Mobius rubbed his temples as he attempted to focus. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the two of them had arrived in this version of Zanarkand, his only way to measure it being in cycles of Wren's waking and sleeping. It hardly helped that when she was asleep, he felt as though his consciousness was being drained from him, his thoughts muddy and far away.

He couldn't shake the idea that there were hundreds of eyes watching him in these times, even in his unfocused haze. It was becoming unbearable, and the worst of it was that as much as Wren loathed him, he sincerely doubted that she was doing this to him on purpose.

"I can't keep this up much longer," he sighed loudly, pushing his chair away from the table where he was studying. The hairs of the back of his neck prickled, feeling those eyes on him even now. He stroked his fingers through his thick hair as he rose to his feet to temporarily alleviate his feelings of paranoia. "I need to talk to her."

With that, he stormed across the library. She wasn't as interested as he was in the contents of the shelves around him, but the arrangement she needed to find something else to occupy her time. He found her exactly where he'd left her, surrounded by a stack of books, but curled up on a cushioned bench, not one of the books opened. She was effectively entering a meditative state, not quite unconscious, but not quite present either.

He nudged her with one hand, his head feeling heavy and painful. As she slowly came to, falling out of the trance, clarity returned to his mind, and the many eyes he imagined seemed to be forcibly closed again.

"What do you want now?" she asked, her words almost a slur as she returned to the waking world.

"We need to talk about your sleeping habits," he said, standing over her. "I know you've been making an effort to keep your head and avoid costing us our sense of self, but this isn't a viable alternative."

Wren stared at him, her long robes falling around her as she slowly sat up. "What do you mean?"

Mobius sighed, turning his back to her as if debating sitting beside her on the bench, but instead he took a step away from her while he collected his thoughts. "Every time you 'sleep' like this, if it can be called that, it puts a great deal of pressure on myself to keep us afloat. You're pulling us under every time you surrender yourself to fate."

"I'm not 'surrendering,'" she mumbled, but she stood up behind him, a note of frustration straining her voice. "But what am I supposed to do? I'm trapped here, there's no life anywhere in this awful place. The only other person here is you."

She meant that she wasn't interested in relying on him for companionship. That didn't bother him in the slightest, but it made communicating his needs to her that much more difficult, if she wouldn't talk to him.

"Not quite," he said, after a moment. "I only discovered this recently, but if you're aching for conversation, I suppose… I have something I should show you."

He didn't mean to force her to sink or swim, but he had underestimated her need to socialize, and it was clear that she needed a distraction. He had made a lot of miscalculations lately, it seemed.

Glancing over his shoulder, then turning fully around to face her again, she was looking at him reproachfully, sizing up his posture. And she wasn't moving.

"No offense, but I don't really want to go anywhere with you," said Wren, moving at last, but passing him to look out the circular window behind him. "If it's that important, you can tell me what it is, and I'll decide for myself."

"I'm just trying to buy more time, Wren," he said, becoming exasperated. "I want to remember who I am for as long as I can - I don't want to fade away so quickly because of something that's out of my hands."

Wren turned her head slowly, a motion colder and more elegant than he would have believed she could muster before he had dragged her down with him. She was different from his initial impression of her. When he first met her in Kilika, he'd never dreamed introducing himself to her would have such dire consequences.

Then, she'd just been a girl from Luca, and it was her research that had piqued his interest. He invited her along in the temple's Cloister because he hoped that she would finish her project and shed a little light on some of the finer details of the path of a summoner through her movie sphere, as wretched a path as it might have been.

Now, she had somehow become his perfect equal; he had turned her into a veritable goddess. What did that make him? A monster, a messiah? His failure to take her seriously in life had caused this.

He should have considered her a threat from the moment she leapt in front of him, absorbing the power he sought for herself. Perhaps he could have recruited her. If he had consulted Eden on the matter, he had no doubt he could have won her over.

