The next cycle began under the pall of palpable tension. Rhys felt the slight increase in his Aether Pool's stability from the previous day's circulation practice, but it was cold comfort against the backdrop of dwindling supplies and the tightening Crimson Hand net. The need for a new, secure cultivation spot wasn't just a strategic goal; it felt like a biological imperative, the nascent energy within him demanding sustenance.
"I'm going out," Rhys announced, his voice quiet but firm as he checked the worn bindings on his boots. "Need to find another source."
Boulder, who had been methodically cleaning their meager collection of tools, looked up sharply. "Too dangerous. Hand patrols are thick. They're looking for you."
"Which is why sitting here waiting is suicide," Rhys countered, meeting Boulder's worried gaze. "Stagnation means capture or starvation. We need a better place to practice, somewhere hidden, somewhere clean. And I need to map the patrols actively, not just guess from here." He tapped his temple. "This can help us avoid them, but only if I'm out there using it."
Reluctantly, Boulder conceded. He knew Rhys's stubborn determination, and the logic, however risky, was sound. "I'm coming with you," he stated flatly. "You navigate, I watch our backs."
Their journey through Meridian's lower strata was a masterclass in stealth and sensory awareness. Rhys took the lead, moving not by sight alone, but by the intricate tapestry of energy signatures revealed by his Echo Sense, amplified and filtered through the shard pulsing faintly in his pocket. He guided them through dripping sewer tunnels barely wide enough to accommodate Boulder's shoulders, across rusted gantries spanning chasms of indeterminate depth, and through the echoing shells of collapsed manufactories forgotten by time.
His Echo Sense became his eyes and ears in the oppressive darkness. He felt the approach of a Crimson Hand patrol around a blind corner – four distinct, aggressive signatures pulsing with impatient energy – and quickly pulled Boulder into a slime-filled alcove moments before their heavy boots stomped past. He sensed the lingering energetic residue of recent passage, differentiating the faint, hurried trace of fellow scavengers from the heavier, more confident imprint of Hand enforcers. He identified 'dead zones' – pockets of rubble or stagnant water where energy signatures were naturally dampened – and used them as temporary hiding spots. He learned to distinguish the frantic, skittering energy of mutated Tunnel Scrabblers from the slow, cold presence of dormant Pre-Sundering constructs, avoiding both instinctively. The decaying city wasn't just a physical labyrinth; it was an energetic one, and Rhys was slowly learning to read its hidden language. Several times, they had close calls – a sudden patrol appearing from an unexpected side tunnel, forcing them to flatten themselves against dripping walls, holding their breath as the predatory energy swept past mere feet away.
While navigating this gauntlet, Rhys simultaneously scanned for his primary objective: a suitable Aetherium Echo source. He extended his senses, searching for the tell-tale hum of clean, stable energy, filtering out the ubiquitous background noise of decay and tainted power. The search proved frustratingly difficult. He found promising signatures, only to reject them upon closer inspection. A large patch of vividly orange fungus pulsed with potent energy, but it felt unstable, almost sentiently hungry, radiating warning signals his instincts screamed to heed – likely a prime source of Echo Sickness. A trickle of water shimmering with iridescent colours looked enticing, but its energy felt oily, cloying, subtly corrupted. He located a thick, intact Pre-Sundering power conduit humming strongly within a collapsed wall, but the energy felt tightly shielded, inaccessible without specialized tools, and likely alarmed or trapped.
Hours bled away in the tense, meticulous search. Rhys's concentration wavered under the strain of constant vigilance and sensory filtering. Just as despair began to set in, deep within a network of ancient, rarely used sewer junctions far removed from known patrol routes, he sensed it. A faint, almost imperceptible hum, cleaner and clearer than anything he'd felt since the fountain courtyard. Following the gentle signature, they found its source: a section where the tunnel widened slightly, revealing a cascade of surprisingly clear water dripping from stalactites onto smooth, grey river stones below. The stones were coated in a thin layer of silvery, faintly luminous algae that seemed to absorb and purify the dripping water, creating a localized pocket of remarkably clean, calm Aetherium Echoes. It felt cool, stable, a gentle blend of Water and Earth elements. Weaker, even, than the fountain, but blessedly pure and deeply hidden.
