(Verando's POV) 

As I hit the ground, he quickly moves to stand over me, only to have Tiberius clutch his shoulder scruff. "Do not move." He commands soundlessly. "Your celestial being will do anything to protect his vessel; you only have half a life. Think about where you want to go, and I will help you, but we have to get the hell out of here."

 Verando rolled his shoulders to shrug him off, but the Siren tightened his hold.

 "You and I, as people of war, understand that this group is on its last legs. Think of the Dead City; think of a bloody supermarket, but we have to go right now."

As much as he was reluctant to trust the tattooed man, options dwindled as Gabriel began to right himself. The shimmer of the glamour almost seemed to flicker in the dimming light as Tiberius's focus shifted from Tonic to their hasty departure. 

"I can't trust you." He responds under his breath, jaw clenched, ears flattened. 

"You're going to have to. It's called a.. er- jump of faith." He offers as Verando snags my coat to turn my face away from the icy snow. As my teeth involuntarily chattered, it was becoming more and more apparent to him that I would perish if left in this state in the elements much longer.

 Tiberius motions to Hank, who comes to me to warm the space around me, his shoulders sagging, our group in its entirety looked on the verge of collapse. 

A shrill screech from behind made the hair on his neck stand up, coat bristled, as the twisting forms of starving wraiths coiled from the not-so-distant forest. The scent of death emanating from the abandoned city must be driving them mad with hunger; he couldn't help but wonder if that was what had been sustaining them. 

Gabriel curses under his breath, adjusting his stance and summoning the dragon to his side. With a stern glance towards the group, he changes his expression to a calm, accepting smile. "To be continued. We both must consider the good of all begins when it comes to things such as wraiths. I'll be very interested to speak to you about this glamour. Until we meet again-" He climbs onto the back of the dragon and ascends into the sky. 

The world goes black and when he opens his eyes again, they stand in city hall, nestled safely in the Dead City. Tiberius rests his hands on his knees, doubled over as he pants.

 "Is everyone alright?" Verando asks, taking inventory of the battered members who struggle to their feet. A garbled, resounding yes echo through the chamber as the sudden skip through reality begins to lose its effect on the unsuspecting participants.

 With a sigh of relief, he returns to my side to make sure I'm still hanging on, painfully aware of what an overdrawing can do to my body.

Pascal and Grayson begin the task of sending everyone to their respective homes, coupled with members of the community, to cook and bed them down for the night. They walked as if they were shambling corpses, their first genuine expedition and taste of what a war could be like. 

As the numbers begin to clear out, Verando shifts back and stretches his sore limbs. Pascal returned with a simple shirt and jeans, looking almost embarrassed by the meager offerings, but he wasn't exactly a standard size. The sweater was bordering on too tight, and the pants too short. Nonetheless, it was good to have clothes on. 

"Did you see what I saw?" Verando asks her curiously, as her eyes trail to stare blankly at the ground. 

He relieves Hank of his hold on me, excusing him to retire for the evening. 

Pascal looks uncertain if she wants to answer. "He opted to fight the wraiths instead of killing us."

Tiberius scoffs, "Which he very easily could have done!" He snaps, poking Verando firmly in the back with a pointy finger. "Do you trust me now?! I know we got off to a bad start but seriously, we are cut from a similar cloth, you and I."

Verando shoots the Siren a harsh glare before composing his expression, lifting me to cradle me in his arms. "No, I don't, but that doesn't matter. You did what you said you would do. I'm surprised I'm not more drained, actually."

He shrugs in response, "Whitewind is very old and very powerful. I doubt he would help you often but a being can be persuaded if it feels it's vessel is in peril. If my glamour had fallen, we would have been at Gabriel's mercy."

Pascal crosses her arms wearily over her chest, resting one of her hips as if it were all she could do to stand. "And what mercy is that? He looked... like a normal man. Yes, he fought us, but we attacked him first. In the same circumstances, I can't say I blame him for being cautious of us in our first encounter. This world is insane."

