FROST Chapter 11: Unwelcomed Familiarity

Silvermist’s fingers tightened around the hem of her sleeves as she eyed the three apprentices standing before her.

West, Sebastian, and Ezekiel were gathered near an imposing mahogany desk, which—judging by its ornate carvings and the golden sigil embedded in its surface—likely belonged to soone of high authority. The grandmaster, perhaps. The very thought made her stomach coil with unease.

She sat stiffly on a couch near the door, her nerves growing by the second. If they had called her here, it wasn’t for casual conversation. They knew sothing—sothing she had desperately tried to keep hidden.

"Silvermist," West’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts.

She snapped her head up, eting his sharp gaze. "Y-Yes?"

West nodded slightly before taking a few asured steps toward her. His presence was as heavy as the silence that stretched between them. "The grandmaster has been delayed. Do you have anything else to do in the anti?"

Silvermist hesitated. She had no real obligations yet, but staying here, trapped under their scrutiny, made her skin prickle. "Uh... I don’t really know what to do here. Would it be alright if I go check dorm instead? My companions might have been worried as well since I left unnoticed."

"Of course," Ezekiel replied with a smile, his voice light despite the tension still lingering in the air. "I could accompany you if you’d like."

She hesitated only for a mont before nodding. She had no sense of direction here—better to follow Ezekiel than risk getting lost in this vast, unfamiliar place.

West and Sebastian remained behind as Ezekiel led her out of the office.

As they stepped into the corridor, Silvermist couldn’t help but glance around in wonder. Moonstone Academy was unlike anything she had ever seen. Towering spires touched the heavens, their tips glowing faintly under the eternal twilight sky.

The halls stretched endlessly, adorned with intricate stained glass windows depicting celestial constellations, guardian emblems, and ethereal landscapes. The walls themselves seed alive—glowing veins of magic pulsed beneath the surface, shifting colors like a living entity.

Floating lanterns drifted lazily overhead, illuminating their path with a soft, golden light. In the distance, an archway led to an expansive courtyard where trees with crystalline leaves shimred under an unseen moon. The academy was grand—breathtaking, even—but despite its beauty, there was sothing undeniably suffocating about it.

"So, what do you think about this place?"

Silvermist exhaled.

"I-It’s spacious yet... suffocating," she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended.

Ezekiel chuckled as he strolled beside her. "Ah, yeah. We get that a lot." He glanced at her knowingly. "But you’ll get used to it. Besides, we’re all new here. No one’s had a head start."

Silvermist frowned slightly, her mind drifting elsewhere. "Did your loved ones have to forget about you, too?" she asked, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Ezekiel’s shadow stretched beside her, easily consuming her own. He was taller than she had realized, his presence both warm and distant at the sa ti.

"Of course," he confird, his tone softer than before. "They had to. Otherwise, it would disrupt the balance of the world."

"I see..." Silvermist murmured. She didn’t look at him, unwilling to reveal the sadness flickering in her eyes.

Ezekiel hesitated before speaking again. When he did, his voice dropped slightly. "About earlier... I don’t fully know what West and Sebastian were talking about. I have a few ideas, but since I’m not a Four-Season apprentice, there’s a limit to what I can understand."

His steps slowed, and Silvermist could feel his gaze shift toward her.

"Did you really break Frost’s staff?" he finally asked.

The question sent a jolt through her.

Silvermist’s lips pressed into a thin line. So they knew.

She didn’t answer, but her silence was telling enough. Ezekiel fidgeted slightly, as if second-guessing whether he should’ve asked at all.

But he had.

And now, she could no longer pretend they were unaware of what she had done.

"I’m sorry," Ezekiel muttered, his voice carrying a rare sincerity. "I know I shouldn’t ask, but... I need to know too. If I understand what happened, I can defend you if anyone tries to co after you. And they will, Silvermist. Things have gotten worse because of what you did."

Silvermist swallowed hard, gripping the edges of her sleeves until her knuckles turned white. Worse. That single word echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. She didn’t even have the courage to ask what he ant by that. She already knew the damage she had caused. She had broken Frost’s staff. And now, she had to live with the knowledge that it might cost him his very existence.

Her throat tightened. Could she really admit that out loud? That because of her, a Guardian—soone revered, soone ancient—was at risk of fading away?

She kept her gaze locked on the intricate patterns of the marble floor, unwilling to et Ezekiel’s eyes. He was waiting for an answer, she could feel it in the way he walked, the way his presence lood beside her.

But what could she say? That she hadn’t ant to break it? That she had acted without thinking? That it was a mistake? None of those words would change the reality of what had happened.

"You don’t have to say anything," Ezekiel finally said, his tone lighter but no less serious. "Your silence already answered my question."

Silvermist inhaled sharply, her fingers twitching at her sides.

"If you already know, then why ask?" she muttered.

"Because I needed to hear it from you."

