Verando rushes for me, and as much as I want to push him away, I can taste the metallic tang of blood on my tongue. My body was having a hard time; things that used to come easily to me were now drawing on me as if I were fresh to the trade once more. Pulling me onto his back as the dragon lands with both front feet on the ice, he narrowly manages to remove me in time.

"He's controlling the dragon remotely," I murmur, spying the device in the man's hand and noting a metal collar on a second head.

Giving me a look, he skids to a halt. Dowser spews fire, and I use the wind to direct it to Hank, "Absorb it." I demand of the mage; the forest erupts into flames taller than the tallest trees.

"Stop firing, you damned lizard!" The cloaked man shouts, gritting his teeth as storm clouds roll in. "This is growing quite tiresome."

 The sky begins to swirl, and the ground trembles; a funnel trickles down from the clouds, and I jump off Verando's back to hold my ground and push back against the edge of the funnel. There were moments when I felt like myself, like I had limitless potential, and then moments when I felt like it was all I could do to stand upright. 

My book had become an afterthought; I'd been feeling disconnected from it since I'd read my father's."Randy, I need you to get to him; he might have something on his arms to control that dragon. I think I saw something in his hand? Fetch, for lack of a better word."

With offense, the wolf snorts at me. "We are going to have a long discussion about this later. Focus on staying alive." Running the long way around the circle, I fight against the bottom of the impending tornado as I watch him meld into the fading light. 

The weight is impressive; for every inch I push back, it gains two. The dragon belts out a roar of defiance, tracking after the wolf while trying not to disrupt the tornado flow of its master.

"Pascal!" I call. She leaves Tyler with Sef and rushes towards me. "That collar. Can you hit it if I fashion you a bow and arrow?"

"Which collar?"

I roll my eyes dramatically, only to grimace when I see that every head bears one. Shoving back against the tornado with everything I have, I barely manage to unseat the other man. "There's only one that matters; I challenge you to guess which dragon I care about!"

I conjure a bow and arrow from ice and capture the bottom of the tornado just before it can land. "Just hit the collar; we need to make it mad!"

Pascal swallows as she aims, firing and narrowly missing the creature's eye, nowhere close to the collar. A tremble in her arm becomes evident as she stretches for the next shot, a bead of sweat running down her temple, her lower lip quivers as her eyes race to find the target. "Shit!" she whispers. 

"Focus!" I shout; my legs begin to tremble from the exertion. I need to use this energy; I need to make this work for me. I can use this; this could be a good thing. "There's just one collar that matters; keep it distracted."

"One collar." She murmurs, shooting again and narrowly missing.

 I spot Verando nearing the back of the Solomonari, and the man's diverting the remainder of his attention to blow gusts of wind towards the oncoming arrows. It's horrifying how he quickly multi-tasks—fighting with me, controlling the dragon, and flicking his hand absently as he deflects each arrow. I'd think he was limitless if I didn't see the bulging vein in his temple; we were wearing him down as fast as I was failing. 

"Last chance, Pascal. Make it count!"

She nods, swallowing hard, pressing her drawing hand to her cheek as her gaze focuses. As she exhales, she fires. The arrow lodges into a collar, and Verando leaps, sinking his teeth into the man's forearm and disrupting the communicator. 

The cloaked man screams, jerking his arm back and redirecting his attention to fire a burst of wind into the lycan, sending him reeling across the small clearing.

I take hold of the tornado and focus all my might on turning it, aiming it towards the forest. "Piss it off, Pascal!" She aims her last arrow, catching the beast in one of its eyes. The dragon thunders, roaring at us as it spews fire from all its heads. "Hank! Direct it!" I cry out. 

The mage roars in the effort of shoving the inferno into the tornado as I compress the funnel and plow it into the forest.

Screams surround us, shrieks and howls as the forest erupts in flames. The tornado creates a vacuum that siphons the undead from the very bones of the structure. They fry in the fire pit, unable to withstand the remnants of light and the intense heat. I release it, falling back onto my ass as I pant from the effort.

The cloaked man rushes for the dragon, now only bearing three heads. He hops on, departing without a word of remorse or regret.

I feel drained, my body running on empty, lightheaded as I stare at my blackened fingers. "Randy," I murmur, forcing myself to my feet as I search in the snow with careful gusts for my warlord. "Randy!" I call quickly, my eyes locked on the river, and I run to the edge of the falls and look over. 

