"This seems like a bad idea," Bruno said as he watched the skyline, his eyes crackling with purple Aether.

Coren was a city of spires and stone, silhouetted by the blue moon, spreading out in a circular formation from the cathedral at its centre. It was an orderly city -- not the spontaneous, haphazard thing you'd usually see on a Lilith World. This place was something that had been planned out well in advance.

"It's the only plan we've got," came Ruth's voice through her Skeletal mask, her body crouching low to the ground. The two of them were watching the city from a nearby hill, making sure to stay in the shadows of the treeline so they wouldn't be spotted by sentries.

"If that's the case," Bruno sighed. "Then shouldn't we go about getting another one?"

"Go ahead if you got any ideas," Ruth replied -- and then, before Bruno could say anything, continued: "Is the entrance Lily told us about still there?"

Bruno blinked shakily. Infusing your eyes to boost your vision required a great deal of precision -- Ruth couldn't manage it all, so it was no wonder Bruno had trouble multitasking.

"It's there," he finally said after a moment. "Crack in the wall, up further north. The sentries on the wall wouldn't see you enter from that angle." He pointed off to a spot in the distance. "How quick do you think you can get there?"

Ruth smirked. "Faster than I need to."

And with that, she was gone in a flash, her feet only touching the ground every few metres or so. She kept her body so low to the ground it almost seemed as if she were on all fours -- hopefully, if any sentries did spot her, they'd assume she was some kind of wild animal, like a wolf. Hopefully there were wolves on this planet.

Not that they'd ever manage to spot her.

The ground was solid beneath her feet as she ran, her eyes fixed on the pinpricks of light above Coren's walls. Would there be some kind of indicator if she was spotted? Some kind of horn they'd blow as an alarm or something?

She darted to the side to avoid a tree, not breaking her sprint for a moment. She'd talked a big game just then, but even with Aether stamina was still a factor. She could move fast, sure, but she couldn't move fast forever.

A brief rest would be needed once she got into the city proper -- on a rooftop or something, if she could find a well-hidden one.

For the moment, though, all she had to do was run.

----------------------------------------

Dragan Hadrien and being locked in rooms against his will. Was there ever a more dynamic duo?

After his brief 'chat' with Prester Garth, Dragan had been returned to the small and dingy room he'd woken up in, furnished with little more than a soft bed and a barred window -- when it came to the interior decorating, there were definitely some mixed messages going on. He sat on the side of the bed, hand on his forehead, doing his best to think his way out of this mess.

Skipper, Ruth, Bruno and Serena. Where were they? Could he count on a rescue, or was this the kind of situation where he needed to do the rescuing?

The last he'd seen Skipper -- a fuzzy memory of someone shouting for a stasis unit -- the man hadn't seemed to be in such good shape. In all likelihood, he wouldn't win big betting on that idiot smashing through the wall and carrying him off to safety.

To be fair, though, that depended on how much time had passed since that last fuzzy memory. Being perfectly honest, Dragan had no idea how long he'd been unconscious for. It was unlikely, but maybe he'd ended up going inside a stasis unit too.

But he couldn't count on that. In all likelihood, Ruth and the del Sed twins would be the ones moving and active right now -- and as much as he'd like to be optimistic, it was highly unlikely they'd know where he was. So he couldn't count on them either.

The only one who decides what happens to me is me.

Well thought. In this kind of situation, under these kinds of circumstances, the best option was to make a quiet escape with his own mind and his own strength. He allowed a crackle of blue Aether to run along his arm, comforted by the feeling of solidity it gave him.

His eyes, already shining with a dim light, flicked over to the locked door. He was no Aether master, but you didn't have to be an Aether master to break through flimsy wood. All you needed were the fist and the will.

First, though, he had to think. Most likely, the other person Prester Garth had captured -- the one whose memories he'd sampled -- was the woman who'd held him hostage back on the Slipstream. If he eliminated the rest of the crew, she was the only remaining option. So Prester Garth likely knew everything about him that that woman had known about him.

She'd never seen him use Aether, as far as he was aware. So there was a good chance that Prester Garth, too, was unaware of his capabilities.

Only one way to find out. Dragan got up from the bed and moved to the door, blue Aether pulsing through his body. If he was right, and Prester Garth needed him for something, then he wouldn't be killed just for this simplistic escape attempt.

In essence, then, this was a freebie.

Dragan's foot -- flaring with Aether -- slammed into the wooden door, sending it flying off its hinges and smashing into the wall opposite. A second later, after being satisfied no guards were coming running, Dragan stepped outside.

