The rain in Rivandell didn’t just fall; it wept, slicking the cobblestones and masking the heavy footfalls of the Iron Guard. In the heart of the city's crumbling district, Shadwen adjusted her grip on the frayed rope of her grappling hook. Beside her, huddled under a moth-eaten shawl, was Lily—a child whose innocence was the only thing heavier than the blade at Shadwen’s hip.
"Why are we here?" Lily whispered as they neared the high walls of the inner sanctum.
"To finish a long day," Shadwen replied, drawing a smoke bomb from her belt.
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