The crowd acts as the perfect camouflage for a lone man on the run. My feet begin to slow as my eyes rake the sea of faces, seemingly so unimpressed with our pursuit. I'm so used to having backup in the form of an incredible sense of smell at my disposal, that it seems pretty hopeless to hope I'll find the man again. 

The bustling narrow sidewalk gives little space for my presence, people continue on as if the sky hadn't just erupted into flames, and as if the air weren't cleaner. I find it quite unnerving, they are so consumed with their day that such feats don't even insight the slightest bit of excitement.

Meanwhile, I can hear the distant siren, wailing and alerting anyone within earshot that that illegal activity had occurred. 

"Remember, there is no shame in reporting what you saw. We are prepared to offer cash rewards for the surrender of any magical being."

I catch the eyes of a little girl questioning my hair color and quickly pull a wool knit hat out of my back pocket to cram over my head.

My shoulders slump as I catch my breath from the short burst. Lotta trots up alongside me, delivering a firm shove to my shoulder. I refrain from striking back, not wishing to damage my relationship with her any further. 

While the disrespect seems to bother Ryan and Pascal, I don't entertain their offense. 

In situations like these, it's best to ignore the outbursts. "Are you insane? What the hell would make you run off like that?!"

I had a hunch. Could I say something like that to her? Judging by her expression, I don't feel as though I'm out of the woods regarding the blame for my actions.

 "I saw someone; he looked like he needed help." He reminded me of a young Tonic.

Her bewildered gaze makes me roll my eyes as I return to scanning the crowd, seeking out the dual-colored hair. Our group has effectively caused the schools of people to cluster together in a discernable mass. My height makes it difficult to see past shoulders so tightly packed together.

 Nobody even spares us a glance, I feel invisible in the worst possible sense. What were we fighting for if only to be ignored? 

"He was probably running from you! You lit the sky on fire!"

Their silence seems to only bother me. "Why are they not even sparing a glance? Nothing at all? Not even fear?" I ask, my tone low as I speak more to myself than her.

"Do you not have enough attention for your ego?" Lotta is silenced as Tiberius raises a hand to calm her, and she composes herself, shaking her head. 

At least she could be professional if adequately managed.

It feels like we're in the city of the dead, worse than wraiths, these people are alive and unwilling to entertain us. At least a wraith lets one know its true intention, we were left guessing what was to come. I began to think that we were overstaying our welcome in such depths, with no vantage point, we were sitting ducks.

Sulema touches my arm. "Who's that?" Her nimble finger points to a figure perched on the street light. They're dressed in a strange outfit, lycra that clings to their body in a variety of greens and blacks. Belts and pockets scattered on their waist and shoulders, by the size I'd say they were male. They're crouched, almost cat like on the narrow post. 

Lotta curses under her breath. "Shit." She yanks me down the sidewalk as the figure leaps into the crowd. 

"Who was that?" I demand her as she pulls me along.

"Vigilante. These idiots dress up in costumes and patrol the streets. I'm sure whoever that was saw your little display." 

This catches me by surprise, the plan we had started in New York had expanded into France? Or perhaps, they were already doing it here? I slow down, pulling back against her; this could be our only chance.

"I want to talk to him." 

The crowd parts and a blast of light shoots over my head as Lotta yanks me down. The street sign beside us begins to ooze and melt until it's nothing but a heap of smoldering liquid metal, the beam retracts much like a whip, causing the pedestrians to absently duck out of its way.

 It would seem this was common for the area, as people are quick to reveal our location with a casual sidestep. 

"I don't think he wants to talk." Getting behind me, Lotta pushes me to start running again. She fires a shot at our assailant, though I'm uncertain if it made contact, we turn down a side street and run through the buildings as the light fades in and out of the cracks. 

The darkness plays tricks on my mind with our variety of footsteps, I feel like I'm in an active warzone all over again only this time my mind slips with the exposed feeling of not having my protector at my side. It happens all over again, a wave crashing down around me, sending blurred scenes of running for our lives crossed my vision. 

"Damn it." I spit. 

