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

West remained still, his sharp gaze softening just slightly as he listened to her words. The cavern, which only moments ago had been filled with violent energy and deafening impacts, was now eerily silent — save for the faint crackle of residual mana in the air and the distant sound of falling pebbles from the shattered ceiling.

The dust finally began to settle, and the moonlight streaming through the fissures above bathed them both in pale, almost ethereal light.

"W-West—" Silvermist called out, her voice trembling yet louder this time, just enough for him to hear through the settling silence. He didn't respond right away, only tilting his head slightly in her direction, acknowledging her presence with that small movement, yet saying nothing.

The Test—The Answer