Hmm. You jog around the tower but see no sign of the figure. If she's aware of you—or watching you, even—perhaps it would be easier to draw her after you. And so you back off, in the direction of the southern tower. There you partially conceal yourself within one of the tower's corners, so that only your eyes peep out.
But she doesn't follow you. She has, apparently, gone.
Damn.
Out across the bay, the red storm gives a last whine of thunder, then, little by little, ebbs away. You search for the reactions of the passersby walking along the quayside at this evening hour. But, though the storm is the strangest weather phenomenon you've ever seen, the people walking here do not remark on it at all.
They cannot see it, you realize. Just as they cannot see you.
Next