My Demon Professors Are All Gorgeous Girls
Chapter 89: Astraea’s New Crown

Chapter 89: Astraea’s New Crown

Astraea emerged through the mirror gate shrouded in pre-dawn mist, the weight of her footsteps crushing the remnants of frost beneath her boots. I was waiting in the courtyard, hands deep in my coat pockets, watching the horizon light with the first pale glow of a winter sun. When I saw her step through, the cold air sharpened. Her gaze met mine—a glint of pride and sorrow all at once—and I straightened, pushing aside the last traces of sleep.

She looked different than I remembered: taller, straighter, a confidence in her stance that spoke of battles fought and won. She was clad in armor of moon-ice and bloodsteel, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly under her skin. In her hand she carried a sword longer than any blade I had seen, the hilt wrapped in white fur, the pommel crowned with a crystalline flower that glowed faintly blue. I took a breath to greet her, but the words caught in my throat. There was no smile on her lips—only the weight of what she carried.

"Astraea," I said softly. "You’ve returned."

She paused a few paces away, scanning the courtyard as though seeing it for the first time. Then she let her gaze settle on me. "Kazuki Ren."

I stepped forward. "You look..."

"Changed," she said quietly. "I’ve been to the Frostbound Court again."

I nodded. "They accepted the treaty."

"Yes." Her voice was steady. "But acceptance is only the first step. The Frostborn wanted a leader who could guide them in a new world, and I—"

Her words faltered. She drew in a breath, exhaling slowly. "They offered me the throne I once surrendered."

I lifted my eyebrows. "But you refused."

Astraea’s jaw set. "Because I am not the same girl who took a crown at seventeen. A title means nothing if you do not stand by the people you serve." She took a step toward me, and I noticed something change in her face. The glimmer in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders—she was walking a path that frightened her as much as it defined her. I held my ground, bracing for whatever came next.

But then she did something unexpected: she knelt. In the frozen ground, her knee sank just slightly, cracking ice around her boot. "Kazuki Ren," she said, voice wavering, "you have given this realm hope. You have remade the Academy from ashes. You have taught us that no boundary—ice or fire—can stand between those who choose to rebuild."

I reached for her hand, but she lifted her gaze to meet mine. "I am not here to reclaim a throne. I am here to give you something more precious than a title."

I frowned, unsure where this was going.

She reached behind her and carefully unfolded a length of cloth wrapped around the hilt of her sword. The cloth was as white as snow, embroidered with silver threads that formed the image of a fractured crown mended by a single, red gem. As she unfolded it, I understood: it was her old crown, melted and reforged into something new.

"I was crowned at seventeen," Astraea said, voice soft. "I wore that crown when I believed I had to defend my people with an unforgiving heart. But I learned that true protection comes not from fear, but from unity, from trust. So I melted my old crown, not to abandon my duty, but to redefine it."

She set the melted crown at my feet. The gem at its center flickered in the rising sun, casting a red glow on the ice beneath. "I present to you my new crown: the Covenant of Frost. It is not a symbol of power over others, but a promise to stand by them. I give it to you, Kazuki Ren, because you have shown that we are stronger as one."

My breath caught. I stared at the melted crown, then back at Astraea’s determined eyes.

"You want me to take your crown?" I asked.

She nodded. "Our people gave it to me. I offer it to you now, to unify our worlds. You are the Architect of Flames and Futures. Your leadership extends beyond any boundary. With your guidance, the Frostborn and the Academy can become one."

My heart hammered. I reached down slowly, touching the crown’s edge. The silver threads felt cold, yet warm beneath my fingers. The red gem pulsed like a heartbeat. I inhaled, feeling the weight of her gesture—and the weight of her trust.

"I accept," I said.

Her chest rose and fell, relief and pride shining in her expression. She placed the crown on my head, its shape adjusting to fit me. It felt strangely light, but as I stood, I felt a seriousness settle across my shoulders. This was no mere ornament; it was a pact, a covenant, a living vow.

Astraea rose and wrapped her arms around me, her fur-lined cloak brushing the ice. "Thank you," she whispered.

I closed my eyes, savoring the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you for trusting me."

Reflections in the Iceforge

After the ceremony, I left Astraea in the courtyard, sending Valmira a message to meet me in the archives. I needed to understand the history of this new crown, the magic behind it, and how it would shape the future. The Archive of Whispers had been repurposed into a living museum of frost and flame, its walls humming with ancient spells.

Valmira was already there when I arrived, her doublet dusted with frost, quill tucked behind her ear. She looked up from a stack of scrolls laid out on a table of froststone. "I heard about Astraea’s return—and your coronation," she said, eyes bright with excitement. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," I replied, gently placing the crown on a cushion nearby. "But I need to know more. Why the melted crown? What is the magic behind it?"

Valmira retrieved a leather-bound tome from the shelf—its pages brittle, edges tinged with blue frost. "This is an ancient record of the Frostbound lineage," she said. "Specifically, the covenant rituals of our rulers. It describes how the first Iceforge blade was wielded to protect the realm, and how broken crowns were reforged to symbolize unity."

I knelt beside her, peering at illuminated runes. "So Astraea truly remade the crown to represent her new purpose."

"More than that," Valmira said, tracing a line in the tome. "The melted crown was consecrated at the heart of the Iceforge—an ancient forge that uses moonlight, ice, and pure intention. The gem at its center is a shard of the first cold star that fell upon our realm. When melted down and reforged, it binds the wearer to a promise: to lead with compassion, not command. It transforms the wearer’s soul rather than controls it."

I touched the crown lightly. "So I am bound by that promise."

