Warmer Than Frost

A week had passed since Soren woke. With the help of elixirs and ointments, Vivian had sped his recovery. His broken arm was now serviceable, his body strong enough to move on his own.

Now he walked beside Konira on the way to class, her injuries no longer visible, her fiery demeanor reignited.

The academy grounds looked unchanged, yet to Soren, everything felt different. Notices pinned to the bulletin boards warned students of stricter curfews and announced that more professors would be patrolling at night. Soren wondered if something had happened while he was unconscious—something serious enough to warrant heightened security.

Konira glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her expression caught between relief and a simmering anger.

Whispers trailed them as they passed. Students spoke in awe of how Konira, the Fire Sect prodigy, had slain the dragon. Others muttered that she was tarnishing her reputation by staying at Soren’s side. Some even questioned why she hadn’t saved a “more capable” student instead.

Soren took it all in silently, piecing together the events he couldn’t remember. Only fragments clung to him: golden reptilian eyes, the thick scent of blood and ash, the thinning air. The rest was darkness. Konira must have saved him—just as she promised. He resolved to thank her properly. No one knew her strength more than he did. And what better thanks than becoming strong enough to protect her too.

“Ignore what they’re saying,” Konira muttered, mistaking his silence for doubt. She clasped his hand with hers and quickened her pace.

Soren didn’t resist. His gaze dropped to his arm—the one that had been crushed. He was grateful it hadn’t been lost, but the weakness still gnawed at him. He knew it would hinder his training, keeping him from pushing his frost magic as far as he needed. All he could think about was full recovery, so he could return to the only pursuit that mattered.

Still, when he looked at Konira at his side, a faint smile pulled at his lips.

He didn’t remember the truth of that day, and forcing the memory only brought a sharp pain to his skull. But in the end, none of it mattered. He was alive. He was safe. For now, that was enough.

By late afternoon, class had ended. As students filed out into the courtyard, Konira turned to him.

“I will catch up with you,” she said.

“Where are you going?” Soren responded, shocked since Konira normally doesn’t wander off away from him.

“Now that you’re finally healthy enough, I have a report to make,” she replied. “I told them I wasn’t in the right state to give one while you were injured. But I can’t put it off any longer it seems.”

Soren nodded, understanding the situation. She probably hadn’t yet reported how she slew the dragon. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll head back to my room.”

They parted ways, and Konira’s steps carried her toward the Fire Sect halls.

The brass emblem of her Sect—molten flame encased in steel—glared down at her from the center of the great double doors. Placing her palm against the crest, she released a thin stream of fire. Mechanisms clicked, locks disengaged, and the doors opened with a groaning weight.

She stepped inside, keeping her stride steady, not wanting to linger longer than necessary. The towering statue of a legendary fire mage stood at the center of the atrium, its presence impossible to ignore. Spiraling staircases curled upward on either side. The sound of hammer work faint in the distance. She chose the left, climbing past robed figures who whispered, stared, and muttered as she passed. Some were her seniors, some, classmates. Konira ignored them all.

At the end of the hallway, she stopped before a single brass-trimmed door. Taking the heavy knocker in hand, she slammed it down against the wood. The sound echoed like a challenge.

Moments later, the door opened. A tall man stood within—broad-shouldered, clad in leather. His black beard and thin mustache framed sharp brown eyes, but what caught Konira off guard was his age. She had expected the Fire Sect’s master to be grizzled, weathered by decades of flame. Instead, Korrin looked strikingly young, vigor still alive in his gaze.

“Come in,” he said easily, motioning toward a chair before the broad desk. A necklace dangled around his neck with the Fire Sect’s insignia. Konira stepped inside and bowed politely.

“How’s your friend?” he asked, settling into his seat across from her.

He’s much better now, sir,” she answered.

“Good. Come to think of it, this is the first time you’ve set foot in our hall since joining the academy four years ago.”

“I had no reason to, sir,” she replied carefully.

Korrin leaned forward, resting his chin on folded hands. His stare lingered, then he sighed.
“Relax. I’m not as frightening as the rumors say.”

