The academy woke to a scandal carved in frost.
Every crystal orb on campus had frozen mid-broadcast:
Cassia Emberkin on her knees in the library, coal mouth glowing, Anthony Felix's hands tangled in her hair, ember roses blooming across his bare chest.
Seven perfect seconds looped on every screen, every mirror, every puddle of melted snow.
The caption—burned into the ice in Liora's handwriting—read:
PROPERTY OF WINTER.
TOUCH AGAIN AND FREEZE.
Cassia stormed into the war-room at dawn, coal tattoos dripping molten fury.
Anthony trailed behind, shirt half-buttoned, lips swollen, eyes wide with the special terror of a man who had just become continental porn.
Liora Frostfang waited at the map table, barefoot on a floor of living ice.
She wore a robe of frozen mist that revealed nothing and everything.
In her hand: a single shard of black ice shaped like a heart.
Alexander stood between them, storm-runes flickering uncertainly.
Arya leaned against the wall, wings folded, gold butterfly crown tilted like a judge's wig.
Cassia's voice could have melted steel.
"You broadcast my revenge to seven million people."
Liora's smile was winter at its cruellest.
"I broadcast the truth," she said.
"Anthony is mine.
You borrowed him.
Now the continent knows the interest rate."
Anthony raised one trembling hand.
"I—uh—consent is complicated when coal tattoos are involved—"
Cassia rounded on him.
"You recorded us!"
"Public domain!" he squeaked.
Arya kissed the air.
A gold butterfly split into three, kissed each of their mouths, and turned the argument into warm rain.
SYSTEM (private channel, velvet and smoke):
"Jealousy debuff: 73%.
Reward: +3 levels for public foreplay.
Current tally—Arya 111, Cassia 86, Liora 89, Anthony 72.
Warning: ice heart in Liora's hand is ticking."
────────────────────────
The Blackmail
Liora stepped forward.
She pressed the black ice heart to Alexander's bare chest.
It sank.
Frost spread across his storm-runes like spilled ink.
Alexander's knees buckled.
Liora's voice was soft, lethal.
"One kiss of mind-control ice," she whispered, "and you'll forget Arya's name.
You'll wake up craving frostbite.
You'll bond with me."
Alexander's storm-runes dimmed.
Arya's wings flared.
"Release him."
Liora's eyes filled with liquid nitrogen tears.
"I'm tired of being second place," she said.
"First the auction.
Then the rooftop.
Now the library.
I want one sunrise where I'm the only one you see."
Cassia's coal fists glowed.
"You want a sunrise?" she snarled.
"I'll give you a volcano."
She lunged.
Liora's ice whip cracked, wrapping around Cassia's wrist.
The war-room froze.
────────────────────────
The Intervention
Arya moved.
Not fast.
Inevitable.
She stepped between them, wings unfurling into a wall of gold light.
She kissed Liora first (soft, slow, tasting of snowflakes and second chances).
Then Cassia (hot, hungry, tasting of smoke and redemption).
Finally Alexander (gentle, reverent, tasting of ozone and forgiveness).
The ice heart shattered.
Frost melted into warm rain that smelled of vanilla latte.
Alexander's storm-runes blazed white.
Liora's ice robe dissolved into mist.
Cassia's coal tattoos cooled into living ember roses.
Anthony's swollen lips curved into a sheepish grin.
SYSTEM: "Blackmail debuff cleansed.
Reward: permanent truth-serum aura deactivated.
Side effect: war-room now classified as Level-95 hazard zone.
Do not enter without written consent and a safeword."
────────────────────────
The Confession
Liora sank to her knees.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"Every time you choose her, I feel the ice crack inside me."
Cassia knelt beside her.
"I'm scared too," she said.
"Every time I burn for you, I'm terrified I'll burn alone."
Alexander knelt in front of them.
"I'm scared of the dark," he admitted.
"But I'm more scared of a sunrise without all three of you."
Arya knelt last, completing the circle.
She took Liora's hand, Cassia's hand, Alexander's hand.
"Then let's be scared together," she said.
She kissed the air.
A gold butterfly crown formed above their heads, split into four smaller crowns—one for each of them.
The war-room bloomed.
Ice became warm snow.
Coal became ember roses.
Storm became gentle thunder.
────────────────────────
The Dawn After
They woke tangled on the war-room floor, wings draped like blankets, rain cooling on their skin.
The frozen orbs had thawed.
The scandalous seven-second loop had been replaced by a new broadcast: four lovers, wings entwined, mouths open in mid-laugh.
The caption—burned into the sky in Arya's handwriting—read:
PROPERTY OF FAMILY.
TOUCH AND WE ALL BURN.
Far away, Jonathan felt the new constellation brand itself across his stolen halo.
He smiled (small, sharp, terrified).
And somewhere in the void, the next beast began to wake.
But for now, the war-room was warm, the floor was soft, and four lovers with brand-new crowns learned how to fall upward into a future that hadn't been written yet.
The war had learned a new verdict.
And its first syllable was:
Ours.