FROST

"Are you truly going to leave everything like this?" Frost's voice broke the eerie stillness as he glanced at the fireflies, frozen mid-flight, their delicate wings caught in time's grasp.

Silvermist flicked her gown's sleeve with a sharp gesture. "Why? Will it change anything?" She hissed, her tone edged with frustration. "I already figured out this is just the past—wow! Didn't see that coming."

"Wait, you just realized?" Frost raised an eyebrow, hands moving to cover his mouth in mock surprise. "I thought I told you earlier."

"You did," Silvermist muttered, "but clearly, I wasn't listening."

"Yeah, I noticed," Frost grinned, amused. "So, that's it? We're leaving—he's staying?" He gestured toward Levi, unmoving, frozen in time as if trapped in a forgotten moment.

"Why? Will you unfreeze him if I ask?" Silvermist's voice was tight with a mix of annoyance and something darker.

"Unfreeze him?" Frost's grin deepened, a playful glint in his eye. "Do you still have anything left to say to him?"

Silvermist's eyes narrowed, sharp like a blade. "No. So don't ask me again." She turned away, her gaze shifting to the distant horizon. "Now, how do we get to your magical realm?"

Frost's eyes softened, the corners of his lips curving into an almost affectionate smile. He hadn't expected his apprentice to look so...unsettling, yet beautiful in her own bitter way. He was pleased.

He extended his hand toward her. "Whenever you're ready."

Silvermist hesitated, her gaze flicking between Frost's outstretched hand and the distant world beyond. "Do you think I can actually do this?"

Without a word, Frost grasped her hand firmly. "I know you can. You'll never be alone in this." His words were filled with conviction. "Once you become my human staff, I'll be your guardian. And you'll be mine."

Silvermist scoffed. "As if I had a choice."

She stole one last look at Levi, her chest tightening. Whether she felt relief or regret, she wasn't sure—but it was time to pay the price.

Once they left, Tim—the Time Guardian—would reverse Periwinkle's spell. All the memories, all the people she had touched, would fade into nothingness, as if she were never part of their lives to begin with. The pain of that truth lingered, yet Silvermist knew it was unavoidable.

"Alright," she said, turning to Frost, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Let's go."

"As we should." Frost's tone was final, and with that, everything around them collapsed into blinding light.

Silvermist squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden brilliance, nearly losing her sight for a moment. But as the light faded, she found herself standing in front of a palace that towered above her—a majestic structure that seemed to reach into the very clouds, dwarfing everything around it.

The air was warmer, filled with a strange, ethereal light. The ground beneath her felt lighter, as though gravity was weaker here. The flowers, in every imaginable color, bloomed around her, their scent oddly comforting.

She couldn't help but admire the scene, but a gnawing sense of unease tightened her chest.

Turning to Frost, she saw him standing beside her, unfazed. "Relax," he whispered, his voice like a soft breeze. "You're just meeting the Moon King. Nothing to worry about."

Silvermist scoffed, though her heart picked up speed. "No big deal," she muttered under her breath, though she wasn't so sure. She had no idea what to expect when faced with the Moon King or most people know as the Lunar King.

The silence was shattered when the gigantic crystal double doors groaned open, revealing two young men who looked almost identical, as if they were born from the same soul. Their silver hair shimmered faintly, their eyes the color of deep oceans—yet there was no life behind them. They were the image of youth, but hollow, their faces devoid of emotion.

"Welcome back, Master," they intoned in unison, their voices flat, like a well-practiced ritual.

Frost smiled, his expression light but distant. "Thank you, Yin, Yang," he acknowledged as he led Silvermist inside.

The palace's interior was more breathtaking than Silvermist could have imagined. Everything was made of shimmering crystal—from the floors to the furniture, to the very walls. The ceiling was a kaleidoscope of magical colors, casting light in every direction. It was as if she had stepped into the home of the gods—well, in this situation, she really had.

Her thoughts were interrupted when one of the twins accidentally stepped on her gown. She glanced down, surprised to see him roll his eyes, an emotion so out of place for someone so seemingly lifeless.

