FROST
Chapter 58: The Path to the Elixir

Chapter 58: The Path to the Elixir

Silvermist groaned, pressing her lips together as the unbearable heat seeped through the robe. Her feet were numb, blistering with every step, and the air she breathed felt like fire, scraping at her throat with every gasp.

The suffocating warmth clawed at her chest, and each breath made it harder to continue.

"T-This is bad..." she muttered, squinting as she stumbled forward, her surroundings a blur. She didn’t know where she was going, just that she had to keep moving—toward the Elixir, wherever it might be.

Her instincts screamed at her to push through the pain, to ignore the fire licking at her skin. There was no turning back now. She had already decided.

Now she had to make it. "Just a little longer," she whispered to herself, desperate, focused on nothing but the path ahead.

But no matter how strong her willpower was, her body simply couldn’t keep up. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees, bracing for the searing pain she expected to shoot through her skin the moment she hit the ground.

Yet, while the surface beneath her was blistering hot, it wasn’t as unbearable as she had feared—more like embers smoldering rather than a roaring fire.

Now she could feel her lungs burning, every exhale felt like it carried the last bit of moisture from her body. Desperately, she tightened the cloak around herself, fingers clenching the fabric.

"Y-You better not burn, cloak," she huffed, trying to ignore the dizziness creeping in. "I don’t w-wanna hear more bubbling nonsense from your idiotic owner."

The weight of exhaustion clung to her limbs, making even the smallest movement feel impossible. She forced her arms to push against the ground, trying to hoist herself up, but the strength had long since drained from her body. Before she could react, her knees gave way completely, and she collapsed forward.

"T-This won’t d-do..." she mumbled, nails scraped against the charred surface, bits of ash and ember clinging to her trembling hands.

Her vision wavered, the shimmering waves of heat distorting the space around her, making the very air seem like it was bending, twisting, conspiring against her.

The furnace raged around her, the fire hissing, greedy, licking at her resolve, testing the limits of her endurance. The embers beneath her hands pulsed with a cruel heat, branding her skin.

Slowly, she raised a trembling hand, fingers twitching with effort as she tried to summon whatever flicker of magic she could muster in this moment of desperation.

A thin, wavering strand of energy curled at the tips of her fingers, barely visible against the searing brightness of the furnace. It crackled weakly, fizzling out before it could take shape, swallowed whole by the suffocating heat.

A hollow laugh scraped its way up her throat. Pathetic. Was this truly all she was capable of? She had always struggled with wielding magic at will, even the basic elemental bending. She had even spent secret time fumbling through trial and error, and yet she still dared to step into a raging inferno as if she could prove herself worthy?

Worthy of what?

She tried once more, forcing her trembling arms to push her upright, to fight against the invisible force which kept her on the ground. But the furnace did not yield. Instead, it stole what little strength she had left, leeching the last traces of her mana, swallowing them into its endless hunger.

A bitter chuckle left her lips, though it barely carried past the heavy, suffocating air. "I-I guess... Estes will be telling a boring tale after all," she murmured.

Slowly, Silvermist’s vision blurred, the edges of her world dissolving into a haze of heat and exhaustion.

Her heavy eyelids drooped, her body on the verge of surrendering to the unbearable warmth swallowing her whole. But just as darkness threatened to pull her under, a voice—soft yet authoritative—echoed through the furnace, reverberating from all directions at once.

"A apprentice human has made its way here..."

The voice was ethereal, weightless, as if it drifted on the heat itself. It carried no malice, no warmth—only curiosity laced with an eerie detachment.

"Why are you still alive? Why have the crimson flames not consumed you? How did you open the gates?"

Silvermist’s brow creased as she forced her sluggish mind to process the words. Alive? Was she? Her body felt like it was breaking apart, like the heat had seeped into her bones, hollowing her out from within. But she was still breathing. Still clinging to consciousness, however faintly.