"Randy!" I belt out, patting my body down for anything that I can use to climb down this godforsaken ledge. My heart was pounding; I could feel the lump in my throat. I knew he was hurt; I shouldn't have asked him to do something so outrageous. The cold nose bumps me from behind, and I spin around to see him standing before me. Without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck. "Where were you?!"

"Finding this communicator." He drops the piece of equipment into my outstretched hand and examines the advanced technology. "I bet Marcello can better explain what that is."

As excited as I am, I couldn't care less about the communicator. I hugged him again, squeezing him as tight as I could manage.

"I thought you went over the falls," I whisper as he nuzzles his cheek against my shoulder. "You scared me half to death." 

"You know I wouldn't allow a lizard that satisfaction."

I laugh, a pathetic attempt as I grimace and grip my ribs. With the adrenaline running out of my system, my legs shake, and I sag. Supporting me with his shoulder, he helps me back towards the group. I feel on the verge of collapse, and looking at the others, I can see they feel the same.

"That isn't going to hold them off for long; we should leave now while we still have the chance."

With the last of the tornado evaporating, it took with it all the remnants of the fire. Burnt out, there was no energy left to devote to keeping the phantoms at bay once they regrouped. I wasn't foolish enough to believe we'd wiped them all out.

There is no argument, no good reason to stay; as much as I wanted to help the lost souls of this forest, it wasn't worth our lives, and we desperately needed to get this communicator back to Marcello before our Solomonari friend decided to return.

I couldn't call the mission a success with all our injuries, but if nothing else, it was a reassurance. The group could survive, and a warning, the confirmation that there was at least one last Solomonari out there, and he was an elemental just as I was.

As I climb onto Verando's back and we depart the heavy destruction of the woods, I can't help but feel that this is far from over. Instead of figuring this man out, we had only scratched the surface of what was truly going on outside the city limits.

It would appear that the earth had not gone cold; by our accounts, the tables had just shifted. The magical realm had taken over the dead spaces, and humanity was no longer welcome; beyond the city limits lay a whole new world and much more dangerous circumstances.

Our pace has been less than enthusiastic; exhausted lycans mixed with drained magic users made for a less-than-stellar departure from the woods. We exit the heavy tree cover to a greeting of harsh winds and snow flurries, and the threat of an oncoming storm becomes a harsh reality as clouds loom over the horizon. 

I can't help but think to myself that the storm wasn't on the radar before we decided to tangle with the Solomonari at the river. My mind wanders to yet another person we allowed to live, loose on the world to wreak havoc on our lives. 

With Hank's tattered clothes from the fire and Helen's injured paw, even my warlord seemed to be lagging with his limp ever worsening. Verando offers up his shoulder for Helen to lean on, which she gratefully accepts. 

"I think we should make camp. We won't get back to the Dead City before nightfall. Didn't we say there was an abandoned city close by?" The group sighs in relief at my suggestion. 

I imagine they would collapse where they stand if it were feasible. Verando instructs them to collect branches for a fire to carry with us, and we trudge through the snow, following the horizon toward the looming buildings off in the distance. 

I cast a timid glance at the ever-present murmuring shadows looming just beyond the tree line and confirm my suspicion that we needed to rest for the night. We needed to get far away from these woods; I didn't want to lead any wraiths back to the city. 

It's interesting to me how the coat variety differs from wolf to wolf. 

Verando's own plush coat kept us plenty warm, and while his ears felt cool to the touch, his body surrounding my seat was quite comfortable. Even Helen appeared to have the same velvety overcoat.

I could see the shiver moving through the fledglings, their paws dragging instead of the agile step of hunters weaving through the snow. These were civilians, not warriors; none of them was fit enough for such an excursion. Their coats didn't offer them the same level of protection as the pair. 

 We near the city limits as the sun threatens to drop below the crest of the earth, and I hesitate as we enter the vacant streets. The city is genuinely abandoned, with massive holes cut into most buildings as decay and rot set into the concrete structures. With a gentle exhale, I swallow my pride in the fact that this place must work for the night. We had slept in much worse conditions, and at the very least, with so much debris, it would not be easy to find us. 

"Stay close together," Verando instructs them as we slowly maneuver our way through the vacant cars and the debris from collapsing buildings. I cast my hand out behind us, fluffing the snow to erase any trace of our footprints. "I'd like to say this place is safe, but we're going to have to be vigilant for the structures. Heavy snowfall could turn this place into a death trap. No rescue will come this far to find us. If we become trapped in one of these buildings, we'd be hard-pressed to get out." 

