The outpost Isabella led us to was little more than a collection of ice huts where travellers could rest and warm themselves. We spent the night there, huddled together for warmth despite the enchanted braziers that glowed with blue flame. I'd never imagined I could feel so cold in Hell, but Glacius seemed determined to prove me wrong.

We set out at first light—though "light" in Glacius was a relative term. The sky here was a deep, midnight blue, illuminated by crystalline formations that hung suspended in the air, casting prismatic reflections across the snow.

By midday, we finally crested a ridge and saw Frostheim spread out before us. The town was smaller than I'd expected—a compact settlement nestled between towering spires of ice. Buildings carved entirely from frozen water gleamed in the strange half-light, their surfaces polished to a mirror shine.

"So that's Frostheim," I said, taking in the sight. "Where to now?" I turned to Isabella, who was studying the town with narrowed eyes.

Aria bounced on her toes beside me, her breath forming small clouds in the frigid air. "Yeah, where's this smithy we're looking for? I'm freezing my ass off out here."

Isabella held up a hand. "Patience. We can't just barge in without knowing exactly where we're going."

She pulled out a small device from her coat—something that looked like a compass but with multiple dials and spinning needles. After adjusting a few settings, she watched as one of the needles stabilised, pointing toward the eastern side of the settlement.

"Eisenhart should be this way," she said, tucking the device away. "Follow me, and try not to draw too much attention."

We made our way down the slope and into Frostheim proper. The streets were narrow pathways carved between buildings of solid ice, and our footsteps echoed strangely as we walked. Despite the cold, several demons moved about their business—most of them frost demons with crystalline skin and elaborate horn structures that looked like frozen crowns.

As we passed, conversations stopped. Heads turned. Eyes followed our progress through the town.

"I think we're blending in perfectly," I teased Aria, nudging her with my elbow.

She tossed her head, sending her short black hair bouncing. "Please. They'd be more suspicious if we tried to hide all this beauty and sexiness," she replied, gesturing to herself with a flourish. "Better to own it than skulk around like we don't belong."

Isabella's lips curved into a smirk. "Surprisingly, Aria may be right for once. Look at their expressions—they don't seem alarmed. I think they believe we're succubi of this circle."

I glanced around and realise she was correct. The looks we were receiving weren't hostile or suspicious—they were appreciative, curious, even hungry. Male and female demons alike watched us with undisguised desire as we passed.

And the strangest thing? I liked it.

The realisation hit me suddenly. I was enjoying the attention, the way their eyes lingered on my curves, the way conversations faltered when I walked by. There was power in it, a heady sort of influence that came from knowing I affected others simply by existing.

How far I'd come from Liam's life, where I'd have been uncomfortable with even a fraction of this attention. Now I found myself subtly accentuating the sway of my hips, letting my tail flick playfully behind me as we walked.

"Two more blocks," Isabella murmured, pulling me from my thoughts. "The smithy should be just ahead."

I nodded, refocusing on our mission. We were here for answers about the dagger, not to revel in the admiration of Frostheim's residents.

* * *

Eisenhart's smithy was far more impressive than I'd anticipated. While most buildings in Frostheim were simple structures of polished ice, this one stood apart—a sprawling complex with multiple towers and elaborate crystalline patterns adorning its façade. Spires of impossibly thin ice twisted upward from the roof, catching the light and refracting it in dazzling patterns.

"Wow," I breathed, taking in the sight. "This is… not what I expected from a smithy."

Aria nodded appreciatively. "Fancy. I like it." She started confidently toward the entrance, but Isabella's hand shot out, catching her by the arm.

"Let me handle this," Isabella said firmly. "We need information, not complications."

Aria rolled her eyes but stepped back with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. You're better at talking to snobs anyway."

Isabella scoffed, adjusting her midnight blue coat. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I couldn't help but chuckle at their exchange as we approached the entrance—a massive doorway framed by intricate ice sculptures of weapons and armour.

Inside, the temperature was surprisingly comfortable. Magical blue flames burned in braziers throughout the space, providing both light and warmth without melting the ice architecture. The main hall was dominated by displays of exquisite weapons—swords, daggers, and spears that gleamed with enchantments and perfect craftsmanship.

We'd barely taken three steps when a frost demon approached us. He was tall and lean, with elaborate crystalline horns that curved elegantly from his temples. His skin glittered with a fine layer of frost that shifted as he moved, catching the light like thousands of tiny diamonds.

