In a dark, salty and slightly damp space, the flickering candlelight casted long shadows across the walls of the dimly lit chamber.
A hooded figure sat hunched over a heavy oak desk, his face obscured by the deep cowl of his cloak. Only the glint of his eyes was visible as they darted back and forth, scanning the parchment before him.
The man's gloved hands trembled slightly as he unfolded the message, the parchment crackling softly in the silence.
The wax seal, bearing the mark of a coiled 2-headed serpent, lay broken beside him.
"How fascinating…"
He leaned closer, his breath fogging in the chill air as he read:
"The falcon flies at midnight. The white rose will wilt before dawn… Baymard's time is near."
It seems they've received orders not to harm any Witches they caught or spotted during this time.
An alliance, they say… An alliance not just with the Witches, but with their most hated foes, Adonis, too.
