FROST Chapter 21: The Crimson Verdict

Silvermist could only stare at the crimson slip of paper in her hands, her fingers tightening around its edges as if she could will the words away.

Serpentine—the na stood out in bold, nacing letters, sending a chill down her spine. Of all the twelve sections in Moonstone Academy, why did it have to be that one? Why did it have to be the section where Athyst ruled as the room representative?

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She was from a different section altogether, yet fate—or misfortune—had ensured she would have to compete against one of Serpentine’s apprentices. Just the thought of it made her chest tighten.

"I can’t do this, Mila," Silvermist groaned, gripping the paper as if it had personally wronged her.

Beside her, Mila humd in amusent, strands of her cotton-candy pink hair catching the light as she leaned in to peek at the dreaded slip. Instead of sharing in Silvermist’s distress, she bead, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh, don’t be silly," Mila said brightly, giving Silvermist a playful nudge. "It’s not like you’ll have to fight them physically."

Silvermist shot her a doubtful glance.

"We’re just being graded individually," Mila continued, twirling a lock of pink hair around her finger. "Then, once everyone’s scores are tallied, the overall ranking will determine the winning section. No punches, no bruises—just a fair evaluation of skills."

She explained it all in that sa cheerful, sing-song manner, as if the re sound of her voice could quench Silvermist’s worries.

But Silvermist wasn’t convinced. The na Serpentine alone was enough to tell her that this wouldn’t be as simple as Mila was making it out to be.

"Besides, there are like forty or more students in each section," Mila added with a reassuring smile. "There’s only, like, a ten percent chance you’d unluckily end up competing against Athyst."

Silvermist wasn’t reassured. She knew her luck—or lack thereof—too well.

Mila moved closer as their eyes drifted toward Adeline, who was making her way back to her seat after retrieving her crimson paper from the box Professor Aelwyn held. Unlike the others, Adeline showed zero emotion, her expression bored as if the entire selection process was nothing but a chore.

"You didn’t have to ntion that," Silvermist muttered, her lips pursed. "It’s not Athyst I’m worried about."

Mila tilted her head in confusion.

"My problem is the abilities I don’t possess," Silvermist admitted, her voice quieter now. "I don’t want to embarrass the entire section. I’m the only one here who can’t do anything right."

Before Mila could respond, a voice cut through their conversation.

"Hey! Evermore, I heard you got Serpentine," a woman nad Crystal appeared, peering over Silvermist’s shoulder at the paper in her hands. The mont she confird the rumor, she rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Damn it!" Crystal groaned, throwing her hands up. "Our section is already dood."

Silvermist simply shrugged, her gaze shifting to Mila as if to say, See?Thisisexactlywhat I an.

Mila frowned but didn’t get the chance to defend her when—

"Oh, shut up, Crys," Adeline groaned, stepping forward. Without hesitation, she elbowed Crystal aside with enough force to make her stumble.

"You little—!"

"Ay! Oy! Bad, bad!" Mila imdiately jumped between them, her pink hair bouncing wildly as she raised her hands in alarm. "Let’s not turn this into a battlefield, alright?"

"Let her be, Mila," Adeline hissed, her violet eyes flashing.

Crystal wasn’t about to back down. "For soone as young as eight, you’re incredibly cocky!" she snapped, her voice rising enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

But Adeline didn’t flinch. If anything, she smirked, arms crossed. "And for soone who’s eighteen, you’re clearly not acting your age. Bullying is so preschool ago."

The tension crackled between them, drawing the curiosity of more students. Mila, stuck in the middle, sighed in exasperation.

"Calm down, Crys..."

The casual remark made Silvermist’s brows knit together. She knew that voice—Gail. But there was sothing in her tone, sothing too smooth, too condescending, that made Silvermist’s blood boil.

She turned her head, eting Gail’s cocked brow and unreadable gaze.

"She’s the only one left who could potentially ruin our section’s victory," Gail continued, her voice light, almost amused. "We can work together to at least cover up for her."

Then, she and Crystal chuckled, making her way back to her seat. The sound was sharp, filled with mockery, and it sent an unpleasant shiver down Silvermist’s spine.

Mila stood frozen beside her, her usually bright deanor dimming as the words sank in. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing—from Gail, of all people. Mila had thought Gail was reserved, even respectful, but this?

This was cruel.

Slowly, Mila turned to Silvermist, searching for a reaction.

"I thought you knew each other before we arrived here?" she asked hesitantly.

Silvermist held Gail’s gaze for a mont longer, then let out a small, forced smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes.

"But clearly, we’re not on good terms," she said, her voice cool and indifferent, as if their words didn’t touch her.

