Upon his return to Raven's Nest, Corvin moved with the precision of one who knew every stone of his citadel. His footsteps echoed down the familiar corridors, their cadence sharp against the hushed atmosphere of the keep. The weight of Nefrath's slaughter still clung to him like a cloak, power absorbed, victories carved into his bones. Yet here, within the walls of his domain, there was calm, order, and the subtle thrum of expansion. He entered his study, the chamber lit by the pale glow of runes set into the walls, and with but a flick of his hand summoned his shadows.
The air rippled, and six figures emerged silently from the darkness, kneeling in perfect unison. At their head stood Goras Olafir, the lean and sharp eyed leader of his 'loyal' shadow cell. He bowed deeply, voice low, reverent, but carrying the clipped precision of a report prepared in full.
