So that was his trick, the plucky bastard had a shard of magicite. But two could play at that game. Off hand falling to her side, she stared Locke down coolly, not budging.

"Shiva."

A cold wind blew and what looked to be snow began to fall. The wind quickly picked up, the snow picking up in speed, blowing directly toward the thief, obstructing his vision. Running into the storm would prove to be foolish as well, as both wind and ice cut into him, the air bitingly cold.