FROST
Chapter 59: Black Silvermist

Chapter 59: Black Silvermist

"HOLY FLYING SHIT!" Silvermist yelped, her voice echoing as the ground beneath her gave way the instant she stepped forward.

Pain jolted through her limbs, but fear overshadowed everything else. The earth crumbled like brittle parchment, sending chunks of rock tumbling into the gaping abyss below.

She should have saved herself. She should have let it go when it was swayed away by the searing wind which came out of nowhere. But instinct overruled logic.

Her fingers tightened around Estes’ cloak, the fabric slipping through her grasp. In her desperate attempt to snatch it back, her balance shattered.

Her footing vanished.

For a split second, she was weightless—then she plummeted. A choked gasp left her lips before sheer reflex took over. Her hands shot out, fingers clawing at whatever was left of the collapsing ledge.

She caught it. Barely.

Her body dangled precariously over the abyss, one hand clutching the ragged edge of solid ground, the other still tangled in Estes’ cloak. Her arms screamed in protest, muscles straining as she fought to keep herself from slipping further.

A sharp, searing warmth licked at her fingers, radiating from somewhere below. A flickering glow danced against the jagged walls of the pit.

She didn’t have time to hesitate. She had to climb up now. But it wasn’t easy. Not even close.

Her limbs screamed in agony, her muscles trembling under the strain of holding herself up. The heat below made it a thousand times worse, turning her skin slick with sweat, her lungs burning with each shallow breath. Without the cloak, she had no way to breathe properly.

No. Focus. Don’t panic.

Silvermist gritted her teeth and yanked the cloak up with one hand, her fingers fumbling against the fabric. She pressed it against her nose, inhaling the faint, Estes’ familiar scent still lingering in its fibers.

For an elf, Silvermist really thought Estes would smell like a deer. Or a horse. Or at least some kind of mystical wolf with an expensive shampoo routine.

But no.

The bastard actually smelled good. Like fresh pinewood and something vaguely magical—probably elven arrogance.

However.

And this was a big however.

His sweat—which had now seeped into the very fabric of the cloak—was a different story.

Silvermist gagged. Oh, sweet merciful heavens. It was like the scent of a holy forest prince had been drowned in a swamp and left to ferment under the sun.

She wanted to gag, but apparently, it’s her life line at the very moment.

She quickly tucked the cloak between her neck and shoulders, securing it so it wouldn’t slip into the abyss below. If she lost it now, there was no getting it back.

With both hands free, she finally tried to climb.

Slowly... painstakingly... she adjusted her grip, her fingers digging into the crumbling edge of the cliff. Every pull felt like dragging a mountain, her arms shaking under the effort. She gasped, pushing past the fire blazing in her muscles, forcing herself upward inch by inch but she couldn’t.

Her body refused. Her muscles locked up, burning from exertion, her strength drained faster than she could recover. It was as if her limbs had given up on her, no longer able to bear the weight they’d carried for so long.

Her grip started to slip.

Her breath hitched. No. Not now. Not like this. Now that I’m already too close.

Silvermist groaned as she felt her fingers slipping, her grip failing her despite every ounce of willpower she had left. Was this it? Was she going to fall?

The laughter came first—low, guttural, and taunting. The sound slithered through the scorching air, wrapping around her like invisible chains. Then, the orb’s voice followed, a deep and ancient rumble laced with cruel amusement.

"Is your belief that brittle, human?" It grumbled, each word soaked in scrutiny. "Just let yourself fall and be one with everyone else who died thinking they were worthy."

The words struck something raw inside her.

Worthy.

She had fought too long just to end up like the nameless ones the orb is speaking of. She had clawed her way there to prove herself worthy. She couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t be reduced to such forgotten failure.

"N-No..." she mumbled.

Then, something changed. Time slowed.

The orb’s last words stretched, twisting in the air as if the very fabric of reality had shifted. The oppressive heat that had been suffocating her only seconds ago thinned, dissipating like mist caught in the wind. The fire licking at her fingers dulled. The suffocating weight pressing down on her chest eased.

Everything... stopped.

Silvermist thought it was just a trick of her mind—a desperate illusion born from panic and suffocation. Lack of air could do that, make her see things that weren’t there, distort reality just enough to give false hope before everything collapsed.

But this?

This was real.

The world around her had truly halted, frozen in a breathless stillness. The dust that had crumbled from the ledge now hung suspended in the air, unmoving. Even the orb’s eerie glow seemed locked in place, its mocking presence caught mid-taunt.

And then—movement.

A flicker at the edge of her vision. Subtle, but undeniable.

