FROST Chapter 81: A Cycle

The heavy chamber doors groaned open, and the air shifted with a sudden drop in pressure. The ssenger stepped inside first, his expression unreadable—but it was who followed that made Silvermist shoot to her feet.

West.

His face was sared with blood—fresh, wet, and stark against his pale skin. It wasn’t his. His uniform were slightly torn, dust clinging to the hem like he’d been dragged through sothing violent. But it was his eyes that stole her breath.

He wasn’t looking at anyone else—just her.

"D-Do you think he hurt soone in the simulation?" Silvermist’s voice cracked, filled with panic as she turned to Cullen. Her fingers curled into her sleeves, trembling as if the question itself scared her. "Or—or did soone hurt him?"

Cullen didn’t answer imdiately.

He didn’t have to.

After what they’d just seen in the book—after watching West’s na burn into the page alongside theirs—Cullen was sure. West hadn’t been summoned for a battle evaluation. He was summoned for the sa reason they were.

He watched as West followed the ssenger through the chamber, heading toward the sealed door on the right—the one none of them had ever been invited through. West didn’t say a word. Just kept his eyes low after that one lingering glance at Silvermist.

And Silvermist’s gaze chased after him, even after the door sealed with a whisper behind him.

Cullen could feel it. The tension. The worry. The attachnt.

But he wasn’t the only one who noticed.

Levi was staring, too. Not at West.

At her.

His jaw was tight, arms crossed, but it was the subtle flicker in his eyes that gave him away—like he was trying to read sothing in her face. Searching for confirmation. Jealousy simred just beneath the surface, coiled and bitter. Was she worried because West was part of the sa mana source? Or was it sothing more?

Cullen’s brow arched slightly.

"Jealousy looks good on you, Ashenfall," he muttered under his breath, smirking without looking at him.

Levi blinked, caught red-handed, and scowled. "Shut up, Cullen."

"Just saying," Cullen replied with a casual shrug, but his eyes were sharp. "Not my fault you’re still in love and suddenly realize you’ve got competition, but wait until you see her master, Frost," he grinned, teasing again. "I’m pretty sure, Silvermist is attached to him not just as his apprentice."

Levi’s lips quivered. He wanted to argue, but he figured out he’s not in place. He’s not even surprised anymore. He had already heard from Cullen that the Sun’s, East’s, and Blaze’s apprentice are close to her and they are known to be Arcane mages. Sothing Levi couldn’t put a fight with.

Besides... he turned back to where West had vanished behind... West is a cool guy. Levi thought. If I were Silvermist, and knowing her, she’d definitely fall in love with soone like him.

Silvermist didn’t have any idea what the two are talking about. Her eyes were still locked on the door.

---

West listened to the door’s low hiss behind him, sealing him into a smaller, darker chamber. The air here was colder.

He didn’t flinch, though. Not even as the silence settled over him like a noose. He knew what he had done, wiping the other him in just one blast without even using his full magic, dragging Athyst and Gail along with it which had badly hurt them.

Although East didn’t show their group’s simulation battle, he has still been summoned by the Lunar King to address the issue which has now been slightly confird—his mana is sohow linked to Silvermist as well. He had only shown dominant signs the mont they had been together in the Mist Island and now it has gotten concerning.

The walls were obsidian, veined with silver and lunar blue, softly pulsing like veins beneath skin. Crystals hovered above a circular platform in the center, suspended mid-air in a quiet orbit.

Everything here radiated with a strange serenity—but beneath it, a quiet hum of sothing volatile.

Waiting at the center, cloaked in silver-black robes, stood The Lunar King.

He was taller than West rembered, or perhaps it was the weight of his presence that lood. Either way, the king can take any form that he wanted. Gods can do that, even West could since he was created through a demon king’s magic.

The Lunar King’s crown was a circlet of broken moonstone, and his pale skin shimred faintly under the chamber’s light. His expression was blank—carved from stillness and ice.

"You ca," He said, his voice low and lodic, yet threaded with gravity. It echoed unnaturally, like it didn’t need to travel through air to be heard.

West’s boots clicked across the runes beneath him as he stepped forward. The blood still marked his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away.

"I didn’t have a choice, did I?" West asked, glancing at the ssenger who walked and stayed at the corner.

The Lunar King regarded him in silence before finally answering. "No. You didn’t."

Above them, one of the crystal shards halted in its orbit, flaring with light. It flickered with images—Silvermist’s face. The mont she looked up and saw him sared with blood.

West’s jaw clenched. "Why am I here? I an, I do know why, but I wanted so explanation, please, Your Majesty."

The King’s gaze, vast and silver as a twilight sea, fixed upon him—ancient, unreadable. "Because a seal is beginning to fracture. Mana threads are tightening. Resonance has already begun."

West stiffened. His breath slowed.

"What seal?" he asked, voice lower, taut. "What do you an by resonance?"

"You," the Lunar King whispered, stepping down from his moonlit dais, the hem of his robes trailing like fog. "You and the others—Silvermist, Levi, Cullen. You were never accidents of fate, West. Your connection is no coincidence. It is a construct. A binding older than the Academy, older than the Guardians. A thread that hums when pulled—woven by sothing far beyond our reach. Perhaps that is why the Moon chose each of you."

West didn’t move, but sothing inside him clenched. He had braced himself for revelations about himself—he had always sensed there was sothing off, sothing made, not born. But Silvermist?

His voice was rough when he spoke again, stepping closer into the cold glow. "Constructed... by whom, Your Majesty?"

The Lunar King turned slightly, his eyes half-lidded, as if watching shadows dance behind his own thoughts. "It could be the Moon itself," he murmured. "Or sothing older—sothing even the stars no longer na. All I know is this: Periwinkle—my youngest, my once-pride—obsessed over Silvermist long before she entered this realm. She tried to consu her, infiltrate her. Because breaking her... would have broken Frost. And through Frost, the other three Pillars would crumble. You know how dangerous that would be."

