In the streets again, now the Obelisk was always ahead of them. They passed the remnant of another battlefield, yet there the bodies had already been devoured or decomposed, for only traces of armor and equipment remained.

The entrance of the Obelisk came into view at the end of the road. An archway a hundred feet tall led into its interior. The walls were solid black, smooth and contourless, not made of brick but seemingly forged from a single piece of solid steel.

They walked quickly. Jogging. Running.

“Wait!” Trito said.

They stopped.

“There is a trap here,” he said. “We must go around.”

“I feel it, too,” Mother said. “We will Blink the rest of the way.”

“That will not work. You will trigger it regardless of if you walk or teleport.”

“What will it do?” Aletheia asked.

“I do not care to find out,” Trito said.

Mother closed her eyes. She glanced down to Corvo, sighed, and nodded toward an alleyway. “Here. Come.”

They ducked into the alley. Then they found another road, heading westward as the other had toward the Obelisk. Yet here they went slowly, careful not to walk into a trap, and this time the road ahead was blocked.

A tower had fallen. Its rubble clogged the way forward like a wall, like the uneven cliffs of a mountainside, ten feet tall at its lowest.

“Enough of this,” Mother said. She grabbed Corvo by the arm.

The two began to levitate.

Green light engulfed their feet. They lifted slowly, and Corvo screamed in surprise; but soon they were high enough to be atop the tower’s rubble, and Mother placed them down gently at its edge.

Aletheia looked over her shoulder. She waited a moment—and did the same. She grabbed Dorian and levitated herself and him over the rubble.

Trito tossed his spear to the top and climbed. He went quickly, but it was steep, and he took a moment.

And a moment was long enough for Corvo to look behind him, far down the road.

He saw a radiant white light.

Mother’s eyes widened. She shook her head, and she raised her staff.

This time she did not bother with invisibility. Instead a ball of green fire formed at the orb atop the staff. Aletheia imbued electricity into the head of an arrow nocked on her bow, and both were ready.

Trito surmounted the climb. He grabbed his spear.

The three Spellbreakres on white horses appeared in the road.

Mother threw her fireball.

The green flashed through the air and landed near the foremost rider. Yet where it landed, it did not explode. Instead the Spellbreaker made a gesture with his hand, and the fire hit the ground, like a ball, coming to a rest, lingering for a moment—before disappearing entirely.

Mother stepped back in surprise.

Aletheia shot her arrow.

It flew through the air like lightning. When it hit one of the Spellbreakers, sparks flew and quiet thunder rang, but the enchantment seemed to fade as it touched his armor.

Then it bounced off harmlessly against the plate.

“They consume magic,” Trito said. “Their armor is enchanted. You cannot harm them. Run!”

Mother needed no more instruction. She turned, and she ran. She led the others over the field of rubble. Dorian tripped and stumbled after them, but Aletheia grabbed him, hauling him back up to his feet as they made for the other side of the street.

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Trito lingered behind.

“Prince Trito!” called one of the Spellbreakers behind them. “I thought I felt you! Have you come to see your father?”

“Oberaz,” Trito said, lingering by the ledge. His voice faded as Corvo went farther. “I don’t think either of us would enjoy that.”

They reached the edge of the fallen tower. Mother grabbed Corvo, and when he blinked they were standing on the road again.

The Obelisk was straight ahead. The voices echoed too distantly to discern what they said now. Aletheia started ahead at a jog.

“Wait!” Mother said. She grabbed hold of her shoulder. “Not that way. There is another trap.”

Aletheia stopped. She looked up and down, as though realizing she had missed it, and backed away slowly.

Mother looked to the left and right. Another alley led back to the last street.

She said nothing but dragged Corvo that direction.

They were past where they had been, past the trap, and the Obelisk was again in sight. But Mother led them only half of another block before stopping again, shaking her head, looking for some other way.

Trito hadn’t followed them.

“What about Trito?” Corvo said.

“He will make do!” Mother said.

“Coming here was insane!” Dorian said.

“I’m beginning to agree!” Mother said.

In one of the towers along the road a hole was blown, surrounded by scorch marks—the remnant of some ancient battle held here. Mother glanced within and brought them into it. They quickly ducked beneath dusty and dark corridors, and emerged again through a narrow exit into another road.

