As the moon hung high in the midnight sky above Ilis, Serah stood at the very top of the grand cathedral, her figure framed by the silver glow of starlight. The city stretched out silently beneath her, streets and spires bathed in pale illumination. Yet her gaze remained steady on the horizon, her patience thinning with every passing moment.
"Where is he?" she muttered under her breath, irritation tugging at her calm exterior.
For several moments there was nothing but the whisper of the wind. Then, a faint rustle of movement came from just below the ledge. Her crimson eyes narrowed, hand immediately falling to the hilt of her sheathed blade. She tightened her grip as the sound drew closer, every sense sharpened.
Before she could strike, a fingerless gloved hand latched onto the edge of the stone, followed by another. A grunt of effort, and then Marcus's familiar face appeared as he hauled himself up onto the ledge.
