FROST
Chapter 65: Soul Decay

Chapter 65: Soul Decay

Ezekiel let out a sigh so dramatic it could’ve won an award. He stared at the tiny flicker of flame on his palm as it did its best impression of a dying candle. Then gone. Just like his motivation.

His body felt heavier than usual, limbs aching from overuse, and his eyes stung from staying open too long. He hadn’t slept in what felt like a week—maybe more. Time blurred together now.

He tried to summon another wisp, just a small one, just enough to send a message to Silvermist that her request in meeting Frost has been declined. Sad, but anyway.

Ezekiel swore he heard her internal turmoil scream when smoke appeared on his palm instead. His mana was completely gone, drained from the endless spells, fights, and flaming cushion he’d thrown up just to get them all through the last 48 hours alive. And still, there was more to do the moment they got back.

He leaned against the nearest wall, his shoulders slumped. Rest was out of the question. There were too many things happening at once, too many questions left unanswered, and every moment he wasted standing here doing nothing felt like a betrayal to the people around him...

"Or I’m just overthinking," he sighed again, turning to the hallway towards Silvermist’s chamber.

His eyes were dark-circled, his uniform smelled like elves and his crimson hair had officially given up trying to look cool and now resembled a mop with abandonment issues.

He had fought an elven leader and his minions, led apprentices with characters issues on his flaming cushion, and somehow still ended up more emotionally damaged than a wet paper bag.

He stood, barely. Wobbled like a drunk deer on stilts, then straightened, slapping his cheeks with both hands. "You’re fine. You’re a legend. You are an icon. You—"

"Definitely need sleep," a voice commented behind him.

Ezekiel gasped like someone just unplugged his life support. He spun around too fast for his current physical state and immediately regretted it. The world tilted. His legs betrayed him that he almost ended up falling on the ground. It was a performance, honestly.

Somehow, he managed to stay upright through sheer force of stubborn pride.

Before him stood someone new. Unfamiliar. Striking emerald eyes, soft freckles dotting his cheeks, and an annoyingly calm aura—like he wasn’t standing in front of a barely-functioning, sleep-deprived fire mage who was one spell away from bursting into emotional flames.

Ezekiel blinked, then briefly considered collapsing to the ground and using it as a cry for help. Maybe the guy would carry him. Maybe they’d become best friends. Maybe he could nap for twelve hours straight and call it character development.

But then again... he was a legend.

He straightened his spine with the kind of discipline only people trying very hard to not look like a mess could muster. "Hmm... may I help you? Are you lost, perhaps? Do you already have a school handbook?" he asked, voice trembling at the edges like his eyelids were ready to shut mid-sentence.

The stranger chuckled lightly and raised a hand in polite refusal. "Oh, no need. I’ve already memorized the academy’s entire layout—twists, turns, secret passageways and all. I was just looking for someone. I heard a man with crimson hair and eyes could help me."

Ezekiel blinked again. In slow motion.

He was pretty sure his soul tried to leave his body at the mention of "help." His brain screamed No. No helping. Just napping. But his mouth, that traitorous piece of flesh, smiled instead.

"Ah... well, yes. Crimson hair, crimson eyes. That would be me. Unfortunately." He chuckled dryly. "What can I do for you, mysterious map-possessing stranger who definitely has more energy than me and possibly also a full night’s sleep?"

The man smiled, his freckles somehow making the expression more annoying. "You look... exhausted."

"Thanks," Ezekiel said flatly. "I was going for ’mysteriously tortured hero’ but I’ll take ’barely functioning candle’ too."

"So... you’ll help me?"

"Sure," Ezekiel forced a smile so strained it could’ve been classified as a muscle cramp. "So, who are you looking for?"

The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed with such dramatic intensity, Ezekiel almost applauded the performance. "Silvermist," he muttered. "Silvermist Evermore."

Ezekiel blinked, paused, then clapped his hands once like a tired dad sealing a deal. "Oh, good! Saves me time. I’m actually going to meet her right now."

The man’s eyes lit up, his whole face doing the "thank-the-stars" expression like he’d just been handed a shortcut in an RPG quest.

"Oh, really? Can I come with you then?"

"Sure!" Ezekiel nodded with all the enthusiasm of a man who’d just been voluntold into another errand. He turned on his heel, heading toward Silvermist’s chamber with the posture of someone whose soul was three steps behind him.