Popping out on the street, Pascal points to a massive, lumbering bus. "It's a rail car. We should board it-"

 Tiberius quickly interjects. "We can't leave yet! I had a feeling about Lux, we have to stay just a bit longer."

"And die because of a hunch?!" Lotta, once more, pushes me towards the bus, and I slip out of her grasp with a harsh jerk of my arm. "He's useless to us if he's dead. Look at him, he's coming apart at the seams. Your pompous savior can't take the heat."

Stop touching me.

Every time she grabbed me, it flashed me back to a point in my life I wished to leave behind. I'm not a victim, I'm not a child, I have to get a grip. "We all need to calm down and keep our hands to ourselves." 

I lock my gaze with Lotta's, warning her. We couldn't risk leading this person back to Stefan's. I have to get control of this situation, I want her to stop touching me, I want them to stop arguing. I'm about to issue my final threat when Sulema feels her temple and shuts her eyes for a moment. 

"Do you guys hear that?" Her voice is hardly above a murmur. Ryan rests his hands on her arms, stabilizing her as she flinches. "It sounds like-" 

Vines crash through the concrete, springing up to wrap around our legs. I quickly froze the green rope-like substance that threatened to pull me toward the ground. Moving as swiftly as I can out of the way, Tiberius opts to float, and the flame in Ryan's palm backs the plants off as if they were alive. 

Lotta grits her teeth as the vines attempt to yank her into the fresh dirt. I sway my hand, freezing the restraining plants as Pascal works to remove them from her. 

"How are there vines here? I haven't seen a plant since we landed." I inquire to Sulema, who looks just as surprised as I am. 

The elf is unharmed; it's as if they avoid her. "They're roots, old roots." Her eyes track an invisible line, unseeing as she rotates her body. "There." We spy a new figure entirely, dressed in grays that appear more burlap and mesh than lycra, and Lotta fires a shot. 

I quickly push her hand down, cursing under my breath. 

"Shooting into a crowd? Real professional!" I seeth through my teeth. 

She smirks, tilting her head towards the person clutching their shoulder as the roots retreat back into the ground. 

"Try to drag me to hell, and you're fair game." She kicks out of the frozen plant material, and Tiberius cautiously lands. 

"We need to get to the high ground."

While that felt painfully obvious, we didn't know how many of them there were; moving without detection was becoming more difficult. What we needed to do was speak to them. A shadow passes overhead, and I see a winged person above. Bright white feathers reflect the light, momentarily blocking the freshly revealed sun. 

It felt unreal; as if we'd stepped into one of the movies I frequented on late-night television. 

"Who are these people?" This felt too calculated to be some hodge-podge team. Pascal gathers a ball of snow and throws it at the creature, managing to freeze solid one of the massive wings. 

"There's our leverage. Come on!" 

I'm impressed by her ability to think quickly as the bird-like human tumbles from the sky. We run towards the downed creature, pushing through an unmoving crowd. It seems as though people are almost blocking our way; bodies become more complex and harder to move until finally a young man puts his hands against my chest and shoves me backward.

 If I had thought it was happening, I could have easily defended myself yet I had been so stunned by the sudden attack of a sixteen-year-old that I was quickly thrown off. I use a gust of wind to right myself, unwilling to meet such an undignified ending to a minor inconvenience.

 Bravery like that deserved a second glance.

The boy looked young and scrawny; he spoke in clear French as he shouted at us. "Leave them alone! Stop destroying our city!" My French isn't the best, but I had some inkling on what he was saying. Our American counterparts eye Lotta for a translation, but I quickly flick a hand towards them to stand down.  

"We're not trying to hurt them. They were coming after us. Look up, we did that." I gesture to the sky, but the boy is unwilling to participate in my peace attempt. 

He shakes his head, taking a more serious stance. "If they are attacking you, you're up to no good."

Awfully flawed thinking, I muse. Freezing his feet to the ground, I step around him to reach the downed creature only to see the black and white-haired man crouched beside her. She looks birdlike, much as the cats had; as if she had been genetically altered. It's enough to make my breath catch in my throat, the site of her feathers mixed with her hair and her nose and mouth stretched into a beak. The dual-colored man narrows his eyes at us, guarding her. 

