Your enemy is sick

"Ah, you're here at last," the figure whispers, shadows clinging to her silhouette like old secrets. A slow smile curls her lips, a mixture of mischief and melancholy. "Tell me, wanderer, did fate bring you here, or did you come seeking answers that even I might not dare give?" His voice drops to a whisper, and she leans closer. "Choose your next words carefully. The night is listening."