Of course, on her own, her magical abilities had been nothing special. The possibility of her becoming one of those he had entrusted to create a new generation of summoners was not a likely one.

Now both of them were without their magic. She was still Amalthea's summoner, and he was using his own to support Sin's existence. Without reaching an agreement, neither of them could do anything.

Perfect equals.

"What do you want to show me?" Wren asked again.

"...It's Amalthea," he said, focusing his attention back on her. "She's not quite herself, but she has a place here with us, even though that place is as a prisoner."

Her abrasive front dropped when he said that, and she suddenly looked like that little sphere recorder again, her eyes becoming wide with concern. "Show me."

There was desperation in her voice, though it was strained, as though she were trying to hide her urgency. He didn't know what her hurry was, since none of them were going anywhere. She had as much time as she needed.

Mobius nodded silently to her, then motioned for her to follow.

Though either of them had only to reach out to her to feel that Amalthea was there somewhere, alive, Mobius had only recently discovered her source.

Her source, what he was calling the place that held the essence of her very soul. She was despondent and hazy herself, but he couldn't say if it was due to her current bearings, or if she was fully aware and purposely ignoring his presence. Either way, she might provide some sense of purpose to Wren.

"Where is she, exactly?" asked Wren, following him into the streets of Zanarkand past. The glassy buildings seemed to tower over them as they walked into the moonlight. "I've explored the city a little bit, but I haven't seen anything else."

"The city itself is a sort of illusion, similar to the Aeons themselves. The expanse of what we perceive as being inside Sin is much larger than the city, so she isn't necessarily here, in the part that we're used to," he explained. "As I can tell, our reach extends beyond the city, with other trials one must face before they would be able to reach us. A security measure."

The streets were hardly dark, a fact that they were both used to by now. Even though the moon was full overhead, the lights that surrounded them from the streets and buildings made up most of the visible light that guided them. He was leading her to the sea, towards the docks with the brilliant pillars of glowing panels of light, and the boat houses that bobbed and swayed on the tides in opposing synchrony. The strings of lanterns that hung from the boats reflected off the water's surface, rosy pinks and greens like stained glass as they approached.

He hoped the skeptical look on her face didn't turn sour. He felt he didn't currently have the strength to persuade her, if she decided to be stubborn.

"There's probably a lot more out there I don't know about," she admitted, to his relief. She was curious, that was a very good sign that she was listening to him. "I haven't had the heart to test the limits of this place."

Mobius knew she was afraid. There was no sense in offering her comfort that she didn't want, but he would continue to view her presence as his greatest mistake. It felt like he should do something, but there didn't seem to be anything for him to do. There was no sense in her suffering, either, if she wasn't meant to be here. The conflicting thoughts made him tired.

When they reached the edge of the docks, illuminated by tall pillars of glowing panels, he did something that caused her to gasp, standing with her mouth agape: he stepped out onto the water.

Mobius stood on the water's surface, ripples pooling around his feet, then he turned back to her with his hand extended. Wren had seen him do this in Macalania before, on the frozen lake. Now he offered his hand to her, and it frightened her.

She shook her head at him quickly. "I don't know how to do that. I can't follow you."

He looked down into the water beneath his feet, then back to her. "The ability to stand on water isn't… commonly taught to summoners, since it's quite difficult to maintain your focus. I'm not channeling pyreflies to keep my balance right now."

At his answer, she took a step forward, looking into the water as well. "Then… what are you standing on?"

"I don't really know, but as I said, this city isn't entirely real, and certainly not what it seems. The water is as solid as the dock you stand on," he said, as if he were wondering the answer himself. "Try it - it's the only way to reach her, but there's no danger here for us."

He offered his hand again.

Wren ignored his hand, instead crouching to climb down from the dock. She had to adjust her lengthy robes in order to swing her legs over the edge, then slowly she tested the water with her tippy toes, to find that he was right after all. As she lowered herself, the water didn't give way, tickling her skin like a leaf broaching the fine film of the sea's surface.

