Chapter 29: Who Are You?
"I ask you again, woman! How did you know that name?!"
The boy's voice dropped an octave, turning so deep and thunderous that Silvermist instinctively staggered backward, nearly tripping over her own feet.
"I-I just—"
"Shh—"
She barely got a word out before the boy abruptly lifted a finger to his lips, signaling her to shut the hell up. The intensity in his glare practically screamed, Do. Not. Speak.
"But I—"
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"Shut up!" he hissed in frustration, dragging a hand down his face as if he was reconsidering all his life choices.
Without another word, he slinked toward the window, moving with the kind of precision that suggested this wasn't his first time evading trouble.
And there he saw four sentries coming their direction. They must have already figured out the boy had disappeared once again.
Silvermist, however, had the subtlety of a drunk squirrel.
Curious as ever, she, too, leaned forward to peek outside—only to be yanked down so forcefully she almost slammed face-first into the floor.
"What the hell is wrong with you, kid?!" she whispered fiercely, rubbing her now-aching elbow as she crouched beside him.
The boy shot her a sharp glare, his brows knitting together. He didn't respond, though. Instead, he bolted toward the table and, with practiced efficiency, yanked out the book he had been reading earlier.
Silvermist watched in fascination as he took a deep breath, centered himself in the room, and then—snap!
In an instant, every single piece of paper cluttering the table burst into black flames. The fire devoured them so quickly that not even a single speck of ash remained.
Silvermist blinked. "Huh. Convenient."
But before she could properly process what just happened, a thick, dark smoke began swirling around the boy's feet, crawling up his legs like living shadows. Oh, he's teleporting, she realized.
And she wasn't about to let him leave her behind.
Without thinking, she lunged at him.
"Wait, what the—?! No!"
Too late.
The smoke engulfed them both, swallowing them into oblivion.
When Silvermist reopened her eyes, her stomach lurched from the sudden shift in location. But more importantly—she recognized where they were immediately.
The walls shimmered with a ghostly glow, made entirely of translucent violet crystal, casting eerie reflections in every direction. Massive jagged spires jutted out from the ceiling like frozen waves, while the ground beneath them was a smooth, reflective surface of deep blue quartz.
Trapped inside the shimmering walls were shadows—wispy, humanoid silhouettes that twitched and writhed as if trying to escape, their mouths open in silent screams.
Silvermist's breath hitched. Oh, hell no.
"Uh... I think your teleportation magic is broken," she muttered, cautiously stepping back from the nearest wall as one of the trapped figures twitched violently.
The boy, however, was too busy gaping at her in sheer outrage.
"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he exploded, his voice bouncing off the crystal walls in sharp echoes.
Silvermist, who had absolutely no regrets, casually dusted herself off and looked around.
"Huh. Deja vu."
"You—" He inhaled sharply, clenching his fists as if physically restraining himself from strangling her. "Why would you do that?!"
Silvermist finally met his glare, completely unbothered. "Well, you were about to ditch me, and I had questions. Now, tell me—" she paused, dramatically waving a hand at their surroundings, "—are you really Frost?"
The boy groaned, gripping his temples as if she was the source of an unbearable migraine.
"You tell me! How did you even know that name?" the boy demanded, his glare sharp enough to cut through steel.
Silvermist crossed her arms, undeterred. "You answer me, I answer you," she countered smoothly.
The boy scoffed. "Oh, how about this—you answer me first, and then I'll consider answering you."
Silvermist narrowed her eyes. "Oh, wow. What a brilliant strategy. Did you come up with that all by yourself?"
"Yes," the boy deadpanned. "And it's working, isn't it?"
Silvermist opened her mouth to retort—only to realize he was winning this argument. If she wanted answers, she needed to play along. But what could she say?
What if he really is Frost?
What if telling him the truth somehow destroys the time balance again? What if I set off some weird paradox where I erase myself from existence? Or worse—what if I accidentally turn into my own grandmother?
Silvermist quickly shook her head. Nope. No time for an existential crisis.
She straightened up and plastered on her most convincing smile. "Ahh—from a seer!"
The boy's eyes narrowed. "A seer?"
"Y-Yes, a seer!" Silvermist beamed, adding an exaggerated nod for extra effect. "A very mysterious one, in fact! She once told me that one day, I would come across a boy with black hair, black eyes, and a very pale complexion, and that his name would be... Frost."
The boy continued staring at her, his expression unreadable.
Silvermist resisted the urge to wipe her sweaty palms on her clothes. Please believe it. Please believe it. Please—
Then, he took a step closer, tilting his head. "...A seer, huh?"
"Yep!"
"I know every seer in this kingdom."
Silvermist's fake smile twitched. "Oh, um—do you?"
The boy folded his arms. "And I've never met a single one who dared to talk against me."
"OH!" Silvermist gasped dramatically. "So you really are Frost?"
The boy parted his lips to speak, but before a single syllable could escape, the sound of approaching footsteps silenced him.
Silvermist tensed. Instinct kicked in, and in a near-humiliating display of panic, she nearly flung herself under the crystalline bed—a futile effort, considering it provided no cover whatsoever.
