While I would not normally write a second prologue, I felt the only way to really bring across the scale of destruction brought on by the starfire was to view it from the eyes of easily disposable characters. I hope you enjoy the short length of this chapter, cause' the next one's gonna be pretty darn long.
The gates of Demacia lay cold, frozen in the frosts of deep winter. The darkness was salient, and the corpses of dead stars lent their dull radiance to the gloom. In the shade of night, Demacia slept, secure in the protection of the Lightshield. This night, the responsibility for the nation state lay in the hands of House Buvelle, and the guards that boasted its crest of golden harp against deep black did their duties as protectors with vigilance, for the Maven did not look kindly on those who would carelessly risk Demacian lives.
"It's cold", the first guard mused, his weathered cloak bunched around shoulders too long in the chill.
"It happens to be in the middle of winter", the second, younger guard snorted derisively. Lured by the promises of military glory, the young man had joined the Buvellian guard ready for the glories of battle, only for the treaty of the league of legends to rob him of a meteoritic rise he knew would have come had the preparations for the Rune War reached fruition. Instead, bound by legal writ, he guarded walls that had not seen enemies for near a decade. With the advent of peace, the passionate flame of his hope had burned to mere embers, and the young man knew his remaining years in the night watch would be filled with the tedium of tranquillity.
"And that's why it is cold", the older man snapped. "What troubles you, Jonas? You've been of ill humour since supper."
"I'm sorry, Kurea, my friend", Jonas mumbled as rubbed a sleeve stained with the dried leavings of previous similar journeys across his nose. "For years we have guarded this gate when all know that no enemies will come. We trawl this damn wall like beetles while the Noxians sleep in warm hearths."
"Ah," Kurea smiled as he stretched. "But what if do they come, lad? What if, while we lie in hearths warmed by fires, our enemies enter Demacia? Never mind the dishonour, how would you fare when Maven scours the flesh from your back?"
"Oh, but that's a pretty lady. I might be of mind to lay for a while if she would do that to m-", Jonas paused, eyes widening as he stared over the older hunched shoulders of the older man.
"Kurea, what's that?"
His partner turned, and his eyes widened. "Fire", he whispered.
Before the two men gleamed a wave of molten orange, golden flames that roared over the wintery horizon. It appeared to them as a pale yellow glow, but the unmistakeable shards of heat marked it as a creature to be feared. The fire pealed in the direction of the city gates, and even from where they stood, it blasted the men with tongues of pain.
Aged with experience, Kurea was first to act. Grabbing the younger guardsmen by the arm, he shoved him towards the stout oaken door that led the way to the inner keep. "Wake Junim." Kurea spoke authoritatively, exuding a calm he did not feel. "Tell him to fetch the water brigades. We will need them."
Stunned by the sudden appearance of imminent disaster, Jonas stumbled, usual athleticism deserting him in his shock. The guard floundered, and nearly fell from the force of his partner's push.
"What is that?"
"I don't know. Fetch Junim, Jonas. Now."
As the young man ran to fetch the sergeant of the watch, Kurea turned, and all calmness fled.
The once indistinct orange glow shone brighter now, and from his vantage point, he could see that it was not fire after all, but a wave of molten lava that roiled with inexorable speed towards his home.
A psychic scream tore through his mind, and he gasped, sensing the horror behind the scream of the Maven. The naked terror in the magick drove him to his knees, choking him with its power. As his mind reeled with agony, Kurea struggled to his feet, vomit retching from deep within his bowels. He placed a gauntleted hand on the rough surface of stone, his body yearning instinctively for the quiet companionship of earth. Instead, he burned, flesh melting to bone. Kurea struggled to open his eyes, but saw nothing as the viscous membrane contained within his eyeballs withered in the face of starfire. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound could emerge from a throat charred black from heat.
As starfire cleansed him, his last thoughts were of winter, and how good it was to finally feel warmth again.