I tend to agree; I didn't much care for the idea of being buried alive in a city made of stone.

Picking a shorter building that appeared to be an old clothing store, we filed in and closed the door behind us. It's one of the only shops left with windows, and it seems to be unoccupied, though it's obviously been pillaged at some point. 

The multitude of eyes scan all around us. I can feel their fear as they take in our situation. Nobody was laughing and joking anymore; the whimsical air had been yanked from their very being. "Who do you think cleaned this place out?" One of the young lycans inquires.

I shrug as I slide off Verando's back, my legs tremble from having to bear my own weight. At least I was no longer thinking about my back."It could be anyone; it's not uncommon for loners to frequent vacant locations such as this."

With a warning glance, my warlord cuts me off. "Alright. That's enough of that. We're going to be fine here as long as we keep quiet and leave at first daylight. Let's take these old clothes racks and stack them against the windows. I don't want any wraiths looking in here." 

The group begins moving the heavy racks. Verando has lived on the streets; he's used to making do with very little. I would say my upbringing was one of my greatest hindrances, as it made it very difficult to see past the shambles and into the positive side of our predicament. 

I note that he's not helping, standing close to me in what could be seen as a daze, he's worn out from his minimalistic diet, and I curse myself all over again. 

There was a time when I was solely responsible for his eating habits; I couldn't help but feel I was failing him. Using the summer selection and a few curtains, we create a sufficient barrier at the front door and windows, coupled with the clothes racks, to further dampen and block out the light. 

History does seem to repeat itself. 

I get to work on taking the dusty coats and shaking them out, offering the musty garments to anyone who wants more layers, and laying the unusable ones on the floor for padding. 

Towards the back of the store, we huddle amongst the clothes and book racks, trying to occupy as small a space as possible to generate the most heat.

Helen limps over to flop down on a pile of towels, keeping her paw close to her body. 

"Helen, baby, please let me try to treat your paw again." Tyler sounds desperate, a plea to her humanity to end his own suffering by allowing him to continue to attempt to heal her. 

She shakes her head, guarding the foot. "You are drained enough, any more and you're going to be too far gone to be useful to anyone. Need I remind you that you almost had the blood siphoned from your body?" She responds in an irritated tone. 

I almost laugh, but I manage to hold it in; she reminds me so much of Verando. Legardo sits beside her, looking reluctant to touch the wolf figure that is his daughter. Looking at the close quarters here, it would seem as though a fire would not be possible.

"I should have never let you come on this trip... what if you lose your hand?" He sounds concerned, and I can't say I blame him. 

Verando approaches, watching her cautiously as he sniffs the injury. Legardo grimaces in discomfort at being surrounded by the beasts, particularly the gray creature I was so fond of. His expression is not one of confidence, though he hides his concern well. "You are already poisoned; our saliva has healing properties; you might consider licking it and see if it will help."

"Lick poison?" Lergardo demands; Tyler seems to agree with him. 

I come to stand front and center, examining the paw that was threatening to fester.

Verando lowers his haunches to a sitting position. His body almost sags; exhaustion sets in, and lack of interest in fighting for a cause he didn't believe in overwhelmed his tact. "She will die if the poison is that lethal, regardless of whether she ingests it. A wraith is not venomous; a wraith causes death wherever it goes. If she touched it, I would only assume her hand was merely going through the phases of death. Unfortunately, that will begin to spread."

"You assume?!" Legardo shakes his head and tries to settle his nerves. "You sound quite certain for someone who has no idea what they're talking about! I don't know why I-" He stops himself, wringing his hands as he glares toward the ground with a rough exhale. Maybe one of these Mercer children could learn; it would seem Legardo was becoming a functional human being as he settled into an artificial calm. "Can someone else try to clean it?"

The gray wolf scoffs, laying a single ear back at such a ridiculous question. "And have them die as well? An Alpha takes the risk for her people; she already has the 'poison' in her. Ingesting it should, in theory, do her no harm."

Helen steals a glance, stretching the darkening paw out in front of her. "And.. if I do react." She trails off as Verando's mouth pulls down at the corners. 

"You'll die, I'd wager. Perhaps next time you'll think twice about touching the wraith." His words are absolute, the tone is professional, and he lacks the panic-inducing attachment.