The stone hallways of this place all looked the same, but he'd gotten a workable idea of the places layout from Prester Garth's little tour. If he could make it to those big stained-glass windows, he could smash through them and make a run for it.

It wasn't the best plan he'd ever come up with -- but it was the only one he had.

Dragan took only a single step down the hallway before hesitating.

I'm dead.

“Two paths lie before you.”

At the end of the hallway, floating a meter off the ground, was the red-and-blue spectre he'd seen with Garth. It hung in mid-air as if lounging on an invisible chair, the apparent nonchalance of its body language a stark contrast to the hatred Dragan could feel from the icy-blue eyes beneath the bone mask.

"There is a path of blue," it explained patiently. "And a path of red."

If I take another step, I will die.

The thought came into Dragan's head fully-formed. It wasn't a fear, or a worry -- it was a certainty. If he engaged the thing at the end of the hallway, he would be dead, just as he'd be dead if he jumped off a skyscraper. There was no room for fight or flight. This thing would not allow such endings.

Dragan saw the glint of a dagger deep within the spectre's robes.

Immediately, he turned around and stepped back into his room, doing his best to keep his teeth from chattering. Every step, he expected to feel the burn of a knife in his back -- but it never came. Whatever that thing was, it seemed satisfied with him just staying put.

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He dared glance behind himself only once -- and when he did, the spectre was already gone.

Back on the bed he went, head in his hands. How did things always, always manage to get so far out of control?

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Cities were pretty much the same wherever you went.

Ruth perched on a rooftop like a gargoyle as she watched a baker throw out a bag of old, crusty bread, loaves spilling into the back alleyway. Despite the fact the loaves were now floating soggy in a puddle, Ruth couldn't help but feel her mouth water. It had been a while since she'd had a decent meal, after all.

But no. She had no time to waste on things as petty as eating. She didn't want to lose what she had.

Her gaze returned to her target -- the cathedral that dominated Coren's skyline, a great square building of stone and marble, the three towers that protruded from it soaring high above the rest of the city.

Not yet close enough to do an Aether ping to find Dragan -- she'd have to be inside the building first, then. Hopefully Lily's infiltration route would still be viable. From her story, the girl had been spotted inside the cathedral, but that didn't necessarily mean they knew the route she'd taken.

A dim hope, but Ruth was used to those.

There was little buildup to her movement -- one second, she was watching the city, the next she was leaping across rooftops. She wasn't quite as fast as she'd been before -- she had to be more careful in her movements here, more deliberate, but even a slow Ruth Blaine was faster than most eyes could track.

She ran across rooftops, climbed over ledges, swung off outcroppings -- each of her movements smooth and unbroken, like a mixture between ballet and parkour. Back on Mirios, Oleg had drilled her in how to move quickly through urban environments -- and time chasing after Skipper had only driven those lessons home.

Before long, she was clinging to the outer wall of the great cathedral -- and from there, it was just a matter of climbing up to the storage room Lily had told her about. The lock was faulty there, so even if the window seemed to be firmly sealed, it could easily be opened from the outside.

She must have looked like some kind of insect as she climbed up the wall, concealed from any observers by the night's cloak. The climb was easy, though -- old buildings like this developed their own handholds, little cracks and gaps through which adventurous hands could slip.

Finally, she paused in her climb. She wasn't going to get a better, more quiet chance at this.

With a spark of red, she let out an Aether ping -- and felt an automatic response from inside the building, several floors up. Her grip relaxed slightly as the Aether she was using to reinforce her body dispersed for the ping, but a moment later she was secure once again. Falling to her death in such a stupid way wasn't the way her story was gonna end.

Still -- now she knew where to head.

Hold on, Dragan, she thought, grinning behind her mask. I'm on my way.

----------------------------------------

First, Dragan heard a 'thunk' outside his window. Then, he saw a cheery face appear between the bars.

"Hey! Hey!" she whispered loudly -- which defeated the point. "Dragan! It's me, Ruth Blaine! Remember?"

Sitting on the bed, Dragan raised an eyebrow. "Do I remember?"

Ruth frowned for a moment -- if she was legitimately considering the question, it would have driven Dragan to despair -- before shaking her head. "It doesn't matter. Listen, I've come to get you out of here -- hey, wait a minute."

Her gaze had slid past him, settled instead on the open doorway and the broken wooden door that lay beyond. Her brow creasing in annoyance, she turned back to him.

"What the hell?!" she exclaimed. "You've already busted out and you're just sitting here?!"

Dragan could not deny that this was at least just a little pathetic. He shrugged weakly. "There are guards out there..."

