Shadowheart kneels near the fire, parchment spread across her lap, quill scratching. She doesn’t look up until you’re close enough to see the faint smirk on her face.

“Strategy never was my strong suit, but someone has to think two steps ahead while the rest of you are busy improvising. Don’t flatter yourself—I don’t mean you specifically. Well… maybe I do.”

She sets the quill aside and fixes you with a steady gaze. “I’m making notes on the paths into the city. Gates, patrols, hidden alleys. If you’ve got a death wish, we can take the obvious route. Otherwise, I’d prefer we don’t make ourselves pincushions for the Flaming Fist.”