My fingers trailed lightly over my still-warm lower lip, and my mind never left the terminal even though my body was being taken far away from the piece of myself I cherished most. It would seem that the universe had successfully separated us once more, and while I saw the logic, I struggled to find a justifiable reason to allow him to board a separate car. 

My greedy hands had lingered too long; my body strayed too close to the temptation of warmth and comfort. I almost wish we had left at separate times; for now, I feel as though I'm without oxygen. 

We travel downwards in a snaking line that slinks below the surface and into the earth. What should terrify me leaves me dulled to the shock value of being underground. Everything in this universe was underground; it had ceased to make me uncomfortable. 

As we sink into the cement tunnels of the inner city subway, the dirty walls and dim lighting of the outside world reflect my mood quite accurately. The lights in our small car flicker to a shabby glimmer, barely illuminating our figures in the gloomy tunnel. 

We received a warning from our Artifice that air in the tunnels was at a minimum, and it instructed us to refrain from opening windows or doors. Every fiber of my being pulls me in the opposite direction; I cross my legs and wrap my arms around myself as I bury my chin into the collar of his gifted coat. 

If I close my eyes, I can still feel the firm embrace. I hear the gentle hum of an 'I love you.' whispered reassuringly. It wasn't only his presence that I would miss; my fear of his escape echoed in the back of my mind like an apparition of a long-dead past.

The thought makes me scoff silently at myself, Lotta has me tied in knots, his love for me was something I never had to consider.

Escape.

He doesn't wish to escape. 

I hear a distant click and glance across the narrow space to see Sulema pointing her camera at me, clunky and large with a shiny black lens that reminds me of a fisheye with its glossy texture and vacant reflection. She flushes, quickly fumbling to throw her hair up into a high ponytail as if to distract from her deed. 

"Did you take a picture of me?"

Her cheeks darken, and she clears her throat nervously. 

"I um... yes. I'm sorry, Your Majesty. Photography is one of my greatest loves, and you looked quite forlorn. It was beautiful- I mean, not that you're beautiful- I mean! Oh dear.. of course you're very handsome-" 

The ends of her nubbed ears begin to gain color, and my expression softens to relieve her of her guilt. Lotta looks as though she might vomit at the sentiment. Usually, it would bother me, but in front of the ice queen's glare, I offer a small smile. 

"Don't look so worried; you caught me off guard, is all," I suggest, my tone muted by the gentle hum of the car. "So, Tiberius, do you have a lead on Lux? You seemed quite adamant this morning on this location."

 An hour's journey at high speed from Stefan's home was bordering outside my comfort zone. It didn't feel safe to be so exposed, though, security was an illusion. If anything, we were safer on the road. My time with the army taught me that. 

Our resident Siren seemed quite lost without his band and his pet vampire, he rivaled me for sad looks and longing sighs though I refused to admit he could know my pain. Tiberius glances up from his book, carefully closing it. "I just have a hunch. I've also been told by our dearest lycan that if I let you get so much as a degree under normal, he'd have me for a snack so I'm opting to keep us moving. Stefan's house is an icebox." 

Shuddering at the threat, Tiberius brushes some imaginary dust off his shoulder. "We're going to go stir up some attention." 

Of course, Lotta did not agree with our methods, but she would soon find out that we were not as interested in her military-style command. There was only enough room for one dictator in our group and we had just sent him away to explore the wilds of Spain. As we step out of the car onto the snowy cement of the docking station, I instinctively slide closer to Ryan as his warmth almost mimics that of what I'm used to. 

He offers me his arm with a gentle smile. "Can I help?" 

Reluctantly, I nod. My chilled hands cause him to shudder even through his thick coat. He feels like a furnace, it's even better than I had hoped. The man practically steams as we come into contact and I sigh in relief. "You are worth your weight in gold." 

I shut my eyes to relish the feeling of warmth emanating through my body. 

"Don't stray too far from me. Once I start using I should warm up but just in case. It's quite difficult for me to warm up once I'm cold."

Tiberius had a plan to use our abilities to better the city, just as we had been doing in New York. By doing so, if Lux was in the neighborhood, we either chase him out into making a move or intrigue him into coming to us. With no wolves at our disposal, we should appear as less of a threat to him. 

While the Siren reminds us that Tyr probably isn't afraid of wolves, the resentment might very well still be there. I welcome the opportunity, I want to feel like myself again. 

I want to help people.

"We're all going to get arrested." Lotta reminds us firmly. "We don't have clearance for this. We don't have permission from- from anyone! What's worse is you're going to attract them right to us." 

"That's the plan," Pascal says excitedly, skirting her hand alongside her body and teasing the snow into a small flurry that twists and curls as if it were a playful whisp. "Bait, sister."

Lotta's full lips pull down into a frown; she must find us maddening. "And then what? We're in the middle of the open, pedestrians will be killed if a fight breaks out." 

"If." Tiberius chuckles, returning her bewildered look. "My love, they will all die in a month if we do nothing. Think of it as a bonus round, does it really count if we lose?"