And there, waiting for them, was one of the three Spellbreakers.

Mother lowered her staff. Jets of flame shot from the orb, covering the Spellbreaker and his horse completely. The horse neighed and kicked.

Yet when the fire cleared, neither were injured.

They turned and ran back into the tunnel. The elf followed, but his horse did not fit; they emerged on the other side, and Mother led them into another building, crisscrossing through its ruined rooms in an attempt to make it back to the main road.

They moved so quickly that Corvo could hardly breathe. When they were on the main road again, they saw the same elven rider in the distance, looking for them.

He turned and saw them.

Mother sprinted across the street. Aletheia stopped and rose a barrier, a golden wall of mana, but the Spellbreaker walked through it as though it wasn’t there.

The horse galloped their way.

Into an alleyway. The towers at their sides seemed miles tall. The ground was covered in flooded potholes.

They emerged on yet another road.

The third rider was waiting for them there.

Again they turned, and they ran back down the alley. But the second rider was there already, closing in on them. They ran toward him anyway, as fast as they could; Corvo ducked between the horse’s hooves to escape out into the road. Mother did the same, and as the rider faced them down, Mother closed her eyes to use Blink.

But it did not work. They waited, and waited, and her staff glowed bright, but they never teleported, no matter how many times Corvo closed his eyes.

The elf knew not to blink, and thus the spell could not work.

The hooves of his white horse came down on them.

Mother pushed Corvo forward. He fell to his side and rolled across the ground, getting covered in dirt and mud, but he avoided being trampled by an inch as the hooves landed near his head. Then Mother drew her sword and met the blade of the elf. Behind them galloped the third rider down the alley.

Aletheia drew back her elven bow and shot an arrow at the horse’s head. It was armored, but the arrow cut through it, and the horse toppled to the ground. Dirt and mud and water and blood blew onto her in a tsunami as the horse came to a stop.

The third rider was thrown from his saddle, but he came up quickly with a blade in his hand.

“Go!” Mother shouted. “Take him and go!”

Dorian hesitated. He had swung at the second rider with his sword, but the elf moved faster than any human, and he deflected the blade in a swipe, parrying both his and Mother’s blows at the same time. Like he was playing with them—like he didn’t think they were any threat at all.

Dorian nodded. He grabbed Corvo by the jacket and hauled him out into the street, and the two of them ran as fast as they could from the fight.

“Mama!” Corvo shouted. “No! We can’t go!”

But Dorian said nothing. And when Corvo stumbled, he picked him back up, and the two ran onward.

They were very close to the Obelisk now. A hundred yards. Maybe less. The towers stopped suddenly, and a huge, broad road began, surrounding the whole of the Obelisk, giving its enormous base room to be seen and admired in full.

And far down the road, the first rider reappeared. He had a lance in his hand and watched Dorian and Corvo through his visor.

He galloped their way.

Dorian swore. He chose an alley and ran into it. They sprinted through it, and by the time they were at its egress, the Spellbreaker was there behind them, watching them. The lance lowered again.

They stepped out into the open. And then that was it—there were no more towers to their sides, no skyscrapers to block the way, nothing at all but a clean shot to the archway into the Obelisk.

Dorian grabbed Corvo’s hand firmly, and they ran.

The rider emerged behind them. Yet he tugged on his horse’s reins and came to a sudden stop.

He raised his lance. Like he was giving up.

Dorian looked over his shoulder. He said, “He’s not following us! This is it! Come on, chicklet! Just a bit farther!”

They pressed past the last of the towers. Then they were in the open road, and the Obelisk was dead ahead.

And there was a flash.

Pink light overwhelmed Corvo’s vision. He felt his skin get very cold. The world seemed to stretch around him. He became dizzy and disorientated, and he fell to the ground.

Dorian landed at his side.

They were both together still, in a street, the red sky above them. But when Corvo rose, he did not see the Obelisk. He saw nothing but more towers to his left and right and ahead and behind—and he did not recognize any of them.

Dorian coughed, brushed off his face, and looked forward and back.

They had stepped into a trap. And it had not killed them.

It had teleported them, together, to somewhere else in the City. And Corvo had no idea where.