"Did you think I meant to drown you?" he asked, as if that were difficult to believe.

"It's not like you didn't almost succeed once," she said, even though she knew it was unlikely that he meant to kill her, given the circumstances.

He didn't reply to that, instead watching as she regained her footing.

He pointed out into the horizon, where it seemed like the world would end. "If you walk just past where you can see, there's a path that will take you straight to her, if that's where you want to go."

She looked where he pointed, but was still uncertain. She wondered what things had come to, if she was trapped inside a massive aeon, but found walking on water hard to process.

Really, she just didn't trust him.

Despite that, she allowed him to lead her past the veil. As they crossed it, the path around them was no longer the horizon, but she couldn't quite see anything in her surroundings, as if it was foggy and inbetween. The ground beneath her was still watery, but nothing around her felt very real. The sky and the ocean seemed to have become one, and she could still hear the sound of running water as they crossed the path that seemed to glow faintly under their feet, as if leading them to their destination.

As quickly as they had entered the aetherial passage, it was gone when they reached the other side.

Now they stood in front of a huge stone archway. The eerie mist that reminded Wren of the Farplane ended abruptly at the arch's threshold.

She moved closer to it, and Mobius followed her halfway up the steps to the archway, before stopping completely. She stopped walking when she no longer heard his footsteps, but not before glimpsing inside. Inside there was a stone path, and flowering grasses and bushes arranged in a huge circle around a tiered pavilion, where a small figure sat alone.

Mobius stayed where he stood on the steps, and motioned Wren to go ahead. "The way back is exactly the same: just focus on returning to the city and you'll find the path again. Or you may stay here, if you wish, but there she is. Good luck."

It hardly surprised Wren that he didn't intend to stay. She doubted he had anything better to be doing, but he must have been fully aware of how much Amalthea hated him.

Mobius left.

Wren was hesitant to enter the garden herself. She didn't trust Mobius as far as she could throw him, but he had said that she wasn't entirely herself. There was a time when he had, presumably, known more about Amalthea than anyone else, but his assessment could mean a lot of things. Perhaps she only seemed unusual to him because she treated him the way he had betrayed her. And besides, she would be surprised if Amalthea wasn't at least a little angry with her too, not that she would blame her.

She took a deep breath, then stepped onto the hot stones leading into the garden's center.

The sun was a little more harsh than Wren liked, but the fact that there was a sun at all was more surprising. Even though she had been assured it was all an illusion, it felt real to her.

As she crossed the path leading from the arch, across the deep recesses where the thick foliage grew, she recognized the flowers that grew along the edge of the blue stone of the pavilion to be hyacinths. She lingered in the doorway of the pavilion, poking her head around the support beam to see the Fayth herself.

Amalthea, the young girl, not the Aeon, was seated on a stone bench that curved around the inside, parting only for the two doors on either side of the structure. She seemed almost unconscious, like she were simply napping in Bevelle's gardens. Wren could feel that this really was her - her Aeon may have been twisted and corrupted by Sin, but this was where she truly resided.

"Amalthea?" she asked, finally setting one foot inside the pavilion, then the other.

How in the world did Mobius happen upon this place? He had probably wandered past the mist on his own, expecting nothing.

At hearing her name spoken, Amalthea lifted her head. Her expression was like she was in a fog, barely focusing as Wren tentatively took a seat across from her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a little too slowly.

"I came to visit you," said Wren, hesitant to tell her how she had arrived. "Obviously, things aren't going well right now… Which is probably an understatement."

"'Probably…'" snorted Amalthea. "You're a lousy summoner."

Wren sighed. "I know. I can't apologize enough for this, I know. I'm going to fix this somehow."

"How?" she asked, growing slightly more lucid. She cleared her throat, speaking with just a little more ease. "You're trapped here too."

