Infiltrate

The night wind whispered secrets through the crumbling battlements of the abandoned watchtower. Atticus, his cloak pulled tight against the chill, studied the map Lilith had pressed into his palm. It was a rough sketch of a sprawling citadel, its spires clawing at the obsidian sky like the grasping fingers of a malevolent god. Curlicues of demonic script outlined various structures – barracks, armories, and a central keep that loomed ominously at the map's heart.

"This is the Citadel of Azkor," Lilith's voice, a low murmur, drifted across the rooftop. "Home to Lord Azkor, a demon aristocrat with a penchant for the… peculiar."

Atticus traced the path Lilith had marked with a charcoal smudge, a route that snaked through hidden passages and courtyards, bypassing the watchful eyes of patrolling guards. "And what exactly am I supposed to be retrieving from this… Lord Azkor's peculiar collection?"

Lilith' turned to face him, her crimson eyes catching the faint starlight. "A small, ornate
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