The city of Asgoth was falling out of the sky, and there was nothing that Jorund could do to stop it. Enemy dragons spat greek fire, swarming in and around its once-grand towers. Helium vestibules melted and ruptured, and the city sunk faster and faster.
They could only save themselves. Jorund struggled with the helm of the Zephyr, trying to escape Asgoth's widening shadow. He grimly looked across the atmosphere at the enemy warship. Charin was standing on the bridge, his hands full of magic and his eyes full of hate. This wasn't the Academy anymore; things were settled in the air with sorcery and sky-iron, not words.
The Zephyr shook from another cannon blast; they weren't going to make it in time. She trembled yet again, this time from debris falling from Asgoth, and the port rotors spun their last. "Silva!" he cried, trying to keep his balance. "Get us out of here!"
The sorceress didn't need to be told twice. Her eyes turned violet, and she stood upright on the heaving deck and sung the song of Opening. The air beneath them shattered into a fractal expanse of possible universes. Gritting his teeth, Jorund wrestled the helm and guided the Zephyr through it, to whatever lay beyond. Charin followed.