Konira blinked, caught between caution and disbelief.

He leaned back, running a hand through his hair with weary frustration. “The academy’s on high alert after the attack. My desk is drowning in investigation reports and paperwork.” His gaze sharpened again. “So, I am hoping you can help me lighten my load. What do you remember of the dragon?”

Konira’s lips pressed into a line.

He took a deep breath. “By the time my subordinates arrived, the beast was already dead,” Korrin continued. “Its skin melted away… Was that your doing?”

“Yes,” she admitted softly.

The smile quickly turned into a disapproving frown.

The faint smile on his face faded into a frown. “I know every fire mage’s limits here at the academy. Including yours. That kill was beyond you.” His tone hardened. “It was the boy, wasn’t it?”

Konira bit her lip, anger flaring. Her silence to avoid giving clues was useless. She had known this moment would come.

Korrin rose from his chair, walking toward the tall window behind his desk. His voice dropped lower, carrying the weight of steel beneath calmness. “Don’t mistake me, I’m not your enemy. But neither am I blind. You think protecting him shields him from scrutiny? It doesn’t. Power like his, hidden, only invites suspicion. And when that suspicion falls, it falls on us, the Fire Sect.”

Konira’s hands clenched at her sides.

“You can’t keep his secret forever,” he pressed. “Better he learns the truth from you than from someone else. I won’t expose him, but if word leaks outside these walls… understand, I will act. I must. For the prosperity of the Fire Sect, for its pride, for its future.”

Konira’s breath caught. His words weren’t just a warning; they were a promise.

“I won’t forgive you…” she muttered, voice trembling with both rage and restraint.

“You will,” Korrin said softly, turning his gaze back to her. His eyes burned with conviction. “Because one day you’ll see that I want what’s best for you, for him—and for our Sect above all.”

“May I go?”

“You may.”

Konira quickly got up and walked towards the closed door. Opening it, she stepped out as she pulled it shut behind her. A voice carried after her as the lock slid into place:

“Remember. I’ll be here waiting.”

Soren sat at the small desk in his quarters, frost forming unevenly on the wood as he struggled to shape a shard with his weaker hand. The magic fizzled out, leaving only a faint shimmer of ice that melted almost instantly. He gritted his teeth.

Hinges creaked behind him.

“Still at it,” Konira’s voice broke the silence. She leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

“I can’t stop now,” Soren muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “If I let this arm hold me back, I’ll never catch up.”

Konira stepped closer, walking behind him on the chair, her expression softening. “You’ve always pushed yourself harder than anyone else. That’s why I believed in you, even when no one else did.”

He looked up, startled. Her arms now crossed over his chest; her head rested on his.

She hesitated, then added, “Back in the pit… it wasn’t me. It was you, Soren. You were the one who killed the dragon. I’ve never seen fire like that—blue fire. It was… beautiful.”

Soren’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible...” He paused. “I don’t even remember. And if I had that kind of power, I’d know.”

“You don’t remember because you passed out! But just when the dragon was going to kill me, I saw it!” Konira pressed, excitement in her words.

Soren shook his head, dismissing her words. “I know what I am, Koni. My frost may be weak, but it’s mine. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Her jaw tightened. “But that’s the only magic you ever practiced! You could be so much more!”

Their breaths sat in the weight of her words.

“You don’t see me telling you to practice a different type of magic Koni.” He finally replied.

Furious, she removed her hands from him. “You really are stubborn, you know that? Everyone says it, and now I see why.”

Soren frowned, but before he could answer, Konira spun on her heel.

“Fine. Be that way. But don’t think I’ll keep covering for you forever.” Her voice cracked with anger as she stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

Left alone, Soren slumped back in his chair. He pressed a hand to his chest. Warmth pulsed faintly beneath his ribs, different from the usual chill of his frost. He swallowed hard.

“…Warmer than before,” he whispered. “Am I… sick?”

The thought lingered, unsettling, as the room grew quiet again.