Deciding not to waste another second on the two bullies, Silvermist turned away, her focus shifting forward. She had bigger things to worry about.

The competition would be held in the open training grounds, a vast, battle-worn field nestled at the farthest edge of the academy’s sprawling campus. A place where strength was tested, where victories were earned—or lost.

"This couldn’t be just a test of our ability to bend water, air, fire, and earth—"

"No earth," Mila corrected, still standing beside her.

"Oh."

"Nervous, are we?"

The voice was sharp with amusent, and Silvermist raised her head to et Cullen’s mocking stare.

"Another one," she sighed, glancing at Mila before motioning toward Cullen. "See?"

Mila, ever the peacemaker, rolled her eyes before playfully slapping Cullen’s arm.

"Oh, stop it!" she scolded. "Can you guys give Silvermist a break? She’s tried her best for the past few days. What else can we do but help her?"

Cullen simply regarded Mila for a mont before shifting his gaze back to Silvermist, a mischievous grin curling on his lips.

"Of course," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "I’ve always wanted to rub that in her face ever since."

Mila’s jaw dropped as she followed him with wide, stunned eyes, watching as he casually took a seat beside Gail.

"H-How rude!" she gasped, turning back to Silvermist with genuine disbelief. "I thought you guys knew each other?!"

Before Silvermist could respond, Adeline answered for her, her voice flat.

"They’re not on good terms, Mila."

Mila let out a long, exasperated sigh, rubbing her head in frustration. "I better go back to my seat," she muttered, trudging back toward her desk with the dramatic exhaustion of soone who had just witnessed a week’s worth of nonsense in a single mont.

Silvermist watched her retreat, a small smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze lingered on Mila’s back as she slumped into her chair.

"She must have grown up in a loving environnt," Silvermist whispered, her voice softer now.

Adeline, beside her, gave a slow nod of agreent.

"I only wish this realm won’t rob her of her smile."

"Has everyone got their crimson paper?"

Professor Aelwyn’s voice cut through the murmurs, instantly drawing everyone’s attention back to him. His sharp gaze swept across the apprentices, ensuring each of them held their assigned paper.

Satisfied, he cleared his throat and set the wooden box he had been carrying onto his desk.

"Well," he continued, straightening his stance. "I believe Mr. Ravencrest has already discussed what exactly we’ll be doing for tonight’s activity. No questions, I suppose?"

A quiet ripple went through the room as the apprentices shook their heads in silent agreent.

"Alright then," Aelwyn nodded. "Everyone, proceed to the area."

At once, chairs scraped against the floor as students began rising from their seats, forming a loose line toward the exit.

The hall was long, and with every step Silvermist took, her knees wobbled, betraying the nerves tightening in her stomach.

Sensing her unease, Mila, who walked beside her and Adeline, leaned in and whispered, "Rember, just do your best, and you’ll be fine."

Then, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes.

"If you can, shatter a glass jar right in front of Cullen, Crystal, and Gail’s faces... you know, just for fun."

Her playful remark sent a small burst of laughter rippling between them. Even Adeline, who was normally composed, let out an amused chuckle.

The tension in Silvermist’s chest eased slightly, though it didn’t vanish entirely.

As they continued down the hall, they soon caught sight of other sections rging into their path, all heading toward the open training grounds where the competition would take place.

The training grounds were even more vast than Silvermist had imagined. It wasn’t just an open space—it was an arena, a grand battleground designed for the apprentices to showcase their abilities.

Twelve circular rings were positioned across the field, each one likely serving as a designated area for different sections to compete. But what caught her attention the most was the large octagonal stage standing in the center. Its presence felt ominous, its purpose unclear. Even Mila, with her knack for gathering information, had no idea why it was there.

Before Silvermist could dwell on it, a familiar voice cut through the murmurs.

"Alright, everyone from Section Sphene, settle on this side."

Heads turned toward Ezekiel and Sebastian, who were guiding their section toward an assigned area.

Where’s West? Silvermist wondered, scanning for the strategic mind of their group but finding no sign of him.

She didn’t have ti to think further before Ezekiel spotted her.

"Sil!"

The mont their eyes t, Ezekiel grinned and swiftly made his way over, his confidence as unshakable as ever.

"So, are you ready?" he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Silvermist didn’t bother answering. Instead, she wordlessly held up her crimson paper, a silent declaration of her bad luck.

Ezekiel blinked, then chuckled, completely unfazed.

"Oh, no biggie," he waved a hand dismissively. "You got this. And if you don’t, well..." He shrugged with an impish smirk. "We’ll cover for you. Hehe."

