke once more. "You choose death then. So be it, and be gone with you!" But he did not die. Instead, one of the five chanting silhouettes burst into white flame and stumbled out of the broken tower. The winds of the storm quickly swept away his screams. "What?" the king bellowed and whirled about. "What have you done, Magis!"

He had little will to speak in his despair, but the words came nonetheless. "Not I, Egoden. You have brought this upon yourselves and linked your lives to destruction." In the short time he spoke the words, two more of the men burned, and one, faster of thought than his companions, slit his own throat before the pain of the flames took him. As his last comrade came to a fiery end, Egoden faced the Magis one final time; a pitiful, pleading look on his face. There were no words of solace to give before the demon took him. Screaming his last breaths, the man once considered a friend took a final leap off the tower.

The terrible winds tore away most of what remained of the top of the tower, and for a minute he wouldn't have cared had it all come down to crush him. But he had more than himself to think about. The city could still be saved. He could lead his family from this peril. Launching himself from the height, he had an advantage over those he had just watched die. His staff vibrated fitfully as the ground approached below him and in the last several feet his descent slowed to deposit him on the ground safely.

His exit came none too soon. A great shockwave erupted through the castle grounds and above him a great dome of black fire erupted from the red light. He ran. The black flames struck the great majority of the vast structure and, against all sense of logic, remained burning. They spread behind him as if alive, and the snow that hampered his flight did nothing against them. He put power to his voice and gave a cry of alarm across as much of the city as he could. Aside from that, he could only hope the people would wake and see the danger before it was too late. Eld'therin, in all its glory, would perish.

Coming at last to his own house, he flung open the door came upon Ewlynn and Alena, already waiting. His wife's face read panic and his daughter's terror. “Eridan,” his wife stammered, “What’s going on, what’s happening?”

He hadn't the nerve to tell her everything and the flames were only a minute behind. “We haven't the time. Come, we must run! Come on!”

She nodded, fearful but trusting, and followed him out the door as the flames began to lick the house. It was like walking into an inferno; the searing heat felt like it was burning into them, even at a distance. Clutching his wife and daughter’s arms, he urged them away as fast as they could move, but, driven by a malignant will, a burst of flame shot out and caught at the hem of Ewlynn's dress. Eridan did not realize it, and she tried to bat out the small blaze only to further the spreading flame. In a hideous moment as Eridan turned 'round, she screamed and was consumed.

"No!" he cried in dismay as her chaotic figure fell convulsively to the ground. Her wild screams plunged into his heart like an icy knife. Using all the power he could muster, he snuffed the engulfing rage, but the flames had already taken their toll. "Ewlynn," he cried. Her eyes turned painfully to his own.

"Save Alena, please. Run, my love," she managed in a fractured whisper.

"Alena! Keep going, quick!" he called to her, but with only half a heart. The girl replied, but he did not hear it, could not. Ewlynn was dying - he had to do something. “No,” he stammered, “I can heal you. There is time!” He could find nowhere to hold her.

"Go," she pleaded in a final breath. The flames were almost upon him, and with an anguished cry he forced himself around, away from her side. In that moment he realized that Alena had not moved. Her face was blank, her eyes locked onto her mother's ragged figure. Screaming in desperation, he scooped her into his arms and ran, trying to ignore the fact that his wife would soon be completely gone.

As he ran, the outside world finally leaked back in and he heard the terrible screams floating across the shrill winds. Plummeting into the horrible embrace of cold after such consuming heat, he felt like he should be frozen solid, but soon he was numb to all but his daughter's safety.

The city was behind, and he didn't stop. He ran until he came to the apex of the long road, the highest point that overlooked the city, and finally fell to his knees. The snow had already passed his ankles, and he was thoroughly exhausted. He swept a strand of hair from his daughter's face with clumsy fingers and found her gaze as blank as before. He thought that he should cry and knew that he already was, the flowing tears freezing with a painful sting on his cheeks. Dreading the sight, he turned to the city and found that it was completely ablaze. The black fires were already starting to consume the countryside.

