FROST Chapter 26: Frozen Havoc

"W-What’s going on?!" Ezekiel’s breath hitched as his body locked up in shock. His words barely left his lips before the sheer intensity of the scene rendered him motionless.

Even Professor O’Sullivan and Professor Aelwyn, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, stood frozen in disbelief.

Before them, Silvermist hovered in midair, surrounded by a swirling vortex of icy wind and glimring frost.

The very air crackled with an unnatural cold, and the ground beneath her had begun to crystallize, sharp tendrils of ice spreading outward like veins.

"I knew sothing was off with that kid," Professor O’Sullivan muttered under his breath, his voice laced with unease. Without hesitation, he reached into the folds of his dark suit and pulled out an ancient grimoire, its weathered leather cover cracked and peeling from age.

The edges of the pages were yellowed and frayed, so corners burned, while the spine bore deep creases from centuries of use. Strange symbols were etched into the cover, their aning long lost to ti, and as he held it, a faint pulse of magic rippled through the air.

His fingers trembled slightly as he flipped through the brittle pages, his eyes scanning rows of archaic script illuminated by the eerie glow of Silvermist’s power. Then—he stopped.

His breath caught. His eyes widened in disbelief. The color drained from his face as if the very words before him had reached out and stolen it.

"T-There’s no mistaking it," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to Silvermist, who now floated effortlessly above them, her hair weightless as if caught in an unseen current. The frost around her pulsed, alive. "She’s the apprentice."

"We see the sa thing, dumbass!" Professor O’Sullivan cursed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His sharp eyes darted back and forth between Silvermist and Athyst, the latter clearly struggling against the shifting tide of power. "The problem now is, how the hell are we supposed to stop this useless fight?!"

With a frustrated groan, he slapped a hand against his forehead before snapping his gaze to Ezekiel, who still stood frozen like a statue, his face pale.

"Ravencrest!"

The sharp call jolted Ezekiel back to reality. He blinked rapidly, inhaling as if he’d forgotten to breathe.

"Y-Yes, professor?" he stamred.

"How’s the summoning going?"

Ezekiel opened his mouth to respond, but before a single word could escape, a figure materialized between them—Sebastian. His arrival was almost eerily silent, but his presence carried weight.

"They’re still unable to reach Tim," Sebastian muttered, his voice tense with urgency. Then, shifting closer to Ezekiel, he lowered his tone, speaking just above a whisper. "How did Athyst even know about her?" His golden-hued eyes flickered with sothing unreadable—concern, suspicion, or perhaps even dread.

Ezekiel gritted his teeth, his frustration evident. "How the hell am I supposed to know?" he hissed.

"Can’t you pass through the barrier?"

"You can do teleportation—you should already know we can’t," Sebastian shot back, exasperated, before turning his attention back to the battle unfolding before them.

Although Silvermist hadn’t taken a single step forward, her presence alone was suffocating Athyst.

"You sly bitch!" Athyst snarled, throwing an arm over her face to shield herself, leaving only her piercing purple eyes exposed. The very air around her trembled, her usual mastery over the wind now turning against her.

The wind that once answered her every command had begun betraying her—sharp ice crystals had ford within the currents, slicing through her skin like invisible daggers. Thin lines of crimson blood across her exposed arms, her pristine uniform now marred with cuts.

The tables had turned.

Athyst staggered, sucking in a breath through gritted teeth. She tried to summon another gust, to push back, to reclaim control—but the air was no longer hers to wield. It belonged to her now. To Silvermist.

Then, Silvermist moved.

It was a simple gesture—a flick of her wrist, as if swatting away a fly. Yet, the mont her fingers shifted, the very atmosphere snapped.

Athyst barely had ti to react.

A shard of ice, deceptively small at first, materialized midair before suddenly hurtling forward at an impossible speed. It plunged straight into Athyst’s legs, then her arms, piercing through flesh and bone with an unforgiving crack.

Her scream tore through the battlefield.

It wasn’t just pain—it was raw, agonizing shock. The ice spread, anchoring her limbs to the ground, the frost creeping up like living veins, tightening around her body. Her breath ca in ragged gasps, her strength fading as the ice stole away her warmth.

She tried to move, to break free—but Silvermist rely tilted her head, and the ice surged deeper.

A second scream erupted from Athyst’s throat, this ti one of pure terror.

The air in the arena crackled with tension as the screams and gasps grew louder. The spectators, once eager for a re battle of skill, now stood frozen in horror.

East and Cay, who had been re observers monts ago, had no choice but to move. They exchanged a tense glance before teleporting to the barrier’s edge, materializing beside Sebastian and Ezekiel.

The instant they arrived, shimring portals of various hues flickered into existence. One after another, the Guardians appeared, their faces carved with concern and urgency. All of them were present—except for the two who mattered the most.

Frost who might be able to suppress Silvermist and Tim—the only entity capable of undoing this mont with a single flicker of power—the Ti Guardian—was absent.

Athyst’s agonized screams ripped through the arena, raw and unrelenting. The ice binding her limbs spread further, tendrils creeping up like chains made of pure frost. Yet, Silvermist had barely moved.