"This is it," Rhys breathed, relief washing over him.
While Boulder took up a vigilant watch at the tunnel entrances, Rhys settled himself on a dry patch of rock near the dripping stones. He drew the shard, its familiar warmth centering him. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his Echo Sense, gently inviting the cool, clean energy. It responded slowly, a delicate trickle flowing towards his receptive Aether Pool. The process was still painstaking, requiring intense focus to absorb and integrate the energy without waste or disruption. The energy felt different from the fountain's – denser, calmer, with a grounding quality that resonated with the stone and algae. After another hour of exhausting concentration, his Aether Pool had grown by perhaps another ten percent. The progress was glacial, but it was progress nonetheless.
Replenished, albeit minimally, and with a secure practice location identified, their next priority was bartering for supplies. Their path back took them near the edge of the district housing Master Kaelen's forge. Rhys, remembering the blacksmith's interest in the resonant pipe, decided on a direct approach. He spent twenty minutes meticulously scanning a nearby debris field with his Echo Sense, ignoring common scrap and focusing solely on items with that distinct, clean energetic hum. He found a small, oddly shaped gear made of a non-ferrous, bluish metal that pulsed faintly, and a chunk of dark, glassy rock that felt strangely cool and vibrated slightly when held.
They approached the forge cautiously. Kaelen was working, hammer ringing against glowing metal, sparks showering the dim space. The air thrummed with intense heat and the powerful, grounded energy Rhys associated with the blacksmith. Rhys waited until Kaelen paused to quench the metal before stepping forward.
He offered the mundane scrap Boulder carried first. Kaelen grunted, barely looking, tossing a few standard food credits onto his anvil. Then, Rhys presented his finds – the blue gear and the glassy rock. He didn't comment on their nature, simply placed them where Kaelen could see them.
The blacksmith stopped, his gaze sharpening. He picked up the gear, turning it over, his calloused thumb rubbing the surface. He then hefted the glassy rock, his eyes narrowing slightly as he felt its subtle vibration. A long moment of silence stretched, broken only by the hiss of cooling metal and the roar of the forge. Kaelen looked from the resonant materials to Rhys, his expression unreadable but clearly intrigued.
"Found these," Rhys said simply. "Thought you might have use for them."
Kaelen grunted again, a sound deep in his chest. Without a word, he tossed a significantly larger pouch of credits onto the anvil – far more than the scrap was worth. Then, his gaze locked onto Rhys, sharp and penetrating. "You got a knack for finding things others miss," he stated, his voice a low rasp. "That 'knack' can draw the wrong kind of attention down here." He paused, then added gruffly, seemingly as an afterthought, "Saw those Hand dogs sniffing around the old temple courtyard again yesterday. Asking 'bout energy spikes."
Rhys met his gaze, offering a slight nod of understanding, acknowledging the warning without confirming anything. He gathered the credits and the supplies Boulder purchased with them. Kaelen had already turned back to his forge, hammer rising and falling in a powerful, steady rhythm, but Rhys felt the weight of the blacksmith's scrutiny long after they had melted back into the shadows of the Undercity.
Back in the relative safety of their cellar, Rhys contemplated the exchange. Kaelen knew something, or at least suspected. He recognized the value of the resonant materials, materials Rhys could only find thanks to his Echo Sense. And he had warned him, again. Was it simple caution, or something more complex? Regardless, Rhys now had a potential avenue for acquiring resources beyond basic scavenging. His unique perception had value, if he could leverage it carefully. The path remained perilous, the Crimson Hand threat loomed large, but finding the new cultivation spot and establishing this tentative, resource-based connection with Kaelen felt like finding solid handholds on a crumbling cliff face. It wasn't safety, but it was a chance to keep climbing.