The boy pinched the bridge of his nose as if reconsidering his entire existence. "Unbelievable." Without another word, he grabbed her by the arms, forcing her to face him.
Then, raising a hand between them, he summoned a vortex of swirling black sand. Before Silvermist could so much as flinch, he exhaled sharply, sending the dark grains cascading over her like a whispered incantation.
A strange warmth settled over her skin. The air around her shimmered, bending like ripples on the surface of a hidden lake.
"Do not move," the boy commanded, his voice low and firm. Without another glance, he turned and collapsed onto his bed, feigning deep slumber.
Barely a moment later, a familiar presence entered the dimly lit corridor.
Silvermist's breath caught. Cloud.
He stood just beyond the cell bars, his jet-black hair stark against his ivory eyes, which were locked onto the boy lying motionless on the bed. Before Silvermist could fully process his presence, another figure stepped beside him—a woman.
She radiated the quiet authority of an apprentice, her aura pulsing with barely contained power. Yet, neither of them acknowledged Silvermist's existence.
The sand, she realized. They can't see me.
"What shall we do, Master?" the woman asked, her voice measured yet laced with concern.
Master?
Silvermist's stomach twisted. Cloud has another apprentice other than Cullen?
Cloud sighed, the weight of an unspoken burden settling in his expression. "We have no choice but to proceed with the purification, Sapphira."
Silvermist's heart pounded. What purification?
The woman—Sapphira—hesitated. "Is there truly no other way?" A shadow of unease flickered across her features. "Wouldn't Periwinkle be more suited to inherit the Frost Guardian's mantle?"
At the mention of that name, Silvermist felt the floor beneath her shift. A chill—not from the dungeon's crystalline walls, but from something far more insidious—curled around her spine.
Cloud's expression hardened. "The Moon has chosen Nix." His voice was quiet, resolute. "We are bound to obey our creator's decree."
Nix.
Silvermist's pulse thundered in her ears. Nix. The word she used to summon Frost back in the human realm. The word she thought just merely a word was a name? Let alone, Frost's real name?
Her gaze snapped toward the boy—no, Nix—Frost, whatever—just as Sapphira stepped into the cell.
Silvermist instinctively backed away, though it was unnecessary; the illusion held firm.
Sapphira raised her hands, fingers weaving through the air in a series of deliberate, intricate signs—each movement carrying the weight of an ancient command. A golden luminescence bloomed at her fingertips, coiling like a living entity before unfurling into a translucent sphere that enveloped Nix entirely.
Silvermist's mind raced. She's sealing him—
With a single, precise gesture, the golden bubble trembled—then collapsed inward, vanishing into nothingness.
And just like that, the boy was gone together with Cloud and the woman.
"Where did they go?" Silvermist gasped, spinning in place as if turning fast enough would somehow reveal a hidden doorway.
Nothing.
She took a deep breath, trying to process what just happened. One minute, there was a boy, a glowing bubble, and a dramatic disappearance. The next? Poof. Gone.
But then her gaze landed on the cell door. Open.
Her lips curled into a slow grin. "Oh-ho-ho, well, don't mind if I do," she whispered, rubbing her hands together like a villain about to execute a master plan.
Without hesitation, she bolted out of the cell, arms pumping, legs moving with newfound determination. She had been in this dungeon before—she had some idea of where to go.
"Wait, no, I don't," she realized, skidding to a stop as soon as she hit the staircase.
Her grin vanished.
Before her stretched an unsettling number of hallways, each leading to a fate unknown. One hallway was dimly lit and smelled faintly of old books. Another seemed to hum ominously, which was never a good sign. And the last one? The last one had torches that flickered every time she blinked.
Silvermist slowly turned in a circle, pointing at each hallway like a contestant on a game show trying to pick the least deadly option.
"Alright, think, Silvermist. The throne room. The queen. That's where they probably took Nix—Frost! Whatever!"
She nodded to herself.
Then frowned.
Then squinted at the hallways again.
"Okay, but which one actually leads to the throne room?"
She tapped her chin. "Left? No... left feels like a trap. Right? Hmm, also feels like a trap. Straight ahead?" She narrowed her eyes at the hallway in front of her. "Bold choice, but also the most obvious, which means—"
A deep whooshing sound cut through her thoughts, and suddenly, a gust of wind slammed into her back, nearly sending her flying forward.
Silvermist yelped, arms flailing as she barely managed to stay upright.
She whirled around, expecting to see an enemy, a ghost, something—but the dungeon was as empty as before.
"Okay," she muttered. "Not creepy at all. Definitely not the wind of some ancient spirit trying to tell me something."
She turned back to the hallways, huffed, and placed her hands on her hips. "You know what? Screw logic. I'm just gonna—"
Her stomach growled.
Silvermist groaned, tilting her head back. "Ughhh. Right. Forgot I was human and needed food."
She sighed, then pointed at the most suspicious-looking hallway—the one with the flickering torches.
"Alright, buddy, I choose you. If this leads me to a pit of doom, I'll haunt whoever designed this dungeon."
And with that, she marched forward, completely unaware of the pair of glowing eyes watching her from the shadows.