Failure

As always, the city of Steadfast stretched out beneath them like a slumbering beast.

It was so late in the night that it was inadvisable to be outside. The lanterns illuminating the streets had burned so low that shadow claimed some of the streets and most of the alleys. 

From the rooftops, Ren and Thorn moved like ghosts, their cloaks blending into the night as they moved through the aerial pathways of the city. 

This late at night, all that was left outside was the foot patrols of the guards, keeping the King's peace.

"You sure we're going the right way?" Ren murmured, crouching beside Thorn as they looked down at the quiet plaza below.

Thorn was focused, his fingers lightly brushing the surface of his blood bound pendant, the imbued object that helped him track the metaphysical trails people left behind.