FROST

The air turned razor-sharp with cold the moment Frost stepped forward. A silence fell over the room, thick and uneasy, broken only by the quiet shivers of apprentices struggling against the biting chill that now filled the auditorium.

Silvermist's breath misted before her lips.

"Frost…" she whispered under her breath, but it barely came out, lost in the heavy stillness.

It had been only a day since she last saw him, yet standing there, his figure stark against the dim glow of the hall, he felt impossibly distant. Like a shadow of the Frost she had met before—before she stepped into this world, before she broke the very thing that tethered him to balance.

And then, there was the black.

The Frost she had known wore white and silver, the colors of ice, of serenity. But now, wrapped in flowing obsidian and midnight hues, he looked—wrong. The color drained what little warmth remained in him, making him appear more ghost than guardian. His silver hair, usually reflecting the light like freshly fallen snow, seemed dulled under the weight of his presence.

A cold knot formed in Silvermist's stomach.

Why is he wearing black?

The unspoken question sat heavy in her chest. Something about it felt deliberate, like a quiet declaration—of mourning? Of change? Of something far worse?

Her fingers curled into her sleeves as her unease deepened.

Then—

A flicker of warmth.

Out of the corner of her eye, a single ember floated through the air, the only thing defying the suffocating frost.

Silvermist turned sharply, her gaze darting to the farthest corner of the auditorium.

There, standing at the very back, eyes burning like dying embers, was Ezekiel.

He was partially concealed in the shadows, his presence subtle yet impossible to ignore. The glow of his crimson hair flickered like embers of a fire barely contained, contrasting the icy oppression that Frost had cast over the room.

He was saying something, his lips moving, but no sound reached her. The suffocating cold swallowed everything. Even as she tried to read his lips, the words made no sense—like a language foreign to her.

Ezekiel's jaw tensed. Then, as if deciding it was useless, he raised his school manual.

A flame sparked across the enchanted pages, searing words into existence.

"Get out of there fast."

The letters flickered like a dying fire before settling into glowing embers.

Silvermist's pulse quickened.

Without hesitation, she reached into her pocket, pulling out her own manual and flipping it open. Just as she expected, the same message was branded into its pages, the fire's warmth barely radiating against the biting cold of Frost's presence.

"Sil? What's wrong?" Adeline whispered, leaning closer as she noticed the shift in Silvermist's expression.

Silvermist barely heard her. Her fingers tightened around the edges of her school manual, the glowing embers of Ezekiel's message still fresh on the pages.

"Meet me outside…"

Her pulse quickened.

"I have to go," Silvermist whispered back, already inching toward the exit. "I'll meet you outside."

"Wait, what—"

But before Adeline could question her further, Silvermist had already slipped away, blending into the shadows of the towering archway leading out of the auditorium.

The moment she stepped past the threshold, a strange sensation crawled up her spine. She glanced down.

Frost had begun creeping along the floor, stretching like skeletal fingers across the polished stone. It curled and cracked under her footsteps, disappearing the instant her shoes touched it, as if recoiling from her presence.

Silvermist frowned.

Was it just her?

She stole a glance back at the apprentices still inside. The frost remained untouched beneath their feet, growing thicker as it clung to their legs like a silent predator. None of them noticed. They were too focused on the figure standing at the front—the source of this chilling storm.

Frost.

"Just what the hell is happening to you…?"

"O-Oh, Frost, I think that's too much entrance," East's voice cut through the thick silence, his usual lighthearted tone laced with an unease he couldn't quite mask.

Silvermist took that moment to slip through the door unnoticed, her breath coming out in quick, misty puffs.

"There you are!"

Silvermist nearly jumped out of her skin when a figure suddenly popped up right in front of her.

"Ezekiel—!" she hissed, barely biting back a scream.

The crimson-haired apprentice didn't seem fazed. His scalding eyes burned with urgency. His stance was tense, shoulders squared, as if he had been waiting for her.

"We need to talk," he said, voice low and firm.

Silvermist's heart pounded.

She didn't know what was more alarming—the sheer desperation in his voice or the fact that, for the first time since meeting him, Ezekiel Ravencrest actually looked worried.

The Scent of Secrets

"What for?" Silvermist managed to ask, but Ezekiel wasn't wasting time with explanations.

Before she could process what was happening, he had already taken a step forward. When he noticed she wasn't following, he let out a sharp breath, turned around, and grabbed her wrist.

"Hey—!" Silvermist gasped as he pulled her along, his grip firm yet urgent. The air around them felt thick, charged, as if something unseen was pressing in on them.

"What's this all about, Kiel? You're scaring me!" she demanded, trying to match his pace.

