FROST
Chapter 48: The Test—The Answer

Chapter 48: The Test—The Answer

West remained still, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as he listened to her words. The cavern, which only moments ago had been filled with violent energy and deafening impacts, was now eerily silent — save for the faint crackle of residual mana in the air and the distant sound of falling pebbles from the shattered ceiling.

The dust finally began to settle, and the moonlight streaming through the fissures above bathed them both in pale, almost ethereal light.

"W-West—" Silvermist called out, her voice trembling yet louder this time, just enough for him to hear through the settling silence. He didn’t respond right away, only tilting his head slightly in her direction, acknowledging her presence with that small movement, yet saying nothing.

The violet aura that had raged around him moments before was slowly dissipating, fading into faint wisps that vanished into the cold night air. His eyes, once glowing with an otherworldly gleam of violet energy, had finally softened and returned to their natural dark hue. Slowly, almost carefully, he turned fully to face her, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hair.

"Are you hurt?" His voice was deep and steady, carrying its usual calm weight, yet there was something softer beneath it — a thread of concern hidden in his stoic tone.

Silvermist blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself. Her legs trembled beneath her, her knees threatening to buckle from exhaustion and the storm of emotions twisting inside her chest. But with effort, she straightened her back and forced herself to remain standing. "I-I’m not," she murmured, though her breath was shaky. Her eyes flickered toward Xavier, lying motionless against the shattered rock wall. His once overwhelming presence now felt faint, his mana nearly extinguished. "W-Will he be okay?"

West’s brow twitched at the question. He exhaled softly, his expression almost wry. "For someone who was said to have been consumed by anger and hatred, it’s strange hearing concern from your lips."

Silvermist’s lips parted, caught between offense and disbelief. "E-Excuse me?" she stammered, her voice rising just a little. "I’m not that bad of a person, you know." Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she struggled to find the right words.

"I don’t even understand why my hatred is such a big deal to everyone. I never asked to be... unloved. I never wanted to be ignored or pushed aside. I just... I just reacted to what the world gave me." Her voice cracked toward the end, her vulnerability slipping through the cracks of her defenses.

"Hmm?" West hummed, his tone low and curious as he finally turned to face her fully. His dark eyes, now calm and clear, studied her with unsettling sharpness — as though he could see straight through her defenses and into the storm she was hiding.

"Then why do you think you corrupted your master, Frost?" he asked, his voice steady but piercing. "If it’s just mere hatred or anger... why do you think he’s suffering from it now?"

Silvermist froze. His words hit her like a cold blade to the heart, slicing through the fragile layers of denial she had carefully built around herself. A lump formed in her throat, thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She hadn’t dared ask herself that question before — not really.

Now that West had said it out loud, it echoed violently in her mind. Why? How could simple human emotions — loneliness, anger, and resentment — corrupt a Guardian, a divine being of pure elemental balance? Guardians weren’t supposed to fall victim to such things. They were above them. Weren’t they?

Her thoughts spiraled, frantic and suffocating.

Or maybe they’re not. Maybe Frost had always carried something fragile inside him, something easily stirred.

Her mind went back to that vision she’d seen when she lost control in the arena — that fleeting, twisted glimpse of Frost not as the noble Winter Guardian everyone revered, but as something darker. Something hollow and cold, with shadows clinging to his being like chains.

Is it because of Nix? The name rang like a whisper in her thoughts, dragging with it a thousand unanswered questions.

Nix, the fruit of the Queen’s suffering, a force without warmth or compassion, feared rather than worshipped. If that’s truly the thing... if that’s his real nature before he was named the Winter Guardian...

Her heart clenched painfully. Thenwhyaretheyblamingme?

Why did they point their fingers at her for bearing such natural emotions when the darkness was already part of him? Had she simply been the spark that ignited what was already simmering? Was her anger and hatred the match, and Frost’s hidden nature the fuel waiting to burn?

It doesn’t make sense! How can natural reactions from her torments can affect everyone?

