FROST
Chapter 60: A Master’s Silence

Chapter 60: A Master’s Silence

Silvermist ran, her feet barely touching the ground as she chased the only light in the vast abyss of darkness.

Shadows stretched endlessly behind her. She didn’t know how she got here—only that waking up in this suffocating void had filled her with a terror she couldn’t explain.

But the light—there was hope in there.

She pushed forward, faster this time. And then, as she neared the glow, she saw it—him. A lone figure stood within the brilliance, bathed in soft radiance, his back turned to her. But even without seeing his face, Silvermist knew.

That stance. That broad frame. That unmistakable silver hair that shimmered like frost under the moon.

A lump formed in her throat, and an ache spread through her chest like something she had long buried was now scraping its way to the surface.

"Frost..." she whispered, her voice fragile, almost unsure. Yet the name carried through the air, a desperate whisper against the overwhelming silence. She reached a hand toward the light. "Frost..."

The figure stirred. Slowly, he turned, and though the glow obscured his eyes, his lips curved into a smile—gentle, welcoming. Then, without a word, he spread his arms wide, as though beckoning her home.

Silvermist didn’t hesitate. A relieved, almost childlike smile broke across her face as she finally closed the distance and threw herself into his embrace.

Warmth.

Real, solid warmth.

Frost’s arms wrapped around her, steady and reassuring, as though he had always been waiting for her to find him. One hand rested on the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair in a soothing motion.

"You did great, Sil..." he murmured, his voice low and familiar, yet distant, like an echo from a dream.

A tremble ran through her as she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the scent of something faintly familiar—like winter’s first snowfall, crisp and fleeting.

She didn’t understand why she felt this way—why she clung to him with such desperation, why her chest ached with something far deeper than words could express. She and Frost had never shared a moment profound enough to forge such an unbreakable bond. And yet... perhaps this was what it meant to be master and apprentice.

"You’ll come out as soon as I am worthy, right?" she whispered against his chest, afraid of the answer.

A miracle or not, he heard her clearly.

"You’ve always been worthy, Sil..."

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his cloak. "T-Then why? Why are you still hiding from me?"

A soft sigh. Frost’s hand gently caressed her hair. "I’m not hiding from you, Silvermist... I’m hiding from myself. Until I am worthy to be your master... I cannot return in the light."

His voice—so steady before—began to waver, growing thinner with every word. Silvermist’s heart clenched in panic. She lifted her head, desperate to see him fully.

And then she saw them.

His eyes.

Not the same Frost she remembered—not the warm, ocean gaze she once stared into.

These eyes were darker. Hollow—Wrong.

A cold shiver laced through her veins as the light around them began to wane, the warmth slipping away.

"Until then... keep growing strong for yourself until... you no longer need me."

"No—wait!" Silvermist reached for him as his form began to distort, dissolving like mist carried away by an unseen breeze.

"Frost!" she called, her voice raw with desperation.

But he was already fading.

"Frost—!"

The darkness swallowed him whole.

Silvermist gasped as her eyes flew open. "Frost..." she mouthed, wishing she’d see him around, but at the same time, she’s aware that Frost was only a part of her dream and it makes her heart twinge.

His last words kept echoing in her mind like broken record. Though Frost’s voice is pleasant in the ears, the words he spoke felt like a nail being hammered in Silvermist’s chest.

"Until then... keep growing strong for yourself until... you no longer need me."

Does that mean anything?

Her vision blurred, reality crashing down, and she blinked—once, twice—trying to make sense of where she was. The endless void was gone. In its place, trees stretched toward the sky, their leaves swaying gently in the wind. The scent of grass filled the air, damp and real.

And then she realized—she was moving.

No, not moving. Being carried.

Slowly, she tilted her head upward.

The crimson hair. The regal, serene face when not talking. The glow of the moonlight casting an almost ethereal aura around him.

"Estes...?" she breathed.

He held her with effortless ease, cradling her as though she were something fragile. His expression was blank, but his presence felt somehow grounding.

Estes looked down at her and smiled. "You’re finally up," he muttered.

Silvermist opened her mouth to answer, but then—the Elixir!

Her entire body jolted like she had just been electrocuted, flailing in Estes’ arms with the grace of a startled cat. Estes, caught off guard, staggered on his footing, his composure momentarily shattered as he fought to keep both his balance and his suddenly spastic passenger from face-planting into the dirt.

Silvermist’s frantic eyes darted around until—thank the heavens—she found the Elixir still clutched tightly in her hands, cradled against her chest like a priceless treasure.

She let out a breath of pure relief, shoulders sagging.

Estes, still slightly off-balance, blinked down at her. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Silvermist shot him a sheepish grin. "False alarm. Carry on."

"Geez! You’ve been clutching the Elixir since I found you," Estes hissed, adjusting his grip on her. "I even tried taking it to keep it safe while carrying you, but your hands wouldn’t budge. I swear, it was like prying treasure from a dragon."

