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The wind blew hard, and the ground trembled. Buildings collapsed all around them, spitting and coughing dirt up in their faces. One lone man stood on top of a building that was collapsing, saluting to the air. A group of strange people gazed up, wondering what a man could be doing on top of a building in this kind of setting. The man did not shift, though the building shook horribly and collapsed as he saluted.

He seemed to be saluting something; whatever it was, the strangers could not tell. The man then pulled out his bow and arrow, nocking the arrow as he brought it up. He let the arrow fly into the horizon, watching even though the sunset burned his eyes. The arrow seemed to burst into flame then disintegrate. The man saluted again, and the building collapsed even further.

The strangers moved backwards every time the building nudged downwards, shielding the dust and concrete away with their cloaks. The cloaks did not get dirtied; the rubble seemed to slide off like water down a waterfall. As the small band of strangers kept gazing up, the man jumped down. He jumped at least one hundred and fifty feet, landing nimbly on his feet as if it were but another step on a paved road. The lone man walked off and away, never so much as glancing at the small band, though the strangers stared and gawked at the man.

The small band of strangers walked the opposite way, thinking about what just occurred. A battle. A tremendous, dangerous battle of magic and stealth. There was a woman involved. The woman and the man fought as if there was no more life to be lived.