Her breaths became shallow. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, but she bit them back.

It wasn’t fair. It had never been fair. And now she was standing here, condemned as the source of Frost’s corruption, when maybe — just maybe — he had been carrying that darkness long before she ever came along.

"Nothing makes sense, West," Silvermist finally whispered, her voice trembling before rising into something raw and broken. She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as her chest heaved. "I never wanted any of this." Her voice cracked, but she forced herself to go on, the dam of emotions breaking open after being bottled up for far too long.

"I may have been living an awful life, but it wasn’t entirely hopeless," she continued, her words spilling faster now, heavy with the weight of everything she’d carried alone. "I admit it — I cursed the family I was born into. I cursed the betrayals, the loneliness, the constant feeling of being unwanted... But aren’t those things just part of life? Bad things happen. People get hurt. But they endure." Her breath caught, and she swallowed hard, her vision blurring.

"There are people out there suffering more than me," she choked out. "People who’ve lost everything — and yet they’re not condemned! They’re not singled out! Why me?"

Her shoulders shook as she continued, her words hoarse and bitter. "Why was I chosen to live such a sad, suffocating life... and then chosen again to become an apprentice, only to be blamed for something I never asked for? For something I don’t even understand?"

She lifted her gaze to West, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her breath ragged. "Isn’t that too unfair for me?" Her voice finally broke, the last word barely more than a whisper.

She stood there, exposed and vulnerable, the weight of years of hurt and confusion crashing down on her all at once. In that moment, she was no longer Silvermist the apprentice, or Silvermist the vessel of hatred the others whispered about. She was just a girl — desperate to understand why fate had written her story in tragedy and sorrow, and why no one seemed to care.

West only stared at her in silence, his expression unreadable. He made no move, no comment — simply standing there, his gaze fixed on her as though he was peeling back every layer of her words, trying to grasp what she truly felt beneath all the noise. For the first time, someone wasn’t dismissing her or blaming her — he was just listening.

Silvermist’s voice trembled as she continued, her breath shuddering between words. "Frost... he’s supposed to be on my side," she whispered, her voice breaking with quiet resentment and pain. "He’s my master, my partner. He’s supposed to guide me, shed light on me, but he chose to suffer alone. He shut me out and left me to face everything on my own." Her throat tightened painfully, but the words kept spilling out.

"But did I complain?" she asked, her voice rising just slightly with frustration, her fingers trembling as they clutched the hem of her sleeve. "I didn’t. I swallowed it. I endured it. Because I kept telling myself — maybe it’s hard for him too. Maybe carrying that power... that responsibility... maybe it’s breaking him too, and I needed to be understanding."

She shook her head slowly, blinking back tears. "But what about me, West?" Her voice cracked fully this time, raw and full of the ache she had buried deep. "What about me? Who’s supposed to understand me?"

Her chest heaved as the truth left her lips — bitter, unspoken for far too long. "I was never asking for protection or pity. I just wanted... someone who would stand with me. Just once. Someone who wouldn’t leave me behind or blame me for things beyond my control. But all I’ve ever gotten was silence. Abandonment by someone I expected to be my anchor."

She looked up at West again, her voice turning hollow. "I tried to carry it all... and I’m..." She gasped. "I’m so tired."

She clutched her chest tightly, fingers digging into the fabric of her clothes as though trying to hold the pain inside — to stop it from spilling out into long, agonizing sobs that threatened to tear her apart from the inside.

"But, yeah..." she whispered bitterly, eyes downcast. "I made a mistake. I listened to that damned woman... I let her words sink in when I was at my weakest. In that moment of desperation, I broke Frost’s staff. I shattered everything out of pure greed... all because I was so desperate to find something that looked like happiness." Her breath hitched, and she shook her head slowly, her voice heavy with guilt and self-loathing. "And now look at me... dragging all of you into danger, all because of my selfishness."

A hollow laugh escaped her lips — one that lacked any humor. "I guess I deserve this after all."

