The heavy oak doors of Lecture Hall C groaned as they swung shut behind the departing mob of students. The collective chatter of dozens of awestruck young mages faded down the stone corridor, leaving behind a profound, blissful silence. Beneath the dark, padded folds of his fur-lined cloak, Nikolai Reindhart let out a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief. He was curled up sideways in the high-backed leather chair behind the podium, his long legs uncomfortably cramped against the armrest, but he didn't care. To him, this dark, enclosed space was a sanctuary—a temporary escape from a world that stubbornly refused to let him do nothing. That was entirely too close, Nikolai muttered inwardly, closing his eyes tightly as he replayed the incident with Thomas Barstow and the deflected pebble. I tried to teach a basic barrier lesson, and somehow I accidentally bent spatial reality. If I stay here much longer, I'm going to accidentally ascend to godhood just by taking a nap. He shifted his weight, trying to find a more comfortable position against the worn leather cushioning. The room was cooling down rapidly as the afternoon draft swept through the upper windows of the academy, but inside his cocoon of fur and wool, it was moderately warm. He toyed with the comforting thought of remaining hidden under the cloak until nightfall, waiting until the hallways were completely deserted before sneaking back to Room 412 for a second round of sleep. Minutes ticked by in absolute, peaceful quiet. The steady rhythm of his breathing began to slow down, and the persistent, low-frequency hum of his dormant, overpowered traits finally faded into a faint background whisper. Yes, Nikolai thought, a rare, lazy smile touching the corners of his mouth. This is it. This is the retirement I dreamed of. Total isolation, zero responsibilities, and absolute— CRACK. The sharp, sudden sound echoed through the empty amphitheater like a pistol shot. Nikolai froze. He didn't move a muscle, hoping against hope that his tired ears were simply playing tricks on him. CRACK. SNAP. A wave of intense, numbing cold washed over the room, so sudden and biting that the ambient air temperature plummeted within a fraction of a second. The wooden legs of the student desks in the front row began to frost over, delicate patterns of ice crystals spreading across the slate flooring with an ominous, whispering hiss. Nikolai let out a low, miserable groan from beneath his cloak. He slowly peeled back a corner of the heavy fabric, peering out into the dimly lit amphitheater with one bleary eye. The source of the anomaly wasn't coming from the windows. It was coming directly from the main entrance of the lecture hall. The heavy double doors, which had just been closed by the last departing student, were now entirely sheathed in thick, jagged spikes of blue-white ice. The iron hinges were frosted solid, and a dense, creeping frost was rapidly devouring the wooden paneling. Standing right outside the frozen threshold, half-concealed by a swirling blizzard of unnatural snow that had materialized out of nowhere inside the indoor hallway, was a lone figure. The intruder wore heavy, slate-gray traveler’s furs heavily dusted with powdered frost. A long, bone-carved staff rested against their shoulder, and a hood pulled low over their brow entirely obscured their face, save for a pair of lips that were pale and unsmiling. Nikolai stared at the chilling spectacle, his heart sinking lower into his boots. He had survived the overachieving aristocrats, he had survived the history-obsessed researchers, and he had survived his own accidental displays of world-breaking magic. But an uninvited ice storm interrupting his midday nap was crossing a line. "Who goes there?" Nikolai called out, his voice carrying a flat, exhausted annoyance as he reluctantly extricated himself from his chair and stood up behind the podium. "If you're here to ask about frost elemental convergence or how to turn water into snow, the library is down the hall. I am currently off the clock." The hooded figure didn't answer immediately. Instead, they raised a gloved hand and pressed it gently against the frosted double doors. With a deafening roar of shattering timber and exploding frost, the entire set of heavy oak doors blew inward, sending a massive shockwave of freezing air straight across the amphitheater. Nikolai shielded his eyes with his sleeve as the blinding flurry cleared, revealing the mysterious visitor standing atop the threshold amid a cloud of glittering ice dust. The hood dropped back, exposing long, silver-white hair and piercing, glacial-blue eyes that locked onto Nikolai with a terrifying, predatory intensity. "Professor Reindhart," a voice like grinding glaciers cut through the freezing air. "I have traveled across three frozen mountain ranges to find you. You are going to teach me how to master the true, absolute silence of frost magic... or I will freeze this entire academy into a monument of ice." Nikolai stared at the newcomer, his mind utterly blank. He let out a slow, heavy sigh, realizing with sickening clarity that his peaceful, lazy life in another world was nothing more than a cruel, impossible fairy tale.

Chapter 13: The Frostbitten Doorstep