Time/Date: Late Morning, TC1853.01.09
Location: Metropolitan Police Station → Ring 4 → Ring 5 → Ring 6 → Decoy House
The morning light filtering through the station's high windows felt different somehow—not the harsh glare that had illuminated hours of interrogation, but softer now. Almost gentle. Raven walked down the Metropolitan Police Station's front steps with measured precision, the borrowed SIS cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Every movement deliberate, controlled.
Behind her lay cosmic oaths and shattered lies. Ahead... possibility.
She'd done it. The blood oaths were sealed, carved into the universe itself in ways no mortal power could undo. But ninety-nine lifetimes had taught her that victory was never truly complete until you were beyond your enemies' reach.
The Fourth District's morning crowds provided perfect cover as she made her way toward the commercial area. People rushed past—merchants opening shops, servants running errands, the endless rhythm of city life. No one looked twice at a young woman in a simple travel cloak. Just another face in the sea of humanity.
Her first priority was anonymity. The servant's uniform marked her as clearly as a brand, and she'd had enough of being marked.
Three blocks from the station, she slipped into a clothing shop that catered to working women—the kind of place where questions weren't asked as long as coin changed hands. The proprietor, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, barely glanced up as Raven browsed the practical garments.
"Looking for something specific, miss?"
"Travel clothes. Simple, durable." Raven kept her voice neutral, unremarkable. "I'm heading to visit family in the outer districts."
"Ah, yes. Got just the thing."
Five minutes later, Raven emerged wearing a simple travel dress in muted gray, a practical cloak, and carrying a small canvas bag. The Brenner livery went into the shop's donation bin, stuffed deep beneath other cast-offs. She'd never wear those colors again. Never be that person again.
Walking away, she felt lighter. Free.
But freedom, she knew, was a relative thing.
***
The awareness of being watched prickled at the edges of her consciousness like static electricity. Not the casual glances of passersby, but focused attention. Someone tracking her movements with purpose.
Actually—she refined her assessment as she paused to examine a fruit vendor's display—multiple someones. At least two distinct patterns of surveillance.
One felt... desperate. Clumsy. Like someone who'd learned tracking from books rather than practice. That would be the Brenners, she decided. Probably Amara or Serenya, using whatever resources they'd scrambled together in the hours since the blood oath ceremony. They were panicking, trying to keep tabs on her location without the skill to do it properly.
The other presence was professional. Patient. Military-precise in their spacing and rotation. That would be SIS agents, maintaining observation despite Agent Venn's promises of non-interference. She almost smiled at that. Non-interference didn't mean non-surveillance, apparently. The imperial intelligence service had their own priorities, and a girl who'd just exposed cosmic law violations would naturally warrant monitoring.
Fine. Let them watch. She had plans for both groups.
Raven took her time wandering through the commercial district, ostensibly window shopping but actually mapping the surveillance patterns. The Brenner tracker—she was fairly certain it was a single person now—stayed too close, made themselves too obvious. Amateur hour. The SIS agents, by contrast, rotated positions with textbook efficiency, maintaining visual contact without clustering.
She stopped at a tea shop, ordered something cheap, and sat by the window. Watched the street through the reflection in the glass while appearing to simply rest.
There. A flash of movement that didn't quite match the crowd's rhythm. Ring 5 fashion, but trying to blend with Ring 4 workers. The Brenner tracker revealed themselves for just a moment—young, female, nervous energy practically radiating off her even at this distance.
Serenya? No, too sloppy for her; besides, as a Celestrial Serenya had access to much better resources. One of Selene's handmaidens, perhaps. Someone disposable enough to risk on a surveillance task but not skilled enough to do it properly.
The SIS agents, she never saw directly. Which meant they were doing their job right.
Good.
Raven finished her tea, paid, and continued her seemingly aimless wandering. She led the Brenner tracker on a winding route through increasingly crowded streets, always moving toward the border between Ring 4 and Ring 5. The amateur struggled to keep up, getting caught in foot traffic, losing sight of her target, and then overcorrecting by rushing to catch up.
When Raven finally crossed into Ring 5, slipping into the press of bodies at a busy market intersection, she used a technique from her seventh life—a simple application of soul power to bend light around herself, making her presence slide off people's attention like water off oiled cloth. Nothing dramatic. Just enough that someone looking directly at where she should be would find their gaze drifting elsewhere.
The Brenner tracker lost her completely.
Raven waited, pressed against a wall in a narrow alley, and watched the young woman—yes, definitely one of the Brenner household servants—emerge into the market square looking panicked. Spinning in circles, desperately searching the crowd. After several minutes of increasingly frantic searching, the girl pulled out a communicator with shaking hands.
Whatever report she was making wouldn't be pleasant to deliver.
Raven allowed herself a small, cold smile. Let them panic. Let Selene and Amara tear their hair out, wondering where she'd gone. They'd ruled her life through fear and control for seventeen years. Time for them to experience what helplessness felt like.
The SIS agents, though—they were still there. She could feel their presence, more distant now but still tracking. They'd seen through her light-bending trick or simply maintained surveillance through other means. Either way, they weren't losing her that easily.
Also fine. She had plans for them, too.
***
The housing rental agency in Ring 6 occupied a narrow storefront between a textile shop and a restaurant, its windows displaying faded notices for apartments and boarding rooms. Raven pushed through the door, triggering a small bell.
"Good morning," she said to the middle-aged woman behind the desk, adopting the manner of a young woman recently arrived in the capital. "I'm looking for a place to rent. Something small and private."