She glanced at him then, just briefly. His crimson hair caught the ambient glow of the floating lanterns above, his golden eyes reflecting a depth she wasn’t sure she had noticed before.

"People are afraid of things they don’t understand, Silvermist. And right now, you’re a mystery. A dangerous one," he continued, his voice lowering. "West and Sebastian aren’t the only ones who are curious. Others will start to ask questions, and so won’t be as patient as I am."

A chill ran down her spine. The thought of being hunted—or worse, confronted—by those stronger, more experienced than her was not sothing she had prepared for.

"I don’t need anyone to defend ," she said, more for herself than for him.

Ezekiel tilted his head slightly, an unreadable expression crossing his face. "That’s a bold thing to say for soone who doesn’t even know her way around the academy yet."

Her jaw clenched, but she had no rebuttal. He wasn’t wrong.

Ezekiel sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. You don’t trust anyone, and maybe that’s smart. But at least let make sure you don’t get yourself killed within your first week here."

Silvermist didn’t respond. She wasn’t sure she could.

Because for all his teasing, there was an undeniable truth behind his words.

And she wasn’t certain how much longer she could keep pretending that she wasn’t afraid.

"Here we are."

Silvermist’s head snapped up at Ezekiel’s words. She blinked, her surroundings coming into focus. Had they really walked that far already? She hadn’t even noticed the steady climb up the spiral staircase, yet here they were—on the third floor. The air here felt heavier, charged with an invisible energy that sent an eerie shiver down her spine.

Before them stood a grand door, tall and imposing, carved from obsidian-black wood that shimred under the torchlight. The word "Bloodstone" was etched into its surface in deep crimson, as if written in ink that never dried. The letters pulsed, almost alive, like a heartbeat sealed within the wood.

"You may enter now." Ezekiel’s voice pulled her attention away from the door. He offered her a small, knowing smile, but there was a warning in his eyes. "And oh, please keep this matter a secret. The last thing we want is for you to get into trouble."

Before she could ask what he ant, Ezekiel raised his hand.

A sudden burst of fire engulfed him—crimson and gold flas licking at his silhouette. Yet, instead of burning, the flas swallowed him whole, and in the blink of an eye—he was gone.

"Holy fu—" Silvermist barely caught herself, coughing into her fist as she glanced around, making sure no one was around to hear her almost-swear. It wasn’t technically against the rules—nowhere in the school manual did it say students weren’t allowed to curse—but sothing about this place made her instinctively hold back. The air was too ancient, too sacred. Swearing here felt like it would taint sothing unseen.

With a sigh, she reached for the door, only for it to swing open before she could touch it.

"Oh! Finally!"

Silvermist stumbled back as Mila nearly barreled into her, wide-eyed and breathless.

"Where have you been?!" Mila demanded, her hands on her hips.

Silvermist hesitated, rubbing the back of her head. "Uh... I was kinda lost," she admitted with a sheepish chuckle.

Mila scoffed. "Lost? Seriously, madamoiselle?" She snatched the manual from Silvermist’s hands and, with a dramatic flourish, flipped it open. The mont she did, the pages shimred, and suddenly, a holographic map sprang to life between them—except it wasn’t just a map.

Silvermist’s breath hitched as she stared at the floating three-dinsional projection. It shifted and rotated in midair, displaying corridors, staircases, and hidden pathways in intricate detail. The glowing lines flickered softly, as though woven from threads of stardust.

Mila gave her a pointed look. "You do realize this thing literally shows you where you are in real-ti, right?"

Silvermist gulped, her face heating. "Oh."

"Oh, she says," Mila sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "Honestly, how did you survive this long?"

Silvermist wasn’t sure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. Probably both.

"Well, get in. Our roommates are already here," Mila said, grabbing Silvermist’s wrist and pulling her inside before she could protest.

The mont Silvermist stepped in, her gaze fell upon four girls waiting inside the dormitory, their expressions ranging from curiosity to indifference. She imdiately frowned.

"Alright, roll call!" Mila declared, gesturing toward the group. "You already know Adeline," she said, nodding toward the silver-haired girl who offered a small, knowing smile. Then she pointed to the girl beside her. "This is Matilda Sunblade, a sorcerer’s apprentice—sa as Candace Elderspire over here."

Silvermist’s attention barely lingered on them before shifting to the last girl in line—one whose presence made her stomach tighten.

"And this one, you saw her earlier with Cullen—" Mila continued, but Silvermist barely heard her.

Her breath hitched as recognition dawned.

"She’s the Golden Sands apprentice—"

"Gail Emberlight," Silvermist muttered before Mila could even finish, her voice laced with sothing dangerously close to disdain.

Gail’s lips only curled but said nothing.

Matilda glanced between them, picking up on the tension. "So, you two already know each other?"

Silvermist let out a slow, sarcastic smile. "Oh, of course. Very much."

Mila glanced at Silvermist then Gail, then back to Silvermist. "Oh boy."