“So what are we going to do?” I

  sighed as we walked away from Eisenhart’s smithy, my boots crunching on

  the crystalline snow. “It’s not like we really have time to seduce this

  guy.”

  Aria nodded, her purple eyes

  scanning the icy streets around us. “Yeah, as much as I’d love to go

  with seduction, we have to return by tomorrow.” She flashed a

  mischievous smile. “Though I bet I could crack that icy exterior in

  under an hour.”

  I paused for a moment,

  realising how naturally I’d suggested seduction as our first option. Not

  just suggested it—I’d dismissed it only because of time constraints,

  not moral objections. The thought amused me. Using our natural abilities

  to get information seemed like the most obvious solution now, as

  straightforward as using a key to open a lock.

  “We don’t have time,” Isabella

  confirmed, her silver hair catching the light from the ice crystals

  suspended in the air. She walked with measured steps, her mind clearly

  working through our options.

  “So we’re going back empty-handed?” Aria asked, her tail swishing in irritation behind her.

  Isabella’s lips curved into a subtle smile. “I didn’t say that either.”

  She led us toward a small

  alcove between buildings, where we could speak without being overheard.

  The ice walls around us glittered with embedded minerals, casting

  prismatic patterns across our faces.

  “Frost Demons often keep

  meticulous records of all their clients,” Isabella explained. “They’re

  notorious for it—partly due to pride in their work, partly because

  information is always valuable. We could try to sneak in and grab it.”

  “You think he wouldn’t expect that from us?” I asked.

  “Most likely not,” Isabella

  replied. “Frost Demons tend to view succubi as direct creatures who rely

  on seduction rather than subterfuge. It’s a stereotype we can use to

  our advantage.”

  “So how exactly are we going to

  sneak in?” I leaned against the ice wall, crossing my arms. “I don’t

  imagine he leaves his records unguarded.”

  Isabella tapped one elegant

  finger against her lips. “The competitor he mentioned—Sathek—could help

  us. Or more likely…” Her eyes gleamed with calculation. “His apprentice

  Krelvin would probably agree to assist us. Most Frost Demons are eager

  to take their mentors down a peg, especially if they’ve been working

  under them for a long time.”

  “I noticed how Krelvin reacted when you mentioned his plans,” I said. “There’s definitely some tension there.”

  Aria grinned. “So we convince the apprentice to betray the master? I like it.”

  “We’d need to find him first,” I pointed out. “He’s probably still at the smithy.”

  Isabella shook her head.

  “Apprentices in Glacius follow strict schedules. If this place operates

  like most Frost Demon establishments, Krelvin will be taking his midday

  break about now. They’re creatures of precise habit.”

  “Where would he go?” Aria asked.

  “There’s a tavern two streets

  over called The Frozen Tankard,” Isabella said. “It’s known for catering

  to craftsmen during their breaks. If we hurry, we might catch him

  there.”

  We navigated through

  Frostheim’s geometric streets, passing Frost Demons who watched us with

  curious gazes. Their horns glittered with frost, and their tails left

  delicate patterns in the snow behind them. Unlike the chaotic energy of

  Igneus, everything here moved with precise, measured purpose.

  The Frozen Tankard stood out

  from surrounding buildings with its elaborate ice sculptures flanking

  the entrance—two massive tankards with frozen foam spilling over their

  rims. Inside, the temperature was marginally warmer, though still cold

  enough that our breath formed clouds before our faces.

  “There,” Isabella murmured, nodding toward a corner.

  Krelvin sat alone at a small

  table, nursing what appeared to be a steaming blue liquid in a

  crystalline mug. His posture was rigid, his expression contemplative as

  he stared into his drink.

  I exchanged glances with Aria

  and Isabella, a silent plan forming between us. We approached Krelvin’s

  table with deliberate grace, each step calculated to draw attention. I

  felt my hips sway naturally, my tail curling with practiced elegance

  behind me. This wasn’t the clumsy, self-conscious movement I’d struggled

  with months ago—my body now moved with the confident precision of a

  predator.

  Krelvin’s eyes widened as he

  spotted us, his crystalline horns glittering as he straightened up. The

  frost on his skin seemed to shimmer more intensely, a telltale sign of

  emotional response among his kind.

  “What are you doing here?” he

  asked, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. His gaze darted around the

  tavern. “Have you come to blackmail me?”

  Aria slid into the seat on his

  right, her purple outfit shifting to reveal just enough skin to keep his

  attention. “Nooo, nothing of the sort,” she purred, trailing a finger

  along the rim of his glass. “That would be so… unpleasant.”

  “We just wanted some company,” I

  added, taking the seat opposite him. I leaned forward slightly, letting

  my white hair cascade over one shoulder. “And you’re a familiar face in

  this cold town.”

  Isabella settled gracefully on

  his left, her presence regal even in this dingy tavern. “After meeting

  your master,” she said, voice rich with sympathy, “we couldn’t help but

  notice how poorly he must treat you.”

