FROST Chapter 30: The Purification™ (Terms and Conditions May Appl

"I’m so sorry. I never should have left you alone."

Frost’s voice lingered in Silvermist’s mind like a haunting lody, soft yet laced with sorrow. His touch—warm despite the coldness of his na—still burned against her skin.

She buried her face into her knees, as if curling into herself would make the mories fade. But they didn’t. They clung to her like the frost in winter, refusing to lt.

His eyes—endless and blue, like the depths of a frozen lake—held sothing she couldn’t quite na. And his hair... it was different.

Much longer than before, it now flowed past his waist, cascading like a waterfall of silver moonlight. Strands of it tangled in the air around him, moving as though they carried the weight of centuries.

"How long has it been?"

The thought sent a pang through her chest. Ti had passed, slipping away like sand through her fingers, and yet she had no idea how much of it had been lost.

But sothing else—sothing unsettling—caught her attention.

Amidst the sea of silver, there were strands of brown, as though remnants of another self still clung to him.

Silvermist frowned. Her fingers twitched toward her own hair, brushing through the strands absentmindedly—until she saw it.

Silver.

Not a trick of the light. Not a single strand, but many. They shimred in contrast to her natural shade, like frost creeping along the edges of a dying leaf.

She had only noticed it after stepping into the Purification Chamber... right after she had caused too much damage in the competition.

Silvermist’s brows furrowed as she clutched her knees tighter against her chest.

No one had told her what happened in the arena. No one. But the mont she opened her eyes, the aftermath had already answered the questions she never dared to ask.

The ground was shattered beyond recognition, broken pieces of the once-pristine floor scattered like fallen stars. Athyst—once untouchable, always poised—had been barely clinging to life. The looks on everyone’s faces, caught between fear and disbelief, burned into Silvermist’s mory.

And worst of all... the spear.

Her own hands had wielded it, driven it straight through Frost’s stomach.

Her breath trembled. There was no denying it. She had done that.

The weight of it pressed down on her, suffocating. How could she not rember? How could her mind be so empty when her hands had been stained with sothing irreversible?

Everything was a ss.

Before she had the chance to make sense of it, Frost had flicked her forehead—so casually, so effortlessly—and then... nothing.

She had woken up in the Purification Chamber. Alone. What happened after that?

Where was Frost? Had he survived? And Athyst?

Her stomach twisted. Had she—had she killed her?

The cold chamber, dark and suffocating, pressed down on her like an iron weight, amplifying the restless storm inside her. Her fingers curled into the fabric of the white robe she was wearing, gripping it tightly as if that could anchor her spiraling thoughts.

What if Frost was suffering sowhere far worse because of her? Would he be punished for what she had done? For what she had beco?

A shudder ran through her, but before she could drown in her own fears, another mory surfaced—a fragnt from a past she hadn’t lived, yet one she sohow knew.

Frost’s purification—the flickering image of Nix. Who was he? They were the sa person... weren’t they? Or were they not?

Why would soone who wielded dark power be chosen as the Winter Guardian—a title ant for balance, purity, and control? Why had he—of all people—been given the role of keeping the world’s equilibrium intact?

And then, the realization struck her like lightning.

She sucked in a sharp breath, the cold air burning her lungs.

Perhaps, Nix was the reason why she beca Frost’s apprentice—that book Nix had—Nix was the one who chose her not Frost. But they were the sa person, right?

Nix, a Guardian with darkness buried deep within him. And an apprentice who was filled with anger, hatred, and wrath.

Two beings mirroring each other, bound by forces beyond their control. Such a perfect fit.

Silvemist groaned, "such a divine plan worth dying for."

The soft glow of the crystalized door pulsed faintly as Silvermist lifted her gaze. Shadows stretched across the threshold, their presence unsettling against the pure, sterile white of the purification chamber. It wasn’t just any door—it was a seal. A barrier that only vanished at the presence of soone with the authority to step through.

So far, only Cloud had entered.

The last ti he did, it was to inform her of her impending purification. He had spoken in his usual detached manner, his words precise, clinical. He had not asked if she understood. He had not asked if she wanted this. He simply stated what would happen, then disappeared like a specter.

Silvermist hadn’t asked why.

She had already witnessed Nix’s purification. She knew the process, or at least she thought she did. And now, she was to walk the sa path, undergo the sa trial.

Yet, the one thing she could not bring herself to ask was what had happened to Frost and Athyst after it all.

The last thing she rembered was the weight of a crystalized spear in her hand... the gleam of silver hair cascading like a river... and the blood—his blood—staining the ground beneath him.

She had done that.

A lump ford in her throat. She had stayed silent, drowning in a whirlpool of her own guilt, fear, and sha, until Cloud eventually left, offering neither reassurance nor condemnation.

