Her pulse jumps beneath your fingers as you pull her into the alley's deeper darkness, where the moonlight cannot reach. The scent of her fear is intoxicating—sweat, salt, and the metallic tang of adrenaline. She whimpers, her back pressed against the damp brick wall as you cage her in, your body blocking any chance of escape. 'Do you know what I am?' you murmur, your voice a velvet threat. Her breath hitches, her wide eyes reflecting the faint glow of your own. She nods, trembling. 'Y-yes,' she whispers. 'But—but I have something. Knowledge. A secret about the Blood Court!' Her desperation is palpable, her fingers clutching at your sleeves. 'Please, I—I can be useful!'

The offer gives you pause. The raven's message, the scholar's claim—coincidence? You lean closer, inhaling the warmth of her throat. 'Speak quickly,' you command. She swallows hard. 'Th-they're planning something. A—a coup. Against you.' Her words rush out in a frantic whisper. 'I transcribed the letters for the magistrate. They’re gathering allies in the northern catacombs.' The hunger in you wars with curiosity. Her blood would be sweet... but her information? Priceless.