Ruth's expression only grew more annoyed. "Guards?" she said. "You've got Aether! Just break through!"

"Well, a guard," Dragan elaborated, desperately trying to show that he wasn't just being a coward. "There's a thing out there -- it's strong. I wouldn't be able to beat it. It'd kill me, easy."

He had no idea what exactly he was basing that on, but he felt in his gut that it was true. If he crossed that thing, that red-and-blue spectre, he would die. End of discussion.

Ruth frowned. "I didn't catch anything like that with my Aether ping."

So that was what that had been. Dragan had thought he'd stepped on a nail or something.

"Is it one of those Guardian Entities?" Ruth asked, eyes again fixed on the empty doorway. "One that stops you from leaving a certain place, or something?"

It was Dragan's turn to look confused. "Guardian what?"

Ruth smirked infuriatingly. "You really don't know, do you?" she asked, obviously enjoying the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to know more than Dragan Hadrien. "Anyway, that doesn't matter right now. You can't get out through that door, right?"

Dragan decided to let the whole 'Guardian Entities' thing go -- at least for the moment. "Right..." he replied uncertainly.

"Hold up a sec." Ruth's face disappeared from the window.

For a moment, Dragan just stood there, staring blankly -- but when he realized what Ruth intended, he leapt over onto the bed and pressed his body as close to the wall as he could.

Ruth Blaine was many things, Dragan had observed. But she sure as hell wasn't quiet.

The stone brickwork exploded inwards in a hail of dust and rock, showering the spot where Dragan had just been standing. Ruth's Aether-infused kick had done quite the number on the outside of the monastery -- the massive hole in the wall was now more like a doorway of its own, leading out into the crisp night air.

Incidentally, it also led out to the horrifying drop to the ground, the length of which would doubtless reduce Dragan to an irritated smear.

Ruth dropped back down into the gap, hanging from the remaining cobblestone above with one hand. "See?" she said proudly, waving her free hand to show off her work. "Easy as pie."

Dragan took a cautious step forward, peered down towards the menacing ground below. "I can't make that jump."

That didn't give Ruth pause for even one moment, though, because of course it didn't. She simply grinned and offered a thumbs-up.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've thought about that."

----------------------------------------

Prester Garth was somewhat loath to waste time on frivolities when so many important matters were arising, but he knew this was absolutely essential.

His Guardian Entity would make sure the devil-boy didn't escape, after all -- and the hunt for the rebels would go on outside Coren with or without his supervision. Delegation was the great advancement of humanity: a man could not do everything by himself.

Hands clasped behind his back, he reached the end of the hallway -- and knocked on the massive, intricately carved door there. A second later, a light, breathy voice called out from inside:

"Come in!"

Garth smiled to himself. There was never any other response -- the Good Lady was far too polite to turn away a visitor. Even if a hostile army were to slam on that door, she would still allow them passage. That was the sort of naivety she'd been born for.

He opened the bulky door -- even with his physical strength, sweat rolled down his forehead -- and bowed as he entered the room.

The Good Lady's tastes were certainly unusual -- her personal quarters were half-garden, half-bedroom, the floor removed and replaced with dirt and grass. Trees stretched up, their vines growing into the very walls, and blue moonlight shone in through the great stained glass window at the room's head. On it, images of the very first people stood at attention, their reachers sweeping and majestic.

The Good Lady herself was going barefoot, as she was always told not to, kneeling on the ground, watering a huddle of berry-bushes. The hem of her pure-white dress was stained brown with mud -- Garth was sure the Good Lady's attendants would be overjoyed to hear that.

Apparently satisfied with her arboreal efforts, the Good Lady turned to look at Garth. Even through the traditional veil that hung over her face, Garth could make out the cheerful expression of the young girl beneath. Two reachers poked out from beneath the veil too -- short and stubby, but undeniably bearing the golden hue of the ruling blood. She smiled at him as she stood up, futilely brushing some grass off her knees.

"Prester Garth!" she said, putting her watering can down. "I wasn't expecting to see you today!"

Garth smiled thinly. "I find a pleasant surprise is good for one's constitution. In fact--"

Intruder.

The jolt of alert cut him off, transmitted through the connection to his Guardian Entity. It had spotted something. Were the rebels making some kind of play? Unlikely, they didn't have the boldness for suicide.

The memories of the devil-girl swam into his mind. One of the outsiders, perhaps? If so, it would be best to dispatch them sooner rather than later.

"Prester?" the Good Lady cocked her head. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course," Garth chuckled, patting his stomach. "Simply indigestion. Will I ever learn?"

Find them, Aka Manto, he told his Guardian Entity. And deal with them.