"Thanks! I’m Levi Ashenfall, by the way, from section Azurite," the guy said, flashing a friendly smile that was unfortunately very awake.

"Ezekiel Ravencrest, from section Sphene," he replied, shaking his hand limply like someone who wasn’t entirely sure they were still alive.

"Oh, y-you’re with Silvermist then?"

"Yeah, and please don’t stutter, my brain just can’t seem to function properly for now."

Levi looked slightly alarmed, probably wondering if Ezekiel might really pass out as he is growing paler by second.

"I mean it," Ezekiel said, eyes half-lidded as he walked. "Every extra syllable is a personal attack right now."

Levi laughed awkwardly. "Sorry. I’ll... keep my words to a minimum."

"Excellent. I appreciate the restraint. If you see me collapse, just roll me the rest of the way there, thanks."

Levi blinked. "Uh... okay."

By some miracle—probably fueled by sheer willpower and the mild fear of embarrassing himself in front of a stranger—Ezekiel managed to stay upright all the way to Silvermist’s chamber.

"Here we are," he said, voice gravelly from the yawn he was suppressing with the strength of a thousand suns. "Behold, the mystical door to the mysterious Silvermist."

Levi looked mildly impressed. "Looks... ordinary unlike the other chambers I’ve walked pass through."

"I think she’s allergic to glitters," Ezekiel forced a smile.

"Not really," Levi shrugged. "Perhaps to anything that looks... happy."

"Ohh you sound like you know here, ah?" Ezekiel raised his hand to knock—but before his fingers could so much as graze the wood, the door creaked open on its own. His arm froze mid-air and his quip died in his throat.

There stood Silvermist Evermore, her frame leaning slightly on the door as if it had taken all her strength to open it. Her skin was ghostly pale—whiter than usual, drained of her usual glow.

Beads of sweat clung stubbornly to her brow despite the chilled breeze slipping through the open windows behind her. The room was cool, enchanted to be so, but Silvermist looked like she’d walked through the Cauldron of Resonance once again, eyes wide.

"Kiel..." she whispered, then her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled.

"Sil!" Ezekiel lurched forward and caught her just before she hit the floor. Sleep-deprived or not, his instincts kicked in like a switchblade. He cradled her against him. "Sil! What’s wrong?! What happened?!"

Levi blinked, frozen in place for a second before he snapped out of it and scrambled to Ezekiel’s side.

"Should—Should we take her to the clinic? Do we even have clinics here?" he fidgeted, panic bubbling in his voice.

"Th-The sorcerer’s chamber," Ezekiel muttered, eyes darting to Silvermist’s pale face.

Before he could lift her fully, Silvermist’s trembling hand shot up and clutched his sleeve.

"N-No... just please..." she rasped, barely above a whisper. "B-Bring me... to him..."

Ezekiel’s blood ran cold.

"Sil..." he breathed, hesitation etched into every syllable. "T-The King d-did not allow you to—"

"I have to," she gasped, pulling at him weakly until she could tilt her face up to meet his. "P-Please... K-Kiel..."

Then Ezekiel saw it. The flash of silver glinting in her hair. It wasn’t subtle anymore.

The strands had started creeping down from her crown, now hanging across her forehead, glimmering like frost in the moonlight. It shimmered against her moistened skin like a warning.

Cloud had warned him. Said it had begun. The change. Barely there—just a whisper of silver among the strands. Almost invisible, but unmistakable to anyone who knew what to look for. And now, standing in front of her, Ezekiel realized Cloud had been wrong about one thing.

It wasn’t faint anymore.

"P-Please, Kiel. I’m b-begging y-you," Silvermist whispered, her voice frayed with something deeper than pain—fear. "H-He needs me. Please."

Her knees buckled slightly, and Ezekiel caught her again. He could feel the heat leaving her, not just from her skin but from her mana. A kind of mana he has never sensed from her before. It was like holding a flower wilting before its time.

Ezekiel’s throat tightened. He looked down, then away, as if somehow that might make the decision easier. It didn’t.

She wasn’t just asking him to break the rules. She might even be pleading for her life or Frost’s. He’d never know. It would be too insensitive of him to ask at this time.

His resolve cracked.

"Levi," he said, voice barely steady, "can I borrow your coat, please?"