Before she could react, Frost was already tugging her forward, leading her into a grand hall. The silence felt oppressive here, the vast emptiness of the vestibule amplifying every step they took.

Silvermist's senses were overwhelmed. She could feel the presence of countless beings, ancient and powerful, surrounding them in invisible waves. The air seemed to crackle with their energy, making her knees wobble slightly.

Frost turned to her with a grin that was too wide, too Cheshire-like. He was enjoying this—though what he was truly enjoying, Silvermist couldn't tell.

"You know," he murmured, "it's wrong to turn away from the presence of the king."

Silvermist frowned, her stomach tightening. "King?!" she echoed incredulously, glancing back at the enormous throne. "What king?"

Frost raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her ignorance. "Did you forget the purpose of your apprenticeship?" he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Before Silvermist could respond, a voice boomed from the throne, deep and resonating, as though it shook the very foundations of the palace.

"Tarnished no longer see colors," the voice rumbled, a note of ancient bitterness in it. "'Twas a punishment for a mistaken soul."

Frost's face fell, his expression darkening as he turned toward the source of the voice. He muttered, barely audible, "But you didn't mention this, father."

Silvermist's heart stilled as she tried to make sense of the disembodied voices. Twelve figures surrounded the throne, but one figure loomed above them all. She couldn't see his face clearly—he was a shadow, a phantom of dark energy, but his presence was undeniable.

"Give it time, child. The mistaken soul will figure it out on her own," a woman's voice followed, a soft, melodic tone that seemed to carry a weight of ancient wisdom.

Silvermist gasped when she saw her—the woman descended from behind the throne like a goddess.

She was breathtaking. Her gown was a rich azure, shimmering with every step. Her hair, the color of the deepest ocean, cascaded down her back, bouncing with each delicate movement. Her skin glowed with a pale luminescence, her eyes a striking ash-crystalic shade—her cheeks were kissed with the redness of roses.

Silvermist stood frozen, awestruck. She had never seen such beauty, not in the physical sense, but the overwhelming power that radiated from her.

The woman stopped in front of her, placing a gentle hand on Silvermist's shoulder. "Hush, my child. You are in good hands," she whispered, her voice soothing yet authoritative. "Now, to taste your soul's essence—"

Silvermist blinked in confusion as Frost took a few steps away from her. He looked uneasy for the first time, stuttering, "I-I'm sorry, but... taste what now?"

The woman smiled, a faint glimmer in her eyes. She waved her hand, and Silvermist's surroundings warped. The air shifted, the scent of flowers blooming around her. She felt a strange familiarity in the sensation.

Her surroundings changed, and before she knew it, she was standing in the meadows she had once visited with Periwinkle. The same flowers surrounded her, their colors vibrant and rich. The air felt light, almost like the first time she'd breathed it. It made her heart swell with a bittersweet happiness.

But then, something shifted.

The flowers began to wither, their petals curling and turning brown. The ground cracked and turned black beneath her, molten rocks oozing from the cracks and the heat was unbearable.

Silvermist gasped, her gown catching fire as the molten earth scorched her skin. She jumped, attempting to stomp out the flames, but the fire only grew hotter, the ground beneath her transforming into a fiery abyss.

"What the hell is happening?!" She shouted, panic rising in her chest. The pain of the burning fire intensified, but it was more than just pain—it felt familiar.

The flames seemed to merge with her, as though they were part of her very being.

"What's going on?" Silvermist gasped, her breaths coming in shallow, frantic gasps as she felt herself consumed by the fire. She watched, numb, as it ravaged her body.

And then, through the flames, a figure emerged. It was a demon, a beast beyond comprehension—yet she knew it.

Those eyes—her eyes—stared back at her, and a cold shiver crawled down her spine.

"Taste my soul," her lips whispered.

The demon mirrored her every movement as though they were one, moving in perfect synchronization.

"Who are you?" Silvermist managed, though her voice quivered.

The demon did not answer, only watched as the fire spread around them, creating a blazing inferno that reached into the horizon, marking the land with strange symbols.

Finally, it spoke.

"The greatest mistake of this realm," it said, its voice a guttural whisper, before the world around her imploded.