Ezekiel didn't slow down. His gaze remained fixed ahead, jaw clenched. "Well, you should be more scared if you knew what was happening."

Silvermist's heart skipped a beat.

Before she could press him for answers, Ezekiel came to a sudden stop, pushing open a heavy wooden door.

The moment they stepped inside, a strange sensation washed over her—like walking through an invisible veil. It wasn't even a long walk from where they had been, but something about this space felt… detached.

Silvermist's breath caught in her throat when she recognized the place.

The grandmaster's office.

Her eyes darted around, taking in the grand, dimly lit chamber. Shelves lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and artifacts that hummed with dormant power. A massive crescent-shaped desk stood near the center, its polished surface reflecting the eerie glow of floating crystal lights.

But none of that held her attention.

It was who was inside that made her stomach drop.

Seated in the center chair was East.

Beside him, standing tall and composed, was Sebastian.

Silvermist's blood ran cold.

"But… but you were there," she stammered, eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at East.

She had just seen him inside the auditorium. How could he be here as well?

"Nah, that was West. Shifting is one of his abilities," Ezekiel answered casually, as if it's the most natural thing to say.

One of West's abilities? He has more?

Silvermist swallowed hard, her mind racing. West had been posing as East? Why? What purpose did it serve? A heavy silence settled between them as East finally turned his gaze toward her.

His emerald green mixed with golden amber eyes measured her, their intensity unwavering.

"I believe we have met before," he said smoothly.

And then the scent of jasmine flooded the air.

Silvermist's chest tightened. The fragrance wasn't subtle—it was suffocating, overpowering, intoxicating. It seeped into her lungs, wrapping around her senses like invisible chains.

Her vision blurred for a fraction of a second.

Not because of the scent itself…

But because it triggered something buried deep within her. A flicker of a memory—it smelled like the meadows.

"Anyway, this isn't the time for introductions," East muttered, standing up with an air of nonchalance. Yet, his sharp gaze lingered on Silvermist as if assessing her every movement. "I wanted to show you something."

Silvermist watched as East approached her, his posture relaxed but his presence overwhelming. He was as tall as Frost, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. There was something unsettling about him—his calm, almost playful demeanor didn't match the weight of his words.

Without warning, he lifted his hand, and a soft swirl of petals coiled around his fingertips. A flick of his wrist sent them spiraling between them, their delicate forms glowing faintly. Then, with an effortless breath, East blew the petals straight at Silvermist's face.

Instinctively, she shut her eyes. And when she opened them again, she was no longer in the academy.

The Crystal Palace.

Everything shimmered around her, from the vast floor beneath her feet to the ceiling high above, all made of pure crystal. The air felt heavier, charged with something ancient and sacred. In front of her, the Guardians' staffs hovered in eerie stillness, just like the first time she had seen them.

But this time, Frost's staff was missing. Of course! She broke it.

A lump formed in her throat. She swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides. The absence of the Winter Guardian's staff sent an unsettling chill down her spine.

"Familiar?"

A voice echoed behind her. Silvermist turned sharply, only to find East standing there, his lips curled into something between amusement and scrutiny. Beside him, Sebastian and Ezekiel stood in tense silence, their eyes locked onto her.

For a moment, Silvermist couldn't find her voice. There was something off about this entire situation—why had they brought her here?

"Take a closer look at those staffs, miss," East commanded, his voice devoid of the earlier amusement. It was sharper now, edged with something unspoken.

She hesitated but obeyed, stepping closer. Her breath hitched the moment her gaze landed on the staffs.

They were cracking.

Deep, jagged fractures spread across the crystalline surfaces, their once-pristine forms now marred by an unnatural force. The fractures pulsed faintly, as if alive, as if something within them was breaking apart from the inside.

A wave of unease surged through her.

"No one had really anticipated that this would happen so fast," East continued, crossing his arms. His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "And for Frost to cause this himself… I couldn't really wrap my head around it."

Silvermist turned to face them, her voice barely above a whisper. "A-Are you saying Frost is the one causing these cracks?"

East shrugged, the gesture almost careless. "Maybe." Then he smirked. "Or maybe… it's you."

Silvermist sucked in a sharp breath. "What?"

The air between them tensed, thick with an unspoken accusation.

"The queen mentioned something about you being tarnished," East mused, his gaze narrowing as he took slow, deliberate steps toward her. "But how tarnished are you, Miss Evermore?" His voice lowered, almost taunting. "How tarnished are you that the moment Frost felt your anger, it awakened something inside him?"

Silvermist felt as if the ground beneath her had suddenly tilted.

Her anger?

Was he saying… that she also had something to do with Frost's drastic change?

Her fingers curled into fists as she looked to Ezekiel and Sebastian for answers. But the two remained silent, their expressions unreadable.