The Frost and the Flame

Mira didn’t wait for the ice to melt before she kicked the door open. The mahogany frame groaned, shedding a fine mist of crystalline frost that hissed as it touched the scorched hem of her robes. 

“You’re late,” Dorian said, not looking up from his desk. He sat in a high-backed chair carved from weirwood, his fingers interlaced over a stack of parchment that looked suspiciously like the new curriculum. The air in his office was so thin and cold it felt like inhaling needles.

“And you’re insufferable,” Mira retorted. She snapped her fingers, trailing a spark of orange light to ignite the empty hearth. The sudden warmth fought the chill, creating a violent updraft that rattled the windowpanes. “Three years of cold silence was the perfect tenure for our relationship, Dorian. Why break the streak now?”

Dorian finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were the color of a frozen lake just before the spring thaw—clear, dangerous, and utterly unreadable. “The Starfall Accord isn't a social invitation. It is a mandate from the High Council. We are no longer rivals presiding over crumbling towers; we are partners. Or have you forgotten how to read a decree in your haste to burn things?”

Mira stalked toward the desk, her boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. She ignored the chair he offered and leaned over the desk, invading his personal space until she could smell the crisp, ozone scent of his magic. “Partners imply equality. All I see here is an office full of ice and a curriculum that prioritizes stasis over combustion. If you think the Solis students are going to sit quietly in your refrigerated library and study the preservation of snowflakes, you’ve spent too much time in the permafrost.”

“Stasis is discipline,” Dorian said, his voice dropping an octave. He didn’t lean back. If anything, he inclined his head toward hers, the proximity forcing Mira to hold her breath. “Something your students lack. Last semester, one of your senior pyromancers set fire to the village granary because he ‘felt a flicker of inspiration.’ My students provide the water and the structure that keeps this kingdom standing.”

“Your students provide the boredom that makes people forget why magic matters,” Mira shot back. She felt the heat rising in her chest, a familiar embers-and-ash sensation that always sparked when he was near. It was easier to be angry than to acknowledge the way his gaze lingered on her mouth for a fraction of a second too long.

Dorian stood slowly, his height giving him an advantage he didn't need. He pulled a heavy leather-bound ledger from the stack and slid it across the desk. It stopped exactly an inch from her hands. “The merger begins tomorrow morning. The first joint seminar is History of Arcane Law. You will be co-lecturing.”

Mira looked at the ledger, then back at him. “You want us in the same room? At the same podium? With students present?”

“The Council insists on a display of unity.” Dorian moved around the desk, stopping just close enough for Mira to feel the cold radiating from his skin. It was a sharp, bracing contrast to her own internal heat. “Try not to set me on fire, Mira. It would be a catastrophic waste of paperwork.”

“Don't tempt me,” she whispered. "I've spent three years dreaming of the day I'd finally melt that smug expressions off your face."

Dorian’s hand moved, his fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve. For a moment, the temperature in the room balanced—the perfect, impossible equilibrium between fire and frost. “Tomorrow, Chancellor. Dress for a chill. I suspect the atmosphere will be frosty.”

He turned back to his window, watching the snow fall over the unified grounds of the academy. Mira gripped the ledger, her knuckles white. The leather began to smoke under her touch, but she didn't let go. She walked out of the office without another word, the sound of her footsteps Echoing like a countdown. 

She reached the hallway before she realized she was shaking. It wasn't from the cold. It was the terrifying realization that for the first time in years, she felt alive again—and it was Dorian’s ice that had lit the spark.

Mira turned the corner toward the Solis wing, her mind racing through the lecture notes. If he wanted a display of unity, she would give him one. But Dorian Thorne was about to learn that you couldn't play with fire for long without getting burned.