"Welcome to Master Eisenhart's establishment," he said, his voice smooth as polished ice. His gaze travelled slowly over each of us, lingering appreciatively. "What brings three such… enchanting visitors to our humble smithy?"

Isabella stepped forward, her posture perfect and regal. "We have a commission for your master. A matter requiring his particular expertise."

The demon's expression shifted slightly, becoming more reserved. "I'm afraid Master Eisenhart is quite occupied at present. His time is… extremely valuable." He paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as his eyes travelled over us once more. "Though perhaps I could make an exception, if you were to make it worthwhile."

Aria giggled quietly beside me, but Isabella didn't miss a beat. She leaned forward and whispered something in the demon's ear, her voice too low for even me to catch.

The effect was immediate. The frost demon's eyes widened, and he took a step back, the glittering frost on his skin dulling momentarily.

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"I… I see. I'll pass on your message immediately. Please wait here." He turned and hurried away through a side door, his earlier confidence completely evaporated.

"What did you say to him?" I asked once he was out of earshot.

Isabella's lips curved into a satisfied smile. "I did some research before we came. That was Krelvin, Eisenhart's fourth apprentice this decade. I simply informed him that I'd be happy to tell Eisenhart about his plans to steal his master's methods and set up a competing smithy in the Northern Quarter."

"Was that true?" I asked, impressed.

"True enough," Isabella replied with a shrug. "Apprentices always steal from their masters eventually. It's the nature of frost demons."

"Nice work," Aria said, nodding appreciatively. "Very effective."

I raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm surprised you're not complaining about the missed opportunity to have some 'fun' with him."

Aria placed a hand over her heart with a theatrical gasp. "I'm wounded that you think I only ever think about sex, darling." She fluttered her eyelashes exaggeratedly. "I'll have you know I'm a demon of many talents and interests."

I couldn't help but laugh at her performance.

Her expression shifted to something more genuine as she continued, "Seriously though, I can appreciate seduction and intimidation in equal measure. Both have their uses." She winked. "And their pleasures."

Before I could respond, the side door opened again, and Krelvin reappeared, his demeanour now entirely professional.

"Master Eisenhart will see you now," he announced, gesturing for us to follow. "This way, please."

* * *

I followed Krelvin through a series of winding corridors, the walls shifting from transparent ice to a more opaque crystalline structure as we ventured deeper into the building. Isabella walked with perfect poise beside me, while Aria trailed slightly behind, her fingers occasionally reaching out to touch the intricate patterns etched into the walls.

Finally, Krelvin stopped before an ornate door made of what appeared to be blue-tinted ice reinforced with metal. He knocked twice, waited for a muffled response from within, then pushed it open.

Instead of the workshop I'd expected—filled with forges and tools and half-finished weapons—we entered what looked like an office. The space was surprisingly warm and comfortable, with plush chairs arranged before a large desk carved from a single block of ice. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with tomes and scrolls, and various small weapons were displayed in glass cases.

Behind the desk sat a frost demon who could only be Eisenhart. I blinked in surprise. Despite his reputation, he was remarkably short—barely reaching my shoulder if he were standing. His crystalline horns formed an elaborate crown-like structure that added several inches to his height, and his skin glittered with dense frost that seemed to pulse with inner light.

"Welcome, welcome," Eisenhart greeted us with unexpected warmth, gesturing to the chairs. "Please, sit. It's not often I receive such lovely visitors."

Aria leaned close to my ear as we approached the desk. "I didn't expect him to be this short," she whispered, her voice trembling with suppressed laughter. "With the size of his smithy, he must be compensating for something."

I pressed my lips together, fighting back a laugh. The comment was so perfectly Aria—inappropriate and yet somehow exactly what I'd been thinking.

Isabella took the centre seat with practiced grace, and Aria and I settled into the chairs on either side of her. The furniture was surprisingly comfortable despite being made of ice.

"Krelvin, leave us," Eisenhart commanded, his tone shifting from welcoming to dismissive in an instant.

The apprentice hesitated, his expression clearly communicating "don't say anything" before he bowed stiffly and exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Once we were alone, Eisenhart leaned forward, resting his small hands on the desk. "Now then, what brings three lovely ladies to visit my humble establishment? Looking for weapons? Armour? Or perhaps something more… specialised?"

