A World on the Brink

The entire night, Silvermist lay awake, staring at the grand canopy of her bed, her mind a storm of thoughts that refused to settle. Across the dimly lit room, she could hear Adeline shifting restlessly on her own bed, the soft rustle of blankets and the occasional sigh breaking the heavy silence. It seemed neither of them could find peace tonight.

Their dormitory—if it could even be called that—was far from any ordinary student quarters. It was more akin to a private palace chamber, vast and breathtaking, designed for royalty rather than apprentices. The high, vaulted ceiling stretched endlessly, adorned with swirling constellations that twinkled like the real night sky. Delicate golden vines crept across the walls, weaving intricate patterns that pulsed faintly with magic, as if alive and breathing with the room itself.

Each of the six beds was a grand, queen-sized masterpiece, draped in silken sheets embroidered with threads of silver and gold. Tall, ornately carved bedposts reached toward the ceiling, their tips encrusted with gemstones that glowed faintly, casting a soft, dreamlike luminescence across the room. The floors were polished marble, cool beneath the feet, swirling with veins of iridescent blue that shimmered like captured stardust.

Between each bed stood elegant bedside tables made of enchanted ebony wood, their surfaces shifting subtly, reflecting the emotions of their owners. Silvermist swore she saw her table darken slightly, mirroring her unease.

At the far end of the room, massive arched windows framed the eternal twilight outside, their glass panes enchanted to change views depending on the desires of the one looking. Tonight, the scene beyond was a tranquil moonlit lake, mist curling above its glassy surface.

A soft chime echoed as the enchanted fireplace in the center of the room flared to life, its flames a mesmerizing shade of blue and violet, casting shifting shadows on the luxurious velvet drapes.

Despite the overwhelming beauty of their surroundings, Silvermist felt suffocated. This place, for all its wonder, still wasn't home. And if tonight's restlessness was anything to go by, neither she nor Adeline could escape the weight of their own thoughts.

What if Frost really disappears because of me?

The thought gnawed at Silvermist's mind, relentless and unforgiving. She lay on her back, staring at the enchanted constellations shifting across the ceiling, their twinkling glow a cruel contrast to the storm raging inside her.

She already knew what had to be done. She had shattered Frost's original staff, the very instrument that helped maintain the balance of the seasons. And without it, the harmony between Summer, Winter, Fall, and Spring teetered on the edge of collapse. There was only one way to restore that balance—she had to become Frost's human rod.

It wasn't just a choice. It was a necessity.

And yet, Frost had said nothing about it. No guidance, no instructions—just silence. Had he expected her to figure it all out on her own? Or worse… was he already preparing to vanish, leaving her to bear the burden alone?

She didn't have any powers to become a substitute.

Her hands clenched the silk sheets.

Mila had mentioned that an apprentice's power was dormant until training awakened it. But Ezekiel was different. He had already mastered his flames before even realizing he was an apprentice. And then there was the rumor—one Mila had shared in passing, but it lingered in Silvermist's mind.

Ezekiel might be one of the Lunar God's sons. A demigod born of a human woman.

If that was true, then he wasn't just powerful—he was special. Destined for something greater.

But what about me?

Silvermist sighed, raising her hand toward the ceiling. She studied her fingers, half-expecting something—anything—to happen. Ice forming at her fingertips, frost creeping along her palm, a cold wind curling around her wrist.

Nothing.

She wasn't like Ezekiel. She wasn't special. But she was necessary.

"I need to talk to Frost…"

The words left her lips in a whisper, but exhaustion had finally caught up with her. Before she could dwell on it further, her hand fell limply onto her chest, and the world around her dissolved into darkness.

"How can you even say that at a time like this?!"

A sharp voice shattered the silence, pulling Silvermist from unconsciousness. But when she opened her eyes, she wasn't in her bed anymore.

She wasn't even in Bloodstone.

She stood behind a grand, enchanted pillar, its smooth marble shimmering with ancient runes. Before her stretched a vast hall—majestic, regal, and eerily unfamiliar. Golden chandeliers floated above, casting an ethereal glow over towering stained-glass windows that depicted shifting images of celestial battles and guardians long past.

A heavy tension lingered in the air.

Where am I?

Silvermist's breath caught as another voice boomed through the hall.

"The world is already falling apart, and you refuse to act?!"

Carefully, she peeked from behind the pillar. In the center of the grand chamber stood three figures. One of them, she recognized instantly—Frost.

Her heart stilled.

The other two were unfamiliar, but something about them sent a shiver down her spine. The first man, golden-haired and radiating an almost unbearable heat, had sapphire eyes that burned with frustration. Sun. The Summer Guardian.

Beside him stood a figure so ethereal he barely seemed real. His cascading hair shimmered in iridescent colors, like a rainbow woven into silk. His features were sharp yet delicate, his Victorian-style clothing embroidered with vines and blossoms that seemed to breathe with life itself.

"East?" Silvermist mouthed. The Spring Guardian?

Frost remained unmoved, his icy demeanor unshaken.

