Since I got so many requests to continue one of my drabbles from "30 Pieces of Malec", I decided to :) But I'm not going to say which drabble I'm continuing, because that would just be a little spoiler, wouldn't it? ;)

I understand that this part is short-it's an almost-teaser called a 'prologue'! Chapter One will come soon, I promise, I promise :3

I also know that "For Your Entertainment" and "It Was One Of Those Nights" need to be continued, and I promise, that they will. "FYE" is a work-in-progress, and as for the other, well, you have to have a certain mindset to write lemons, am I right or is it just me?

(Does anyone even read these author's notes?)

So without further ado, my newest Mortal Instruments story, the prologue!

We're good, rockin', and ready to roll!

Alec couldn't move. He was frozen. It was so real. He wasn't really there, he knew in some subconscious part of his mind, and he knew he couldn't make a difference. But that didn't stop him from screaming soundlessly as the second man, the second warlock, conjured up a ball of energy effortlessly and flung it at the exhausted Downworlder just feet away from him.

"No!" The first warlock managed to stagger to the side and avoid the attack, and almost fell over. The second one laughed.

"You won't last much longer, Upworld-walker," he sneered.

"No…No! You won't—You're not going to win!" the first said, blood trickling down his chin as he coughed. "I won't let you."

"Won't let me? Brother"—and here he laughed—"you have no energy left to stop me with!"

The first one put both of his badly shaking hands out in front of him, sparks immediately wrapping around his palms and fingers. "You—won't—make it to Alicante! I won't let you!"

And there was a blinding flash, the rank scent of bad magic, and a loud scream…

~vvv~

…that Alec recognized as his own as he bolted upright in bed, clutching the blankets and gasping for air.

He was back in his room at the Institute, tangled up in his sheets. A faint, milky light was attempting to peek through the gap between the heavy black curtains in front of his window. His black comforter was wrapped tightly around his torso and his legs, and he kicked it off to free himself, sweating now.

There was the pounding of footsteps and his door flew open, letting the burning white of witchlight spill into his dark room. Once his eyes had adjusted properly, he saw Jace standing in the doorway, one hand on the handle of the longsword at his belt, the other holding a witchlight rune stone.

"Alec? I heard a scream—are you okay?" Jace asked, eyes big. His hair was messy and his shirt was only half-buttoned—Alec figured that his parabatai had just woken up.

"F-Fine," Alec stammered. "Just—Just a nightmare. I'm fine."

Jace let his hand fall from the sword stuck through his weapons belt. "God, Alec, if you're going to have nightmares, don't wake up screaming from them. I thought someone was trying to knock you off in your sleep." He turned away, shaking his head. "You should get up—Maryse is making breakfast, and you and I have a training session at nine."

When Jace had left, Alec grabbed for his own witchlight stone, sitting on his nightstand. The bright glow poured from between his fingers as he held it in his closed hand. It was the third time he had had the same dream, and he couldn't shake the lingering worry that something was going to come of it. It was just a dream, right? Dreams aren't anything to be lingered on.

But he still held a bit of irrational fear in his heart.

Because the first warlock—was Magnus Bane.

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