Feeling fingertips stroking her cheeks, Tundra unconsciously revealed a satisfied smile. After becoming an Official Mage, she exhausted herself and fell into slumber.

Iris covered the pure, defenceless girl with a blanket after she finished changing her own clothes and wiping the sweat and saliva and other fluids soaking her body.

In that hazy bliss, she could have made Tundra hers forever; she only needed to profess her affection, request an affirmation of love, and drag this lovely girl into the inescapable abyss. Given her talent, she would’ve emerged as an excellent Monster Girl, an ice-type beauty, and another of Iris’s family.

To break that trust, she couldn’t do it. If Tundra were to fall, she must do so with a bright, knowing smile. She must march into the bottomless pit with her hands holding Iris’s, her eyes fixating on Iris’s undisguised slimy body.

She must, with her innocent heart, accept whom she would become.

“Maybe . . . maybe I’m still myself,” Iris said.

She rubbed Tundra’s hair before turning to the spell testing area. She walked past piles of broken dummies, on whose cracks icy roses sprouted. They stiffly swayed, their flowers exuding chilly air as if they were crying frosty tears. These tears descended to the metallic floor and coated it under a faint white mist.

Standing in between the rubbles, Iris closed her eyes. The chill and the greenery surrounding her painted within her mind a picture of a dim forest covered in the soundless twilight. She inhaled and, mimicking Tundra, pointed her right hand at a lab wall, whose black surface glimmered under the intense magical pressure.

Her azure Corruption Power constructed a reflective claw onto her index finger. Its tip generated a tiny vortex, which converted her magical power into a freezing arrow. With a single utterance, the arrow sliced through the air, freezing the imagery of the dim forest, turning it into a frozen graveyard.

Its tip penetrated the black reflective wall, which shone like the unclouded sun. From the point of impact, countless snowflakes manifested. Their patterns propagated with the rebound shockwaves, painting the wall with a deep-blue shade.

An outline of a gigantic frosty rose appeared on the frozen wall, its roots extending to all space. The internal pressure cracked the smooth wall, crushing its inner composition, grinding its defence from the inside. Even the defensive formations of the laboratory failed to overcome this chaotic flow of energy.

Once the formations ceased working, silence greeted Iris. She walked to the frozen wall, whose aura expressed a desolate air, and lifted her head, her eyes glimmering in the same colour as the frosty rose. As she touched the wall, her mouth curved into a grin. The frigid air, previously discomforting and dangerous, seeped inside her like a daughter embracing her mother.

“Tundra, when you fall, you’ll become the sacred daughter of winter. Your Corrupted form will be as dazzling as the icy palace.” Iris softly bit her index finger, tasting the lingering chill, the chill she mimicked from Tundra. “I’ll guide you, step by step, until you accept who I am and desire to be with me, as much as I desire to make you mine.”

Iris slapped her cheeks. How could she contemplate such thoughts while her target was sleeping on the floor, helpless and oblivious? Her dignity as a teacher disallowed her from manipulating her pupil’s feelings. Tundra must realise it herself; her heart must succumb to her desires on her own.

Iris took care of the broken dummies and repaired the damaged wall. Though she lacked the relevant magical engineering knowledge, she was knowledgeable enough to apply her understanding of spell formations to hide, mislead, and erase the traces of Rose of Stillness.

As Iris watched over Tundra, Tundra opened her eyes. Her confused gaze met Iris’s large, gentle eyes, and her heart ached. Her vague recollection reminded her of what she and her mentor had done before she fainted. Her lingering desires clutched her chest. Shame and guilt and craving quickened her breathing, raising her body temperature.

“Lady Iris . . . I . . . was I dreaming?” Tundra said.

“What do you think?” Iris lightly pinched Tundra’s right cheek. “Do you want to find out?”

Tundra held her breath and closed her eyes. Her confused yet expectant countenance enhanced her weak side while invoking pity for her bewildered mind. Her hesitant heart hadn’t understood itself.

Once more, she requested her mentor to teach her, to fill her with this fuzzy sensation, and to tell her what it was.

Iris sighed. “How does it feel to become an Official Mage?”

It wasn’t a dream. Tundra opened her eyes, whose gleams revealed her dismay but also joy. “Your . . . assistance has helped me much, Lady Iris.”

“Your breakthrough is unique because of your method. That sensation the Mage Apprentices feel, you’ve been sensing it since the first time you cast your spell with your instinct.” Iris chuckled. “A little push is all you needed, and a little push is what I gave.”

“Will you . . . keep on helping me?”

“Should I?”

Tundra grabbed Iris’s right arm and pushed herself to sit up. “I’ll work hard!”

The determination imbued in those words instilled delight into Iris. She helped her pupil stand up and taught her a few relevant topics an Official Mage should know. Tundra carefully listened, though her pinkened eyes always stayed on Iris’s lips. Iris couldn’t complain because Tundra was indeed paying attention.

Because of this unabashed yet innocent action, the atmosphere grew strange. Iris got self-conscious about her gestures; she deliberately moved unhurriedly as she demonstrated her sophisticated control over magic, revealing a few advanced concepts regarding intuitive spellcasting.

Tundra imitated her teacher with varying degrees of success, better than Iris expected. But Tundra herself felt inadequate. She requested Iris to guide her through the process, like when she did so within the Auburn Leaf Library.

