FROST

"Good to finally meet all of our beloved apprentices," East began, his voice flowing like a spring breeze—soft yet impossible to ignore. It carried a rhythm, a melody without words, as if nature itself had composed it. Every movement he made was fluid, effortless, like a petal drifting on the wind.

Silvermist had expected warmth from him, a gentleness that matched the image of a Spring Guardian. And yet, when his cerulean eyes swept over the apprentices and met hers—just for a second—something shifted.

It was only a brief moment, a flicker of time so short it should have meant nothing. But to Silvermist, it felt like eternity.

The air stilled. The background noise of whispers and shuffling feet faded. Everything slowed as though she had stepped into another world, one where only she and East existed. And in that space, his gaze wasn't warm. It wasn't kind.

It was furious.

A silent storm raged behind his tranquil façade, his ethereal features betraying nothing but his eyes—those deep, sky-blue eyes—burned with something unspoken. It wasn't just anger. It was disappointment. Resentment. A quiet, simmering fury that made Silvermist's stomach twist.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

The background noise returned. The air moved again. East's gaze had already shifted elsewhere, his expression once again unreadable, serene like an untouched meadow.

Had she imagined it?

Silvermist swallowed hard, unsure why a simple glance had shaken her so badly—oh she's actually sure... East was not oblivious to what she had done.

"Sil? Are you okay?" Adeline's voice was soft, laced with concern.

Silvermist blinked, shaking off the lingering unease from her moment with East. "D-Do you have any idea what's gonna happen here, though?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Adeline shrugged, her purple eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I'm not sure, but Mila mentioned something about introductions," she said, tilting her head toward her right.

Silvermist followed her gaze and realized, to her mild surprise, that Mila, Candace, Gail, and Matilda were seated beside them in the same row. Had they been there the whole time? She hadn't even noticed.

Mila, ever the social butterfly, was chatting animatedly with Candace, her hands gesturing with enthusiasm. Matilda sat with her usual composed demeanor, quietly observing the surroundings, while Gail looked disinterested, absently twirling a strand of her golden hair.

Silvermist exhaled, forcing herself to focus. Whatever was about to happen, she needed to be ready.

Frustration gnawed at Silvermist. She had been with Ezekiel earlier but missed her chance to ask how she could meet Frost. The dream haunted her—it was too vivid, too real to be mere imagination. She needed answers. Had she witnessed something real? Was it a warning?

Frost had left her with nothing but silence, and she was done waiting. Ezekiel might know something—he had unlocked his powers before even realizing he was an apprentice. Next time, she wouldn't let the opportunity slip. She would demand the truth.

"As if I have a choice to refuse to be his human rod," Silvermist thought, biting her lip. If her dreams were truly glimpses of reality, then whatever Frost had meant with his words, it was haunting her—gnawing at the edges of her mind like a relentless storm.

Yet, deep down, she knew the truth. She had no one to blame but herself. Not Frost. Not Periwinkle. It was her own recklessness that had shattered his staff, forcing her into this unwanted fate. She had doomed herself the moment she made that mistake, and now, there was no turning back.

If that was the reason Frost had been avoiding her—choosing silence over confrontation—then, "he's such a coward," Silvermist muttered under her breath. He was the great Winter Guardian, yet he couldn't even face her after everything that had happened? The thought only fueled the storm of frustration building inside her.

East smiled charmingly, flicking his iridescent hair in a way that sent the audience into a frenzy of excited whispers and dreamy sighs. "Now, I believe it's time for us to meet the legendary Guardians and the Season Guardians," he announced, his voice like a melody carried by the wind.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. The air grew thick with an ethereal mist, curling like tendrils of ghostly silver around the apprentices. A chilling breeze swept through the auditorium, and from within the mist, a shadow began to take shape. Slowly, it solidified into the form of a tall, spectral man with silver hair as soft as clouds and eyes as white as a blank canvas—so empty they seemed to see everything and nothing at once. His pale skin made him appear almost translucent under the dim lights, and the edges of his gray Victorian attire seemed to fade in and out of existence, like he was caught between worlds.

Silvermist inhaled sharply. Cloud. The Mist Guardian. He bore an unsettling resemblance to Frost—tall, cold, and distant, but with an otherworldly detachment, as if he drifted between realms beyond comprehension.