I know this is what she had thought of me all along, that I lacked empathy for the lives of those I viewed as lesser than me. While I disagreed with Tiberius, making our presence known seemed like the fastest way to attract a potential God of War. 

With time running out, we didn't have the luxury of a low profile. "Lotta, we're not trying to hurt people or start a fight, but we have to make it known that we are here."

 Taking a deep breath to center myself, I take inventory of the smog in the bustling city. 

People moved in and out of the massive square, descending the short steps towards a large fountain gurgling gray-tinted water; I mentally stretched out the web of magic aura towards my fingertips. "We can start by cleaning the air," I suggest. 

Sulema glances around, her timid eyes seeming reluctant even to spare a peer upwards. "If only there were some trees, they would happily eat this carbon dioxide."

I miss trees dearly, and I miss my home even more. The variety of wildlife and nature, the open expanse of farmland, and most of all, my home town. With its copious charm, the most important feature was that it lacked the volume of people fumbling past us. 

How could I be chilled with so much activity?

We needed room, we needed space to practice. Glancing towards Pascal, I smirk as I twist my foot and turn the concrete pad of the square into a sheet of ice with the fresh pack of snow. Dozens of bodies slip and shout in surprise as they skid and slide across the frozen surface.

Only four remain standing, though none match the description we're looking for. I gesture with my hand, and Pascal unfreezes the square, returning to snow. 

"See? Harmless." I tell Lotta as sincerely as I can manage. 

It feels good to use, my body feels as though it's been starving. I start to walk, leaving the group to follow me as I quicken my step to the chime of the happy music playing over the intercom. It's not a song that I recognize, though it seems to be festive, and as I lift my hand to conjure my next illegal act, a thought dawns on me, and I snag Pascal's hand. 

She tilts her head, confused. "A dance. It would let us move through the crowd easier and give us better area coverage. We need the circular motion anyways if we're going to get this smog out of here." 

Tilting my head towards Lotta, I smile hopefully.

 "Not too obvious, but to the trained eye, it would be noticeable."

Lotta doesn't look so certain, and Sulema looks like she could melt altogether. "A d-dance?" She manages.

I shrug, dancing was something we used to do socially and for fun, surely times couldn't have changed that much? 

"It's this or full exposure."

That seems to be enough to convince our agent. "If this is what it takes-" She adjusts her clothes only to hesitate as Tiberius slips his hand into Pascal's and takes her from me. 

"I can't control the weather. We need two Solomonaris to do this work. Afraid you're ballroom dancing with his royal highness, dearest." He winks at Lotta, who throws up her hands in her defense. 

"I thought you said dance?" She demands accusingly. 

My puzzled expression doesn't do much to soften her tone. "How else would one dance?" 

"Solo? On their own? Without touching?" 

Ryan curls his arm around Sulema's waist. "Can't be too hard; they do it in the movies all the time." The elf flushes; Sulema looks almost childlike next to the tall fire mage. While I'd be happy to move through the motions with Ryan, two men dancing on top of magic might be too much for this world. 

I hold my hand to Lotta and put on my best politician's face, offering a half-hearted bow.

"My lady." 

With a heavy sigh, she composed her face and stomped past me towards the center of the square. Making a face, I catch Pascal's eye. "As we move, I want you to think about carrying the wind. When we have a good breeze going, I want you to point as I do. There's a dead zone not far from here, we're going to send the smog that way." She nods as Tiberius drags her towards the center.

For a moment, I'm worried I lost Lotta, but I quickly find her exactly where I put her. 

As the song begins, I take her hand and place it on my shoulder while capturing her other hand in mine. Her height is quite comical, and though she is dressed in more civilian-type clothes, I can make out the distinct bulges of her weapons under her garments. A white knit cap is pulled over her head, accenting the deep hues of her skin. 

The large eyes examine me with great caution as her fingers almost curl up and away from touching my skin. 

As we move, I send her back and forth, using the motion of her body to drag and push the wind. As my arms extend I send her, and as they contract, I pull her and twist her, spinning her easily just within my grasp. She's elegant despite her stiff exterior. While she's not a professional dancer, she manages to make the picture look believable. 

The effect begins to work as those who wish to watch exit the square, and those who feel inspired join in; their very essence seems to fuel the funnel as the more people join in, the stronger I feel. 

Yet, as I look at her face and see she won't even spare a glance, I can't help but feel slighted.

 Pascal is grinning ear to ear with Tiberius, almost drunkenly, soaking up the atmosphere of holiday cheer. I'm stuck, not only without my husband but with a person who hates me. 

"You could smile?" I offer as we bridge our arms. 

The sky darkens overhead, the smog begins to swirl and shudder as it clusters. Those around us are too enthralled; I spy a glimpse of a massive screen and see the plaza on display. The broadcast should be live; maybe Lux will see it. 

Lotta exhaled, composing herself. "Does it just sicken you to know you can't control everything?"

Her words distract me. I catch a glimpse of a couple that appears to have pointed ears. Could it be possible that those who are drawn to us are magical as well? Ryan pulls Sulema past us, the clumsy pair almost knocking over another couple. 

