It had taken a while, finding the roof. He'd had practice, though, with building construction figuring-outing. Closets. Trap doors. Tiny ladders. Catwalks. By the time he'd gotten there? He'd probably been places in 4W even that cat hadn't. Ha. Take that!

Stepping out on the roof was like falling. Like Hell. Heat roiled off of the tarring in waves, distorting his eyes. Eyes that watered and screwed shut from the sudden light of the sun. Wind whipped at him, tearing against skin made raw by his Senses. He waited for his eyes to adjust, then walked to the edge and sat on the corner.

He'd told Zoey heights bothered him. Sometimes it was true. Sometimes it wasn't. He needed to talk to her. Because. No. Stop. Clarity.

There was something special about heights. Even magic itself knew it. For him, it was about seeing. See how the concrete jungle is just a fraction of the landscape. See how every car looks the same. See how the people move in lines, chasing.

See the illusions.

Heat turned to warmth. Wind turned to a caress. He closed his eyes and let the golden hues pierce the darkness.

Then he let the touch of Aether fill him.