Beside him, the ground shimmered with swirling golden sands, rising in a mesmerizing dance before forming the figure of a man. His black hair glistened with golden strands that caught the light like molten metal. His sharp, calculating gaze swept over the apprentices as he adjusted his dark Victorian coat, the gold embroidery catching the glow of the chandeliers. Coast. The Golden Sands Guardian.

Then, without warning, a sudden explosion of fire erupted, crackling with an intensity that made the apprentices flinch. From the inferno stepped Blaze, the Fire Guardian. His presence was scorching, his hair a striking shade of scalding red that seemed to flicker like embers.

He stood tall, draped in a maroon Victorian coat, the deep crimson fabric appearing as though it was forged in flames itself. His piercing amber eyes blazed with power as he crossed his arms, exuding a dangerous confidence.

A calm, rippling sound followed. Water droplets materialized in midair, forming spirals that twisted gracefully before cascading down like a gentle rainfall. The droplets pooled together, merging into a tall, regal figure with long, flowing hair tied low at his back. His Victorian coat shimmered like liquid diamonds, reflecting every flicker of light. Rain. The Water Guardian. His presence was soothing yet commanding, his ocean-blue eyes holding the depth of ancient tides.

A sharp crackle split the air, followed by a blinding flash of electricity. The apprentices gasped as the energy twisted into a storm of dark mist and golden lightning, sparking erratically until a figure emerged from the chaos. His aura crackled with raw power, his silver-streaked black hair swaying as arcs of lightning flickered around him. Flash. The Lightning Guardian. His piercing golden eyes surveyed the apprentices with an electrifying intensity, his black Victorian attire laced with glowing veins of light.

Beside him, the ground trembled as swirling red sands lifted into the air. The storm settled, revealing a man with deep bronze skin and short, windswept crimson hair. His presence radiated warmth, but there was an undeniable sharpness in his gaze. Cay. The Red Sand Guardian. His Victorian coat bore the hues of the desert at sunset—deep red blending into burnt orange.

Then came the soft rustling of leaves as autumn colors filled the air. A gust of wind carried golden maple leaves, swirling gracefully until they converged into the figure of Fall.

His chestnut-colored hair had strands of deep auburn, mirroring the changing seasons, and his eyes glowed like amber trapped in sunlight. His Victorian attire bore intricate vine patterns, resembling the cycle of life and decay.

Next, the wind shifted, twisting into mesmerizing, unpredictable patterns. It danced like a living entity, gathering into the silhouette of a tall, refined man.

His silver-blue hair was tousled like a constant breeze ran through it, and his sharp emerald eyes held a knowing glint. His Victorian attire flowed like it was woven from the wind itself. Zephyr. The Wind Guardian.

Unlike the others, two figures entered casually from the stage's main entrance—Tim, the Time Guardian, whose presence was paradoxically unremarkable yet impossibly vast, and Sun, the Summer Guardian, his golden locks shining under the lights as he greeted the apprentices with an effortless, warm smile.

"Now that everyone's here—" East began, but before he could finish, a sharp elbow struck his ribs. He coughed, turning to glare at Tim, who merely shook his head.

East's brows furrowed as he scanned the lineup of Guardians, realization dawning upon him. "I-I believe the Winter Guardian won't be with us now—"

Before he could finish, the entire auditorium trembled.

A thunderous rumble echoed through the walls, as though the earth itself had shuddered in response to an unseen force. The apprentices gasped, gripping their seats as a bone-chilling cold flooded the space, sharp enough to sting their lungs. A gust of wind howled through the chamber, carrying with it an eerie snowfall that materialized out of nowhere.

Snowflakes spiraled and coalesced, forming an intense blizzard upon the stage. The storm grew violent, ice spreading like veins across the floor, forcing even the Guardians to step back. The air thickened with frost, each breath forming visible clouds of condensation.

Then, in the heart of the blizzard, a figure emerged.

Tall and imposing, draped in an elegant black Victorian coat dusted with frost, Frost stood at the center of the chaos he commanded. His silver hair, pale as untouched snow, swayed with the wind's fury. The temperature dropped further as he took a step forward, his icy blue eyes scanning the apprentices with the weight of an eternal winter.

Snowflakes danced around him, drawn to his presence like a force of nature. The room had fallen into utter silence, save for the lingering whisper of wind against ice.

Everyone held their breath.

He was here. The Winter Guardian.

"But why does he look so... Different?" Silvermist whispered.