Sitting at the small table, I rest my cheek against my palm, propping myself up by my elbow as I curl into the jacket. "I'm not the best cook." Pascal confesses, and I'm left wondering if going without is worth not having to expend the effort, but I am not my warlord. 

I can not go days without eating as he can.

If I had ever been concerned about excess body fat, I think my time here has helped to reduce that supply. 

"I'll make something. It might warm me up." Sliding out of my overcoat, I rub my arms once more as I decide on hot sandwiches. It was easier than a full meal, and we could eat it on the go. 

"You look like you're freezing," Pascal questions me as I heat the pan, tossing in a generous amount of butter. "Hold on." 

Disappearing into the house, I grumble as she returns with a black shirt. 

"Strip. This will help." 

As reluctant as I am to be exposed, the thought of being warm was too inviting and I obediently pulled off my clothes. She shakes her head at my choices and sighs. 

"I keep forgetting you're not really from this time... you wouldn't know about the layering we have to stay warm in these thinner clothes. This is a thermal shirt; it'll help keep you warm."

 For a moment, I wonder if it will fit, and while it's snug, I can't really complain. She grazes her eyes over my body as I snug down the shirt into my pants, fastening the belt over it. 

A sigh of relief escapes my lips. At least I feel as though I'm not hemorrhaging heat. "Thank the gods... that is quite nice." Pulling my shirt on over it, then my sweater, then my coat I feel the slightest bit warmer and she offers a small smile.  

"Just wait until you get thermal socks. Then you'll really be in business. Scarves, hats, my brother really doesn't think about these things. He's so focused on the mission and getting our community help, I think he forgets you're a human just like the rest of us." 

Tonguing my cheek, I opt to let her think that, if it will improve my living conditions. Focusing on cooking, while warming meat for hers, I hedge on whether I want it in mine. Protein would probably do me some good. 

"What's the matter?"

I realize I'm merely standing here with the most peculiar look on my face.

"Oh. I don't eat meat, not really, anyway. Solomonari are supposed to be monks, we don't really partake in loss of life, though I am an exception with my current occupation. It sounds silly now, but I have always liked animals, and killing them to consume is just... it feels barbaric. Well, most animals." 

I can't help but snicker at the thought of the cat, whom I'd all but written off as a devil worshipper. Setting the meat on the skillet and smiling to myself, I was in slightly better spirits now that I had gained some warmth; the cat could be my inspiration. 

I'll pretend to eat it. 

Pascal stares at me, and she flushes when I catch her eye, running her hand through the hair that stands up playfully due to the shaved hairstyle. She's a strange gray blond, though I can't say she reminds me of anyone in particular, thankfully. 

I stack on plentiful cheese and toast slices of bread. 

"How can you be so happy?" 

The question makes me snort, at least I don't come off as miserable as I feel.

"We're nearing the end of the world, and you look like you've heard a good joke."

"Well, when you help people, you tend to live on the edge. I was thinking of something funny, not so much our circumstances. Life is remarkably short, and if I've learned anything, it's that it's  a waste to be sad all the time, much as I do have my down moments." 

On that note, I plate her food and hand it over as we sit at the small table once more. It's nice to have hot food, even nicer to be warmer. It invigorates me, giving me a whole new outlook. "So you can control water?" I press, taking the opportunity to learn about this odd woman.

Pascal is very unlike her brother; she's wary, observing me as if I were a spy. "Somewhat. I'm out of practice. Our parents didn't like it when we used, so we've only recently begun to develop. That's one of the reasons why we wanted to meet you; we were hoping you could help us hone our skills." 

Her brother's power was electricity.

 I suppose electricity had to do with lightning, but the water was definitely possible. Adding these two to my list might be a strong possibility if we could get her brother to take things more seriously on the administrative front. A good soldier was well-rounded, not just running blindly to help his people.

"Can I hear your plan?"

Dusting off my hands, I cross my arms over my chest and ponder whether a reveal is really the wisest option. "I have a few things mulling over. The biggest issue we currently have is Red."

"Mistress Corina?" The name makes me cringe.

"Red, please, if you will. Yes. We have to dislodge her from power somehow. I'd like just to kill her, but it would leave a gaping hole in society that someone much worse could fill."

"Well, that's where you come in, isn't it? Frankly, we all find it startling how freely you and Mr. Mercer speak about ending one's life. History surely had that aspect correct." 

At one point, I might have liked to step in; now, I wasn't so sure I wanted to rule New York or anything for that matter. I want to take a break, enjoy the love I've always wanted, and discover who I am beyond this persona of being a King. 

My own verbiage catches me off guard, and I lean back into the chair, eyeing the sandwich as if, at any moment, it would give me some hidden wisdom. 

For the last few years, this had been my identity; who was I beyond a King? Beyond a Solomonari or a Prince? 

