The council chamber doors groaned open one by one, each entrance marking the arrival of a predator who refused to acknowledge the others as equals.
Kaelric came first, frost trailing from his cloak like the breath of winter itself, his boots leaving thin sheets of ice with each deliberate step. His face was carved marble—beautiful, cold, and utterly merciless. He took his seat without a glance at the empty chairs around him.
Vesper stalked in next, all coiled muscle and restless energy. His red eyes swept the room with the hunger of something starved, something denied.
He dropped into his chair with barely controlled violence, fingers drumming against the armrest in an erratic rhythm that matched his racing pulse.
The door didn't just open for Dante—it exploded inward as his shoulder connected with wood, the crash echoing through the chamber like a declaration of war.
