The Prologue for you all to enjoy

1. The Saga of the Three Tiers - Part I
The Pieces Are Set
Prologue
Two apparent strangers stand in the dark of a woodland, each of them spilling blood into the
surrounding leaf litter. The depth of breaths from one of said strangers appeared to nearly fog up the
entire area. The other appeared not to be breathing; that or they were breathing silently and calmly.
However, it was evident that a great struggle had been taking place and despite the mess and
disturbance that had so far been created, these men had non-descript faces, as though they had just
walked from the nearest market and were on their way home when a fight broke out between them.
The only thing that set them apart was their weapons, which both had an otherworldly feel to them.
The panting one grasped a large, gnarled and twisted branch, which appeared to have flecks of gold
running through it. The collected one elegantly held a black, serrated sword, the very presence of
which sent shudders up the spine.
"You've forced dark times upon this planet!" one spoke with authority - albeit diminished by the lack
of breath behind it. "The countless evils acted in your name, can only shame you."
Barely moving his lips or changing his facial expression, the other replied. "And you're proud of what
you've done?"
"I did what I had to and well, I'm not the one under scrutiny right now and my actions were
necessary."
The relaxed one merely retorted with a muffled noise that seemed to pooh-pooh what had just been
said, and lunging down with celestial elegance, the black haired one stabbed in the direction of the
other. The scruffy chestnut-haired other, who actually looked like he would scrub up well, did manage
to conveniently block this push forward; he then immediately slams the twisted, gold-striped staff to
the ground, releasing a visceral magenta energy that envelops the other. Somewhat in vain, the dark-
haired one attempts to escape from his predicament. This energy then throbs, exacting some form of
physical pain upon the collected one - who didn't seem so relaxed anymore.
However, this didn't last long as his grip on the staff failed somehow, leaving it to fall to the ground. In
the split second between him losing grip and regaining his grasp on the staff, the dark-haired one had
managed to press the aggressive-looking sword into the fair-haired one's throat. The blade sank
slightly into the skin, allowing a few drops of blood to slide down his neck. This small amount of blood
began glowing magenta and moved its way towards his larynx.
With an awe-inspiring roar from the one pinned to the tree, as the magenta glowing blood soaked
into his larynx, the other is flung across the clearing. A smug expression sheepishly appeared on his
face, as it seemed the battle was finally going his way, but in a matter of seconds the dark-haired one
has regained his footing enough to swing the sword into the large staff. Anyone would be forgiven for
believing that the noise caused by the contact of the two objects was thunder. It had sounded like an
explosion of magical energy. The force involved caused the two objects to lock together. This
appeared to bemuse them as they struggled to pull their own item free. The atmosphere was awkward
as neither man knew how to react.
The one wielding the sword took hold of an opportunity and lunged forward with his sword, still
attached to the other’s staff. The two objects separated, with a noise almost as loud as the one
created by their fusion. The fairer-haired one got the energy up to fight back and what seemed very

2. close to a fencing duel ensued. For him, this felt as though it was lasting forever; he began to weaken
as he resigned himself to the inevitable fate that awaited him. A sound of cracking bones and tearing
flesh was accompanied by a click. The fairer-haired one falls to the ground.
"Your weakness has always been your misplaced faith in your power. You tried to take me on and
failed. What does this show you?" The dark-haired one removed his sword, which had found itself
buried deep in the fair-haired one’s chest.
All that managed to escape the incapacitated one's lips was a whimper that could not be discerned as
representing anything. Blood flowed profusely from his wound, each second his life spilled out into
the ground.
The dark-haired man turns to walk away, with a deviously contented grin, not before having spat on
the dying one. "Exactly. Admirable attempt though."
Lying on the floor, realising that there was but one option, the chestnut-haired one managed to
gargle his last few words, along with a splash of blood. "I die, you die!" He thrust his staff forward.
"And blood shall take his life tonight!"
The dark-haired other turned to see the fallen one writhing in pain as blood flowed from the stab
wound in his chest, to then swirl around the staff, slowly turning into a magenta energy. The whole
area felt unearthly; the energy probably could have sapped anyone of their life, being so powerful and
evil in nature. His face dropped. He now recognised the inevitability of his fate, there was no chance of
escape. The primal energy then leapt towards him, causing every vein, muscle and nerve in his body to
come alive. He let out a guttural shriek as his flesh began eroding away as the magic brushed past it.
Eventually, nothing is left but the dark, serrated sword still red hot. The fair-haired, apparently good,
man had used his own life to take the others.
Struggling to take his last breaths, the brown-haired one managed a contented smile as he realised
what he had managed to achieve. As his eyes slowly closed, he could accept that his death was not in
vain.