This is the Prologue to the Crystal Souls.
It speaks of that which happened before.

I

Erika Redmark sat at her library window, staring at the river, carefully considering Time and Fate. Time: The Past, the Present, the Future, all coalesced into one easy-to-manage word. Fate: that overarching force which decides the end from the beginning.

If only it were so simple. Time was more than just three frames of reference, more than a measurement of endurance. Time and Fate were intertwined in a relative world of cause and effect, the action, and reaction, where time was both the governor and the key mechanism of Fate, as well the plaything of Luck.

Erika pondered both Time and Fate, partially because they were things that needed to be considered, and partially to simply pass time as she waited.

The adventurers had little time left, if any at all. If they weren't already dead. The path to their target was clear enough, but the obstacles were great.

No, she would know if they were dead. She would know if their prey was dead, too. She had seen to that. As she teleported them away, she had linked a magical signal to the brooches that they wore. If any of them died, she would know. And none had perished yet.

But despite this one comforting fact, they were low on time. Garzahd would detect her work soon enough, and attempt to dispatch her warriors. She had reminded them time and time again that speed, not stealth, was of the essence. The blow was to be fast and hard. No doubts. The adventurers had claimed to understand. No, no doubts. They did understand that speed was necessary, that much was obvious. They had been as anxious as she about getting this assassination done. But they did not fully understand the implications of time upon their mission. The Fate of the known world hung in the balance: a fate resting on the pinnacle of swift timing.

But their understanding of this fate did not matter, so long as the job was done and the swine dead. They were off, mutilating the Imperial Guard; and she was left in safety, waiting for the magical trigger to activate in time for her to bring them back to safety.

She sat in safety, contemplating Time, and the fate of the known world.

Once the adventurers were finished their attack on the surface, there would only be so much time before the caves of Avernum would feel the repercussions. Conflict with the Empire was inevitable, this was a lesson learned simply by encountering the Empire, let alone by spending thirty years living in it.

Erika allowed herself a brief smile, something she seldom did anymore, at the thought of Hawthorne's pending death. Yes, revenge would be sweet. The era of perfection, the era of the Empire, was about to end. The era of revolution: the era of the Exiles would rise to take its place. There would be change, even temporary chaos, but justice would prevail. Justice always eventually prevailed: it was the way of nature and the way of Fate. That which could not be destroyed from the outside could always be destroyed from the inside. Fate always got what it wanted.

Erika dropped the smile. Micah and his close-minded bureaucrats might not understand how Time and Fate would work together to their advantage, but work they would. Luck favored the bold. Fate favored the Just. Time favored the patient. None favored the lazy, nor the ignorant. Nor pompous beaurocrats sitting in padded chairs miles and miles above her, above ground, meddling with the lives of many. Lives such as hers, the damn fools. They would pay. They would be eaten alive by their greed and corruption. So would Micah and his Council of Cities, if they did not pay attention.

But they would, Fate demanded that they must, or at least that someone must. The world was not destined for chaos, Fate declared: there was a purpose! An end! All would balance and right would prevail, that was why it was right!

Erika sat on the brink of epiphany, searching for a conclusion to her thoughts

The damned adventurers were running out of time!

There was a sudden disturbance in the ether. Erika snapped into a standing position as if yanked from her chair. The magical signal that she had imbued into the brooches had been triggered by Hawthorne's proximity. It was time to return to work.

She allowed herself another brief smile as she began the summoning ritual. In a matter of moments, a portal would link the brooches that the adventurers wore to a specially designed rune, set up in the library. Once their task was complete, they would be returned to Avernum, safe, sound, and victorious.

Luck favors the bold. Fate favors the Just. Erika's patience had finally come to fruition.

Thus begins a new age.