The corridors beyond the student towers emptied as I climbed the stairs. Faculty quarters lay apart from us, higher on the northern ridge, built into the stone wall that protected Nythral. Lanterns hung along the walkway, their glow softened by frost-rimmed glass. Cold gathered in the cracks of the stone blocks.
The door I stopped at was carved oak, marked with the Academy’s sigil, that of a dragon of ice coiled between gull and seal, their forms braced around a crown crowned again by a snowflake. Beneath it the words Per Glaciem Lux unfurled on a banner. “Light through Ice,” the promise hammered into every student who passed beneath its gaze.
My pulse hammered against my ribs as I lifted my hand and knocked.
The hinges gave with a quiet groan, and Veyn stood before me. His hair was damp, loose around his shoulders, and the faintest trace of steam curled from his collar as if he had only just stepped from bathing. Fresh vines threaded through the damp strands, leaves unfurling as if the warmth of his skin coaxed them to life.
“I need to know,” I whispered.
“I cannot tell you anything.” His voice carried the same steady restraint he had worn since he came back to us.
My chest ached, but I pushed the word out anyway. “Nothing?”
His gaze lingered on me, wary and searching, but he didn’t close the door.
“If this is a choice tomorrow,” I pressed on, “is it one you will make, to sacrifice yourself?”
Still he said nothing, but anguish burned in his eyes.
I gripped the edge of the doorframe, grounding myself. “You can’t do this, Veyn. I will do whatever it takes to stop you, even if I have to remind you that there is something waiting for you when this is over.”
The smallest part in his lips made me pause, but something in his gaze pleaded with me, something he was not saying.
I settled my resolve. “If you have a choice, do not give yourself away. I cannot live without you.”
Then I surged forward, catching his mouth with mine before my courage faltered. The kiss broke the last of the distance between us, a distance he’d tried so hard to keep. Now his arms came around me, pulling me inside, and the door closed at our backs.
The quarters were larger than I had imagined, stone walls lined with dark wood, a wide hearth built into the far corner where embers glowed low. Shelves lined with books and relics filled one wall, a heavy desk stood stacked with maps, and a bed, far broader than those in the towers, stood against the inner wall draped in deep green covers. The air carried the scent of cedar and steel, sharp and grounding.
I only had a few seconds to see all of this before Veyn backed me against the door and kissed me harder, the strength of it unraveling the restraint he had held for so long. His hands framed my face, firm but trembling with something he rarely let anyone see. Demanding desire coiled in me, and I let it rise.
I whispered his name once, then pulled him closer. His mouth covered mine again, urgent and certain, the press of him leaving no room for doubt. My fingers clutched at his shoulders, then slid into his hair, silky and damp under my palms. He lifted me against him, carrying me away from the door with steps that did not falter.
The hearth light caught in his eyes when he walked us through the room and set me down at the edge of his bed. His hand lingered against my jaw, the smallest hesitation in his touch, as if asking if I meant to stop him. I answered with another kiss, and he lowered himself over me. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the strength of his body, the way his control gave way piece by piece until nothing remained between us but need.
The night blurred into touch and breath and the rhythm of surrender. Whatever words we might have spoken drowned beneath the flood of everything we had denied. When he entered me, it was not a conquest but a homecoming, a slow, aching union that stole the ground from beneath me.
Our magic surged in answer, vines bursting from our hair and skin, curling and twining together, buds opening in a fevered rush. His copper light threaded through my silver-lit ivy, roots knotting into roots, flowers blooming in wild clusters across the floor. Each thrust drew another cascade of growth, leaves unfurling, petals trembling open, until the room seemed to breathe with us, alive with the rhythm of our bodies and the bond we could no longer hold back.
The walls shivered with our pulse. Bark rippled along the stone as if trees tried to push their way into the chamber, golden sap beading and glowing where cracks spread across the floor. My vines quivered against his, silver gleaming as blossoms erupted all at once, filling the air with perfume so thick it clung to every gasp between our mouths. The heat of his thrusts built into a punishing rhythm, and with every surge of him inside me, light fractured through our entwined magic, splintering into motes that drifted upward like fireflies.
The moment crested. My body arched, voice breaking on his name as the silver ivy tangled tighter, locking us together. His vines seized mine in answer, golden veins pulsing bright, until the entire room bloomed into wild, uncontrollable life. Petals scattered like rain, golden sap spilled like sunlight through the cracks, and then all of it broke with us, collapsing into silence except for our uneven breathing.
Exhaustion finally pulled us into sleep, tangled in vines and one another, though before dawn we stirred awake again, bodies seeking with gentler urgency, a softer joining that carried us back into slumber entwined.
When morning came, pale light edged the shutters and cast faint silver across the covers. My head rested against his bare shoulder, his arm wrapped heavy around me. The warmth of his body anchored me in a peace I had not known in years. Not since he left me. For a moment, I let myself believe this could last.
His breath stirred my hair. “Last night… it meant more than I can say.”
I raised my head to meet his eyes. For a heartbeat, hope flared.
But he shifted, his gaze turning distant. “It changes nothing, Shara. Fate will decide what comes for us next. Not you or I can change what will happen.”
The air thinned, and my chest burned as though he had struck me. “That’s all? After everything, you can’t commit to staying alive for me?”
He gently touched my arm. “I have missed you more than I can say. I am grateful for one more night. But fate has already written our road. We cannot outrun it.”
Anger seared through me, hotter than the embers in the hearth.
“You are an idiot.” My voice cracked, aching with grief. “You act as though surrendering to fate makes you noble, but it only makes you a coward.”
I tore myself from the bed, gathering my robes from where they lay discarded. My hands shook as I pulled them around me, fastening them in jerks.
He sat upright, watching, resignation in every line of his face. No argument came, no plea. Only that same distance, as if he had already gone where I could not follow.
I stood at the door, my chest tight with rage and love tangled together.
“I will not stop loving you,” I said, voice breaking, “but I will not forgive you for giving up before you even try.”
The door gave under my hand, heavy oak swinging open into the cold hall. I stepped into the frost-lined corridor, letting the chill bite into me, anything to steady the storm inside.
Behind me, the door closed with a sound too final.