Valmira nodded. "Blood oath, magic oath—both. But it’s a pact between you and your people. It will remind you of your intentions whenever doubt creeps in."

I folded my hands around the crown. "And if I stray from that path?"

"Then the crown’s magic will remind you," Valmira said. "It will chill, rather than warm, until you remember your vow. It’s a safeguard against tyranny."

I felt the weight of those words settle in my chest. "Thank you," I said, meeting her gaze. "For helping me understand."

She smiled. "Always."

A Tribute in Ice and Flame

That evening, as dusk painted the sky in shades of violet and silver, the Academy’s courtyard filled with people from both realms. Frostborn children scampered through the gardens, marveling at fire lilies that opened in starlight. Students from the Academy guided them gently, pointing to frost-glazed benches and flame-forged lanterns that marked the main path.

Astraea and Seraphina led the ceremony, standing side by side on a raised platform of polished marble. The melted crown, now resting on a pedestal of translucent ice, caught the torchlight and glowed like a beacon.

I stood behind them with Valmira, Yuria, and Zephira. The frost air smelled of pine and embers, a paradox that spoke of newfound harmony. Zéphira, tall and poised, held an ancient horn carved with runes of summoning. Yuria wore a cloak of crackling electricity, her blonde hair braided with threads of copper. Together, we embodied the merging of worlds.

Seraphina raised her hand to hush the crowd, her voice ringing clear. "Tonight, we celebrate unity. We honor our differences, our pasts, and the choices that have led us here."

Astraea stepped forward, eyes sweeping across faces bright with anticipation. "When you wear a crown, it speaks for you. It tells the story of who you are. But tonight we share this crown as a testament to our shared destiny."

From my vantage, I saw tears in several eyes: a frail elder from House Kaern who had once opposed change, a young frostborn girl clutching her mother’s hand, an Academy scholar whose hands were streaked with ink from rewriting history. All of them stood now as witnesses to a moment that transcended politics.

I approached the pedestal and lifted the crown again. Feeling its chill against my fingers, I turned to the crowd. "This crown belongs to all of us. It belongs to anyone who dares to lead with empathy. To anyone who dares to rebuild amid ruins." My voice shook, but I pressed on. "I accept this covenant not for power, but to honor every sacrifice made in frost and flame."

A gust of wind swept through the courtyard, causing snowflakes to swirl like diamonds in the torchlight. The crowd exhaled collectively, as though holding its breath for my next words.

"The world we build from here will not be one of crowns and thrones," I said. "It will be one where each person stands as both guardian and scholar, where frost and flame are not enemies but allies. We are not simply Frostbound or Academy. We are something new: a world rebuilt by choice."

Astraea placed her hand on my shoulder, and Seraphina nodded, eyes bright.

Then, Yuria raised her hand and blew through the ceremonial horn. Its sound was unlike any music—deep, resonant, and alive, echoing across the valleys and into the mountains. As the final note faded, the flame-lilies bloomed in unison, petals glowing, sending an amber glow through the mist. The frostbound statues—once cold and lifeless—chipped with running water that ignited into steam, revealing carved runes of unity beneath their frozen surfaces.

I felt tears well in my eyes. Not for sorrow, but for triumph. The crown on my head warmed, its gem pulsing with light that spread down my neck into my chest. My breath came easier now, as though a burden had been lifted.

Afterglow and New Horizons

Later, after the celebration ended and the crowd had dispersed, I walked with Astraea to the edge of the courtyard. The torches had been stoked, and embers drifted upward like fireflies. The Frostbound guard had replaced their lances with lanterns, guiding returning scholars to their dormitories.

Astraea turned to me and traced the outline of my crown. "How does it feel?"

I ran my thumb over the red gem. "I feel... reminded. Every time I forget my purpose, I will remember this moment."

She rested her hand on my chest. "And I will remind you. As long as I breathe ice and stand by your side."

I smiled, leaning my forehead against hers. "Then we are complete."

She closed her eyes. "Tonight, we dream of a world where frost and flame live in balance. Tomorrow, we begin building it."

I nodded and led her arm in arm back toward the Academy’s main hall. As we walked, I noticed students and professors lingering in small groups, sharing laughter and frost-laced toasts. The new petals of flame-lilies glowed along the garden paths, bathing the faces of eager young scholars with luminous warmth.

Valmira joined us, cradling her Codex beneath her arm. "The frost trails are already melting," she said, breath puffing in the cold air. "Flowers will bloom before the season’s end."

"There is magic yet in this world," I said. "Not of shards or spells, but of choice and unity."

Yuria jogged up behind us, a grin spreading across her face. "And rumor has it there’s a vault of arcane recipes under the Academy that could make these flame-lilies sing with lightning."

I laughed. "Then we’ll have to study them."

Zephira crossed her arms, smirking. "I’ll believe it when I see it. Lightning and lilies? Sounds like a recipe for chaos."

"Chaos is the spice of life," Yuria replied.

Everyone laughed, the sound echoing against the stone walls, a balm for years of war and division.

I took a deep breath of the frosted air. The moon had slid behind the horizon, yielding to the first blush of dawn. I felt a warmth in my chest that no chill could penetrate—a warmth born not just of flame, but of hope, purpose, and the promise of what lay ahead.

As the dawn light touched the frost, everything glimmered anew—stone, flower, and crown alike. And in that glow, I saw not just the rebirth of a realm, but the rekindling of every ember we had lost. Nights would come again, winter would return, but we would stand prepared, guided by the flame and bound by the frost.

Tonight, Astraea’s crown was mine, but tomorrow, it would belong to all who chose unity over solitude and warmth over cold. And in that choice lay our future: a world rebuilt from embers, a legacy written in ice and fire.