But now, the seal shimred. The door materialized. And this ti, Cloud wasn’t alone.

Two won followed in his wake, draped in black cloaks that swallowed them whole. Their faces were obscured, but Silvermist could sense the weight of their presence—they were not ordinary attendants.

Her gaze flickered back to Cloud, searching for answers in his cold, impassive eyes.

"Is it ti?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cloud gave a single, slow nod.

He said nothing else. He simply stepped aside, allowing the two won to move forward.

Silvermist didn’t know what to expect, but logic dictated that she was to follow them. The mont she rose to her feet, the won mirrored her movent, stepping closer. Without a word, they extended their hands above hers, palms hovering inches away.

A sudden warmth blood between them, and then—a translucent, white sphere encased her hands, its surface pulsating like a heartbeat.

Cloud’s voice, steady and indifferent, broke the silence.

"It’s a suppression," he said. "In case you lose control again."

Again.

The word struck her harder than she expected, but she only nodded, swallowing the bitter truth. Without hesitation, she stepped forward as Cloud gestured her to proceed.

She had assud that Nix’s purification chamber and her own were one and the sa, but the mont she left, she realized—they weren’t.

The corridors stretched infinitely, all-consuming white, as though even a shadow had no right to exist here. It was unsettling. Overwhelming. As if this place refused to acknowledge darkness at all, lest it awaken sothing within her that should not be disturbed.

The silence was suffocating, the walk seemingly endless. But then—finally—an exit.

The mont she stepped through, blinding light engulfed her.

Silvermist instinctively squinted, raising a bound hand to shield her eyes. It took a mont for her vision to adjust, but when it did—

Her breath hitched.

Towering figures stood before her.

Her knees nearly buckled, her boots slipping against the crystalized floor.

"What the fu—" she gasped, only to be forcefully nudged forward by one of the cloaked won.

Silvermist nearly stumbled. "S-Sorry."

But her mind was no longer on them.

Before her, rising high like celestial deities carved from eternity itself, three throne-like structures glead with impossible brilliance.

The central throne, the grandest of them all, was carved from pure lightning, its form constantly shifting, crackling with raw power. Sitting upon it was a man whose very presence felt like the eye of a storm.

His golden hair shimred like molten sunlight, cascading down broad shoulders, his sharp, angular features exuding both authority and untad ferocity. His eyes, a piercing electric blue, seed to stare straight through Silvermist’s soul. Every breath he took sent the air humming with restrained energy—a god of thunder incarnate.

To his right, seated in regal stillness, was a figure Silvermist instantly recognized—the Lunar King, but he was different from the last ti she had taken sight of him in the royal viewing. Although it was quick, she could swear he isn’t as large—huge—whatever—like he is now.

His presence was as familiar as the midnight sky, his silver hair glowing under the celestial light. His violet eyes, unreadable yet all-seeing, observed her with eerie calmness. Unlike the storm-bound deity beside him, the Lunar King was composed, enigmatic—a being of moonlight and mystery.

And to the left—

A woman.

A goddess.

She was radiant.

Her throne seed woven from ethereal stardust, shifting between forms, cascading like silk. She was too beautiful to be real, her golden skin luminescent, eyes like galaxies spinning in an endless dance. Her flowing hair shimred with hues of twilight, blending seamlessly with the cosmos itself. Every curve, every movent she made, was grace incarnate—an existence that no mortal should be able to perceive, yet here Silvermist stood, looking directly at her.

A lump ford in her throat. She had no idea who these beings were. But one thing was certain.

She’s cooked!

The goddess leaned forward, her galaxy-spun eyes narrowing slightly as if scrutinizing every inch of Silvermist’s existence.

"So, this is the infamous Silvermist Evermore..." she mused, her voice a lody, each syllable dripping with an ethereal grace—not just spoken, but sung into existence. It was haunting, entrancing, like the lull of the universe itself whispering secrets only gods could understand.

Silvermist barely had ti to react before the goddess vanished.

A gasp tore from her throat as the divine being dissolved into a flurry of golden dust, swirling in an elegant dance before reforming—right in front of her.

Now, they stood face to face.

No longer a towering celestial, but now eye level. As though the goddess had reshaped herself, adjusting her divine form to Silvermist’s mortal fra.

Yet, despite their similar height, there was no mistaking the overwhelming presence that radiated from the deity—vast, boundless, suffocatingly beautiful.

The goddess circled Silvermist, her fingers tapping her chin as she examined her with a critical yet amused gaze. Every step she took felt deliberate, as though she were asuring sothing far beyond the physical.

Once finished, she turned to the gods seated before them.

"Caspian was right," she clasped her hands together, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "She’s indeed a beauty, Adonis."