Gritting her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing moisture to form, desperate to clear her blurred vision. She needed to see. She needed to know who—or what—was speaking to her.

But there was no one.

At least, not at first.

The voice came again, this time shifting and moving. Then, something flickered above her.

With the last ounce of strength she could summon, Silvermist lifted her head, her gaze latching onto the impossible sight hovering just beyond her reach. A glow—a deep, spectral blue—scattered like a hundred fireflies before coalescing into a single, pulsating orb of light.

Silvermist’s lips parted. "I-I d-don’t know," she rasped, her throat dry and raw, her words faltering. She swallowed hard, pushing through the hoarseness. "B-But what I do know i-is... this cloak... it’s made of s-some magical fur. I-It repels fire."

Her fingers clutched at the fabric draped around her, as if reaffirming its presence, as if willing it to keep her shielded just a little longer.

The orb pulsed once, its glow intensifying.

"Fur of the Fire Fox..." The voice hushed, its tone shifting into something reverent, yet laced with suspicion. "No human owns such a thing. No human could ever defeat such a mystical creature. How did you come by it?"

Silvermist sucked in a breath, her lungs searing from the heat, her body growing heavier by the second. Even speaking felt like a battle, each syllable scraping against her parched throat.

"A-An elf friend... lent it to me," she mumbled, peeking out from the safety of the cloak just enough to see the hovering light.

The orb pulsed, flickering erratically, as if her words had disturbed it.

"Why would an elf do such a thing?" The voice turned sharp in barely contained rage. "Why would a race so proud, so burned by betrayal, aid a mere human? Have you forgotten? Thousands of years ago, your kind turned against them!"

Silvermist’s eyes fluttered shut, the sting of dryness is getting more and more unbearable, but she let them rest just long enough to regain clarity.

"I don’t know anything about that," she groaned. "B-But you said it yourself—thousands of years have passed. The world isn’t the same anymore. Things have already changed."

A silence stretched between them. Then, a low, mocking hum resonated from the orb, the heat around her crackling like laughter.

"Ahh... is that why some lowly human dares to step into the inferno now?" The voice dripped with disdain, amusement curling around its words. "How bold. How foolish."

The temperature spiked, and Silvermist instinctively pulled the cloak tighter around her body.

"I do not care what it is you seek within my domain," the voice continued. "But I advise you to turn back... before the Fire Fox’s cloak turns to cinders, and you are left to burn with it—"

"No!" she groaned, her limbs trembled, her muscles screaming in protest, but she forced herself upright, dragging herself into a sitting position. "I... I came here for a reason," she gasped, each breath burning her lungs. "I’m here to retrieve the Elixir a-and to prove e-everyone and m-myself that I can be a worthy apprentice."

Summoning what little strength remained, she yanked the cloak from her head, letting it fall to her shoulders. The full force of the heat struck her bare skin, she didn’t even care if the flames burn her hair off. And for a moment, she thought she might collapse again—but she held firm, her chin lifting in defiance.

The orb of light flickered. Then, without warning, laughter erupted, echoing through the inferno with a force that made the very air tremble. The flames surrounding her roared to life, stretching higher, as if feeding off the entity’s amusement.

"Ha... haha... HAHAHAHA!" The voice crackled like firewood snapping apart, its mirth filling the space. "The Elixir? You speak of it as if it is something one can simply take—like a trinket lying forgotten in the dust."

The heat surged, scraping against her skin that she winced. It was too painful she thought she’d completely loss consciousness.

"Hang in there. Hang in there..." she kept muttering to herself.

"That is something even the Forest Spirit has not dared retrieve, and yet here you are—some pitiful human, barely clinging to life—claiming you will succeed where even the ancients have failed?" The voice sneered, brimming with condescension. "Tell me, human—what makes you think you are worthy?"

Silvermist’s cracked lips parted, but no words came out.

What made her worthy? The truth was—she didn’t know.

