ExoShaneey

Silvermist Evermore never belonged. Born to unloving parents and cast aside, she had long accepted that life would never offer her warmth—until she was chosen as an apprentice at Moonstone Academy, a place where magic breathes and fate is written in the stars.

But her arrival comes with a price. In an act of betrayal and manipulation, Silvermist shatters Frost's staff, the formidable Winter Guardian, unraveling a secret that should have remained buried.

 Now, bound by an ancient rule, she must take its place—not as a mere apprentice, but as something far more dangerous: Frost’s human staff, the living embodiment of his power.

As Silvermist struggles to navigate the treacherous halls of Moonstone, she discovers that Guardians without apprentices are doomed to vanish, and the balance of the four seasons—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter—hangs by a thread. But the shadows whisper a greater truth: a war looms on the horizon, fueled by the Sandman’s wrath and a hidden enemy who has been pulling the strings all along.

Haunted by cryptic dreams, hunted by those who seek to use her, and betrayed by those she once trusted, Silvermist must uncover the truth behind her own existence before she loses herself to the very storm she was forced to wield.

Can she survive the weight of Winter, or will she be the final snowfall that buries them all?

FROST

"You can't be telling us that you actually agreed to this without even asking how the hell you're supposed to retrieve that Elixir or whatever?!"

West's right eye twitched so violently that it looked like he was about to combust. He loomed over Silvermist, who was currently doing the universal sign of "I might have screwed up"—awkwardly scratching the back of her head.

"I-I mean, if you stand face to face with three colossal gods, you really can't say anything…" Silvermist murmured, her voice shrinking under West's glare.

The group collectively exhaled a deep, exhausted sigh.

"I knew this journey would be the end of us," Sebastian muttered, turning away with the grace of a defeated monarch. He started kicking random rocks near the shore, each kick somehow more aggressive than the last. A particularly unfortunate pebble was sent flying into the ocean, never to be seen again.

Lost, Clueless, and Probably Doomed