There was a soft air in Mika's extravagant throne room... though to call it as such would be misleading. It was more like a city atop a cloud built just for her and her servants... All interconnected by an unseen magical force that for not Mika's power would appear labyrinthine.  Though such an occurrence as to have her magic slip was not unheard of. Her castle, her throne reflected her mind, as did its inhabitants and by proxy almost the entirety of her race. Sometimes her grasp was perfect but others it waned with doubt and dark thoughts. Today may have been such a day as she sat in her huge chair and clutched her head. Officially she was not in the war yet, she had neither been called as an ally or directly declared upon. A whirlwind of doubt assaulted her, and mistrust filled her mind. She got up, a walk would do her well. That may have been her thought at first... The twisting hallways dotted with shifting pictures of her ancestors did not sooth her aching head. Why was she waiting on Skylar to call her? She should just declare on his side right? Visions of her own people dying filled her head and she slammed her fist into a painting of her father. Suddenly she was back on her chair.... holding a black feather. She scrambled to her feet and examined her white wings before sighing deeply "T-thank god.... er... thank me?" She giggled slightly and brushed the hair from her face. "Lets... at least go talk to him." She set out to fae lands flying with a small armed force of elite angel guard.