Not at first. Not until memories surfaced, crawling their way past the exhaustion, past the fire threatening to consume her whole.

She thought of Adeline—the little girl who, despite knowing Silvermist was the one who shattered the Winter Guardian’s staff, never once looked at her like she’s a failure.

Instead, she stood by her, even as their lives as apprentices grew more difficult. Then there was Mila—gentle, kind Mila—who, after finding out the truth, still smiled at her like nothing had changed, like she still mattered.

Her breath shuddered as more faces came to mind.

Ezekiel. The authoritative yet kind Ezekiel, who was the first one who cared for her despite knowing what she had done.

Sebastian, with his own mystery, who had every reason to abandon her but didn’t. And West—West, who she was convinced resented her, who barely tolerated her presence, yet still came to this forsaken island to help.

And then, finally, Frost.

Her heart clenched. The man she had wronged the most. The master she betrayed, knowingly or not—yet never turned his back on her. Well, technically he did since he really had isolation tendencies, but Silvermist had slowly understood the reason behind it.

Frost had every right to hate her the most especially after what happened back in the arena. But he didn’t. He had accepted her. Protected her. Suffered alone for her sake.

The voice chuckled, low and mocking, snapping her back to the present.

"Well?" it taunted, the flames twisting and writhing as if waiting for her to break.

Silvermist exhaled, each word trembling on her lips. But she clenched her fists, grounding herself, forcing her body to obey.

"I am worthy," she whispered. "Because they believe I am."

"I am worthy," she continued, her body quaking under the unbearable heat, "because despite my weaknesses... despite my failures... I was chosen to bear this responsibility."

The voice scoffed. "Belief? Chosen?" The entity sneered. "You think mere sentiment will allow you to claim the Elixir? Foolish girl."

"You asked me what makes me worthy," Silvermist winced, sweat dripping down her chin. "And this... this is my answer."

Her cracked lips twitched into a weak smile, even as her vision swayed. "I may be foolish. I may be weak. But I have people waiting for me. People who believe in me... people who stood by me even when I failed them."

She swallowed, coughing. "So even if I don’t believe in myself, I have to move forward... because they believe in me."

Suddenly, a deafening roar split through the air, shaking the very foundation of the furnace.

"Then show me..."

The voice boomed, no longer just a whisper in the flames but a force—an entity—commanding the inferno itself.

Silvermist barely had time to react before the ground beneath her trembled violently, the earth cracking open in jagged lines. She gasped, her instincts kicking in as she staggered backward, gripping the cloak.

A sickening crack echoed through the air, and suddenly, the ground underneath her feet began to splinter. Chunks of scorched stone crumbled, breaking off and tumbling into the abyss below. The heat surged upward from the void, licking at her exposed skin, threatening to pull her down into its burning depths.

Silvermist’s breath came in ragged gulps. She forced her aching limbs to move, stumbling away from the collapsing earth.

But with each desperate step, another part of the ground gave way, pieces of the world she stood on vanishing into nothingness.

Silvermist’s breath hitched, her body trembling not from fear, but from the sheer magnitude of the moment. Before her, standing on the very last sliver of ground meters away, was the glowing orb—the voice incarnate. And beside it, emerging from the swirling embers of a fireball, was the very thing she’s staking her life for.

The Elixir.

Her lips parted, barely able to utter the words. "The Elixir..."

The orb pulsed, its voice reverberating through the chasm. "Now, human," it flickered, its presence intensifying. "Show me your conviction."

The last remaining strip of ground stretched between them—a fragile path on the brink of oblivion. Cracks spiderwebbed through its surface, as though it could shatter at the mere whisper of hesitation.

"The remaining ground will only serve you if you are truly worthy," the voice warned. "However, the moment you waver—even the slightest—the earth will crumble beneath you, and you shall plummet into the void of eternal flames."

Despite the heat, Silvermist felt her entire body froze.

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