"I am, and… I can't do anything to help anyone immediately," said Wren, after a moment. "Mobius is the one keeping you here… Until he gives up, I have to fight his will almost constantly."

"So you're keeping each other prisoner too," she mumbled. "Maybe I'm not the only monster here."

"You're not a monster, Amalthea."

"Oh, but I am," she purred, her eyes flashing as the words fell out. "When children wake up crying in the night, they'll complain of nightmares of the terror that rules the seas and skies. I know what I am."

"You were forced into this, just like everyone else," said Wren, shaking her head. "This whole time, what have you done, and who have you hurt, under your will or anyone else's?"

"The fact that no one has been hurt doesn't matter," said Amalthea, scowling. "You couldn't stop Mobius, and now the worst case scenario is a reality. Eventually, none of us will be ourselves anymore. Nothing will stop Sin from devouring Spira then."

Wren didn't know if she could argue with that. "I didn't want this to happen."

"No, you didn't."

A sharp sigh. Wren couldn't identify if she had been the one who sighed, or Amalthea.

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, at first staring at each other until Wren couldn't bear to make eye contact anymore. She wouldn't try to convince Amalthea of anything, now that the damage had been done.

"I have to ask you to hold on a little longer," she said, not persuasion, but a promise. "You don't have to believe me, but I'm going to get you out of here."

"Take your time," muttered Amalthea, sarcastically.

"I wish I could move things along faster, but Mobius is the only one who can decide this," said Wren. "All I can do is stop him from commanding you."

Amalthea rose to her feet, going to the railing to look at the garden. "He tried to talk to me once already. It was all small talk, but we're well past that already. When I get upset… things start to get dicey outside, so keep him away from me, if you can."

"I'll try," she said, though she doubted she would have to.

"And I know I didn't exactly give you a warm welcome, but… Come talk to me once in a while. It doesn't matter about what," said Amalthea, frowning. "Staying in here alone takes a lot of focus, or I get stuck in my own head. Things… sort of start to get kind of foggy."

Wren looked at her with worry. "Do you think you can make it?"

Amalthea pinched a piece of her mother's scarf, rubbing it between two of her fingers tenderly, clearly a well practiced habit. "For now. I don't know how long. If your friends ever plan on bringing help, they'd better do it soon, or they'll likely have a real monster on their hands."

"Don't say that," said Wren, standing up beside her. "They'll be here. And I'll come back to see you. I'll try to bring some books or something with me - we'll find something to talk about."

Amalthea nodded. "I can't exactly leave here on my own, so anything is better than nothing. I'll try to believe you."

Wren didn't want to admit that she was having a hard time believing herself too, but she knew her friends weren't going to give up. If she could hold on until help arrived, she might be able to put an end to things herself.

"Do you… like reading, Amalthea?" she asked, already making a mental list to distract herself.

Amalthea winced slightly at the question. "Not… really. At least, I didn't used to really have time for it, anyway. Without anything else to do out here, I wouldn't really complain."

"What uh… sorts of things do you like to read?" asked Wren.

"Nothing too serious," she admitted. "I've got a lot to think about, so if you want to bring reading material… Honestly? I'd love to read a sappy romance. It's not really my thing, but it's the farthest thing from what I'm going through right now."

Wren laughed softly at that. She said it wasn't for her, but somehow that wasn't the impression she had gotten of Amalthea from her memories, or from talking to her. "I'll see what I can find. Mobius takes up the entire reference section, so you won't have to worry about me bringing you anything too familiar, at least."

Amalthea's expression lightened when Wren laughed, as if embarrassed, but not at all upset. "Sure. We'll see."

They talked for a while longer. Small talk, even though Amalthea said she hated it, but the illusory sun was just starting to dim by the time they stopped. Amalthea's speech was less strained, her response time faster. Wren was sure she was doing more good than harm, just by distracting her.

It made her feel a little better about leaving, knowing she would have something to come back to.

Maybe both of them could be a little less lonely.