The silence tightened.

"I know how powerful the Season Guardians are," West said, voice lower now. "East even managed to purge Asmaros’ curse from himself... and then created . But why?" His hands curled slightly at his sides. "Why create if I’m a threat to the very realm I serve? Why did the Moon choose us? To keep enemies close?"

The King looked at him then—really looked at him—and his smile was soft. Tragic.

"Or perhaps to teach us that the sharpest blades," he said, "are sotis forged from the heart of what we fear most."

The King moved closer, his presence a calm weight against the pulsing uncertainty in the air. He placed a cool hand on West’s shoulder.

"Do not fret, child," he said softly. "You are the apprentice of the most powerful Guardian to ever exist. With East at your side, you have little to fear."

West lowered his gaze, nodding. "I am aware, Your Majesty... but—Silvermist..."

He hesitated. The na left his lips like a confession. A tremor rippled through his voice, small but unmistakable.

The Lunar King’s eyes narrowed, watching the flicker in West’s expression—the way his lips parted, how his brow tensed with unspoken thought.

"Hmm," the King mused, his voice now colored with quiet amusent. "So it wasn’t fear I sensed in you after all."

West blinked. "Pardon?"

A laugh escaped the King—high, soft, and eerie in the silence. He caught himself and composed his face again, though a ghost of a smile lingered. "East has ntioned it once or twice. That perhaps... you fancy Frost’s apprentice."

West stiffened. "Y-Your Majesty, I-I don’t—"

"Oh, but you do," the King said lightly, the corners of his lips twitching upward. "You wouldn’t be the first to deny it. And yet... it was in Mist Island that your mana cracked open and birthed sothing new to protect her, wasn’t it?"

West looked down, throat tightening. His silence spoke more than protest ever could.

The King’s hand gave one last pat to his shoulder before withdrawing.

"Or perhaps it’s not affection at all," he said, turning his back to West now, his robes whispering across the marble floor. "Perhaps it’s because she is the source—of your mana. Of Callaghan’s. Of Ashenfall’s."

He paused, glancing over his shoulder just enough for West to catch the glint in his eye.

"Resonance is not always born of love, child. Sotis... it’s born of sothing ancient. And far more dangerous and I believe I have already cracked the code."

The King turned to the silent ssenger standing by the archway. With a simple nod, the command was understood. The ssenger bowed low and disappeared beyond the gilded doors. Monts later, the doors creaked open again—this ti revealing Levi, Cullen, and Silvermist following behind.

West stiffened, breath catching in his throat. He looked away quickly, heart thudding at the echo of the King’s earlier words.

You fancy Frost’s apprentice...

No, he told himself. I couldn’t.

He had known about Levi and Silvermist’s past—heard it through Ezekiel, pieced it together from Cullen’s easy stories. But it wasn’t Levi who haunted him. It was Frost.

West had been there.

He had been standing beneath the wind-swept arch of the Academy gate the day Frost arrived with her. The mont Silvermist stepped into the moonlight, cloaked in magic she didn’t yet understand—his chest had clenched. He knew that very mont he had fallen in love.

But the way she looked at Frost, that quiet awe in her eyes—the way he looked back at her like she was sothing precious he feared to break—that wasn’t just a master and apprentice bond. That was sothing else. Sothing sacred only the two of them understands.

"West?" her voice was soft, near now. "Are you okay?"

His thoughts scattered. He gasped slightly and turned, slowly, to face her.

And there she was—Silvermist—eyes wide with worry, the kind that curled into her brows and tightened her lips. Her presence rushed into him like cold water over fire.

"Are you hurt?" she asked again, stepping closer. Her fingers found his hand gently, inspecting the dark stains on his knuckles. Her thumb brushed over the dried blood. "Is this yours?"

His mouth opened, but no sound ca out. His heart stumbled. Her touch was too warm. Too careful. Too much.

West stood frozen, as if the weight of her concern had unraveled sothing inside him.

And from across the chamber, the Lunar King giggled.

A soft, impish sound—barely audible—but it rang with knowing. He watched with delight as West, ever composed and pale, turned an alarming shade of red from his neck up to his ears.

"How curious," the King murmured to himself, eyes twinkling. "Even frost can burn," then he pointed himself. "Such a pun."

Behind Silvermist, Levi’s eye twitched—his jaw tightening as he watched her cradle West’s hand like it ant sothing. Like he ant sothing.

He took one step forward, instinct flaring. Every part of him scread to pull her back—to remind her that West was just another apprentice, not soone she should be looking at like that.

But just as his hand lifted, Cullen grabbed his sleeve with one hand and tugged—firm, quiet, and annoyingly smug.

"Don’t," Cullen murmured under his breath, low enough only Levi could hear. "You’re not subtle, and you’ll make it worse."

Levi glared at him, but didn’t move. His fingers curled into fists at his sides instead. "She never looked at like that," he muttered.

"Oh, she did," Cullen whispered with a smirk. "You were just too busy trying to prove you didn’t care."

Levi opened his mouth, but the words died when Silvermist softly said West’s na again.

"West..." her voice was lower now, almost breaking.

Levi’s breath hitched, and Cullen’s smirk faded. For once, even he had no teasing left in him. Because whatever was happening between them—between the four of them, now tied by mana, fate, or so ancient celestial joke—was only just beginning to unravel.

And the King was still watching. Smiling like he knew how this story ended... but then the smile disappeared.

"Bloodshed," he mumbled bitterly, slowly looking up the see-through ceiling where the moon shines brightly. "They’re just children, My Lord."