"I'm not trying to control everything. You should be pleasant, considering we are trying to look like we're having fun."

"I'm not having fun." Her tone is even, a declaration. She's not a child; she's adamant about her stance. Even so, her body carries no tension and it's as if nothing changed.

My own blood threatens to boil as I take her lead and glare past her. 

"Well, you could pretend," I tell her through my teeth.

 The violins and piano in the song call for more movement than my mind can keep up with alongside the conjuring. I slow my steps, drifting towards the middle of the group as people swirl past us. A high-pitched giggle of a woman swooning over her lover startles me, causing Lotta to tighten her hold on my shoulder. 

"Calm down, 'Your Majesty.' I'm not going to let the mean girl get you."

Shaking my head, I spot Pascal drifting in as well. The vortex's pull feels strong; the breeze tugs and paws at my scarf as the sky lazily tumbles and swirls.

 "Sorry, my company has been so dry; I was startled to see others were enjoying themselves." 

I play out an imaginary scolding that I'd gain from Verando if he were here. I should be making peace, but I can't fathom her fearing me, given how she looks at me now. 

"Maybe you're a bad host?" She snaps, a crack in her careful mask.

I shrug one shoulder, releasing her hand. "Maybe you need to learn your history before you judge someone?" I shoot back.

"Guys?" Pascal's voice earns a harsh glare, but as I follow her gaze, I see she's looking at the funnel that the vortex is creating. Cursing under my breath, I shove a gust of air upwards, blowing it back towards the sky. My temper was getting the best of me, I was using too much, and not regulating as I should with the mounting distraction of my dance partner. 

A rookie mistake, I knew better than this. The crowd freezes, and we're suddenly surrounded by screams of panic and shouts of 'tornado'. 

While it feels premature, even my mind is on edge. Of course, Lotta wasn't helping that. 

"Do something!" Lotta demanded, directing rushing pedestrians past us. 

"Why didn't I think of that?" I spit back, grunting as Pascal punches my arm. 

"Both of you shut up!" My hand directs the building swirl upward into the air, and Pascal follows suit with her gust of wind. "What are we going to do?"

With limited options and even less time, I racked my brain for a solution. Redirecting the funnel could result in property damage that we didn't need looming over our heads, coupled with the possibility of losing it and letting a tornado loose in the center of Paris. "Push up and disperse it. We need it to explode from the inside. It will fan out the pollution instead of getting rid of it, but at least it will temporarily make this place more liveable."

"Or make it a lot bigger." Tiberius muses, tapping his chin.

Ryan steps up alongside me. "What if we burn out the pollution? Let me send a flame up there, and then we snuff it out."

"Burn the atmosphere?!" Lotta demands.

Tiberius practically giggles. "Oh, I like that!"

"Ladies!" Pascal snaps, sweat beading on her brow as she attempts to help me contain the growing funnel. "Can we please stop this tornado?"

Reluctantly, I nod. "A quick burst, Ryan. As soon as it's lit, we feed it some wind, then collapse it on itself. Be ready to let go and throw snow on it. Understand?" 

Pascal nods, yet her eyes say I've lost my mind. "Do it, Ryan!" 

The burst of flame leaves his palm, followed by the appreciative sounds of an onlooking crowd and the gasps of horror at the realization of what we are. The vortex bursts into flames, producing a smell similar to burned rotten eggs and exhaust. 

I cough and sputter, trying to contain it as Lotta drags Sulema into the crowd to help move people back. Finally, I nodded to Pascal, and we faced each other. With a shove, we touch palms, and the funnel groans as it compresses. 

With all my might, I hold against her palms, feeling the weight of her exertion pushing into mine. I expect to feel drained, my body should begin to shake with the effort, but, I feel powerful. I feel my body is adjusting rather than crumbling under the demand.

 With a final effort, the funnel explodes in a flash of light. Tiberius shields us both as we drop to the ground to protect ourselves from the potential of falling flame. Glittering ash showers down on us, but in the cold and wet winter, the ash fizzles before it can make contact. 

As my eyes adjust to the brightness of a freshly exposed sky, I spot a man with strangely colored hair; his body stands out like a beacon in the light. A point of reference in the blinding white of the fresh sky. His hair is two-toned, half white, half black. He looks uncertain; his boyish face contorts into confusion as he runs his hand through his hair. 

For a brief moment, our eyes meet, and the gray, distant gaze pleads for help. 

He turns on his heel and runs as quickly as I see him. I scramble to my feet. "Do you see that man?"

Tiberius rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "All I see is bright white. It's like dying all over again." I don't have time to explain; the man is unbelievably fast, and his form is already disappearing into the oncoming crowd from the city.

 Without words, I take off after him; something compels me to chase him, spurring me to find him. I hear footsteps behind me as I begin to run, and I can only hope they're my companions; the elusive man doesn't allow me to inquire about my followers for fear of losing him to the mob of bodies flooding the sidewalk. 

I'm compelled, driven by a moment, to help him.