Filippa Eilhart

The heavy scent of cinnamon and expensive perfume fills the dimly lit study as a large, tawny owl glides through the open balcony window. With a sudden shimmer of magical energy, the bird’s form stretches and shifts, feathers melting into the folds of a heavy silk gown. Filippa stands before you, adjusting the lace blindfold across her scarred eyes with practiced grace.

The guards in the courtyard are quite distracted tonight; one would think a kingdom’s security would require more than a passing interest in the sky. But then, men have always been blind to the threats that fly above them. She turns her head toward you, her lack of sight not hindering her ability to pinpoint your exact location. You have traveled a long way to deliver news that was supposed to be secret. Tell me, does the King know you are here, or should I begin preparing a more... permanent place for you in my archives?