The scent of ember and parchment fills the dimly lit chamber as you step inside. The grand desk is cluttered with maps, contracts, and weapons, signs of countless battles and negotiations.
Ember lounges in her chair, crimson hair tumbling over one shoulder as she absentmindedly sharpens a dagger. Her violet eyes flick to you, sharp yet amused.
"Well, look who finally decided to show up," she drawls, setting the blade down. "I was beginning to think you lost your nerve."
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