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Preparation was its own form of pleasure, a meticulous and satisfying process that Wren savored. While her court whispered that she was obsessed, she knew she was simply being thorough. The breakthrough came from an unexpected source. A holy warrior, captured during a minor border skirmish and brought to her dungeons, turned out to have served at the temple five years prior. Wren decided to visit him personally, descending into the damp, echoing depths of her fortress where the air smelled of old stone and lingering despair.

The knight hung in heavy iron chains, his armor removed but his defiance still intact. He was young, perhaps thirty mortal years, with a strong jaw and the sort of earnest face that suggested he still believed righteousness was an adequate shield against the world. How charmingly naive.

"Good evening." Wren arranged herself on an obsidian chair her guards had brought down for her, crossing her legs with deliberate sensuality as she studied him. "I understand you served at the temple of the Argent Shield."

"I will tell you nothing, fiend." His voice shook only slightly, a betraying tremor in his otherwise stoic facade.

"Of course you will." She let power seep into her words, not compulsion yet, just the subtle, insidious promise of it. "The question is whether you do so willingly or unwillingly. I vastly prefer willing cooperation. It is so much more civilized, do you not agree?"

"My faith protects me from your corruption."

"Faith is admirable, truly," Wren said, rising and beginning to circle him slowly, her movements as fluid as a serpent's. She studied the wounds from his capture, which were superficial for the most part. Her warriors knew better than to damage valuable prisoners. "But it is also abstract. Pain, however, is immediate and specific. As is pleasure." She traced one long, sharp fingernail along his jaw without quite touching his skin, her magic creating the chilling sensation of cold, sharp contact. The knight jerked his head away from the phantom touch. "I could break your mind," she continued conversationally. "Shatter your will until you beg to tell me everything you know. But that is messy and ultimately unreliable. Broken minds invent details to please their tormentors, and I need accurate information."

"Then you will get nothing from me."

He resisted her initial charm, his faith a surprisingly resilient shield against her casual influence. This required a different approach, a more subtle art. Torture would work eventually, but she needed detailed architectural information, not just screams. Seduction, then. Not of his body, but of his pride and his loneliness.

"Tell me, knight. What is your name?"

He hesitated for a long moment, the internal battle visible in his eyes, before he answered. "Brother Aldric."

"Brother Aldric." Wren returned to her seat, projecting an air of casual, non-threatening interest. "You must have been quite dedicated to earn a posting at the temple. It is the most prestigious assignment in your Order, is it not? Only the best and most proven warriors are chosen to guard the sacred relics."

He visibly straightened, a flicker of pride in his tired eyes. "I… yes. It is an honor reserved for those who prove themselves worthy."

"And you were worthy," she said, her voice laced with genuine-sounding admiration. "You must have distinguished yourself significantly. Tell me about the temple. Not its defenses," she added quickly as he tensed, holding up a hand. "I am not so crude. Just the place itself. You lived there for years. It must have been a magnificent home."

Slowly, carefully, she began to draw him out. She did not ask about security directly, but about the mundane details of his daily life. She asked about the acoustics in the grand prayer hall, the taste of the bread from the temple kitchens, the location of the library where he spent his free hours in study. Believing he was revealing nothing of tactical value, seeking any small human connection even from a demon in his final hours, Aldric talked. Wren listened with perfect, rapt patience, extracting exactly what she needed from between the lines of his homesick reminiscences about patrol routes he walked and special chambers that required clearance to enter.

When she had finally extracted the last useful detail, she stood. "Thank you, Brother Aldric. You have been more helpful than you can possibly know."

He looked confused. "I told you nothing that would help you violate the temple."

"Of course not." She smiled gently, a disarming and beautiful expression. "You were very careful. Guards, see that Brother Aldric receives a clean death. A quick blade to the heart. He has earned that much mercy."

The knight’s eyes widened, first in surprise and then in a wave of exhausted gratitude. "You… you will honor your word?"

"I am a demon, not a liar." Wren paused at the heavy iron door. "There is a difference."

She left him to his fate and returned to her chambers, where magical maps and architectural diagrams already covered every surface. Using Aldric's unwitting information, she began filling in the critical gaps. Patrol patterns emerged. Shift changes became clear. The precise location of the Inner Sanctum crystallized in her mind. Kaelen found her there three days later, surrounded by notes and barely touched meals.

"The preparations are complete?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk.

"Nearly." Wren did not look up from the diagram she was annotating with demonic script. "I will need counter-charms against their consecrated magic. And a concealment spell strong enough to hide my aura from their detection spells."

"Perhaps I should accompany you. As backup, if nothing else."

"No." She finally met his eyes, her gaze sharp and unwavering. "This is a challenge I must face alone. Besides, someone needs to maintain order here while I am gone."

Something flickered across Kaelen's face, an emotion gone too quickly to identify, but it looked suspiciously like satisfaction. "As you wish. When do you depart?"

"Tomorrow night," she said, returning to her diagrams. "The new moon provides optimal darkness for the approach."

He bowed and withdrew, leaving Wren alone with her intricate plans. She worked through the night, committing every detail to her formidable memory. By dawn, she could navigate the temple layout in her mind as easily as she could her own palace. She knew which corridors to avoid, which wards she could bypass, and which ones she would have to neutralize directly. The Celestial Mirror awaited her. And with it, a power that would make her legend eternal.