The gate to Haven swirled open like a summer cyclone, streaming stars instead of rain. All of my mana vanished into its depths, forcing it taller, wider, as large as the gate that called the Ally of Fate. Large enough to fit a dragon.
I fell out of Fate with a jerk, blinded and deafened by the intensity of three Ninth-level auras. My vision swam, filling with black dots. Feeling sick, I curled up on Fable, coughing weakly. Blood trickled past my lips, but I was too tired to wipe it away.
My staff burned hot in my hands, funneling the last remnants of my mana. The gate was massive, overshadowing the spire and still growing. The dragon snapped and diverted all its mana into stopping its charge, but its momentum carried it into the depths of the gate. Golden tendrils of mana snapped out of the vortex, ensnaring it like a fly in a web.