The agent—Mrs. Kellerman, according to the nameplate—looked up from her ledger with the practiced assessment of someone accustomed to evaluating prospective tenants. Her eyes took in Raven's simple but clean travel clothes, the small bag, the composed bearing.
"How long a lease, dear?"
"A month to start. I'm waiting for examination results from the Imperial Technical Academy." The lie came smoothly, providing a reasonable explanation for both temporary housing and modest means. "I need somewhere quiet to study."
As they discussed options, Raven remained aware of the surveillance outside. The SIS agents had positioned themselves well—one at a tea shop across the street, another browsing a bookstall with clear sightlines to the agency entrance. Professional. Thorough.
"Most of our available properties are apartments," Mrs. Kellerman was saying, spreading several notices across the desk. "Shared buildings, common areas. Popular with students and young professionals."
"Actually," Raven interrupted, appearing to reconsider, "do you have anything more private? A small house, perhaps? Or a separate cottage?" She let concern color her voice. "I'm a very quiet person, but I sometimes work late into the night on my studies. Complex calculations, mechanical diagrams—that sort of thing. I wouldn't want to disturb neighbors with my lamp burning at odd hours."
The concern about innocent casualties was real, though not for the reason she implied. If the Brenners moved against her—and they would, she had no illusions about that—she couldn't risk other families being caught in the violence. And when she began the blood essence bead awakening, the spiritual energy fluctuations might alert any cultivators nearby. Isolation wasn't just tactical, it was necessary.
Mrs. Kellerman's expression brightened. "As a matter of fact, we do have something unusual. The Riverside Boarding House has individual cottages for rent—tiny places, really, but completely separate from the main building. Would you like to see one?"
***
The boarding house occupied a full city block in a quieter section of Ring 6, its main building surrounded by a dozen small structures that had once been servants' quarters for some noble family's estate. The cottages were simple but well-maintained, each with its own entrance and small yard.
"This one just became available yesterday," Mrs. Kellerman explained, unlocking the door to a cottage near the back of the property. "One room with a sleeping alcove, small bathroom, tiny kitchen area. The previous tenant was a student at the Technical College who graduated and moved on."
Raven stepped inside, her enhanced senses immediately cataloging details. The cottage was perfect for her needs—isolated enough to contain spiritual energy fluctuations, but not so remote as to attract attention. The walls were thick stone, and she could sense the faint energy lines that ran beneath the foundation. Not as strong as a major ley line, but adequate for what she planned.
More importantly, the location was defensible. Single entrance, clear sightlines from the windows, thick walls that would slow down attackers. The small yard provided escape routes, and the boarding house's back fence bordered a narrow service alley that would allow quick exit if needed.
"I'll take it," she said, counting out the first month's rent plus deposit from her carefully hoarded coins. "Can I move in today?"
Mrs. Kellerman's business smile widened. "Of course, dear. Just sign here..."
As they completed the paperwork—Raven signed as "Mara Chen," using Lydia's surname as small homage to the designer who'd helped her—she remained aware of the watchers outside. The SIS agents had repositioned, maintaining visual contact with the boarding house entrance. They'd know exactly where she was staying.
Which was, of course, exactly what she wanted them to know.
***
For the rest of the day, Raven played her part perfectly. She purchased supplies from local shops—basic food, lamp oil, writing materials, a few books. Chatted with curious neighbors, mentioning her studies and her need for quiet. Made several conspicuous trips to and from the cottage with packages, always visible, always trackable.
The SIS agents watched it all. She could feel their presence like a weight at the edge of awareness, professional and patient.
At a small electronics shop, she found exactly what she needed—a basic computational engine, the kind used to control simple mechanical systems. Nothing sophisticated, but it didn't need to be. Her knowledge from Merit World #6, where she'd spent five hundred years as an AI consciousness managing an interstellar colony ship, made even primitive computational devices seem like children's toys.
The shop keeper, an elderly man with oil-stained fingers, barely looked up as she made her purchase. "Project for school?" he asked absently.
"Something like that. Automated lighting system—I like to program regular schedules so I don't waste lamp oil."
He nodded, already losing interest. Just another student with just enough technical knowledge to be ambitious.
Back at the cottage, Raven set to work. The computational engine was crude compared to quantum processors she'd once commanded, but the fundamental principles remained constant. Input, processing, output. Simple Boolean logic and timer functions.
She programmed a pattern into the device—lights turning on and off at irregular intervals throughout the night, mimicking someone keeping odd study hours. The sequence was randomized enough to seem natural, disciplined enough to suggest a dedicated student. Connected to the cottage's oil lamp system through basic mechanical switches, the whole setup would run for weeks without intervention.
In the sleeping alcove, she arranged pillows and blankets into a convincing human shape. From outside, especially in dim light through curtained windows, it would pass casual inspection. The programmed lights would turn on periodically, casting shadows of the false figure against the curtains.
She even added a nice touch—a mechanical arm she'd constructed from spare parts, positioned to occasionally move the "figure" slightly, creating the illusion of someone shifting in sleep.
From Merit World #6, she recalled construction principles that made even crude mechanical devices perform with surprising efficiency. Nothing that would draw technical scrutiny, but effective enough to maintain the illusion.
As midnight approached, Raven sat in the cottage's single chair, waiting for the city to settle into deeper sleep. Her preparations were complete. The dummy program would maintain the illusion of her presence for weeks if necessary. Anyone watching would see lights turning on and off according to the patterns of someone keeping irregular study hours. They might even catch glimpses of the false figure in the bed, lit by the automated lamp system.
The real test would be leaving without being followed.