Levi blinked, startled, but moved quickly. He didn’t understand what was happening, not even close, but there was urgency in Ezekiel’s tone that left no room for questions. With no hesitation, Levi took off his coat and handed it over.

Ezekiel draped it over Silvermist, covering her head, her face, her hair—the silver. "Thank you," he murmured, adjusting it gently, cradling her against his chest. She didn’t resist. She barely moved.

"My mana’s drained," he said, more to himself than to Levi. "It’s not stable. My teleport might drag you with me, or worse. Just... brace yourself."

Levi nodded, swallowing hard. He didn’t even step away that when Ezekiel snapped his fingers, he was indeed dragged with them. The shift was jarring and they landed in the library.

Gasps echoed as several apprentices caught sight of them. Ezekiel didn’t let his gaze linger, didn’t acknowledge the confused stares or the questions that followed. He snapped again.

The cold night air hit them as they landed just outside the academy gates. The stars wheeled above, silent witnesses to their flight. Ezekiel stumbled, but didn’t stop. One more.

He snapped and they landed hard in Ezekiel’s chamber. And everything went sideways.

Sebastian screamed. "K-Kiel?! And—who the hell are you?!"

He scrambled from the floor, one leg in a pair of trousers, shirt half on, his wet hair sticking to his face like he had just been pulled from the bath after training. He pointed at Levi as if expecting him to vanish with explanation.

Levi looked back, wide-eyed, and breathless. The continuous teleportation had him gasping for air.

"What is going on—?!" Levi added the moment he pulled his trousers up.

West didn’t move. Still seated in his usual corner, a spell book laid across his lap, the kind that whispered dark things if you listened too long. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His gaze alone said enough.

Ezekiel tried to snap again, but nothing happened.

He clenched his jaw and tried again. Still nothing. He was buzzing—literally. Static crackled at the edges of his vision. His fingers fizzled with strained magic, but the room refused to shift. They were stuck.

"F-Fuck," he breathed out, staggering, Silvermist still limp in his arms. "It’s burnt out. My mana’s—"

"Kiel!" Sebastian stumbled forward when he finally recognized who Ezekiel was holding. "I-Is that—Silvermist? What’s wrong with her?"

He reached for the edge of Levi’s coat, carefully peeling it back. The moment her face was revealed, the color drained from Sebastian’s own. His eyes locked on the streaks of shimmering silver tangled in her once dark lashes, stretching like veins of frost across her scalp. His breath hitched.

"H-How did she—" he looked up, searching Ezekiel’s face for answers he didn’t want to believe. "Kiel, what’s happening?"

Still panting, Ezekiel shook his head weakly. "I-I don’t know. She was already like that when I got into her chamber. She collapsed the moment she saw me. Begged me to take her to him."

West, silent until now, stepped forward. With a simple gesture, he moved to support Silvermist, pulling her from Ezekiel’s arms. She sagged against him like a marionette cut from its strings, and her head lolled faintly against his shoulder.

West’s expression remained unreadable, but his jaw tightened as his eyes flicked to the silver running along her hairline. "We have to take her to East. Now."

"No." Ezekiel raised a shaky hand, eyes wide and desperate. "S-She asked for Frost. I’m taking her to him."

West paused mid-step. Sebastian looked like he’d been slapped.

"What?!" Sebastian exploded. "But she was prohibited to see him, Kiel. You know that! What were you thinking?!"

"I wasn’t!" Ezekiel shouted, trembling. "She asked me—she begged me! What was I supposed to do, Sebastian?! Turn my back while she falls apart in my arms?!"

"But that’s a reverse blight, Ezekiel!" Sebastian pointed at Silvermist. "It’s one of the rarest, most unstable forms of soul decay—how could you not know that?!"

"I know what it is!" Ezekiel barked. "But what if it’s not just her that’s falling apart? If it’s connected to Frost—"

"What if it’s not?" Sebastian shot back, stepping closer. "Then you’ll bring that infection straight to him. You could kill them both with your impulsiveness!"

Ezekiel stared at him, chest heaving. He didn’t have an answer. He just knew what he saw—Silvermist crying, begging, shaking. She might have not said anything about it, but the moment she referred to him, he already knew.

Silvermist was still whispering Frost’s name and as much as he wanted to snatch her back from West and teleport, he had no mana to spare anymore. Sebastian could just easily follow them with his teleportation.

