"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."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

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.

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