"Why are you chasing me?!" He snaps; a knife in his trembling hand. 

I block my group from approaching, giving him space in the aged street. Now used for walking, it was worn and misshapen from centuries of mistreatment and lack of maintenance. "Well, you shouldn't have run."

"You exploded the sky!" He retorts sharply; I pull my lips into a thin line as I feel Lotta's smug expression in the back of my skull. Settling my voice, I hold up my hands to show I'm not carrying any weapon. It prompts a laugh from the man; he steals a nervous glance at his companion. "Your weapons can't be seen, you look like one of those Solomonari folks."

It never ceases to amaze me that people know of my lineage. I had gone from a nearly extinct race of monks to something naturally occurring. The earth honestly was trying to fix itself. I pull back the ice from the woman's wing but keep it in my palm. "Don't attack us, and there will be no need for more violence. We are looking for a friend." 

"Honor the Good King." Ryan quickly says, earning a murmur between the two. 

The gray eyes narrow as he looks us over. "That cause isn't for shit. What has it done for us? We've received no aid or instructions while they threaten to wipe us out. Things were good until that mess began."  

I attempted to force my jaw not to drop, it was not what I imagined he would say. 

"In our defense, we had no idea there were other interested parties. We thought we were alone." I tell him as genuinely as I can manage. 

These people weren't what I expected; they looked clean and well-fed, while the black and white-haired man didn't wear a costume, he fit the part of a magic user living a good life.  As selfish as it felt, I had hoped they were more distressed. Comfortable people are difficult to motivate; my cause might die on their doorstep if life is simple in its current setting. 

The bird-woman sits up, touching the man's arm. "They aren't with Master. Maybe this is the break we've been hoping for?"

He hisses at her to keep quiet. "If they hear us talking like this in public-"

"I'm sick of hiding!" She stands up quickly, pulling him to his feet. 

A blade zips through the divide and pierces the man's shoulder. "Silence is Survival!" A cloaked figure yells at us. 

Behind them, multiple other figures file in. The crowd begins to disperse, panic slowly creeping in with the appearance of these new individuals. I jerk our new acquaintance to his feet, supporting him with my shoulder. 

"Now, do you believe we're on your side?"

The man scoffs. "Oh yes, this knife was very convincing!" He scowls. 

The bird-woman points with a feathered arm. "Follow me!" 

She begins to run, and I gesture to Pascal and Ryan to run interference. "Stay up here with us, Lotta." 

I need someone beside us in case we are ambushed. Ryan melts the snow, and Pascal uses a series of kicks and punches to send sharp ice chips towards our attackers. The ground beneath us shakes, and massive rock pillars spurt from the ground all around us. 

I transfer the man to Lotta and use the wind to knock down the pillars as they form. With a shove, she lifts an old cellar door, and the plume of steam and smoke causes me to cough. 

"It's the best way. Come on, before they catch up. They won't follow us down here." 

Lotta goes first, dragging the injured man with us. The rock pillars attempt to separate us, and it takes all my concentration to keep them cut back. 

Pascal reaches up, calling down a cloud from the sky and slamming it on the street to create some fog cover. Ancient traffic lights flicker and shimmer, causing weird shadows in the haze. Tiberius drags Sulema down into the tunnel, followed by Ryan and Pascal. As the last of us make it in, I pull an ice shield up over the entrance and then use the wind to slam the door. 

We collectively pant in the darkness and try to catch our breaths. As Ryan creates light by setting his hand ablaze, we realize in the dim light that we are not alone. Dozens of bodies surround us in the dank hall; the smell of mildew and smoke burns my nose as my group takes up positions around me. 

"If you're going to fight us, please do it after you tend to your friend. He's been hurt." I plead with them, flicking my gaze to the downed man. The bird-woman offers an appreciative smile, the best she can with her beak. 

"Bind them!" A man shouts. 

Lotta pulls out her gun, "Like hell!"

"Don't do it." I spit at her through my teeth, my voice low. "We have to show them we mean them no harm. Unless you can tell me exactly who they are?"

