When the cold no longer comforts, one must seek the fire.
The snow hawk arrived at dusk.
It landed on the stone railing outside Shen Li's quarters, talons crackling faintly against the warm ember wards surrounding the heir's compound. The message it bore was short:
Lan Xueyi. Return immediately.
By order of Elder Tianmei.
Shen Li read the seal and looked up at her, his expression unreadable.
"You don't have to go."
"I do," Lan said softly. "If I don't answer, they'll send someone who won't ask."
She tucked the scroll into her sleeve and added, "But I'll come back."
And before he could speak, she turned and walked into the wind.
Frostveil Sect had not changed.
Its halls were still white marble and blue crystal. Still eerily silent. Still too cold, even for her.
As she passed through the outer gates, younger disciples whispered behind her. She caught only fragments:
"She's the one who defended the heir."
"Did you see the Mirror Trial?"
"Traitor, maybe."
"Or spy."
Lan ignored them. She didn't break stride until she reached the Ice Lotus Pavilion.
Five elders waited inside, seated on thrones of carven frost.
She bowed only once.
Elder Tianmei spoke first. "You were sent to observe Emberheart's heir. Your report was incomplete. Your actions—reckless."
"Your defense of him during the Mirror Trial," added another, "was seen by half the cultivation world within the scrying flames."
Elder Yimu's eyes glinted like knives. "You were not sent to take sides."
Lan's voice was level. "I didn't take a side. I chose truth."
"Truth?" Tianmei echoed. "And whose truth is that? The Mirror's? A beast-blooded heir whose father nearly destroyed the sect alliance?"
Lan's voice sharpened. "The same heir who stood against his own nature. Who bent the Mirror to his will."
"Or masked his corruption," muttered Elder Yu.
Lan stepped forward.
"No one asked what I saw. No one asked what it felt like to stand beside him when the fire tried to swallow him whole. Shen Li doesn't hide corruption—he fights it."
Tianmei's fingers tapped the arm of her chair. "You forget who you serve."
"No," Lan whispered. "I remember exactly who I served. And I've remembered why I must stop."
There was a pause.
Then Elder Yimu's voice came like falling ice. "You would turn your back on Frostveil? On your father's sacrifice?"
Lan's breath caught—but only for a moment.
"My father died protecting Frostveil's borders. I honored him by walking the path you offered me."
She stepped to the center of the room. "But Frostveil stopped honoring him the moment you tried to use me like a blade. I see now: you don't fear Shen Li's power. You fear change. You fear that everything you've built rests on half-truths and grudges."
The silence was absolute.
Her words echoed like thunder across frozen peaks.
Tianmei stood.
"Then let it be done. You are no longer of this sect. You will be struck from our records. Your name will not be spoken in Frostveil again."
Lan straightened.
"I accept."
Yimu snapped his fingers. A ceremonial scroll appeared in his hand. "Your cultivation line will be sealed. Your access to Frostveil techniques revoked."
"Then seal it," she said.
She turned her back before the snowfire stamp could descend.
The door slammed shut behind her like a coffin lid.
But Lan Xueyi didn't flinch.
She emerged from the Frostveil gates into a rising blizzard.
Her robes whipped in the wind. Her path down the mountain was steep and treacherous, but she moved with purpose—faster, freer, lighter than she had in years.
As night fell, she stopped at a ridge to catch her breath.
She looked back once.
Frostveil stood distant, cold, untouched by the storm. A palace of perfection built on silence and fear.
Then she turned forward—toward Emberheart.
Toward him.
Two days later, she returned, soaked in ice, boots torn, and eyes lit with something fierce.
Shen Li stood waiting at the gate.
He didn't ask what happened.
He didn't need to.
She said only, "I'm back."
And in the way she looked at him, he knew:
Whatever came next—they would face it together
To return is not weakness.
To choose one's path is not betrayal.
She left the cold to stand beside the flame—
And in that choice, she found her strength