She wasn’t attacking wildly.

She was controlling. Punishing.

And for the first ti, Athyst—the untouchable, the elite—was completely helpless.

Cloud, standing closest to Sebastian and Ezekiel, let out a frustrated groan. His sharp ivory eyes swept across the battlefield, taking in the situation with practiced efficiency.

"Sun, East, Fall, and Rain," he barked, gesturing to the four. "Cover the four right corners of the stage," turning to the others on his left, "Coast, Blaze, Flash, and I will cover the four left corners. We will try and penetrate through the force field.

The turning to his back. "Zephyr, Cay—make a force field strong enough to contain the apprentices!" His expression darkened.

"Until the competition ends, the gatekeeper will not open those damned gates," he warned, his voice like thunder. "Now do your best to protect the apprentices!"

No hesitation. The eight Guardians vanished from their spots, reappearing at their designated posts in flashes of light, shadow, and elental energy.

Only Cay and Zephyr remained.

Cay turned toward Professor O’Sullivan, his voice calm yet urgent. "Professor, please escort the waiting apprentices back to their seats. We need to cast a second force field before the impact spreads during penetration."

Professor O’Sullivan gritted his teeth. "But will the Guardians be able to negate the stage’s barrier on their own?" His voice was sharp with concern.

Professor Aelwyn’s hands clenched at his sides, his expression grim.

"If the heavens permit," Zephyr murmured. His gaze locked onto Athyst, the girl who had once represented his elent with pride. His heart twisted in his chest as he watched her struggle—not only against Silvermist, but against herself.

She had always resisted him.

She had fought against his mark, his guidance, his teachings. He had felt it before he placed his mark on her, a distance between them that no other Guardian-apprentice pair seed to have. But now...

Hearing it from her own lips.

Feeling her rejection through their broken bond.

It was devastating.

"Zephyr," Coast muttered, tugging him back to his senses. "Let’s go!"

Zephyr blinked as if shaking off a trance before nodding. Without another word, both of them vanished, leaving nothing but a faint ripple of energy in the air.

anwhile, Sebastian and Ezekiel remained behind, assisting the professors in escorting the remaining apprentices back to their seats. The mont everyone was accounted for, a shimring blue barrier materialized around the seating area, encasing the apprentices and faculty in a protective do.

The barrier pulsed like a living entity, its translucent surface shifting between shades of deep sapphire and ethereal cyan. Runes flickered across its surface, ancient symbols that twisted and reford, humming with the raw energy of the Guardians. Despite its serene glow, the barrier emitted a low vibration, as if warning those inside not to test its limits.

Curious, Sebastian stepped forward. With a flick of his wrist, he vanished from within the do, appeared outside, and reappeared inside almost as fast.

Ezekiel, who had been watching, gasped. "What are you doing?!"

"Just a test," Sebastian replied coolly. He reached out and pressed a hand against the barrier, only to feel an unexpected sensation—warmth. His fingers tingled as the energy pulsed beneath his touch, almost like a heartbeat. His brows furrowed as he turned to glance at the octagonal stage’s barrier.

"This one is different," he muttered, jerking his chin toward the stage where Silvermist and Athyst remained locked in their deadly confrontation. "That one kills."

"Of course, it does..."

A voice, smooth yet edged with amusent, cut through the noise of gasps and murmurs.

Sebastian and Ezekiel turned to see Cullen approaching them, his expression unreadable. He moved with an air of nonchalance, his steps unhurried, as though the chaos unfolding around them was of no consequence.

He walked past the two, lifting a hand toward the barrier.

Both Sebastian and Ezekiel stiffened when they saw his fingers pass through it—not breaking it, but dissolving into an eerie mist before reforming on the other side.

Cullen smirked. "A Guardians’ barrier only prevents a light evil force from penetrating what is protected inside it. Other than that," he flexed his fingers outside the barrier before pulling them back in with ease, "it’s completely useless."

Sebastian and Ezekiel exchanged glances, their unease growing.

Cullen chuckled under his breath. "I highly doubt they’ll succeed in penetrating that thing and if they do, this barrier might not be able to hold back if that woman goes berserk," Cullen added, his tone evidently mocking.

"The only thing stopping her from turning this entire place into a frozen wasteland is the God of War’s barrier. If they manage to penetrate it, the force field could shatter, and then..." He let the thought hang in the air, his gaze sweeping over the anxious apprentices trapped behind the shimring blue do.

Sebastian swallowed hard, his throat dry. "And what happens then?"

Cullen’s smirk deepened. "Then we all get front-row seats to our own execution just to save two brats. Can you believe that?"

Cullen’s words were heavy to bear. Even Ezekiel, who usually had a sharp remark for everything, remained silent. The distant roars of energy colliding filled the air, punctuated by Athyst’s agonized screams—sothing they wanted to put a stop, but all they could do is watch.

Sebastian clenched his jaw, pushing aside the creeping dread curling in his gut. "How do you know all of this?"

Cullen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes gleaming with sothing unreadable. He studied Sebastian for a mont before offering a slow, knowing grin.

"Let’s just say," he murmured, "I’ve seen all of this before."