After a long moment, she drops her weapon and puts her hands up. "You know, most people don't surrender to illegal citizens they don't know."

They bind us firmly, hands behind our backs with scratchy aged rope. At least I would be able to escape if we had to, I wanted to show these people that we weren't the bad guys. As we're led down the tunnel, it pops out into a massive abandoned subway, filled to the ceiling with debris and abandoned construction equipment. 

It was almost as if an entire city had been thrown away. Scaffoldings lumber overhead like eerie guardians, we walk for what seems like an eternity in the echo chamber. Finally, I spot a light ahead, and an old abandoned train appears in the haze. 

It would seem that this is where they were taking refuge. The man is taken quickly by some of the group, and the birdwoman lingers behind with her arms crossed carefully over her chest. Perhaps she wanted to make sure they knew we shot her down and chased her friend. 

"The penalty for treason is death." A man tells us in a somber tone. 

Tiberius chokes on his ego, coughing with surprise and disbelief. "Seems a bit harsh?! We cleaned your sky, you bottom-dwelling-"

"Tiberius!" I snap, interrupting him. "Treason to what?" These people have a small society; the community only ran when they saw those in the black hoods. They had to be good, or at least not all bad. 

"Working with magical beings, working for Master." The man appears to have nothing special about him; he seems older, in his fifties, with a short beard that was salt and pepper. His body was average, not an impressive height or build. He looked like an ordinary man, if not a little tired. 

My eyebrows settle together as I access my training to keep calm and relaxed in these situations. "Are your people not magical? Are you not?"

"Do I look magical to you?" He asks, raising an eyebrow. "Some are, but this cause isn't about that." His accent assures me that he's not French. "We separated from Master; we don't want to rule the world. We just want to live our damn lives; we just want to survive."

It's the bird-woman's turn to speak. "Albert, the fire mage said, 'Honor the Good King'."

Albert snorts rather unceremoniously; he adjusts his belt as his bravado rises. "I know exactly who he is. I watch the news. He's here to get married to that lycan. I've read the history books; I know exactly who this guy wants to be." 

"Who I am," I tell him firmly, my voice echoes so loudly in the vast hall that even the air seems to grow silent. I ride on the confidence that allowed me to speak so clearly, tilting my chin. "I am here; I have returned to liberate my people, our people, to save this planet from the destruction of having an entire species wiped out."

Albert grows silent, the quiet that doesn't give one any piece but only induces a feeling of dread as anger and resentment build. 

"Ohhhh.." he purrs sarcastically. "Excuse me. Your Majesty!" He half bows, "And where, dare I ask, have ya been?" His hand gestures to the wide expanse around us. "We were ready for you months ago. Months." His eyes narrow as he takes a step towards me. "The moment we realized it was you on the telly, we gathered our resistance, and waited. Gabriel destroyed us. Gabriel annihilated us for standing against him. His damned dogs ravaged what little we had, and now we have this. So. Oh, great 'Good King.' What say you?"

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be pre-established groups slaughtered as they waited on a different schedule. We hadn't even fought yet, and we were already failing. A weaker version of myself would have crumbled, submitted to the reality that I was months too late for any liberation. But, after traveling for hundreds of years and losing everything to gain what I'd always wanted, I wasn't about to give up now. 

"What say I?" I ask, my tone light and smooth, unwilling to escalate. "I'd say I failed you. I failed to get here when you needed me. I'd come up with excuses, but I have none; what I can say is this-" I stand as tall as I can manage in a feeble attempt to bring light where there is darkness and revive this shattered resistance. 

"I am not here to fight for a monarchy; I wish to finish what I started—a free world for all of us. A world where it is not illegal to be who we are and the government does not control every aspect of our lives. Where the air is not putrid, and the sun brings life, it is not just you who needs me, it is I who needs you. We can only do this if we stand united. I'm not asking for forgiveness; I'm asking that you direct that anger where it counts."

The grimy hand runs through his beard as Albert sizes me up; slowly, he circles me in one pass, looking me up and down. "Want to know what I think?" He muses.