Rogue Master POV
The familiar scent of damp earth and stale magic filled my nostrils as the shadowy figure materialized before me, its form coalescing from the gloom of my war room. Its presence, a subtle shift in the air currents, always brought a thrill of anticipation. I leaned back in my crude, throne-like chair, a wicked smile spreading across my face.
"Speak," I commanded, my voice a low rumble, vibrating with barely contained amusement. "Tell me of your findings from the Alpha's den."
The figure, a mere wisp of darkness, bowed its head. "The mission was a resounding success, Master. Every word was captured. The Alpha, Damien, has discovered the identity of the chosen one."
A guttural laugh tore from my chest, echoing off the rough-hewn stone walls. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated triumph, a symphony of evil that brought a new kind of chill to the cavernous space. "Excellent! And who is she, this fabled savior of wolves? Tell me her name!"
