"This map smells like a tomb and looks like someone spilled soup on it," Logan muttered, squinting down at the parchment Althea unrolled across the war room table.

"That 'soup' is enchanted ink from the Third Era," Althea snapped, smacking his hand away as he reached for a corner. "Try not to smudge centuries of blood-soaked wisdom with your grubby paws."

"Blood-soaked wisdom," Liz echoed, peering closer. "Why does that sound like a shampoo from hell?"

Celeste snorted. The tension in the war ...