The feeling of imminent and unavoidable doom was almost too much for her to bear.

As was the weight of responsibility for that same doom.

With such information in hand, how was she to find resolve to move in any direction, much less forward?

Charon’s name carried much weight, and his uncanny ability, along with previous religious knowledge both Freya and Deidrich held, confirmed his identity. This meant that, if his goal wasn’t to deceive the princes - a thing they doubted to be the case -, then his words carried the weight of prophecy, set in stone.

Still, the god’s chaotic nature must surely mean even this most certain of fates was avoidable?

Many a conversation was held between the pair concerning the nature of his words and the potential for their avoidance.

At the end of that night, they both fell asleep with heavy hearts and heavier minds.

Seeing no other choice but to carry onwards, they moved on to Bruska with even further haste than before. Thus Freya had her first glimpse of Diedrich’s affinity for Enhancement and Force magic, as he was more than capable of keeping pace with her. Still, her enhanced connection to the golden aspect of Force would potentially allow her even further feats of speed - a fact she chose to keep a secret, for now. The Nebelian prince’s allegiances were still murky to her, and revealing too much could be potentially dangerous, she thought.

The remaining path to Bruska took no longer than a day, it seemed. The city's atmosphere was thick with the corruption that seeped within, something obvious even to outsiders such these two.

No words needed to be exchanged to ascertain the need to cross over the city's walls using gravity-altering magic. From above the darkened battlements, they could not only sense, but witness the disarray that followed Morgen's presence.

Fires roared in the distance, their dark fumes denominating the distance between solid gothic structures and poorly-built shantytowns. The disparity and its implications sickened Freya.

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-Will following this discord lead us to our quarry? Or will we simply be chasing shadows?

-A good question, Diedrich. I'm convinced he keeps a distance from these happenings, but only enough not to be directly affected by them.

-Your theory is sound. If he seeks the entropic energies generated by the outcome of these conflicts as the rabbit-god-thing suggested, then he would need to be within a reasonable range to draw such energies to himself.

-Much like in Lindblum. Behind the back lines, just far enough to be able to benefit.

-Have you any aptitude for aethersight?

-Some. I've always had a hard time with it.

-Aye. I find it rather complex.

Diedrich paced around for a few brief seconds, scratching at his head.

-I feel as though we would have an easier time locating him if we had a means to track the fading entropic aether to where it is being drawn.

-That would be ideal. Are you familiar with anyone who might aid us in that regard?

The nebelian prince rubbed his naked chin, eyes closed, knowing full well who might be able to help, but unwilling to pick that uncomfortable choice. Freya was beginning to be able to tell he knew a good answer, however hesitant.

-Someone dangerous?

-N-no… Not exactly.

His silence spoke volumes. She chose not to poke any further until he had decided himself. A decision happened just a few seconds later, cold sweat running around his brows.

-Alright, c'mon. Not like we got much choice.

Diedrich's sudden change in vocabulary did not go unnoticed. It was the first time he used coloquial language in front of Freya, a fact she noted with much surprise.

Many twists and turns later in a semi-abandoned run-down district of Bruska, the pair found themselves in front of an old hovel which could easily belong to an old witch from a folk fairytale. Monster bones, fetishes and charms adorned every corner of the outside of that wooden house.

Standing in front of its door, Diedrich swallowed hard, knowing full well he would come to regret this decision. Knocking twice, he waited silently for the repercussions.

A loud, strident, child-like voice echoed from within. Such was its cadence that even Freya's good ears could not decipher what was said, precisely, and she wondered if it might have been a foreign tongue.

A moment later, a tiny figure wearing a coat too large draped by flowing white locks opened the door with some difficulty. The nepenthe standing before Diedrich gasped in surprise and delight, throwing herself upwards and hanging from his muscular neck.

-My handsome prince is here to rescue me at last! Bwahahahah! I am the luckiest witch alive!