I had never slowed down enough to realize that I disliked cats, didn't eat meat because I love animals, or the simple fact that I love shopping with Marisol. My personality was drained, empty of anything but a continual drive for a mission.

 Bits and pieces had begun to fall into place; I was eager to chase them. My resume was broad, but my personality felt altered. In making this choice to allow Verando to leave and me to remain, I had begun to realize that this no longer felt like the best option to me. 

I missed him too dearly; I longed for him, yearned for him.

I needed to make a pact with myself; my relationship with Verando couldn't be secondary.

Realizing I hadn't answered her, I parted my lips to make the words come out. "I don't want to?" I finally admit. "Once this is over, if there is a world left to have, I'd like to have it. A family, a home, a job that isn't all of this. I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this, but I think I'm finally trusting myself enough to realize what I want." 

We sit in silence, and I take another bite, savoring the taste like a quiet reward. Finally, Pascal exhales, planting her feet firmly on the ground and sitting up. For a moment, I wonder if she's had enough.

"Alright. How do we make that happen?" 

The million-dollar question. Her willingness to help, if not a bit suspicious, touched me.

Requesting a pen and paper, I examine the simplistic ballpoint without enthusiasm. How boring compared to quill and ink. Wordlessly, I scribble names, people, places, and personal goals; at one point, I'm just doodling tiny spiral circles of despair at my lack of inspiration. 

Where Pascal hopes for brilliance, all I have to offer is hard-to-read Romanian. Perhaps this was all better spoken; I couldn't read her English if she tried. But, as I tap my pen and curse this continent for its language, the pieces begin to fall into place. 

"Oh!" I drop the pen.

"Oh?"

"Oh!" I respond more confidently.

"Ohhh." Pascal nods, pulling her lips to the side as she raises her eyebrows hopefully. 

"I just had a thought!"

"Did it hurt?" She muses sweetly. 

I toss the pen at her and eat the last bit of my lunch in a self-proclaimed victory.

"I think I've found a way to make all of this work, even if it's just in the short term."

______________________________________________________

It's hard to tell if I'm excited or disappointed that Pascal and Grayson are on the list of the fifteen that will make up our eligible magic users. Adding Sef to the list of known quantities, we're left with twelve. 

I scan their abilities, one by one, asking them about their powers. The slender boy, Jed, can influence emotions on a mighty scale. The rest are more straightforward: mages and various forms of telepathy. The last one is a more petite woman, shorter than me, and slight. I note her ears, which have been cut short. 

"What are you?" I ask gently.

"An elf, sir." Her voice is tiny, sing-song, and high-pitched. Large, honey eyes gaze towards the ground; her small features remind me of a mythical pixie more than an elf. 

"An elf with a gift?" I ask curiously. 

"I don't consider it a gift, but Grayson insisted-"

"She can speak to plants," Grayson says firmly. 

I lock my eyes on this meek woman. 

Her frail shoulders rise and fall. Perhaps a havling? 

But then, where did the magic come from? 

"What is your lineage? How old are you?" I press, and she runs her fingers through the ends of her long, honey-colored hair. Ambers and golds, straight as corn silk, she frowns back at me. 

"I don't know. I just woke up one day; it was a few years ago. I haven't aged; I have no idea how old I am. I was wandering the streets when Pascal found me. I've been here ever since, sir, but I don't think I'll be much use to you." 

True, it would be better if she had an inkling of how to wield her powers, but this could be the woman that I was searching for. Trying to look reassuring, I smile and nod to her; this would have to do. In my head, I'm wondering where I will find time to train all these people.

 Trades like these took years, if not decades, to perfect. But, for the plan I had concocted, we wouldn't need much of their abilities in the short term. 

Checking my phone, I'm glad we're almost on time for our companions to arrive. 

"People of the Dead City. I stand before you today not as your King, but as your mentor in the art of our people. Together, I wish to fight alongside you to earn for you what is provided to everyone else- the mere right to exist. You have been brought here because you are special-" 

I hear the flurries of murmurs and hold up my hand to silence them. 

"Every one of you has been selected because there is something that you can do that makes you unique, something that sets you apart from your brothers and sisters in this magical community, just as I have in my blood. 

We are here today to rewrite history, to change our fate, and to transition from a sword and blood-soaked battle to the art of spoken word and conquest in the human mind.

It will take every last one of us working together to make this a possibility, but I think, with your help, we stand a fighting chance at turning this whole thing around. Freedom isn't the only thing we are fighting for."

My voice echoes through the empty cavern of city hall; they stare at me with wide, uncertain eyes, a village kept in the dark. 

"I cannot promise you your lives; I cannot guarantee what will come of this ending. But what I can tell you is that this will be our last stand against something that will consume us if we don't take notice.

You will be pushed, you will be taken to the brink of your tolerance, and it is your job to endure, because we must act as if we are the only ones left who can. While there may be others out there in the world, they are frightened just as you are, just as I am. 

