Rain beats down on his head. The water soaks through his robes as he runs through the city. The lightning strikes far away, but close enough for the rumble of thunder to register as his heart pounds in time with every hurried step he takes. It cracks above and all around, spreading from left to right as the sound waves travel through the air. The rain is cold up here in the floating fortress of a city that he calls home.
A boulder falls to his side, crashing upon the ground. It rolls out of sight. A fire strikes up in its path; Doomfire, they call it, one that only takes powerful water magic to erase. He shakes his head and barrels forward while another volley of Doomfire boulders land on the city. The man forces his feet forward. His bloody task had been completed, and they shouldn't be able to cast many more of those horrid flame spells on their trebuchets. The enemy's leading fire wizard was dead. Regardless of his deeds, if he were to remain, there was no future for him and his beloved should the city fall.
Wind rushes past him. It threatens to carry him away. The idea doesn't bother him much, though. All mages are taught spells of slow falling from the very start, given their life among the clouds. Yet, it hampers his progress. He curses, unheard above the roar of the heavy, pelting raindrops and peels of thunder. A landmark fountain in the town square flashes before him, illuminated by a bolt so close he can feel the shock in his chest.
A moment later, and he pushes through a door. Another strike, this one farther off, gives a brief but stunning view of the man inside. Both of them stand in shock for a moment before rushing into an embrace. The Oracle was right - neither storm nor siege would keep them apart. It was time for them to depart. And with that blessing, the two gathered their most precious belongings and fled under cover of storm and night to a brighter future.