My Demon Professors Are All Gorgeous Girls
Chapter 95: Seraphina’s Return to the Ice Courts

Chapter 95: Seraphina’s Return to the Ice Courts

A pale dawn lighted the Frostbound Gate in a wash of silvery pink. I stood before the towering ice doors, breath caught in my chest. Beyond those gates lay the Frostbound Courts—Seraphina’s ancestral home—and today she would reclaim her place among them. It was a journey more fraught than any battlefield: a return to roots she had both cherished and shattered, an appeal to tradition she had willingly abandoned, and a test of the peace we had forged.

Seraphina adjusted her cloak, its hem embroidered with both frost runes and ember glyphs, a symbol of her dual loyalties to the Frostbound Houses and the Academy. She carried no crown, only a circlet of silver and glass in her hand. Beside her stood Astraea in full regalia of iceplate armor, Zephira with her blades at rest, Yuria humming with contained lightning energy, Valmira cradling the Codex, and I with my Architect’s staff in hand.

"We’ll walk with you," I said softly. "But you must speak for yourself."

Seraphina nodded, steeling herself. "I will. Thank you."

At her signal, we moved forward. The great doors—each slab a single sheet of living glacier—glimmered with ancient runes. As we approached, they shivered and swung inward, revealing the vaulted hall beyond. Icicles hung like chandeliers from a ceiling carved to resemble the northern lights. Pillars of blue-white ice rose on either side, their surfaces etched with the Frostbound lineage: dukes and duchesses, triumphs and tragedies, an unbroken line of rulers stretching back millennia.

A hush fell as we entered. Frostbound lords and ladies, clad in fur-lined robes of midnight and silver, rose from their carved thrones. Their eyes were curious, wary, measuring. I could feel their power in the air: a living aura of cold authority.

At the far end, on the central dais, stood Lady Myrren Vel’Arin—Seraphina’s elder sister and former regent. She wore the mantle of rule with quiet dignity, her silver-blonde hair braided into a crown of ice threads. The moment she saw Seraphina, her expression flickered—surprise, conflict, worn sorrow—before settling into guarded politeness.

Seraphina stepped forward alone. We came to a respectful stop behind her.

"Sister," Seraphina said, voice clear in the hushed hall. "I stand before you not to demand restoration of a title, but to offer unity."

Myrren inclined her head. "You have given up the duchy," she said calmly. "Yet you return to our gates."

Seraphina drew a breath. "I return because the realm we protect is no longer only frostbound. It is bound by choices made in fire and shadow, by alliances beyond these walls. I have come to ask: will you stand with us, or remain isolated in pride?"

A murmur rippled through the court. Some lords scowled; others whispered. Myrren studied her sister, gaze unwavering.

"You speak of unity," Myrren said, "but unity demands sacrifice."

"I am prepared to sacrifice my claim," Seraphina said, holding up the circlet. "I offer my title to be reforged in the name of collaboration, not authority."

She extended the circlet across the marble floor. It glowed faintly with ember-gold, frost-blue veins winding around its frame. The entire court watched in silence as it sat between the sisters like a third presence.

One by one, noble lords rose and stepped forward to place their sigils on a frozen scroll that lay upon a crystal lectern. Each seal crackled with a promise: shared research, open borders, exchange of students, combined defense. When the final sigil glowed, Myrren reached down and pressed her hand to Seraphina’s blood-red seal—blood as binding as any runic script.

The scroll blazed with white flame and the circlet lifted itself from the ice floor, drifting until it came to rest upon Seraphina’s brow. It shaped itself to fit, the frost-blue and ember-gold threads melding until it seemed born of both realms. Seraphina closed her eyes, drawing in a steadying breath as the circlet pulsed with quiet power.

Astraea stepped forward and knelt. "I swear fealty," she proclaimed. "Not to a duchess, but to our shared destiny."

One by one, the Academy professors offered their vows—Zephira, Yuria, Valmira, and finally I. Each promise echoed through the hall, weaving a tapestry of loyalty that transcended boundaries.

When the final vow was made, Myrren rose from her dais and embraced Seraphina. "You have done what few dared," she said, voice low with emotion. "You have shown us that leadership is not inherited but chosen. Welcome home, sister."

Seraphina turned and looked at each of us in turn, tears glinting on her lashes. "Thank you," she said. "May our union be as enduring as ice and as transformative as flame."

The Frostbound Court erupted into applause—their frosty applause, crisp and echoing. I felt the pulse of magic in the air shift, a wave of approval that rippled outward through the Academy’s wards.

A Feast of Frost and Flame

Later, the grand hall was refilled for a celebratory feast. Long tables of ice and metal held platters laden with smoked fish, frostberry tarts, ember-glazed meats, and spiced demonfruit. Between courses, Seraphina led toasts that honored the old bonds and toasted the new.

Astraea recounted tales of the Iceforge, shaping miniatures of ice on the table that sparkled like gems. Yuria demonstrated her lightning roasts, cooking small morsels with harmless arcs that danced overhead. Zephira demonstrated blade techniques adapted to warm and cold alike, splitting apples thrown from the audience. Valmira read from ancient texts in a lilting voice, tracing the history of alliances lost and found.

I raised a goblet of honey-wine infused with frost-mint. "To unity," I said. "To choice. And to Seraphina—our Duchess of Both Ice and Coals."

The hall erupted once more. Candles of ice burned with frostlight as the feast continued into long hours.

A Walk Beneath the Northern Lights

After the feast, Seraphina and I slipped away to the balcony overlooking the northern gardens. The night sky shimmered with aurora—ribbons of emerald and violet that danced above frost-laced pines. Below, torchlight glowed among pathways of ice and snow, students and scholars meandering as snowflakes drifted down.

Seraphina leaned into me. "I feared this day," she admitted. "I feared the court would reject me, that I had betrayed too much."

I wrapped my arm around her. "You betrayed the old order, but you saved the new one."

She turned, looking up at the dancing lights. "I feel whole again."

I brushed a stray braid of her hair behind her ear. "You are whole, and now you lead a realm that reflects every facet of who you are."

She pressed her forehead to mine. "Thank you—for believing in me."

I captured her hand, pressing the merged circlet’s gem. "I will believe in you every day."

Beneath the living sky, ice and light mingled. The Frostbound Courts and the Academy of Ruin were no longer separate worlds but one shared destiny. And Seraphina—my partner, my friend, my Duchess reborn—would guide them both with compassion forged in frost and heart tempered in flame.

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