Clutching her jeweled dagger, a little girl creeps along the outskirts of the Blight, channeling a steady flow of Crystal magic to swirl a thick layer of fog around herself for cover. She keeps low to the ground and moves slowly to avoid detection from the Eye of Prism sentinels.

They keep watch with deadly precision. She can feel their eyes scan just short of where she crouches in the mist and suppresses a shudder. She calls them eyes, but there’s nothing natural about them. The creatures they belong to no longer have a will of their own, minds long burned away by the forbidden magic practiced by Eye of Prism adepts. Senses elevated by complicated spells woven together by twisted Shade magic, the sentinels exist to guard and kill. Their eyes report back to their master like an enchanted looking glass. If they find out she’s here, they’ll rip her to shreds, and she is careful not to move one fingerbreadth farther than necessary.

With a practiced fluidity, she reaches into the leathery taratarm-hide pouch bound tightly to her hip and slips out a dull, darkened stone. After glancing around one more time, she intensifies her binding with the magical realm and pierces her thumb with the dagger, rolling the stone in the crimson droplets. Within moments of absorbing her blood, it pulsates, and a deep purple glow bursts from its core. She lets her mind linger on the tiny cut as the small sting helps to settle her nerves, giving her a moment to settle before channeling a well of Shade magic to draw from. The pain is a welcome distraction from the knowledge that she perches one breath away from a blistering death, and this is the beginning.

The stone is all but humming, flaring a soft amethyst as she slides her dagger back into its sheath. She closes her eyes while cupping the stone with trembling hands, and ignoring the dread rising out of her belly like acid, she gently allows the stone to roll just a fraction past the slithering mist. She holds her breath and concentrates on shielding it from detection. An eternity lingers before a final violent burst of brilliance flashes through the dark, and the stone sinks into the soil.

She rocks back on her heels, releasing the pool of Shade magic and the stale breath imprisoned in her chest. Pressing every ounce of her awareness to the edges of the vaporous panorama before her, she counts her fingers and toes twice over, but her pulse refuses to slow.

Silence continues to reign.

It is done. Her thoughts bounce around, jumping between hope and despair. The last chance to save her people rests with the outcome of one buried Deathstone. She almost crumples with relief as she releases her binding with Raiike, and the tension previously marbled throughout her body evaporates, every muscle turning to jelly.

On the verge of collapse, the girl turns and forces her dwindling energy into shaky steps, each one bringing her closer to the rendezvous point near the portal stone. Images of soothing bone broth and a crackling fire are her only defense against her rapidly numbing extremities. After some time, she leans against a massive cypress tree to catch her breath, its sharp but pleasant scent filling her nostrils with each deep inhale. The rough bark against her fingertips grounds her, soothing her frayed nerves. Channeling such a large amount of magic at once is draining under normal conditions, but doing so under the nose of an Eye of Prism stronghold is enough to bring anyone to their knees, and she has managed to remain upright while dragging herself nearly a kilometer back through the artificial forest keeping the Endless Ravage contained.

One more lunge brings her into a clearing with a shimmering pond, thirty or so yards in this distance. She can see him crouched at the edge where the moss-covered ground becomes a sea of red sand, waiting for her. Her arms and legs are lead, and her head feels as if it’s stuffed full of wool.

A hesitant smile spreads across her face, and everything goes black as the ground rushes up to greet her.