FROST
Chapter 74: Demon Hues

Chapter 74: Demon Hues

After the incident that left half the academy shaken and the other half silently intrigued, Silvermist was transferred to another chamber—this time, far from the dormitories. The decision wasn’t just for her safety.

It was also a silent punishment. Or perhaps, a warning. She now shared living quarters with Adeline and Mila under strict supervision. Though the two were relieved to remain close to her and could still join trainings, they both knew the real reason behind the arrangement: containment.

Ever since East sealed her mana, Silvermist had been excused from physical training, spell trials, and collective enchantment classes. No longer a danger—or an asset—in the eyes of the council, she became a case study instead as per the Lunar King’s command.

And with that came her new routine: daily magical diagnostics with East and Cloud, and occasional observation under Theo Glimmerdew, who still hadn’t uncovered the full extent of what he called "the anomaly."

Theo had explained it quietly after her healing—there was a foreign magic present in her bloodstream. One not summoned, not stored, and certainly not native to her. Something quiet. Dormant. And yet... healing her on its own. As though she wasn’t entirely alone in her body.

Now, Silvermist sat in the middle of a dim, circular chamber—silent, still, and strangely suspended in time. The walls were lined with towering bookshelves, some carved from dark wood, others made from bone-like material that shimmered faintly when touched by light.

The books ranged from spell craft tomes to long-forbidden scrolls encased in glass, and a few were bound in moving leather, whispering in forgotten tongues whenever she passed too close.

To her right stood an elaborate alchemy station, the kind she’d only seen once before inside the restricted wings of Moonstone’s elder laboratories. Its pipes and flasks pulsed with glowing liquid—lavenders, cyans, and eerie greens—some slow as molasses, others bubbling in a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat.

Crystals hung from wire-thin strings above the station, spinning slightly in midair. They sparked now and then, reacting to her presence like wind chimes catching a breeze.

The chair she was seated on was a deep crimson Victorian recliner, plush and regal, out of place in such a sterile magical setting.

The floor beneath her was glassy obsidian, cool and silent beneath her boots, and above—an enormous see-through ceiling that revealed the sky beyond. Or rather, what should have been the sky.

There were no stars tonight.

No celestial presence of any kind. Not even clouds. Just the usual glow emitted by the moonstone which held the Academy alive... but this time, it has been dimmer than usual.

The heavens weren’t black nor grey, simply... muted. As though someone had turned the brightness down on existence itself. No birds flew. No wind whispered. It was an empty, eternal dusk.

Silvermist leaned back into the chair, exhaling slowly, her breath barely visible in the thickened air. She felt like she was being watched, but not by East or Cloud—who were likely behind one of the mirrored walls observing her readings.

It was something else. That same pressure she felt before her fight with Gail. The one Theo couldn’t name. A presence humming beneath her skin, curling at the edges of her thoughts.

Damn that impostor, Silvermist thought. Yes, she didn’t say anything about the other her—about the black Silvermist. She’s determined to keep it as a secret until she meets Frost.

Now that East sealed her mana, there should be no risk in doing so, right?

Her hands rested on the armrests, fingers curling into the velvet fabric. She had been here for an hour, maybe two. Time didn’t flow the same way inside this room under Tim’s spell.

She caught her reflection in one of the dark tubes across the chamber—her silver-streaked hair, her tired eyes, the faint glow still lingering on her skin. She didn’t look like the girl who arrived at Moonstone a month ago.

A crackle of magic buzzed in the far corner as a strange book floated from its shelf and hovered near a crystal reader. One of the charms lit up and recorded its presence with a soft chime.

Still, the room remained silent.

Still, the sky remained dim.

And outside the sealed chamber, East stood with arms behind his back, watching her through the glass, while Cloud jotted down readings on an arcane scroll.

"She doesn’t look unstable," Cloud muttered, his gaze flickering to the readings scrawling themselves across the parchment hovering in front of him.

"She’s not," East replied, his voice cool and measured, though a note of unease threaded through. His eyes, sharp as blades, stayed fixed on Silvermist’s still form through the glass. "But whatever is inside her..."

He trailed off, lips pressing into a thin line. Slowly, he turned away from the chamber, his boots clicking lightly on the stone floor as he moved toward Cloud.

Theo sat off to the side, silently working his restorative charms, the magical jellyfish-like creatures floating peacefully above his palms.

East glanced at Theo and then lowered his voice. "That mana. Aren’t you... just a little familiar with it?"

Cloud blinked. "I’ve encountered dark magic before from my first apprentice when she has been devoured by her own emotions," he mumbled. "However, Silvermist is different. She didn’t get there despite being tainted. The gods had said she has not taken any dark magic from Nix. Perhaps, would there be any possible source of this unknown magic?"

"I don’t know," East admitted, rubbing his temple. "That has been bothering me since the chamber scan as well. That signature—black and crimson—that’s what puzzles me and it’s not even dormant. If it’s a dark magic or a magic far more sinister than that of a demon, my seal would never work on it.