Verando had thought the same thing; all attacks seemed provoked. While the man did find them, he merely landed and wanted to confirm their existence. The dragon acted but was it not in protection of its master? The situation felt clouded by the comparison of the death camp. 

"I feel we should have helped him," Pascal admits. "Though I know we would have died."

Helen and Tyler return from the assistance of their charges, Helen trotting over to show them her healing hand. "Sulema had a concoction for Wraith Poison in her greenhouse! Talked to a damned fern to get the answer, but it was quite simple-" She hesitates at the tense air. "I feel like I'm missing something?"

Tyler's lips are pulled down into a deep frown. "We should not have left him behind." 

Pascal gestures to the man pointedly in agreeance.

 "He saved our lives and the city from the wraiths. He could be dead."

The gray-haired male sighs, regretting his desire for a court as he began to recall why he disliked them so much. "Where is Tonic?"

"Chained," Helen answers promptly. "He seems to be settling, though he's under a guard. He won't be getting away this time."

 Making a face, Verando doesn't look so convinced. "Two men on him at all times, take shifts in four-hour intervals, armed with guns, and you kill him if he tries to get away. Do you understand?" She nods, not arguing. "Where is your father?"

"Daddy went home when the crowd cleared out. He... I think he's quite upset. This was the last thing he wanted; when I tried to speak with him.. he.. wouldn't even look at me." Rubbing her arm, she sighs heavily, shifting uncomfortably. 

 He couldn't blame him; this was precisely what Legardo had feared would happen. It was a dangerous life, confirmed for him before his eyes, and now, he was recruited. It was exactly why he was so opposed to the power to create. People did not want this life, and if they did, they shouldn't have it.

Tiberius clears his throat, crossing his arms in frustration. "As important as this all is, are we going to ignore that man looked exactly like Nicolas?"

Grinding his teeth, Verando's expression darkens, and he tightens his hold on me. "Most Solomonari look the same. People often mistook Loan for Nic, and they were not related. Do not bring it up again. We do not need anyone thinking that Nic is somehow connected to this."

"But he is. Verando, that man looked exactly like him. That's not a coincidence." Tiberius retorts. 

"We can talk about this more later," Helen interjects. "I think we all need rest. Papa, please have Sef look at your shoulder."

As much as the shoulder was throbbing, it wasn't a mystery to him why that was. Over-exertion on a previously damaged limb was never good; most likely, it just needed rest. 

"We can speak about this when Nic can defend himself." He says, finally, a much more worthy excuse than simple exhaustion. "We leave for France in four days; this means we have to infiltrate the hotel in two. While I don't feel we are ready, I see little else regarding options.

 Helen, prepare for me your 'acts' of valor for the time that I will be away and Tyler, you do the same. We must prepare for this as if there will be a world to return to. We must find a way to infiltrate the supply chain in the outskirts and find out where they are getting their stock. 

You have two hundred undocumented people are your disposal, vet them, and use them. Have me a report by the end of the day tomorrow."

As much as Tyler seems unable to fathom such requests, the world does not stop spinning because everyone is tired. Ignoring the grumbles and complaints, he assigns Tiberius to monitor the wraith situation and appoints Pascal to start creating a separate team to search for lycans. 

"Tomorrow, I want you to search statewide and find these lycans if any will be had. I have a press conference tomorrow about my wedding and trip to France but if you need me, Ron will be taking messages. Nic will need to sleep this off tomorrow, though I'm certain he will want to return." 

Feeling the weight of their situation sitting on his shoulders, it felt odd to make any call without my ever-present attendance, even if I was merely unconscious. 

With that, he excuses himself and departs to his car, carefully depositing me and ignoring the foul look he receives from Grayson as he gets in. As he turns on the engine and runs a hand through his hair, Helen quickly runs over and taps timidly on the glass. Reluctantly, he rolled it down with a tired sigh. "Yes?"

 She purses her lips, folding her hands awkwardly behind her back. "I er... I won't be able to attend your wedding in France. I'm.. I'm sorry about that." 

"No, I suppose not." He allows, resting an elbow on the door frame to rest his temple on his knuckles. 