"I had no choice," Ezekiel whispered. "She asked for my help. Not East. Not the guardians. Me."

For a moment, Sebastian didn’t move. The silence between them was sharp and Levi, who did not have the slightest idea what’s going on, was forced to listen and watch the whole thing.

Sebastian then turned to West, his voice cold. "Give her to me. I’ll take her to the guardians. They’ll know what to do."

West didn’t move.

Sebastian frowned. "West—"

"She’s fading," West said quietly, cutting him off. His gaze stayed fixed on Silvermist’s pale, shivering form in his arms. "Her mana’s too unstable. It’s either it’s falling or rising, I can’t understand."

Sebastian stared at him, lips parting. "Are you seriously saying we should help him—?"

"I’m saying," West said, his tone like steel, "that we either act now, or we don’t know what might happen again!"

Levi, who had remained silent until now, shifted beside Ezekiel. His voice came soft, unsure. "I—I don’t know what’s happening. But if she asked for someone, maybe it means something. Maybe... she really does need him."

Sebastian turned to him, incredulous. "You’ve been here five minutes!"

"Long enough to see she’s dying," Levi said, eyes on Silvermist. "A-An=nd she’s still calling... h-his name."

Ezekiel stepped forward, lips pressed into a thin line. "I’ll take responsibility. All of it. Just don’t stop me now."

Sebastian’s eyes burned. "You always do this—shoulder everything, throw yourself into the fire without a second thought. What if you burn everyone else with you, Kiel?"

"Then at least I didn’t stand still and watch her crumble," Ezekiel said. "I-I just know Frost will be the only one who could help her and I know Cloud would understand me for that. He lost an apprentice once."

Another silence. Then West moved. Quiet, calculated in case Sebastian would snatch Silvermist from him. "We don’t have time, Seb. Either help us or get out of the way."

Sebastian stood, torn between duty and loyalty just like Ezekiel earlier. But as he looked again at Silvermist—her shallow breathing, her trembling hands, her silver-streaked hair—the fire in his chest dimmed into reluctant surrender.

"I’ll... I’ll inform East," he said, voice rough. "But I swear, Kiel, if she doesn’t come back—"

"I’ll go down with her," Ezekiel said without flinching.

And with that, West raised his hand and began etching the runes of an ancient teleportation seal similar as what the guardians used to send them to the Mist Island—one not taught to apprentices, one not meant to be used lightly.

The gate shimmered, humming with forbidden power. And as it opened, Ezekiel reached for Silvermist again. He didn’t know if they’d be forgiven. But he knew he wouldn’t regret trying.

Levi only stood there—motionless, overwhelmed, like someone who had walked into a dream that quickly turned into a nightmare.

His eyes darted between the glowing runes, West’s steady hand drawing lines of magic in the air, Sebastian’s tense figure, and Silvermist’s barely-conscious body nestled in Ezekiel’s arms. It was all too much, too fast. He had never seen magic this advanced, never felt the pressure in the air vibrate so violently.

He thought—hoped—they would leave him behind. That this was far beyond what a newbie apprentice like him should get involved in.

That he could slip out, return to his chamber, pretend this night never happened. But Ezekiel turned to him, expression tired but serious, and said, "Come with us."

Levi’s heart skipped.

"I know you don’t understand much right now," Ezekiel continued, "but West won’t be able to cast any spell after this. The seal drains everything. And I’m out of mana. If something goes wrong—we’ll need some help."

Levi’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. His first instinct was to say no. Every cell in his body screamed to run. He was a scholar type, not a warrior. Not a hero. He wasn’t supposed to be part of something that felt like treason, or destiny, or both.

But then he looked at Silvermist. The woman he loved.

Pale. Sweating. Breathing like her lungs couldn’t find the air. She looked fragile in a way that frightened him—not the kind of fragile like glass, but like something already broken that might shatter further if touched wrong.

He swallowed hard, fists clenching. "Okay," he whispered. "I’ll come."

He stepped forward. Into the runes. Into the unknown. Into whatever madness Ezekiel was dragging them into.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, the air felt different—charged with ancient energy. Levi was scared, of course, but whenever he looked at Silvermist, he forgets everything and just wanted to save her. Something that he never got a chance to do back when they’re just ordinary people.

"Hold on, Sil," he muttered.

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