Page 8 of Roaring Spell

The door opens. Aslan enters, and⁠—

Different.

I’ve known Aslan for years. Watched him patrol, fight, lead. He’s always been intense, focused, carrying the weight of his pride’s expectations like a physical burden.

The man who walks in now moves differently. Lighter. Settled in his own skin in a way he wasn’t before. And the claiming mark on his shoulder—dark against his brown skin, visible above his collar—practically glows with recent magic.

“Sorry I’m late.” He doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds like a man who’s exactly where he wants to be.

Caius waves it off. “Let’s begin. The Warding Line situation.”

The next hour is grim.

“Two new sections of the Line are degrading—different stretches than the ones that sealed after Leire and Aslan’s claiming,” Caius says, dropping a folder on the table. Elio’s intel points at the Preservers. Not attacking witches anymore. Going after the infrastructure directly this time.

“They learned from losing Iskra’s cell—the Preserver cell the Network dismantled two months ago.” Elio leans back in his chair, deceptively casual. “Adapted. Whatever they’re planning now is bigger.”

“My foxes have picked up the same pattern.” Veren doesn’t look up from Rhodes’s snack drawer. “Three sightings near the northern checkpoint this week alone. Whoever’s running things now is more careful than Iskra was. Less flash, more patience.”

“Define ‘more careful.’” Rhodes’s pen hovers over his notebook.

“No dramatic monologues. No convenient overconfidence.” Veren finally abandons the snacks. “It’s almost disappointing. I do miss a good villain speech.”

Rhodes shuffles his files. “We need better information before we can⁠—”

“We need action.” Caius cuts him off. “Patrols doubled. Eyes on anything unusual.”

I listen.

Then Caius shifts topics. “There’s also the matter of Sakura Tempest.”

My attention sharpens.

“The weather one.” Rhodes flips to an already-thick section of his notes. “Another atmospheric disturbance yesterday. Thunderstorm in the middle of Moonthread Square. Third one this month.”

“She’s Leire’s friend, and Torin’s kept an eye on her without incident since she arrived.” Aslan’s voice carries an edge of warning. “Not dangerous. Just struggling with unstable magic.”

“Unstable magic near a weakening Line is worth flagging, however long we’ve been watching her.” Rhodes taps his pen pointedly. “Especially now.”

“She’s not a Preserver. We’d know.” Aslan leans forward. “Leire’s vouched for her from the start.”

“Vouching only goes so far.” Rhodes doesn’t look up from his notes. “That’s hardly⁠—”

“You know I was assigned to watch her.” The words leave my mouth before I’ve fully decided to speak them. Everyone turns to look at me. I rarely say anything unprompted. This is... unusual.

Caius studies me. “Yes, from a distance. Are you volunteering to watch her closely?”

“Yes. And I will before anyone decides she’s a problem.”

“Torin’s right.” Aslan nods, the corner of his mouth doing something I don’t want to examine. “Let him handle it.”

Rhodes looks skeptical but doesn’t argue. He makes a note. “Fine. Torin continues monitoring the weather witch. Report back with findings.”

The meeting continues, but I’m barely listening.

The meeting ends. Most of the alphas file out, but Aslan lingers. So does Elio, settling deeper into his stone chair with the air of someone who has nowhere better to be.

Rhodes pauses at the door. “I suppose you’re all going to be inappropriate now.”