Silvermist’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You better not have tried stealing it..."

Estes immediately averted his gaze, suddenly very interested in the leaves rustling above them. "Oh, please. Steal? Me? I-I am a reputable being! Feared by the Elven clan! Respected! Admired! And you think I would steal s-something?"

Silvermist’s brow arched. "Then why are you stuttering, Estes?"

Estes scoffed, lifting his chin in mock offense. "Stuttering? Me? Preposterous!"

Silvermist arched an eyebrow. "Right. So, you didn’t try to pry it from my hands while I was unconscious?"

Estes let out an awkward chuckle, suddenly finding the trees very interesting. "W-Well, I wouldn’t say pry exactly. More like... gently persuade?"

Silvermist gasped, clutching the Elixir even tighter. "You did try to steal it!"

"Borrow," Estes corrected quickly, holding up his hands. "I was borrowing it for safekeeping. You were unconscious, twitching like a fish out of water. What if you dropped it?"

Silvermist squinted at him. "Mmm-hmm. And I assume ’borrowing’ means you would have totally given it back?"

Estes cleared his throat. "The intention was there."

"Unbelievable." Silvermist huffed, shaking her head.

Estes sighed dramatically. "This is the thanks I get for making sure you didn’t drool on it."

Silvermist was about to throw another teasing remark when she noticed the shift in Estes’ expression. His usual mocking aura melted away, replaced by something softer—relief.

"I was just glad you came out unscathed," he murmured, his voice lower, gentler. "I almost panicked when the gates suddenly disappeared."

Silvermist blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. He had panicked?

"Where exactly did you find me?" she asked, glancing around. The familiar markings on the trees, the broken branches, the silver arrows piercing through the bark rang a depressing memory.

This was the very path where she and the others had once been chased—by Estes himself, his brother, and the rest of their minions. Which meant... they had already made it to the other side, likely heading back toward the Nymph Forest.

"I didn’t want to wake you up, so I take my time walking carrying you," Estes said, clearly out of sarcasm, but Silvermist feigned innocence.

As much as Silvermist wanted to walk on her own, she couldn’t. Her legs are still numb. She won’t be so surprised if the sole of her boots had already melted. At least Estes has very been useful than her own companions who needed saving from temptations.

Suddenly, Silvermist heard familiar voices drifting from a distance. Her ears perked up as she lifted her head, peering forward.

A group of figures came into view, and just by the riot of colorful hair, she knew exactly who they were—Ezekiel, Mila, and Adeline.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Of course. It wasn’t until now that she realized—among all of them, only she and West had normal hair colors. Was there some kind of secret hair-dye initiation she missed? A magical fashion trend no one bothered to tell her about? Because at this point, she was starting to feel like the odd one out.

Even Estes had that striking crimson hair—like living embers catching the light. And then there was his brother, Xavier, who was nowhere to be found but had that deep carmine shade, just as intense. At this rate, she was starting to suspect there was some kind of unspoken rule in their world: the more dramatic your hair color, the more powerful you are.

She glanced at her own reflection in the faint glimmer of the Elixir’s surface—brown, plain, ordinary. She and West were apparently the only two who didn’t get the memo.

Silvermist shifted in Estes’ arms before muttering, "I can walk from here, Estes."

Estes, who had been very heroically carrying her despite feeling like his arms were about to fall off, nodded without hesitation. "Oh, thank the heavens," he nearly sighed—internally, of course. He carefully set her down, keeping a firm grip on her arms just in case she decided to collapse dramatically. Only when he was absolutely sure she wouldn’t go face-first into the dirt did he finally let go.

Straightening up, he stretched his back with a quiet groan. Silvermist wasn’t even that heavy, but exhaustion clung to his limbs like a stubborn curse. He had already drained most of his mana and stamina earlier in a very unnecessary duel with Azareth—one of the most irritating elves in existence.

Azareth, the shadowy trickster elf, was one of the few in the elven ranks who despised both Estes and Xavier’s ruling. So, when he caught wind of Estes helping a human, he had naturally done what any petty, vengeful elf would do—he tried to destroy the gates and trap Silvermist inside the Cauldron of Resonance.

And of course, Sylvestes Illphelkiir, Silvermist’s self-proclaimed fiancé, had immediately stepped in to stop him.

Even with his mana nearly depleted, Estes had fought Azareth barehanded, because apparently, he was the type of person who took personal offense to being insulted and to someone trying to doom his beloved to eternal entrapment. He had won, obviously—because he was him—but his body had taken its fair share of hits in return.

Still, being the proud elf that he was, Estes refused to let a single trace of pain show on his face.

Instead, he followed Silvermist with perfect dignity. Well, as much dignity as one could have while limping behind her.

Mila’s shriek nearly knocked the birds out of the trees. "Sil! You’re back!" She sprinted toward Silvermist, her eyes wide with shock—though most of her attention was glued to the Elixir cradled in Silvermist’s arms.