Cloud’s brow twitched. "Perhaps, it’s either Frost’s doing or whatever kind of magic is in Silvermist is not destructive."

East’s eyes narrowed. "We’d never know. Also, I think I’ve sensed that mana somewhere. A long time ago," he exhaled, lowering his gaze. "We already know West’s mana source is demon-born from the Elven Demon God. But West is not the only one. I’ve sensed that same pressure, that same presence, from Cullen back at the Academy seal incident. That presence is somewhat similar to Silvermist’s."

"West’s aura flared black and violet when he fought with the elves as per Ezekiel’s report. Cullen’s flared black and burgundy during the seal rapture. And Silvermist... just now... crimson. Deep and sharp, like the edge of a cursed blade."

Theo looked up now, his healing bubbles still pulsing in rhythm. "And that mana felt so sinister even in small ounces, it popped one of my bubbles."

East nodded. "Because it really is demonic. That magic is rooted in the same soil, drawn from the same well. If we’re right, then we may have more than one carrier walking around with a dormant foreign mana tied to something we haven’t named yet."

"Demon blood?" Cloud asked, though he didn’t sound convinced.

"No," East said sharply. "Not demons. At least, not ones I’ve ever encountered. This feels older. Raw. Like a shard of something fractured, buried inside them."

Theo’s eyes flicked to the chamber. "That kind of connection... if it’s real... it would mean someone orchestrated this."

East’s silence was telling.

And then, almost under his breath, he muttered, "They emit different hues. West—violet. Cullen—burgundy. Silvermist—crimson. And yet the base is always black." He glanced at the other two. "Black, like the void. Like something waiting to wake."

Cloud’s hands curled around his scroll. "Then what are they?"

Theo stood, brushing off his robes. "The better question is," he said quietly, "who wants them to become what they were meant to be."

Silence followed. The soft, steady thrum of magic coming from the glowing tubes and rune-laced walls did nothing to soothe the tension. The see-through ceiling above, blanketed in a dim gray veil, showed neither stars nor sunlight—just an endless twilight that mirrored the weight inside the room.

East’s eyes remained locked on Silvermist, her figure still surrounded by faint, flickering traces of that black-crimson hue. He stood there, unmoving, until something old stirred in his memory—something long buried beneath tomes of forbidden scripture and sealed archives only Grandmasters were allowed to read.

"I think I’ve seen this before..." he said softly, almost to himself. "No. I’ve read of this before."

"I’m way older than you, how come you knew more than me?" Cloud grimace.

East didn’t even react. He turned, eyes sharper than before, distant yet focused. "A legend," he began. "Older than the Twelve Realms, older than the foundation of Moonstone Academy. A tale not spoken anymore, because it was never meant to be truth."

Theo arched a brow. "You’re talking about folklore?"

"No." East shook his head. "I’m talking about the Gloaming Heart—the demon said to have been born from the wrath of gods themselves."

Cloud straightened. "That’s just a myth, East. A creation tale."

"So was the Cauldron of Resonance until the Mist Island mission proved it was real," East shot back. "This isn’t just bedtime horror. Listen—according to the records, when the gods warred with one another, their rage, betrayal, and bloodlust coalesced. All that divine hatred and grief formed a single creature. A being not born of any realm, but of pure divine resentment."

Theo and Cloud exchanged looks, because none of them had heard about the story.

"They said it fell to earth like a star," East continued, his voice hushed, almost reverent. "When it touched the soil, it shattered into fragments—three fragments. Each stained by the remnants of the gods’ emotions. Violet for vengeance. Burgundy for sorrow. Crimson for wrath."

Cloud’s breath hitched.

East pointed slightly toward the direction of the chamber. "West. Cullen. Silvermist. All three emit mana that align with those hues. And not just visually—their magic feels emotional. Reactive. Buried. It surfaces only during high stress or danger, as though responding to instinct rather than thought."

Cloud murmured, "And you think... they’re carrying those fragments?"

"Or that the fragments chose them... or something more," East replied. "But we’ve seen how West loses control when overwhelmed. How Cullen’s magic reacted during the rupture, as if it had a will of its own. And now Silvermist. I’m not even sure if my seal was the one stopping it to emerge or it is Silvermist’s will to keep it contained, but it’s only adapting, and even healing her without direction as it is its host. That’s not recovery. That’s defense. A survival mechanism buried in something older than even her own bloodline."

Theo folded his arms. "If what you’re saying is true, then it’s not just about who they are now. It’s about what they’re destined to become."

East nodded slowly. "Three children carrying the legacy of divine rage... perhaps unknowingly. Perhaps unwillingly."

Cloud looked to the dim sky above them through the glass ceiling. "Then what happens if they awaken?"

For a moment, no one spoke.

And then East answered, quietly.

"Then we’ll face a war no god will claim," his brows met once again. "Perhaps, this is what Periwinkle has been planning all along. Silvermist, breaking Frost staff for Frost to lose control of his own raging magic and now he’s acting on his own."