It must start here. With us, you might consider yourselves lucky or cursed, but the first step is always the most difficult. If you wish to bow out, this is a democracy, and you are welcome to rejoin the community. However, any word of this to the others will result in severe punishment. The timing of these next steps must happen perfectly. We can't afford a leak."

"What's in it for us?" A male fire mage demands. Hot-headed, just like Penelope. 

"Your lives." I shrug dismissively. "If we fail, do not mistake me when I say this is the last stand for all of us. Humanity must be willing to allow us to do our work. If we remain illegal, if we continue to hide, acting only on small miracles, then the earth will perish."

Nobody moves, even the tiny elf. There's no lycan presence keeping them here, nothing to frighten them into remaining. On bated breath, I continue. 

Pascal nods, and with a gust of wind, I push the doors open. 

The fledgling lycan force enters, following behind Helen and Verando. Tyler walks alongside her, glancing around excitedly, and I feel ashamed that I abandoned all of them for this cause. But, hopefully, I was about to make up for that. The magic users recoil, rushing backward and triggering a prey instinct that brings growls and grumbles from the new-blooded lycans. 

Helen does her best to glare them down, but they're unpracticed. Verando's mere displeasure with their actions is enough to raise concern, prompting silence as they stop in a small group before us. 

"You called?" Verando asks, composed. He's wearing a suit again, along with a heavier overcoat. I swallow, just seeing him, causes the heat to rise to my cheeks. 

"Hi, Nic!" Helen waves, and Verando rolls his eyes so dramatically that I can't help the bubble of laughter that escapes. 

"Good evening, Helen." I allow. 

Helen swallows back her excitement, doing her best to stand as erect as possible beside such an opposing force. Tyler crosses the short space to join me, and I introduce him to our small magical group. With a pass of my hands, I close the doors. 

"I've called you all here because I had a plan, but thanks to Pascal, I have an even better one. As you all know, an assassination attempt was made on my life by the corrupt miracle worker you all know at Mistress Corina."

Verando clears his throat. "Actually. She announced a few days ago, her name is Red, again." 

Maybe she hoped he wouldn't realize it was her who 'killed' me?

"The way she was able to do so was by government agents who were charmed. We can only assume that she also has access to magic users. We have reason to believe she is involved with the mutant shifters, the felines that roam the shadows - if she's making them or just controlling them, it's hard to say. 

My sister operated on mind control, and Red has opted to use her name; it's entirely possible Red is taking a page out of Corina's book and has figured out a way to control people's minds. Just as Jed does with emotion, it seemed she could only control a few men at a time and not very effectively." 

I feel those light eyes bearing into me, and I want to go to him—my heart pounds in my chest. "What I'm proposing that we do is create a distraction and get her to reveal herself."

"A what? Sacrifice ourselves?" The fire mage snaps. 

The room erupts in conversation, and Verando pulls out a gun, firing into the roof, and making everyone scream. "Enough. When your King speaks, you remain silent." 

My warlord never feels the need to yell; he rarely has to raise his voice. I shiver at the low tone of his words. 

Silence follows; the room shares a universal heart that pounds out the beat of fear. 

"Not a sacrifice. Nobody knows that we exist or who we belong to. If we can get her to mess up and keep her so busy that she can't perform her miracles, the public will turn on her. That is when we move on to phase two." 

I feel as though support is shaky, but I press on. 

"We all have gifts. We are valuable; we are useful. In my time, people like us had incredibly important jobs, and we can have those jobs again... With the space created by Red's false miracles, we can fill that void."

Johnathan steps forward, "Magic users are illegal, as are lycans. You're asking us to make society hate her and at the same time welcome us with open arms?"

"When the world is going to shit, you'd be surprised at how tolerant people can be." I remind him firmly. 

Jed peers up from his coat. "Like... superheroes?" He acts quietly.

"Excuse me?" Verando makes the poor man practically fall over, and I give him a look to remind him to be kinder. 

"Su-su-superheroes. They possess powers and fight crime. I saw them on TV when I was a kid." 

This appeals to me, and I nod. 

"Yes! Just like a superhero." I reassure him, changing the tone of the chatter. "But it's going to take all of us. It's going to take magic users working with lycans; it's going to be tough, but together, we can do this. Conquest for human empathy, we are leaving 'war' out of the equation." 

And prevent it from dying while Verando and I are gone. 

"If we can establish a community here, where lycan and magic-user work together, we can expand into all the states and... with any hope... we can rebuild. We can fix this planet. We can save the earth; nobody has to die." 

Verando pinches the bridge of his nose at my loose lips; in my excitement, I had made a potentially fatal flaw. I hadn't entirely told the magical side of the room the state that the earth was in. I had been brought here to liberate; they were still focused on their freedoms, not on the consequences of what would happen if the state of the weather wasn't corrected. 

They had all grown up in this broken world; they didn't know any different. 

"What's wrong with the earth?" The tiny elf inquires.