That the city fell from the clouds was obvious. That fire caused it, even more so.
Only a few structures remained unburnt in the majestic City of Dreams, and even they were twisted into shapes that defied Euclidean geometry.
“Papers were burned,” he said. The lantern blazed in agreement.

As he looked on, he felt the hands of the Northwind shove him away, as its cries blew through the stone and vapor ashes, looking desperately for survivors.
The ashes floated around him, aided by the wind’s draft fingers, and pointed southwards.
Undoubtedly, towards Garj, the City of War.

The first piece has fallen, they whispered into his ears. There will be more.
He nodded. His search was far from over.