"I will not force her to do something against her will, East," he said calmly.

"And when did her feelings become a priority?" Sun growled, his frustration barely contained.

Frost's expression darkened. "You must have forgotten… I was the reason she was born to such unloving parents."

Silvermist's breath hitched.

What did he just say?

"If only I had been ready sooner," Frost continued, his voice quieter now, almost… remorseful. "She could have had a better life."

"And you'd risk the entire world to make amends with her?" East's voice was softer this time, but his words were sharp, slicing through the air like thorns hidden in a bed of roses.

He took a step forward, his hands clasped behind his back.

Frost exhaled. "Becoming a human rod will never be easy. The first and only apprentice to do so in history… lost control. She didn't save the world, East. She nearly destroyed it."

Silvermist felt the air shift. It wasn't just tension anymore—there was something much deeper here. Something dangerous.

Sun and East exchanged a glance, an entire conversation passing between them in a single look.

Frost's gaze dropped slightly. "And on top of that…" His voice was a whisper now. "She's filled with hatred."

Silvermist's blood ran cold.

"You both know where I come from. You know the origin of my birth. If we become truly one, we might end up becoming into something even a greater chaos than the Sand man and his apprentice. This won't work unless she's willing to do it."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Then—everything shattered.

A searing white light erupted from the stained-glass windows, engulfing the room. A force yanked Silvermist backward, dragging her into the unknown.

And then—

She woke up.

"Silvermist! Wake up! Get ready!"

Mila's voice rang through the vast expanse of their dormitory. It hadn't even been long since she'd fallen asleep, but she had no choice but to get up.

Silvermist sat up with a sharp inhale, her mind still tangled in the remnants of the dream—if it had even been a dream at all. Her pulse thrummed against her ribs, and her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the silk sheets.

Frost… was the reason I was born into an unloving family.

Her throat tightened. That couldn't be a dream.

She had already accepted the burden of becoming his human rod, knowing that without one, the balance of the seasons would crumble. But this—this revelation that her own suffering, the years of loneliness, the hatred simmering beneath her skin—was because of Frost's existence? That he had wished she had been born under better circumstances?

A bitter laugh nearly escaped her lips.

And now, after everything, he refused to force her? As if he had never forced her into a cruel life to begin with?

"Silvermist! Are you even awake? We're all going down for breakfast," Mila's voice broke through her thoughts, accompanied by a few sharp knocks on the heavy obsidian dorm door.

Silvermist took a deep breath, shoving the tangled emotions aside. "I'm coming."

She swung her legs over the side of her queen-sized bed, feeling the cool marble floor against her bare feet.

The place is truly majestic.

Dark velvet drapes hung from the walls, embroidered with symbols of Bloodstone, the dorm's namesake. The air itself shimmered faintly with protective enchantments, ensuring privacy and security.

Across the room, Adeline sat upright in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Unlike Silvermist, she hadn't slept much either. Their eyes met briefly, and for a second, Silvermist wondered if Adeline had seen the same vision.

She wouldn't be surprised.

With a sigh, she grabbed her uniform—a dark ensemble with silver accents, its fabric impossibly smooth and enchanted to fit perfectly. As she began dressing, her mind kept circling back to the conversation in the hall.

Becoming a human rod will never be easy.

She already knew that. She had come to terms with it.

But what she hadn't expected was the sheer weight of Frost's words. The first and last human rod had lost control. She hadn't saved the world—she had nearly destroyed it.

Silvermist bit her lip.

Would that be her fate as well?

A sudden, sharp gust of wind cut through the room. She turned her head instinctively toward the window, but it was shut. The air still swirled unnaturally, carrying with it a faint whisper—one she couldn't quite make out.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, glancing at Adeline.

Adeline paused, her fingers frozen on the hem of her sleeve. "…Hear what?"

Silvermist frowned. Had she imagined it?

Before she could dwell on it, the door burst open, and Mila waltzed in, hands on her hips. "Are you two seriously taking this long? Candace and Matilda are already downstairs, and Gail—"

Mila's gaze flickered to Silvermist, and she stopped short. "Wait… You look pale. Did something happen?"

Silvermist hesitated. She wasn't sure how to put it into words.

I saw Frost. I saw him arguing with the other Guardians. And I heard him say that I was never supposed to have this life.

No. She wasn't ready to say it out loud. She didn't even know if it was real or not.

"…Just a dream," she muttered instead.

Mila squinted at her. "A dream, huh?"

Silvermist forced a nod, pushing past her toward the door. "Let's just go."

She could feel Mila's curious stare burning into her back, but for once, the usually talkative girl didn't pry further.

As they descended the grand staircase leading to the Academy's main hall, the whispers returned—soft, fleeting. This time, however, Silvermist could make out the words.

"You are running out of time."

Her breath hitched.

She turned sharply, scanning the hallway. Students bustled about, chatting, laughing, preparing for the day. Everything appeared normal.

But Silvermist knew better.

Something was coming.

And whether she was ready or not, she had already stepped into the storm.