“Your eagerness is commendable, Tundra. However, you have yet to control your newfound Pure Power. Until you can accommodate it, I won’t guide you.”

Tundra’s crestfallen face hurt Iris. Of course, she wanted to embrace her, to teach her how to open her heart, to guide her to the path of no return, but her current state was unideal, too easily influenced by even the simplest gesture and endearing words. That wouldn’t do; Iris wanted to hear the declaration from the clear-minded Tundra, the genuine, loveliest Tundra.

Anything less, and that Tundra might never return.

“You’ve shown me your creation; you deserve to see mine.” Iris raised her right hand skywards. “Although I am at the Master Tier, the spell can be replicated by an Official Mage, though it would be quite taxing. I called it Call for the Star.”

Iris’s Corruption Power stirred, surging out of her body. Its misty appearance cloaked her, concealing her presence and flow of magic. She softly uttered words of a forgotten language, whose content spoke of an ethereal goddess whose existence permeated the cosmos.

Pitying the feeble mortals, the stellar goddess tore fragments of the stars and endowed them to the pure-hearted.

As Iris invoked the illusory glory of the goddess, her body shone as if she were a star. Above Spellbound Facility, the sky darkened, with black clouds congregating into a black plain, on whose surface birthed invisible stars. Steams of unseen starlight emerged from them, heading toward Spellbound Facility. They passed through all defensive formations and isolation spells, arriving before Iris unhindered, undetected.

With a swift downward motion, she commanded the starlight to materialise. They weaved into a solitary line, a stroke of golden light, painted unto the fabric of reality. It passed through the ceiling and landed gently on the floor.

Starlight gushing into it, the magical tiles shimmered, glowed, and shone. Its crimson glare produced intense heat that distorted the atmosphere and melted the floor. The radiance seared Iris’s skin, but her prepared barrier protected her and Tundra’s eyes from burning. She stood there, contemplating the mysterious sensation in her chest, until the light faded, and only the charred floor remained.

“What . . . was that?” Tundra said. “I’ve never seen such a terrifying spell.”

“It’s a result of my research. Its power is much stronger than ordinary spells of the same calibre, and it is difficult to dispel, fend, or evade. Although its complex casting process is a hurdle for most, you are an exception, Tundra.”

After her busy schedule, when she wasn’t embracing Ludmint or sleeping, Iris would look starward, her unfocused gaze shifting from one luminary to another. Beyond that firmament, above the stars and the darkness veiling them, in a place so distant no eyes could glimpse, her first home lay waiting.

And in that home, her little sister awaited, praying, searching futilely for her. She must be lonely.

“Is your research regarding the stars?” Tundra said. “A book on ancient magic mentioned this forgotten path, but no one has ever tapped into it successfully.”

“My luck’s been good. Yours as well.” Iris chuckled. “How much did you understand the process?”

Tundra excitedly spoke her mind. She stood beside Iris and motioned herself gradually, her fingers flowing as if she were dancing in a gentle whirlpool. Her Pure Power coiled around her figure. Its brilliant flares illuminated the dark floor and walls with golden glitters, flickering like illusory stars.

Unlike Iris’s magnificent waterfall of light, Tundra’s Call for the Star was a small stream, a drizzle of golden raindrops. Her persistent rain carved a winding, circular labyrinth on the floor. Though she couldn’t shake the room or overload the defensive formation, her spell left an irreparable mark on the world, a mark that arrogantly proclaimed its creator’s aptitude.

With her hands pressing on her chest, Tundra lowered her head while peeking at her mentor. She shifted her legs in place, her eyes rapidly blinking. Her instinct guided her to imitate Iris, but she had no idea how good or bad her attempt was. She wished it to be poor, for her mentor to grab her hands and guide her tenderly, caringly.

That mark on the floor was pleasing to observe. Iris couldn’t help but smile while looking at it. Its rose-like appearance was like an implicit confession. But she couldn’t accept it.

“Your first attempt surpassed my expectation, but you can still enhance the result.” Iris gave a few suggestions.

“It’s still in the afternoon, yet the spell is already this powerful. How strong would it be during midnight?” Tundra said.

Iris frowned. “Unless you are confident in your fine control, do not cast this spell during the summit of the night. Its overwhelming power will trigger a powerful backlash that can harm your soul.”

Shaken by that stern tone, Tundra seriously nodded her head before exhaling and retrying. Her mastery in Call for the Star gradually improved, notably when she received Iris’s praises. Her progression shocked Iris, though Iris gave away nothing but practical critique, careful praises, and mischievous teasings.

Their intimate time concluded when the purple curtain of the twilight fell upon the orange sky. Tundra reluctantly ended the session. She had to return to her dorm, but she still wanted to stay with Iris longer, to learn more, to observe more, to be closer and closer.

“We had a great time today.” Iris clicked her tongue. “I wish we could do much more, but you need time to stabilise, and I have my schedule.”

“I’ve learned much, Lady Iris. Please grant me more opportunities.”

“We’ll talk after you’ve entered the top three of your year.”

Iris patted Tundra’s head and left the lab. Her silhouette vanished from Tundra’s line of sight, yet Tundra refused to move. She looked at her feet and took out a handkerchief Iris used to wipe her sweat and other fluids.

“Lady Iris, I’m sorry.” She held the handkerchief close to her face and sniffed it. Iris’s lingering scent filled her nose, flooding her mind with shamefully immoral thoughts. “Your smell . . . is too pleasant.”