FROST
Chapter 121: Within the Flame

Chapter 121: Within the Flame

Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun

Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun

The name lingered in the chamber like the echo of an incantation, ancient and loaded with significance far beyond their understanding.

"You mean, the only way for us to find him is for Silvermist to call him with that name?" Cloud groaned, his jaw tight with tension.

His brows furrowed deeply as his fists twitched at his sides, struggling to contain the rising storm within. His ivory eyes, once bright with the arrogance of youth, now dulled with worry and weariness, locked onto his father.

Standing beside him, East said nothing. His presence was silent, but heavy. The ornate robes of the Spring Guardian shimmered faintly in the moonlight that spilled across the marbled floor through the glassed window.

He stood as still as a statue, but the energy coiled beneath betrayed his unease. They were in the Lunar King’s private chamber, summoned after the alarming news—Frost had totally vanished from the Guardian Realm, leaving behind no trace, no portal residue, not even a signature of his magic—no threads.

And none of them knew where to start looking.

The Lunar King, Caspian, dressed in a velvet maroon robe threaded with silver constellations and clasped by a brooch made of phoenixstone, he sat at the head of a crescent-shaped crystalline table, the veins of mana etched into the surface glowing softly beneath his fingers.

"I already told you the consequences," Caspian said, his voice grave. "For her to remember him, truly remember him and that name... she must allow the other soul within her to fully take over. And for that to happen, Miss Evermore as we know her—must disappear."

Cloud’s expression darkened, pain threading through his voice. "B-But that’s just not right, Father. Frost worked so hard—risked everything—just to protect her. He faced the Blight when no one else dared, threw himself into the darkest parts of the realm without hesitation. And Silvermist..." His voice broke slightly. "She didn’t let him fight alone. She fought to stay with him. She tried helping even when she didn’t fully understand—even when she knew the danger."

His fists trembled, nails digging into his palms. "I’m sorry, b-but I have to object, Your Highness."

Caspian didn’t look at him. Instead, he tapped a single finger against the surface of the table—once, twice, then stopped.

"I know you’d say that," he smiled. "But I don’t have any other way," he admitted quietly. "When Asmaros left the child in Ezekiel’s care, we didn’t know what he truly was. Not even I could see it when Asmaros had shed me some light."

He looked up at them then, the shadows under his amethyst eyes making the purple irises gleam like storm clouds. "I do not know what the extent of Nix’s magic is. I don’t even know what Asmaros planted in him before his death when he decided to wage war against us. But I do know this—once Nix fully awakens and once the apprentice he’s long waited for comes to him... the Guardian Realm will fall into imbalance. That kind of power... it will shake the veil between realms."

East finally spoke, his voice soft but deliberate. "And the humans’ realm?"

Caspian exhaled sharply through his nose. "I’m afraid it will also bleed into it. Magic will leak. Old pacts will break. The seals on things forgotten may crumble. You think the chaos now is bad? If we lose that balance, everything we’ve fought for—everything we rebuilt after the war against Asmaros—it will be undone."

A silence stretched between them, taut and suffocating.

Cloud ran a hand down his face, breath shallow. "So we’re trading Silvermist... for someone who might burn everything down."

"If you put it that way, yes," Caspian said with a surprising calmness. "But for some reason, a very big part of me trusts that girl. I’ve always known she’d somehow bring disaster to the academy..."

He eyed them both. "But have you remembered the time when Frost took her to us—she couldn’t see me, your mother, nor any of the Guardians except for Frost? That alone is a major red flag—and then your mother, Eleana, took a peek of her soul and she was not just stained, but entirely corrupted."

Cloud and East exchanged glances yet none of them talked.

"I wanted to cast her out right away—but Frost begged me not to—and not just Frost, even the Moon told me to sit down and behave..." Caspian threw his hands up. "Now? I’m this close to marching up there and yell, ’You fix it since you’re so wise!’ but of course, as the Moon’s servant, and as the King of the Lunar Kingdom, I better go back to my throne and act almighty."

He paused, looking between both Guardians.

"Anyway, Nixroth’Vael Zeir’Malun isn’t merely a name Asmaros bestowed—it’s a key. I didn’t realize it until now. A title... a curse... something layered in meaning that only Asmaros truly understood. And perhaps, a prophecy we were never meant to awaken—but then, the Moon let everything of this happen. Perhaps, there is a bigger reason why and we’re about to watch it unfold soon enough."

There was hesitation in East’s gaze, but also a reluctant understanding. A silent agreement passed between them—not through speech, but in the way Cloud’s jaw clenched, the way his shoulders dropped just slightly. They didn’t really have much choice.

If this is what the Moon wanted, then maybe, Frost is truly bound to revert and be saved by his apprentice—if the purification seal has been reversed and Nix was stirring—then Silvermist wasn’t just their last hope.

She was the hope.

East crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in thought before turning to the king with that familiar coolness carved into his expression. "I’ll see to her, Father," he said, calm and matter-of-fact. "And if she wrecks havoc?"

King Caspian blinked, almost offended by the question. "Do you think she will?"