This seems to hurt her deeply as she shuffles once more. "Randy, I think that Gabriel-"

"Stop." He couldn't risk her confirming what he already knew, the true identity of that man who looked like a larger version of me. 

She shuts her eyes for a moment and takes a shaky breath. "Can... would you be willing to have a small wedding? Here? Silvia would love it, and it could be just our family. What's left it, at least. I got to see Nic married once already; if we're going to die... I want to see you happy. Please, think about it. "

This surprises him, and he drops his hand to watch her, guarding his expression as it touches his heart in a way he had not expected. "You think we're going to die." It's not a question; he can see it on her face, she's seen enough of the horrors of their time to know that evil had no bounds.

 Even if he had his suspicions of Gabriel, his personality did not slow the clock on this melting planet. 

With a sad smile, Helen shrugs one shoulder. "I just don't want to have any regrets. I have never been anything but plain old Helen, and you and Nic have helped me be so much more than that. We need one day for us; it can't all be for everyone else. I have so little family left, I just want to be ok for a single day." 

In a singular moment, he both mourned for her and connected with her in a way he never experienced with his own children. 

Being that none of his children had his curse. A curse that she shared in many aspects. The darkness, the unyielding knowledge that there were some things not even cosmic energy could fix. He rests his hand on her arm, offering her a small smile. "You have never been just Helen. We are a lot alike, you and I."

Helen sniffles, chuckling sadly. Her tattered, oversized, grimy clothes shuddered in the breeze as she clutched his hand, placing hers over his as if it were a lifeline. Her dirt-stained cheeks bore clean streaks from emotional tears threatening to spill over. After a long moment, he nods.

"Yes, I think it'd be a nice surprise for Nic. I rarely get to do kind things for him, and I think it would please him."

"Can it be a little for you, too?" She asks in a small voice. 

Verando manages the most subtle nod, dimpling his cheek with his smile. "And it'd please me too." 

She beams back at him and hugs him through the window, bumping her head on the door's rim and chuckling against his neck as she hugs him as tight as she can manage through the small space. He hugs her back awkwardly in the cramped space, her white hair catching the stereo's fluorescent glow as the night darkens. 

"I'll speak to you tomorrow." 

 Boldly, she kisses his cheek and hugs him once more. "Love you, Randy. Thank you." Slipping out of the window, she practically skips over to Tyler as he rolls up the window in startled composure, unwilling to allow her to see the effect her gesture had on him. Family was not his strong suit; despite having multiple children, he had never mastered the role of mentor, father, or caretaker. 

Something always came up; something needed him more than those tiny babies clutched in the arms of mothers who seemed to only want him for what he had to offer. Helen, however, offered him something entirely foreign—unconditional love and devotion. 

A family, something that had evaded him for so long, had seemingly forced itself upon him with the unwilling participation of Legardo. 

Driving home in a fog, he didn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings in the revelation that there were things to live for beyond me, that he might be healing in some aspect. He could not fathom how a creature like him deserved to be loved and cherished. 

Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed Ron to roust him out of bed and order them fresh clothes for Marisol's home. Returning to the compound didn't seem like the best plan, given Legardo's current state. 

"I need you to conference me in the morning."

Ron yawns. "Six A.M?" He asks. 

With a glance at me, he sighs. "Yes, six will be fine. I have an event I want to plan with you. Remember that I have a press conference at noon."

"Of course, Mr.Mercer. How did the hunt go?" 

With the silence that follows, he sighs as well; Verando could practically envision the man dabbing his perspiring brow from the stress of the unknown coupled with the confirmation that it didn't go well.

"Well, I trust we will have a lot of talk about tomorrow. I've set up your agent for France as you asked and booked all the additions you asked me for. Quite the list, Mr.Mercer."

"Thanks, Ron." He doesn't comment on the curiosity, allowing it to die with the call as he hangs up and tosses the phone onto the dashboard. Left alone with his thoughts, he takes my hand in his, counting my pulse beneath his fingertips to assure himself that I will be alright and calm his racing mind.