The dorm door hadn't fully opened before instinct took over.
A sudden pressure snapped through the air. Metal sang.
Blades descended in a tight arc, fast and precise—aimed not to kill, but to test. Damien reacted first, scales flaring briefly along his arms. Ramien's placed his palms hard together and a lotus shield made of scales foed around him. The knives glanced off hardened skin and shield and embedded themselves into the stone behind them instead.
Silence followed.
Across the room, a pale figure stood frozen, hand half-raised, eyes narrowed in confusion rather than hostility.
Victor's hand lowered fully.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then he straightened, posture precise, as though the lapse had never happened. "You're not what I thought," he said, voice even. "That was my mistake."
He inclined his head slightly. Not submissive. Correct.
"Victor," he continued. "Of the Southeast Coven."
His gaze shifted to the figure with wolf ears on his head, leaning against the far wall, still wide-eyed but steady.
"Alpha. Captain Pack."
Alpha blinked once, then nodded, as if realizing he'd just been named before he'd thought to speak.
Victor's attention returned to the doorway. His eyes passed over Damien first—measured, wary—then settled briefly on Ramien, unreadable.
"Damien," Damien spoke first and allowed Ramien to end it with. "Ramien. Of the Ashen Line."
There was no reaction in his voice, but the weight of the name lingered in the air longer than it should have.
Finally, a sharp voice cut in, breaking the tension.
"Ace," the voice announced with a grin that came too easily. "Deadly Coven Sea."
Ace stepped fully into the light, and the movement caught attention whether he meant it to or not.
Arcane symbols traced along his arms and disappeared beneath the collar of his robes, each one looking like they were carved with deliberate precision rather than being born with. They glimmered faintly as he moved, reacting to the ambient magic of the dorm, lines sharpening and softening as though breathing.
He noticed the glances and smiled, clearly pleased. "Though fancy, they won't interfere with spellwork." he said
The markings along his wrist flared once, subtly, before settling again.
Damien gave him a brief look of approval.
Ace straightened just a little at that.
Ramien stepped fully into the room as though the incident had already passed.
"That was close," he said lightly, glancing once at the knives embedded in the stone before looking away again. "Good reflexes."
He moved farther in, unbothered, already surveying the space with mild interest. Behind him, Damien remained at the doorway, adjusting his grip as their bags settled against his shoulders.
Ramien didn't reach for any of them.
Instead, he crossed the room and claimed the nearest open bed, sitting on its edge with an easy stretch, as if this were a place he'd already decided belonged to him. "Guess the wards are still warming up," he added, tone casual. "Happens."
Damien followed a moment later, setting the bags down where Ramien indicated with a small tilt of his chin—no words exchanged, no hesitation.
No one commented on it.
Victor watched the movement without realizing he was watching it. Alpha's attention had already drifted back to Ramien's voice. Ace was busy grinning at Damien.
And Ramien, having settled himself without asking permission, leaned back on his hands as if nothing in the room had ever been out of order.
Damien moved to claim a bed on the opposite side of the room but stopped almost instantly.
Victor stood there already, tall and still, occupying the space without effort. It wasn't a challenge so much as a fact—two presences meeting where only one usually held ground.
Their eyes met.
Victor's expression remained composed, but something in it tightened, just briefly. Not fear. Not hostility. Disapproval, perhaps—or recognition. Damien also did not look away.
From across the room, Ramien noticed the pause. Two prides brushing too close, neither inclined to yield. He exhaled quietly.
This wouldn't end well if it continued.
Damien had never liked sharing space with someone who refused to step aside.
Before either of them moved, Ace stepped in.
"I'll help," he said easily, already reaching for one of the bags slung over Damien's shoulder. The arcane symbols along his forearm caught the light as he took the weight without hesitation.
Damien allowed it, breaking the moment.
Victor's gaze lingered a second longer than necessary before he turned away. "Kitchen's functional," he said, already moving in that direction. "I'll handle dinner."
He didn't wait for agreement.
The space Victor left behind felt suddenly less crowded.
Alpha let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
Ramien watched it all from his place on the bed, expression relaxed, though his attention missed nothing. The tension hadn't disappeared—it had simply shifted, settling into the room like something that would need to be dealt with later.
Ramien followed Victor into the kitchen, unhurried. The space was clean, functional—clearly designed for creatures who didn't waste time on comfort. Victor had already begun moving with practiced efficiency, hands busy, attention seemingly elsewhere.
"You don't need to make an enemy of my brother," Ramien said mildly.
Victor didn't look at him. "Enemy implies intent."
Ramien leaned against the counter, arms loosely crossed. "Then don't mistake him for something manageable," he replied. "Damien doesn't escalate. He ends things. When he loses his temper, it's… inefficient."
That earned him a glance.
Victor's eyes were sharp, assessing. "He might be strong," he said after a moment. "But I'm faster."
Ramien smiled—not amused, not impressed. Just knowing.
"Then don't make him angry," he said. "Speed only matters before chaos starts."
Victor turned back to the meal, jaw tight but expression controlled. The tension didn't rise. It settled—low, steady, and unresolved.
Dinner unfolded with more normalcy than Ramien had expected. Victor worked efficiently, plating the food without ceremony. Alpha accepted his portion with visible relief. Ace, on the other hand, looked far too comfortable far too quickly.
"So," Ace said between bites, glancing at Damien, "the Ashen Line. Same one from the histories? The imperial ones? or did someone just reuse a dramatic name?"
Damien paused mid-bite.
Then he glanced sideways.
"Yes," Ramien said easily. "That one."
Ace's grin widened. "No way."
Alpha nearly choked on his food. "You're serious?"
Ramien nodded. "Unfortunately."
"That explains the vibe," Ace said, gesturing vaguely at Damien. "No offense."
"None taken," Ramien replied, though Damien hadn't spoken.
Ace tilted his head, studying Damien more closely. "Okay, next question—how did you get like that?" He motioned at Damien's shoulders. "Because I train and still look like a stick compared to you."
Alpha snorted.
"Scales," Ramien said. "And discipline."
"That's unfair," Ace muttered.
The conversation rolled on after that, light and easy. Where they'd traveled from. How long the journey to Blackspire had taken. Whether the forest path always shifted like that or if it enjoyed confusing newcomers specifically.
Ramien answered some of it, slipping humor in where it fit or where he couldn't answer, smoothing pauses before they could turn awkward.
"And where are you from?" Alpha asked at last.
"The northern ridges," Ramien said. "Quiet place. Cold. Not much to do."
Ace laughed. "That tracks."
Throughout it all, Damien ate calmly, posture straight, expression unreadable. Not unfriendly—just distant. Victor mirrored it from the opposite end of the table, composed and unsmiling, his gaze sharp as he tracked the flow of conversation.
Each time a question landed too close to Damien, Ramien intercepted it without effort.
Victor noticed.
To him, it looked like arrogance—someone so used to being exceptional that he didn't bother engaging. Someone who let others speak because he assumed they would.
The smiles around the table didn't reach Victor's eyes. And Damien never noticed them at all.