  Krelvin’s eyes darted between

  us, clearly affected by our presence. The blue liquid in his glass

  sloshed as his hand trembled slightly. Though demons couldn’t truly get

  drunk on normal alcohol, whatever was in that glass seemed to be

  lowering his inhibitions.

  “Eisenhart,” he began, then

  glanced around nervously. Satisfied no one was listening, he continued

  in a lower voice. “Do you know how many techniques I’ve helped him

  perfect? Yet he takes all the credit.”

  I nodded sympathetically,

  remembering Professor Moira’s lessons on exploiting insecurities. “That

  must be frustrating, especially for someone with your obvious talent.”

  “Three hundred years,” Krelvin

  muttered. “I’ve served him for three centuries, and what do I have to

  show for it? A reputation as another of his disposable apprentice.”

  Aria’s eyes widened with practiced shock. “Another? What happened to the others?”

  Krelvin’s frost patterns

  darkened, a sign of agitation. “He used them up and discarded them. Took

  their ideas, stole their techniques, then spread rumours that ruined

  their reputations throughout Glacius.”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Isabella made a small, sympathetic sound. “And he’ll do the same to you, won’t he?”

  “He already has plans to

  replace me,” Krelvin confirmed, his voice bitter. “I overheard him

  talking to a young novice from the Northern Spires last week.”

  I reached across the table, not

  quite touching his hand but close enough that he could feel my warmth.

  “Someone with your skills deserves recognition.”

  “You understand,” he said,

  looking at me with something like wonder. “No one ever sees it. They all

  worship at Eisenhart’s feet because he’s shorter than average and

  compensates with elaborate horn crystals.”

  Aria tilted her head. “What do horn crystals have to do with anything?”

  “Among our kind, it’s a sign of

  power,” Krelvin explained, his voice taking on a lecturing tone that

  suggested he enjoyed being the expert. “Most of us can only maintain

  simple formations, but Eisenhart’s crown-like structure—” He stopped

  abruptly, frost patterns shifting with embarrassment. “I’m boring you.”

  “Not at all,” I assured him,

  noting how easily he slipped into sharing information when made to feel

  important. “It’s fascinating.”

  Isabella casually traced a

  pattern on the table with her finger. “What I find interesting is how

  someone so talented remains in his shadow. Surely you’ve considered

  establishing your own reputation.”

  Krelvin’s expression darkened. “Impossible. Eisenhart would destroy me, just like the others.”

  “Not if someone helped you,” Aria suggested, her voice a silky whisper. “Not if you had… allies.”

  I watched his frost patterns

  shift again—hope, suspicion, and calculation all playing across his

  crystalline skin. The moment felt right to pivot.

  “We share something in common, Krelvin,” I said, leaning even closer. “A grudge against your master.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What has Eisenhart done to you?”

  Isabella’s smile was sharp as

  ice. “He crafted a weapon used in an assassination attempt against me.

  When we asked who commissioned it, he demanded we spy on his competitor

  instead of simply answering.”

  “Typical,” Krelvin muttered. “He hoards information like it’s more precious than the ice-silver he works with.”

  “We could help each other,” I suggested. “You want to escape his shadow. We want information.”

  Aria’s tail brushed against his

  arm, a seemingly accidental touch that made his frost patterns flicker.

  “Imagine how it would feel to finally outmanoeuvre him.”

  Krelvin stared into his drink

  for a long moment. When he looked up, his eyes held a calculating gleam.

  “What exactly are you proposing?”

  Isabella’s voice dropped to a

  whisper. “Help us access his client records. In return, we’ll ensure

  your talents are recognised by the right people in Igneus.”

  “House Lilitu has connections

  throughout the Nine Circles,” I added, building on Isabella’s offer.

  “Think of the commissions you could receive with our recommendation.”

  “And we’d be doing this for

  you,” Aria emphasised, placing her hand over his. “Because we understand

  what it’s like to be underestimated.”

  Krelvin’s frost patterns

  swirled in complex patterns as he considered our offer. “Eisenhart keeps

  his records in a hidden compartment inside the main forge. It’s

  protected by ice-fusion magic—his signature technique.”

  “Can you access it?” I asked.

  A slow smile spread across his

  face, turning his crystalline features sharp and dangerous. “I’ve

  watched him open it hundreds of times. He thinks I’m not observant

  enough to replicate the precise sequence.”

  “When could we do this?” Isabella asked.

  “Tonight,” Krelvin said, his

  voice firmer now. “Eisenhart always visits The Crystal Cavern on

  evenings. He won’t return until the early hours.”

  I felt a thrill of

  satisfaction. Our manipulation had worked perfectly, turning his

  resentment into an alliance without him realising he was being used.

  Professor Moira would have been proud.

  “Tonight, then,” I agreed, raising my hand to signal for drinks. “To new alliances.”