Silvermist only offered a fake smile, too anxious to find his confidence contagious.

With a sigh, she sank into her seat between Mila and Adeline.

"Kiel, we’re starting now," Sebastian called from the front.

Ezekiel gave a quick wave goodbye before jogging back to his section.

Unlike the previous evaluations, this competition was different—Ezekiel, Sebastian, and the other apprentices were the ones conducting it on the professors’ recomndation. If everyone passed, the Guardians themselves would take over training.

As the crowd settled, a buzz of chatter filled the air, but Silvermist’s focus drifted elsewhere.

Her gaze landed on the shaded space on the opposite side of the arena, positioned directly across from them.

It was where judges typically sat, but tonight, sothing told her this wasn’t just an ordinary evaluation.

A sudden thought crossed her mind.

Could the Lunar King be here to observe? Perhaps, the Guardians.

Silvermist swallowed, her fingers tightening around the crimson paper. She’d never know for sure unless soone talked about it. The Lunar King’s presence was beyond her perception.

East had once ntioned that the only reason she could see the Guardians was because they wanted her to.

But the Lunar King? That was an entirely different level.

She’d be far too lucky if he ever acknowledged her existence.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Athyst stepped forward, positioning herself just beside the octagonal stage. She was at a considerable distance, yet her aura alone commanded attention.

Even without a microphone, she stood still and imposing, letting her sharp, piercing gaze sweep over the gathered apprentices.

The murmurs faded instantly.

It wasn’t magic. It wasn’t an order.

But sohow, Athyst’s re presence muted the entire crowd.

Satisfied with the silence, she adjusted the sleeves of her uniform, then raised her hand.

Snap.

A collective gasp rippled through the students as silver wisps—each shimring faintly like Ezekiel’s—appeared before every apprentice, hovering in midair.

Silvermist felt a strange chill creep up her spine as the wisp before her flickered, pulsating as though alive.

Then, Athyst’s voice echoed—not from where she stood, but from the very wisps floating before them.

"I believe everyone hears well." The tone was calm yet absolute, leaving no room for uncertainty.

Athyst let a small, knowing smile tug at her lips as she observed the stunned silence of the apprentices. With the silver wisps still hovering before them, she began her explanation.

"Tonight’s competition will proceed in a structured sequence," her voice carried effortlessly through the wisps, ensuring every apprentice heard her loud and clear. "Each section will compete based on their randomly assigned match-ups. Every apprentice’s performance will be judged individually, but your combined scores will determine the overall victor."

She let the words settle before continuing.

"There are no direct physical confrontations," Athyst clarified, flicking an indifferent glance toward the crowd. "You will be graded based on the precision, control, and mastery of your abilities. Fail to demonstrate adequate skill, and you will be marked accordingly. In simpler terms—don’t be dead weight."

Silvermist could feel the sneers directed toward her, though she refused to et anyone’s eyes.

Athyst let the tension linger before raising her hand once more.

"Now, to finalize your match-ups, place your crimson paper in the sa hand as your mark and let the wisp touch it."

A flicker of hesitation passed through Silvermist.

She didn’t want to reveal her mark.

Even though she wore gloves to keep it hidden, she was painfully aware that her mark was different from the others. If soone caught even a glimpse—

"Silvemist," Mila whispered beside her, nudging her slightly. "You have to do it."

Silvermist swallowed hard, feeling her pulse quicken.

She took a slow breath, making sure no one was watching too closely, and carefully positioned the crimson paper over her mark, her grip firm.

The mont the wisp made contact, a sudden warmth spread through her palm.

Before she could react, all the wisps in the arena turned crimson, darting back toward Athyst.

They swirled together, forming one large, glowing red sphere above her hand.

A hush fell over the crowd as Athyst closed her eyes, whispering sothing under her breath. Her fingers moved through the air, performing a ritualistic gesture, as if weaving invisible threads of power around the sphere.

Then, with a sharp flick of her wrist—

She tossed it skyward.

The sphere burst apart, scattering back into individual wisps that imdiately sought out the apprentices once more.

Silvermist flinched as the wisp before her touched the crimson paper in her hand.

For a mont, nothing happened.

Then—

Letters began appearing.

One by one, the na etched itself onto the paper.

Silvermist’s breath hitched.

She barely noticed Adeline stiffening beside her before she muttered in shock,

"Athyst Stormhunt."

Silvermist’s hands trembled. Her wobbling eyes lifted, slowly, cautiously—

And t Athyst’s cold, triumphant gaze.

A smug smile curled on her lips.

She knew.

She had planned this.

And now, Silvermist was trapped.