Rogue's room was illuminated only by the soft light of candles arranged around the central table. Maps and documents covered the wooden surface, along with a dagger plunged right in the center—holding a charred piece of paper that still emitted a faint wisp of magical smoke.
Rogue held the newly materialized parchment between her fingers. Her red eyes gleamed in the amber light as she read the words that slowly formed on the surface. Strax's seal burned at the bottom, gradually dissolving until the air became still again.
She finished reading and rested her chin on her fingers, a wry smile appearing on her lips.
"If they want to talk, let them come and talk to me," she murmured, repeating her husband's words in a low voice. "Of course, he's not going to make things easy."