Isabella didn't waste time with pleasantries. She reached into her spatial ring and withdrew a rolled piece of parchment. With deliberate movements, she unrolled it to reveal a detailed drawing of the dagger that had been thrown at her—the twin to the one that had petrified Valentina. She placed it on the desk and pushed it toward Eisenhart.

"Do you recognise this?" she asked, her voice cool and direct.

Eisenhart barely glanced at the drawing before nodding. "Yes, it appears to be one of my crafts. Excellent eye for detail in this rendering." His gaze shifted to Isabella, suddenly more calculating. "But what about it?"

"I want to know how many you made," Isabella replied, "and who ordered them."

A smile spread across Eisenhart's face, revealing teeth that gleamed like polished ice. "I'm afraid I respect my clients' privacy. It's a matter of professional ethics, you understand."

"What do you want for the information?" Isabella asked bluntly.

Eisenhart made a show of considering, tapping one finger against his chin. "Hmm, what would an ice smith want from three succubi?" The question hung in the air, clearly rhetorical.

"Cut to the chase," Isabella said, her patience visibly thinning.

"Very well." Eisenhart leaned back in his chair. "I could share this information for some other information in exchange."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a small crystal that glowed with a faint blue light. "There's a competing smithy on the western side of Frostheim. I want you to seduce the owner and get him to forge something for you—while you're watching. Record his methods on this crystal." He pushed it across the desk toward us. "Then I'll tell you everything you want to know about those daggers."

I watched as Isabella's demeanour shifted subtly. Her posture straightened, her chin lifted, and her eyes took on that particular gleam I'd come to recognise—the look of a noble about to pull rank.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself properly," Isabella said, her voice taking on a formal cadence. "I am Isabella Lilitu, daughter of Pyrrha Lilitu, Head of House Lilitu."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few more degrees. I expected Eisenhart to show some deference—House Lilitu was, after all, one of the most powerful houses in Hell. Instead, the frost demon merely raised a crystalline eyebrow.

"Ah, House Lilitu," he said, sounding distinctly unimpressed. "In normal circumstances, that might carry weight. But with what's happening right now…" He spread his small hands. "Your house doesn't have much influence here in the Second Circle. So either you do what I want, or you can leave."

I felt a flicker of surprise. Whatever was happening between the circles seemed more serious than we'd realised if a craftsman felt comfortable dismissing one of Hell's noble houses so casually.

Isabella's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Perhaps we don't have much influence in the Second Circle at present, but we have enough to cause you considerable inconvenience."

Eisenhart leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "You can try, if you want to further damage the already strained relationship between our circles."

His voice took on an edge of mockery. "First a Chenoo representative gets killed, and then House Lilitu causes a disturbance in Glacius? By all means, try your luck."

A wave of anger surged through me—hot and violent, a pure demonic rage that caught me off guard with its intensity. How dare this diminutive craftsman speak to us this way? How dare he threaten Isabella? For a moment, I imagined reaching across the desk, wrapping my hands around his throat, watching the frost on his skin melt beneath my touch as I squeezed…

I buried the impulse deep, shocked by its savagery. This wasn't normal anger—this was something older, more primal.

Beside me, Aria tensed visibly. Her tail lashed once, twice, before going still, and I could see her jaw clenching as she fought to keep her mouth shut. Her purple eyes had darkened to nearly black, a sure sign of her fury.

Isabella remained outwardly calm, though I noticed her fingers had curled slightly against the armrest of her chair. After a moment of tense silence, she inclined her head.

"Fine," she said, her voice cool and controlled. "We'll see what we can do."

Eisenhart's smile returned, smug and self-satisfied. "Excellent. It's nice doing business with you." He pushed the crystal closer to us. "This is keyed to activate when you say 'memoir' and will capture everything around it. Make sure you get a good view of his hands and tools."

Isabella took the crystal and slipped it into her spatial ring without comment. We rose from our chairs in unison, the movement practiced and graceful despite the tension thrumming through all three of us.

As we turned to leave, Eisenhart called after us, "Oh, and ladies? Do try to be subtle. Sathek is not as… accommodating as I am when it comes to industrial espionage."

We didn't acknowledge his parting words, simply walking out with our heads held high. The door closed behind us with a soft click that somehow felt like a slap.

Krelvin was waiting in the corridor, his expression carefully neutral. He led us back through the winding passages toward the exit, maintaining a respectful distance.

None of us spoke until we were outside the smithy, standing once more in the frigid air of Frostheim. The crystalline spires of the city glittered around us, beautiful and cold.

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