Silvermist watched as the two gods blinked in mild surprise. She caught the briefest flicker of emotion on the Lunar King’s face—embarrassnt. He looked away quickly, his silver eyes clouded.

Caspian?Adonis? Thesegodshavenas?

"Save your beauty-enthusiast self for later, Seraphina," the thunder god groaned, massaging the bridge of his nose as if nursing a headache.

"Oh, right, sorry." The goddess—Seraphina—grimaced and turned back to Silvermist before vanishing in a shimr of golden dust, reappearing on her throne in her original towering form.

A thick silence followed before the thunder god cleared his throat.

"I believe you already know what this is about, human," he began. His voice was like the roar of a storm, loud and forceful, making Silvermist flinch.

Her breath hitched when she realized Cloud and the two won had disappeared. She was alone now, waiting for her punishnt.

"Y-Yes, sir," Silvermist stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I have hurt people. My own master. Because I lost control."

The thunder god exhaled deeply, as if disappointed but not entirely surprised.

"You do realize that is a grave sin, don’t you?" he said. His eyes bore into her, heavy with unspoken judgnt. "One that might cost you your life as punishnt?"

Silvermist swallowed hard. She hadn’t even thought that far so what the hell.

Her fingers curled into fists, a bead of sweat rolling down her temple. She had no choice but to nod.

The goddess, Seraphina, tilted her head, observing her reaction with mild amusent.

"Why are you getting pale?" she teased, chuckling softly. "It’s not like we’re going to kill you—"

"Seraphina."

The thunder god shot her a sharp glare, and the goddess quickly fell silent, her smile vanishing.

He sighed. "While it’s true that you have hurt people—almost killed an apprentice and wounded your own master—we cannot place the bla solely on you." His tone darkened. "Because his son was the true cause of this ss."

Silvermist followed the thunder god’s gesture toward the Lunar King, who imdiately averted his gaze.

"His stupid-of-a-son," the thunder god continued, unimpressed, "disregarded the rules. If he had only followed them, things wouldn’t have ended up like this."

Silvermist’s lips parted. "Rules?" she echoed, her voice uncertain.

"Yes, rules, my dear. It was set solely for the Winter Guardian once he got to choose his apprentice," Seraphina nodded, her voice sweet yet sharp. "By now, you must have figured out who Frost really was. You must have seen his true self."

Silvermist’s breath turned shallow, her heart pounding. She forced herself to stay calm before nodding.

Seraphina’s gaze darkened. "You and Frost—the bond between you and him is a rare one. A fated connection." Her voice dipped into sothing deeper, almost ominous. "A bond with the power to tear realms apart if used incorrectly."

The Lunar King finally spoke. His voice was smooth yet heavy, laced with an ancient sorrow.

"My son, Nix..." He hesitated, then sighed. "He was conceived through violation by a god of darkness. Because of this, he was never ant to be one of the Guardians."

Silvermist’s eyes widened in shock.

"But then," the Lunar King continued, his tone hollow, "the moon chose him. It declared that he was the only rightful being to inherit the title of Winter Guardian." His eyes dimd. "So, he was purified... and beca Frost, your master."

Right! Purified. She had seen that herself.

Her mind reeled, rembering Nix’s eyes, his voice, the way the darkness wrapped around him like a second skin.

"And then," the king continued, "he chose an apprentice like you. Soone he had cultivated for so long."

Silvermist’s heart pounded, more aggressive this ti.

The Lunar King leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "Nix was the reason you are tainted. Stained. Shattered." His words sent a chill through her. "He molded you to beco his rightful apprentice before he was purified. And Frost? He was trying to undo what Nix had done. Trying to fix everything... before you beco his human staff."

He exhaled, his voice heavy with an unspoken burden. "Because he believed he was never fit to be your master." His silver eyes darkened. "He tried to absorb everything Nix had embedded within you, sparing you from undergoing a painful purification... and choosing to suffer in your place."

The thunder god released a slow, asured sigh. "Now that he has fully beco a Guardian, he should be incapable of feeling darkness. If he allows it to fester, even for a mont, he will cease to exist— and with him, the Earth’s delicate balance will shatter."

The goddess’ expression softened, yet there was urgency in her tone. "Frost has been slipping into hibernation ever since he started drawing out Nix’s remnants from within you, Sil." Her golden gaze locked onto Silvermist’s, piercing yet imploring. "And after taking the blow ant for Athyst, his condition has only worsened."

She exhaled, her voice dropping into sothing almost pleading. "Perhaps this ti, will you help him? Not just for his sake, Sil. Not just for yourself. But for everyone."

A solemn hush fell over them before the goddess’ next words rang like a prophecy.

"If Frost succumbs to darkness, the Earth will fall—long before the Sand Man even begins to unwind his web."