  As the server brought four

  glasses of the same blue liquid Krelvin had been drinking, I caught

  Isabella’s subtle nod of approval. We clinked our glasses together, the

  crystalline sound ringing through the tavern.

  “To getting what we deserve,” Krelvin said, his eyes gleaming with vindictive pleasure.

  I smiled, feeling not even a twinge of guilt. “To getting exactly what we deserve.”

  * * *

  We spent the afternoon

  exploring Frostheim while waiting for evening to fall. The town was

  fascinating in its own way—buildings crafted entirely from ice that

  somehow remained solid despite the heat from forges inside them, frost

  demons going about their daily lives, the occasional traveller from

  other circles bartering exotic goods. I found myself genuinely enjoying

  the exploration, despite the tension of our mission.

  “It’s time,” Isabella said as

  the crystalline sun of Glacius began its slow descent behind the ice

  spires. “Let’s head back to the smithy.”

  The workshop looked different

  in the dimming light—more imposing, with blue-white magical illumination

  beginning to glow from within. We pushed open the door to find Krelvin

  standing alone behind the reception counter. He opened his mouth, likely

  to say his master wasn’t present, but upon recognising us, his

  expression shifted to relief.

  “Good, you’re here,” he said, frost patterns swirling excitedly across his skin.

  Aria gave him a playful smile. “We couldn’t just leave you hanging, could we?”

  “Follow me,” he whispered, glancing nervously toward the door. “Quickly, before anyone sees us.”

  We trailed behind him through a

  series of increasingly cold chambers. I remained alert, my senses

  heightened for any sign of deception. This was Hell, after all—betrayal

  was practically a cultural pastime. Isabella caught my eye, her hand

  subtly shifting toward the concealed dagger at her hip. Aria’s usual

  bouncy step had transformed into something more predatory. None of us

  fully trusted our new accomplice.

  The main forge was an

  impressive sight—a massive circular chamber with a ceiling that

  stretched upward into darkness. Tools of various sizes hung from

  crystalline racks, and at the centre sat an enormous pit filled with

  what appeared to be liquid ice, glowing with an inner blue light.

  “Wait here,” Krelvin

  instructed, moving toward a section of wall that looked identical to

  every other part of the room. “This will take some concentration.”

  He placed his hands against the

  ice and closed his eyes. Frost patterns extended from his fingers,

  creating intricate designs across the wall’s surface. Minutes passed in

  tense silence as we watched him work, his face contorting with effort.

  Isabella shifted impatiently. “Is everything alright?”

  “It’s fine,” Krelvin muttered

  without turning around, his patterns faltering slightly before

  stabilising. “Just a minor hiccup. Eisenhart employed additional

  security since I last observed him.”

  I stepped closer, observing the complex frost patterns he was creating. “Do you need help or anything?”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” he

  insisted, beads of crystalline sweat forming on his brow. “It’ll just

  take a bit longer than I anticipated.”

  The patterns grew more

  elaborate, spreading across the wall in fractal designs that seemed to

  pulse with their own rhythm. After several more minutes of intense

  concentration, there was a soft clicking sound, and a section of the

  wall receded, revealing a hidden compartment.

  “I’ve done it,” Krelvin announced, a note of pride in his voice.

  We approached cautiously. The

  hidden safe was surprisingly spacious—not filled with papers as I’d

  expected, but with hundreds of small blue crystals arranged in neat

  compartments. Only a small section contained what looked like parchments

  stacked together.

  “That’s quite a lot of documentation,” Isabella remarked, eyeing the crystals with surprise.

  “Eisenhart documents

  everything,” Krelvin confirmed. “If what you’re looking for was

  commissioned within the last few years, it should be in that stack of

  parchments. Otherwise…” He gestured toward the crystals. “We’ll have to

  sieve through the spatial storage.”

  I stared at the crystals with

  sudden understanding. Each one functioned similarly to my spatial ring—a

  pocket dimension containing records. Looking at the sheer number, there

  had to be thousands of years’ worth of client information stored here.

  Isabella wasted no time, moving

  directly to the parchment stack and beginning to sort through them with

  practiced efficiency. Aria and I kept watch while Krelvin hovered

  nervously nearby.

  “The third one from winter

  solstice,” Isabella murmured, her fingers dancing over the documents.

  “This is organised by date, not client.”

  “Eisenhart prefers chronological filing,” Krelvin explained. “Says it helps him track the evolution of his techniques.”

  Isabella continued searching, her movements becoming more focused as she neared the bottom of the stack. “I think I’ve found—”

  A booming voice suddenly echoed

  through the chambers, cutting her off mid-sentence. “KRELVIN! Why in

  the frozen hells aren’t you at the reception desk?”

  Eisenhart’s angry shouts grew louder, accompanied by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the forge.

  We froze, eyes wide, as

  Isabella hastily grabbed the document she’d been examining. We scrambled

  away from the safe, hearts pounding, desperately hoping we hadn’t yet

  been discovered.