Shuddering, he rose back to his feet and pressed on, walking - half-stumbling - through the icy landscape. He had only one choice left. He had to go to Darenthol, though he doubted he would last even that long. As he trudged ever-northward along the fading roadway, thoughts swirled through his head, as numerous and fleeting as the snowflakes whipping around him.

Oh Vethos! The city. The people. Ewlynn! I should have been able to do something, I should have known, but how? How could I know? They never showed such hate before! Oh god, it’s because of me. It’s free, and there’s nobody left, none to fight It. -- And what’s wrong with Alena, why does she look so?

“Alena? Honey…” he said as soothingly as he could, but she had no reaction at all. Nothing. And he suddenly understood the reason.

Oh, Ewlynn.

Titania

Hey, I'm back for part 2...

Ok I'm being picky now, because your writing is so good I don't need to do much grammar correction or anything like that. When you say the images were "mere looming phantoms" (I'd take out the comma by the way), that to me implies that they're insignificant, but then you also say in the same sentence that the snow isn't important. These don't directly contradict each other, exactly, but they sound odd, especially connected with the "but." Does that make any sense? It probably doesn't...

This to me implies the haze is in two separate places, not sure if that's what you meant or not.

I have a question here. It seems like he's checking to make sure there aren't any guards around who saw him, like he's escaping from prison (I know he's not. Just a comparison). But the bolded phrase "someone to alert" sounds as if he's trying to find someone to tell them that a prisoner escaped.

Very nice line... but 'befitting' didn't seem quite right, possibly "akin to a long arm..."? Befitting seems to imply that there is a physical long arm and it's only appropriate that it would have a sinuous presence, rather than comparing the sinuous presence to a long arm.

er, stood?

There's that 'almost' again. I only notice this because I've had it pointed out to me in my own writing... just something to be aware of.

I guess I feel like this little part could be expanded upon, it seems a bit sudden and not very elaborated upon (specifically the walls blowing up). Although considering how long the prologue already is...

try saying that 10 times fast! sorry, just had to point that out...

Is the king the sixth figure...? hard to tell

Firstly, the "he" sounds kind of like it's the king who isn't dying, and secondly, a bit of repetition of the word "broken."

earlier Magis was italicized, I'd just say be consistent

making up words again, are you?

Their names are a bit close and introduced rather fast, it makes it somewhat confusing. Just something to think about, although I figured it out.

daughter's, I think... referring to her face, correct? this was an odd little sentence

1st comma should be a semicolon

Um... just an observation, wouldn't she scream? Rather a lot? Fire is not a pleasant or quick way to die.

dying

Ok, this is a pet peeve of mine - having a whole block of italicized text for some inexplicable reason just bothers me. I'd write it like this (but non-italicized)

Oh Vethos! The city. The people. Ewlynn! He should have been able to do something. He should have known, but how? how could he have known? They had never should such hate before! Oh god, it was because of him.

A chill ran down his spine. He has been freed, and there's no one left, no one to fight Him.

I'm not sure how that last bit would work. You could do a little bit of italicizing there just to differentiate between he as in Eridan and the other mysterious He. Although is that supposed to be the It from the first piece of the prologue?

That's part's certainly only suggestion; as I mentioned, I have an unfathomable and rather odd hatred for large blocks of italic text.

Again, you have a great writing style that really allows me to comment more on story-line and / or clarification things... and I'm very intrigued by the story so far. Hope to see more.

__________________
Critique and ye shall be critiqued.

Silarn

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Titania

Your after-critiques are so entertaining... relaborated, I like that

The revisions look good. And to explain a couple things:

Er, ignore that. For some reason I thought it was italicized once. *blushes furiously*

My big problem here was just that she didn't scream at all. Which you've fixed.

I know... and it still bugs me. If it was completely random I probably would have gone totally psychotic... meh, if it doesn't bother anyone else just leave it.

Indeed you could. More nuts, perhaps we should say.

__________________
Critique and ye shall be critiqued.

Silarn

I mentioned her screaming as soon as it engulfed her, just not after he turned around.