Silvermist’s eyes snapped toward it, sharp despite the burning exhaustion in her limbs.

And that’s when she saw her.

A woman—her.

Not a reflection. Not a shadow. But a presence. A version of herself standing just beyond the abyss, bathed in the strange, weightless stillness of this impossible moment.

Her own face. Her own eyes. Yet everything about the woman standing before her felt wrong. Of course! There’s nothing about it is right.

She has black hair, cascading down like ink bleeding into water. Black eyes, void of light, swallowing everything in their depths. Black lips, curled in something between amusement and indifference. Her skin was impossibly pale, a contrast against the abyss below.

But the worst part? She wasn’t standing on solid ground. She was sideways.

Her feet pressed effortlessly against the sheer rock wall, as if gravity had no hold on her. Where Silvermist struggled, dangling for her life, this eerie doppelgänger defied every natural law, existing in a way that shouldn’t have been possible.

The abyss had been pulling Silvermist down relentlessly. The exhaustion, fear, and the sheer force of nature itself had been working against her. And yet, this version of her stood untouched.

A slow, knowing smile curled the other Silvermist’s blackened lips.

And then—she spoke.

"What do you think you’re doing?"

The voice sent a chill crawling down Silvermist’s spine. It was hers—exactly hers—but tainted with something else. A rasp that scratched at the edges of the words. An eerie, unsolicited echo that made it sound like more than one voice was speaking. Like something ancient was speaking through her.

Silvermist’s fingers tightened instinctively on the ledge, her breath coming in short, more uneven gasps. Her mind screamed at her to move, to climb, to do anything but stare—but she couldn’t look away.

The other Silvermist didn’t blink. Didn’t fidget. Just stared. As if she had all the time in the world. As if she already knew the answer to her own question.

Before Silvermist could even attempt to move, the other her vanished—not in a blur, not with a sound, but simply ceased to exist where she had been.

And then—

She was there.

Right in front of her.

In the span of a nanosecond, the eerie doppelgänger had closed the distance. Her face was just an inch away from Silvermist’s, her black eyes swallowing every reflection of light. The sheer wrongness of it made Silvermist recoil, her body reacting before her mind could process.

In that single moment of panic—she let go.

Her fingers slipped from the ledge.

She screamed, fully expecting to plummet into the abyss below, to feel the air rip past her as gravity claimed her entirely, but she didn’t fall down.

She fell sideways.

The world twisted around her as if the laws of physics had been rewritten in an instant. Her stomach lurched as she tumbled—not toward the endless dark beneath, but in the opposite direction of the other her, following her gravity.

Silvermist barely had time to comprehend the unfolding events.

As she continued her descent, the figure of the other her grew smaller, the distance between them expanding as she fell further into the distorted space. For a fleeting moment, she believed that perhaps there was still a chance to escape the overwhelming force pulling her.

However, before she could fully grasp her situation, everything around her warped.

Her senses betrayed her. The familiar concept of gravity—of up and down—became irrelevant, as if the very fabric of reality had been unraveled and reassembled. The sensation was disorienting, as though her body were being twisted through an alternate dimension, spinning uncontrollably in a direction that defied all logic.

Then, without warning, she began falling in reverse—back toward the other her.

The moment she realized what was happening, it was already too late.

SLAM!

The force of the collision drove all the air from her lungs as she was thrust violently against the jagged wall. The impact was sharp and unrelenting, leaving Silvermist stunned, her back pressed painfully against the rough stone surface yet she refused to let go of the cloak.

She found herself no longer descending, but instead anchored to the wall itself. Her body adhered to the vertical surface as though gravity had shifted entirely, now influenced by the presence of the other her.

The woman, standing motionless before her, seemed untouched by the chaos surrounding them. It was as if this reality, this new force, had been predetermined—the inevitable result of their encounter.

In the blink of an eye, the other Silvermist appeared before her, her movement swift and extremely unnatural. Without warning, she lashed out, seizing her by the throat with a single arm.

She gasped for air, the pressure constricting her windpipe. Pain surged as her nails dug into the cold, pale flesh of her neck, the harshness of the grip cutting off any chance of escape.

The world around her seemed to fade, and despite the agony, Silvermist’s instincts screamed for her to fight back. She struggled, her limbs dangling uselessly at her sides, her body wracked with tremors from the lack of air. She kicked, clawed, and twisted, but it felt as though she were fighting against a force far beyond her strength.

"Pathetic," the other her snorted and grinned—a cruel, predatory smile that stretched across her blackened lips, revealing sharp, gleaming fangs.

The sight of them sent a shiver down Silvermist’s spine, and her heart hammered with a primal fear she couldn’t escape.