For a long moment, silence filled the cavern. The distant sound of crumbling rock and the fading hum of residual magic seemed so far away compared to the storm raging inside her. Slowly, with trembling resolve, she raised her hand and flexed her fingers, staring at her palm as though searching for strength in herself. "But I’ll do everything I can to fix what I’ve done." Her voice grew steadier, though the pain still trembled beneath it. "I won’t run anymore."

She turned her gaze back to West, her eyes shining with both fear and determination. "The three of you — Sebastian, Ezekiel, and you..." she paused, swallowing hard, "You were sent to watch over me, weren’t you? You can kill all of those elves earlier if the three of you wanted to, but you waited to see how I would act and..." she giggled. "I think I gave you all an embarrassing scene."

A flicker of surprise crossed West’s face — subtle, but noticeable. His composure almost faltered for a split second, but he quickly masked it, the calm veil returning to his expression.

"You’ve seen the uncontrolled magic I unleashed back in the arena," Silvermist murmured, her voice softer now, almost wistful. She looked down at her hand once more, fingers trembling slightly. "I don’t remember anything from that day... except Frost’s smiling face." Her lips curled into a bitter smile. "That jerk... for a moment, I thought he was finally going to guide me. That maybe—just maybe—he’d stay by my side this time. But no. He vanished again." Her voice wavered but steadied with resolve. "I guess he’s still not done sulking."

A small breath escaped her lips, and for the first time, her smile wasn’t bitter — it was determined. "Until then... I’ll learn to control the magic he left me."

She flexed her fingers slowly, and before West could blink, shimmering mana began to swirl from her palm. His eyes widened, reflecting the dazzling surge of power as the raw magic began to take form — swirling light gleamed in mesmerizing shades of deep Prussian blue, shifting into brilliant turquoise, emerald green, and soft celadon, blending and twisting like northern lights caught in a vortex. Then, without hesitation, the energy solidified with a sharp crackle, forming into a spear of glistening, crystalline ice — jagged yet elegant, humming with concentrated force.

West’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected that.

Before he could utter a word, Silvermist shifted her weight, stepping back with one foot in a fluid, practiced stance. Her body twisted with perfect balance, and with a burst of speed that cut through the air like a slicing wind, she spun and hurled the crystallized spear behind her without even glancing back.

At first, it struck nothing but empty air.

But then, the spear halted mid-air, vibrating with mana — and with a warped distortion, reality seemed to bend. Blood bloomed in the empty space, dripping from nowhere, before slowly revealing the figure of an elf as the concealment spell shattered.

The elf stumbled forward, spear lodged deep in his abdomen, crimson staining his lips as he coughed violently. His pale eyes widened in disbelief and terror.

"I-It can’t be..." he rasped, his voice strained and broken. "I—I masked my mana... perfectly." He gritted his teeth, trembling fingers reaching for the spear, but the moment he tried to pull it free, his body buckled and collapsed heavily to the ground.

West’s eyes widened further, his heart skipping a beat as realization dawned. The elf — Xavier’s brother — had been wounded, escaping from Sebastian and Ezekiel after sensing his brother’s mana disappear, only to meet his end here.

And Silvermist had sensed him.

He watched, still frozen, as the elf struggled feebly, blood pooling beneath him as he failed again and again to rise.

"How...?" West’s thoughts raced, disbelief surging through him. How did she detect his presence when I couldn’t sense a single thing?

His gaze slowly drifted to Silvermist, who still held her stance — her form steady, unwavering, eyes locked on her target even now, her face calm yet fierce, as though she had always known exactly where to strike.

For the first time, West understood Ezekiel’s words.

"Whatever you believe about her — whatever mistakes she’s made, or how close she might seem to falling into hatred — I have no doubt that she’ll find control on her own. Even without Frost’s guidance. And Frost... he knows that. That’s exactly why he chose to distance himself from her."

"Frost..." West muttered under his breath, eyes still pinned on Silvermist. "What is it you’re really trying to do?"

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