"Y-You actually did it!" Mila gasped, clapping her hands like an overexcited seal.

Silvermist arched a brow. "And you’re actually conscious," she shot back with an exaggerated laugh. "Wow, Mila, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you standing. Hahaha."

Mila’s lips pursed. "Listen, it’s not my fault Ezekiel had a suspiciously hard time replenishing my mana while he had no problems with Mr. Elf over there." She gestured toward Estes who just got behind Silvermist. "And he didn’t even know why."

Ezekiel, who had been fully prepared to defend himself, opened his mouth—only for his gaze to land on the Elixir in Silvermist’s hands. His eyes darkened for a moment, but he said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward, his usual serene expression replaced with concern.

"Look at you," he sighed, placing a firm hand on Silvermist’s shoulder before gently turning her around as if checking to make sure she hadn’t misplaced a limb along the way. "I gave you a mark for a reason so you can just summon me anywhere and anytime, yet you never used it..." he muttered, combing his fingers through her hair in a way that felt both affectionate and mildly exasperated.

"As if she could use it, Kiel," Adeline’s voice cut in smoothly. She suddenly materialized behind him and yanked him away by the back of his coat like a misbehaving pet. "Because it’s either she saves herself, or someone else is already doing it."

"Hey!" Ezekiel hissed, glaring over his shoulder. Before he could argue, Adeline simply gestured behind Silvermist.

There stood Estes, barely keeping it together, his entire aura practically bristling. His crimson eyes were narrowed, his lips curled back in a very cat-like hiss of disapproval.

Ezekiel grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck. "H-He’s really serious about making Sil his bride, huh?"

Adeline nodded without hesitation. "Dead serious."

Silvermist, meanwhile, had bigger concerns. She turned toward the border of the Nymph Forest. "I guess I’ll be the only one who can enter from here," she muttered.

Behind her, Adeline, Ezekiel, and Mila exchanged helpless looks. And just like that, Silvermist stepped forward—and was immediately greeted by a sight that made her brain shut down for good.

A group of topless nymphs immediately emerged from the foliage, their soft, echoing voices harmonizing in the same eerie unison.

"Welcome back, warrior."

Silvermist tried to focus on their words. Really, she did. But unfortunately, her eyes betrayed her, drifting downward.

Her lips parted slightly.

Damn.

Her gaze locked onto one of the nymphs’ very generous assets—round, perky, and honestly, physics-defying. Her head tilted slightly as she—against all logic—glanced down at her own.

The difference was... unfair.

"Yes, of course. Welcome back, indeed," Silvermist muttered, the words clipped and distant. She then looked at them in the eyes this time. "I need to see the queen now, please."

The nymphs led her deeper into the forest, their movements fluid and almost hypnotic, their light laughter filling the air like a gentle breeze. Silvermist kept her eyes straight ahead, doing her absolute best to ignore the unnerving beauty of the place—and more importantly, the nymphs’ very distracting aesthetic.

She was not here to have an identity crisis over her chest size. No, she had a mission.

She followed them in silence, focusing on keeping her composure. But just as her nerves began to settle, she heard it.

The unmistakable sound of laughter—loud, familiar, and incredibly happy.

Silvermist froze mid-step. Yeah! For a long time, she had actually forgotten about their situation. There, in the sparkling waters, were none other than Sebastian and West. The two idiots—laughing like a pair of drunken fools.

They were playing with the nymphs.

Playing.

West, the guy who was still sane when she left, was now knee-deep in the water, splashing around like a man possessed. His eyes were wide and unfocused, his face lit up in a grin so dazed it looked as though he had just discovered the meaning of life.

Silvemist clutched the Elixir closer in disbelief. "Oh my god, West!" She gasped.

Meanwhile, Sebastian of course was no better, grinning like a man who had found a treasure chest full of gold—and maybe a few less-than-clad nymphs, too. He was actively splashing one of them, a playful expression on his face.

Silvermist watched, horrified, as West dunked one of the nymphs under the water. Meanwhile, Sebastian was attempting to toss a watermelon-sized rock into the river, somehow convinced it would make the biggest splash ever.

Silvermist could almost feel the Elixir in her hand growing warm with rage. It was all she could do to keep herself from marching over and throwing it directly into their smug faces.

Her fists clenched, but she forced herself to keep walking, pretending like she wasn’t about to hurl herself into the water to drag them both out by their collars. But what could she do? They’re stupid men and they have stupid needs.

She tried not to let the sight of them send her into a full-on meltdown. Focus! Focus!

Silvermist followed the nymphs in silence and when they finally reached the Queen’s chamber, she felt an odd chill crawl up her spine as her presence felt entirely different from when she left.

Before Silvermist could speak, the Queen’s voice echoed —smooth, cold, and laced with a power that made Silvermist’s pulse quicken.

"You seem different from the last time you were here, human.".

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