Then, their eyes met.

Silvermist flinched, recoiling in terror. The other her’s gaze was like a void, a blackness so deep it consumed all light. Her sclera was as dark as Vantablack, an absence of color that made it seem as though her eyes were hollow. And her iris—crimson, glowing like the embers of a dying flame—pierced through Silvermist, as if seeing straight into her soul.

"I can’t believe someone as weak as you is summoning a god like me," the other her groaned, her grip tightening on Silvermist’s neck until the world began to fade.

Each breath was harder to take, her vision blurring, the edges of reality dissolving as her senses dulled. The pressure in her throat was unbearable, and all she could feel was the cloak’s fabric, clinging to the last finger she managed to keep hold of.

The words of the other her came like an echo from a far-off place, their meaning barely comprehensible.

"But it would be a problem if you die here."

Silvermist’s heart thudded painfully in her chest, her limbs growing heavy as darkness crept in.

"Very well... I’ll lend you my magic... until you become useful."

At that last word, something shifted. A surge of energy erupted within her. Mana—raw and potent—flooded back into her body ten times stronger than what she normally has, forcing the darkness to retreat, if only for a moment.

She felt the cloak slip from her fingers, but before it could fall completely, she grabbed it with a desperate grasp. Her eyes snapped open, only to find herself on the verge of losing her grip on the ledge. The world around her spun, and her mind screamed in alarm—had she really just been seconds away from falling?

The encounter with the other her felt like a fleeting moment, a heartbeat in time, but it had drained her in ways she couldn’t quite understand.

Yet, the energy she’d absorbed—perhaps from that cursed version of herself—surged within her like fire in her veins. Without a second thought, Silvermist pulled with everything she had, drawing on that borrowed strength.

"I—Impossible!" The glowing orb’s voice stammered in disbelief as Silvermist finally managed to crawl herself back into safety.

Before the magic could wear off, Silvermist moved quickly. She tied the cloak around her shoulders, securing it as she rose to her feet, steadying herself for what was to come.

The Elixir.

She couldn’t afford to waste another moment. Her legs burned with exertion, but her determination pushed her forward. Silvermist’s fists clenched as she ran, the ground breaking and crumbling underneath her as she moved. But she didn’t falter.

The world around her seemed to slow down again, but this time, it didn’t stop, it didn’t freeze. She had no illusion of safety, no pause to catch her breath. It was the moment of reckoning.

She could feel the Elixir drawing nearer with every step. Silvermist smiled, her face glowing with triumph, as her fingers finally wrapped around the hovering prize. Her chest tightened as she held it close, protecting it from any further harm, before she tumbled forward.

The orb’s voice reached her once more, its words unintelligible as she focused only on her goal. The ground she had passed through had crumbled into nothing, leaving only the void beneath.

Silvermist thought she’d fall along, but everything around her twisted and warped and in the blink of an eye, the endless abyss was replaced by the softness of cool, thick grass, cushioning her fall with a tenderness she hadn’t expected.

Along with the taunting, glowing orb, the Cauldron of Resonance faded into thin air.

Silvermist let herself lay there for a moment, her body recovering from heat and exhaustion, the Elixir safely clasped against her chest. Carefully, she raised the Elixir up to take a good look at it.

Her lips parted in silent awe as the liquid within the bottle shimmered, swirling with a soft, ethereal glow. The liquid shifted from deep violet at the bottom to silver at the top, dancing as if alive. Intricate runes carved into the bottle pulsed with faint light, bending the air around it.

Silvermist could feel its pull, a magnetic energy that whispered promises of both creation and destruction.

"I-I did it..." she whispered, voice hoarse. Her vision blurred as tears welled in her eyes, the mist of emotion clouding her sight. "I-I did it, Frost."

Her hands shook as she carefully cradled the Elixir back, a protective gesture that felt almost sacred. It was more than just the prize—it was like a promise fulfilled, a victory against the odds.

She closed her eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the depth of the journey, the pain of the heat still lingering on her skin.

"Ahh right," Silvermist opened her eyes and heaved a deep breath when she remembered her godforsaken companions who might now be enjoying their sacred bath with the nymphs.

Just when was about to push herself up, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion suddenly gripped her, as if her very lifeblood were being siphoned away, leaving her with nothing but the hollow aftertaste of spent adrenaline.

Her vision blurred and before she succumbed to the encroaching darkness, the other her’s words whispered in her mind once more.

"...until you become useful."

Her voice lingered in the void, cold and haunting, reverberating through her fading thoughts.

"W-Who..." she gasped. "Who are you?"

And just like that, everything went completely... dark.

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