East arched a brow and gave a half-hearted smirk, one that never quite reached his eyes. "Highly doubt it," he said with a shrug that managed to be both lazy and calculated. "It’s not like I trust an apprentice who can’t even summon her own mana without getting someone hurt or stabbed, but you know what I mean..."

He trailed off for a beat, thoughtful.

"I just know. Frost didn’t risk the reverse Blight just for anyone. He wouldn’t have tethered himself to her unless he saw something none of us could. Something even she doesn’t seem to understand yet. So maybe..." His lips twitched into something resembling admiration. "Maybe she’s a whole lot more powerful than she lets on. Or she’s just that annoying."

Cloud snorted, trying—and failing—to hide the laugh that escaped him.

East’s eyes slid toward his brother, the smirk widening just a bit. "It’s just a hunch, though," he added before throwing a mock bow. "What do you think, former Lunar King, sir?"

Cloud groaned loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, are we really doing the titles thing again? I was ’former Lunar King’ for like... seven hours, East. Seven. And three of those I was asleep mentally."

Caspian chuckled under his breath, a momentary warmth brushing through the solemn air.

Cloud spun dramatically on his heel, placing both hands on his hips as he turned to face their father, striking a pose that was half playful rebellion and half genuine sentiment. "But if you’re asking me, I’d say I place my bet on whichever the Grandmaster, East, sir, chooses."

East rolled his eyes. "You’re getting dramatic again."

"And you’re getting predictable," Cloud fired back.

Before either of them could continue their brotherly bickering, Caspian raised a hand to silence them.

"I trust her," he said quietly. "That’s not something I say lightly. But if Miss Evermore is the key to find Frost, then she’ll have my full support even if I have to go against the High Circle."

"Oh, damn," Cloud scratched the back of his head. "I’d rather not get them involved, Father. If Frost’s disappearance reaches their attention, they might hold another interrogation. They might end up keeping their eyes on the Academy. The apprentices are still too young in this field and I don’t want the High Circle to pressure them."

King Caspian nodded. "I highly agree," then he looked between his sons. "See to Miss Evermore then. Make sure she’s ready and I’ll take care of the rest."

There was no need for further orders. The weight of destiny had already begun to shift—and its center was no longer a warrior, or a king.

It was a girl who had once been too weak to hold her own magic.

Now, they would find out if she was strong enough to hold Nixroth’Vael Zeir’malun—draw him out— or perhaps... kill him.

The soft humming of magic echoed through the chamber like a mournful song. Threads of light and ancient sigils spiraled over the orb that held Silvermist in the very chamber, reacting to the chaos unfolding within. East now stood just beyond the warded boundary, the scent of burned ozone and bitter healing salves stinging his nose.

Inside the translucent sphere floated Silvermist, suspended in still a fragile state between being and breaking.

Healers are now summoned in to take over—three of the High Veil Order and two human-born prodigies—moved around the orb in anxious silence. Their hands hovered with glowing runes, muttering stabilizing incantations under strained breaths. Even the most seasoned among them bore the look of barely-contained panic.

Silvermist’s body was failing her.

Her skin peeled in cracked patches, raw and reddened beneath as if she were shedding more than just flesh—like the soul inside was rejecting the very body that carried it.

Wisps of silver hair drifted upward, then darkened into a rich chestnut brown before flashing back to silver again, over and over, a war of identity she could not win on her own.

And yet—her face remained. Twisted in pain, but determined. She was fighting it. Clawing her way through an awakening meant to erase her.

East’s gaze darkened as he stepped closer. The orb flickered in response to his presence, sensing authority—recognizing the bloodline that had summoned her here.

"She’ll rip herself apart before the soul even breaks through," murmured a healer behind him, sweat dripping from his temple. "We’ve tried to numb the pain, to anchor her—she keeps burning through the charms. Every time she calls his name in her sleep, the magic flares."

Another added, "It’s not just a possession. It’s a tether. She’s connected to him in ways we don’t understand and something inside her wanted to break free and be one with him and it couldn’t... " She turned to East. "She’s fighting deep within, Your Highness. And none of us could help—we’ll just have to wait."

East didn’t respond.

Instead, he stepped directly before the orb. He could see her more clearly now. Her fingers twitched in her sleep—if it was sleep. More like a state between agony and dreaming, eyes fluttering beneath their lids as if she were reliving something over and over.

"SILVERMIST," he called, voice low but firm.

The orb pulsed. Her head jerked slightly, brow furrowing. The hair on the nape of East’s neck rose.

"She heard me," he muttered.

"She’s not fully gone yet," whispered the youngest healer, barely older than sixteen. "But she’s slipping."

East lowered himself to one knee, one hand pressed to the barrier between them. "I don’t care if you can’t summon your mana. I don’t care if you’re terrified. And I definitely don’t care if you think you’re not enough. Listen to me."

The orb vibrated now, harder, as her lips trembled. Her skin began to crack along her arms, too raw for magic to fully mend. But her heartbeat—yes, it was still steady.

"I know you hear me, Silvermist," East said, softer now. "I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in prophecy. But I do believe in Frost... and he believed in you." His throat tightened. "So don’t you dare let him down... Not this time when he needs you the most."