The frost-laden chamber exuded a silence so profound it was nearly suffocating. The air shimmered with cold magic, thick with a tension that not even time itself dared to disturb.
A lone set of footsteps echoed as Cloud entered the cavern, his every step crunching against the icy floor. His ivory eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered toward the two identical figures standing in quiet vigilance before the suspended cocoon of ice.
"How is he?" Cloud's voice rang through the stillness, his words carried by the cold.
The young twin sentinels, Yin and Yang—identical in every way to Frost, yet lacking the weight of his burden—turned in unison, their oceanic gazes meeting Cloud's.
"Stable, Master," they replied as one, their voices eerily synchronized. They only bowed and move aside to give way to the Mist Guardian.
Cloud exhaled, his breath misting in the frigid air. He halted at the foot of the crystalline prison, eyes narrowing at the sight before him.
Suspended within a radiant sphere of frost, his young brother lay curled, his figure encased in the shimmering light of his own power. His body, encased in ice as smooth as glass, seemed untouched by time—his ethereal silver hair fanned out around him, ghostly strands floating as though caught in an unseen current. His face, usually composed in its cold indifference, was unsettlingly peaceful.
The cocoon pulsed, the light within shifting in hypnotic patterns, casting refracted hues along the cavern walls. It was not merely a prison—it was a shield, a self-imposed stasis, a desperate attempt to contain something that had begun to spiral beyond control.
All around them, the ice hummed with unspoken tension. The cold here wasn't merely temperature—it was presence. The very air trembled with an unseen force, as though the frozen world itself mourned the slumber of its master.
Cloud ran a hand down his face, frustration etched in every line. "Why is he doing this anyway?"
A sudden shift in energy, a ripple in the frozen air.
"Ahh..."
Cloud barely flinched as Tim materialized beside him in a flicker of warped time, his ever-present smirk tinged with amusement. The Time Guardian raised a single finger, his expression both knowing and amused.
"She's his apprentice," Tim said simply, as though that explanation was all that was needed.
Cloud scoffed, his frustration only deepening. "Oh? And he'd risk the lives of the many because of that?"
Tim's smirk barely wavered, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. "Why? Would you rather choose the two of them to die?"
The words landed like a slap, sharp and unyielding.
Cloud clenched his jaw, fists curling at his sides.
Tim tilted his head, continuing without giving Cloud a chance to retort. "Only the Lunar King's children can take the role of Guardians. If Frost disappears, we'd still all fall into chaos. The balance isn't just fragile—it's hanging by a thread."
Cloud let out a slow breath, his frustration simmering just beneath his skin. Of course, Tim was right. That was the maddening part.
He dragged his gaze back to Frost's frozen form, the eerie stillness of his cocoon more suffocating than death itself.
He had marked Silvermist before the purification. A reckless move. A dangerous gamble.
And now, Frost was the one suffering for it. He even acted like he had plans, but what is this?
Cloud clenched his fists. He didn't know what was worse—the fact that Frost had made such a desperate choice or the fact that, deep down, Cloud understood why.
Cloud's Burden
Cloud closed his eyes, the weight of centuries pressing against his mind. The past was a cruel thing—an echo that never faded, a wound that never quite healed.
He was the first. The oldest. The very first Guardian to have a human staff. A mistake history had tried to erase, but he could never forget.
Her name was Sapphira Ashcroft.
She had been thirteen when she was chosen—when fate placed her at his side as his apprentice. A girl with eyes that shone like the morning sky, filled with wonder, curiosity, and the boundless potential of youth.
Back then, the world was different. The Guardians and the Titans stood as one, their realms intertwined in harmony. Humans were not mere mortals but chosen beings, capable of wielding celestial power as apprentices.
Sapphira was his.
Together, they ruled over the Guardian Realm, maintaining order, balancing the forces of the cosmos. She was his pride. His partner. His unwavering light.
Years passed, and peace became a routine, a lulling illusion of stability. But the world never remained still, and neither did Sapphira's insatiable thirst for knowledge.
She was twenty when everything began to unravel.
Her curiosity had led her beyond the safe confines of their realm—to the forbidden paths where gods of the Titan realms whispered in the shadows.
There, she met him.
A Titan whose name had long since been erased from history. A god of secrets. A being who dealt in whispers and bargains, weaving temptation like a spider spins its web.
He had offered her knowledge. The kind that Guardians refused to share.
And the price?
Cloud's staff.
The very object that tethered his existence.
Blinded by ambition, Sapphira believed him. Believed that knowledge was worth the risk, that she could control whatever consequences would come.
But the moment she handed over Cloud's staff, the balance shattered.
The Guardian Realm trembled on the brink of chaos. Without his staff, Cloud could no longer hold his domain together, and the delicate harmony of the realms began to fray at the seams.
The Lunar King intervened before all was lost.
With power beyond comprehension, he halted the collapse. But the cost was heavy.
Sapphira, the one who had betrayed the realm, was bound to Cloud—no longer as his apprentice, but as his human staff.
A punishment. A desperate attempt to restore what was lost.
At first, it worked. Cloud wielded his power through her, and balance was restored. But the damage had already been done.
Regret is a poison, and shame is a slow death.
The weight of her mistake crushed her. She grew quiet. Withdrawn. The light in her eyes dimmed, replaced by shadows that no warmth could reach.
Then, the darkness took her.
Corrupted by her own self-loathing, she lost control.
And when she did, havoc tore through the Guardian Realm.
Storms raged. Magic spiraled out of control. The very fabric of existence trembled beneath her grief.
The Titans came. Not to save her, but to fix the mess she had made.
Together, they wrenched Cloud's staff from the abyss, severing the chaotic bond between master and fallen apprentice. The realms were torn apart, separated forever to prevent another catastrophe.
But there was no salvation for Sapphira.
She stood alone, lost in the darkness she had created, her soul too tarnished to be redeemed.
And Cloud…
Cloud had to make a choice.
To leave her behind.
Or to end what she had become.
He chose the latter.
With a heavy heart, he retrieved his mark from her, stripping her of the power that tethered her to existence.
She faded.
No screams. No resistance.
Just silence.
And in that silence, Cloud learned the cruelest lesson of all.
A Guardian without his staff is weak.
A human who becomes a staff is doomed.
And emotions—
—are the greatest enemy of all.
"She is still bound to die," Cloud murmured, his voice cold like the icy presence around them. "Just like Sapphira."
Tim exhaled sharply, wrinkling his nose as he placed a firm yet steadying hand on Cloud's shoulder. His gaze, however, remained fixed on Frost—his peaceful yet fragile form encased within the shimmering cocoon of crystalline frost.
"You think so?" Tim asked, tilting his head ever so slightly. His voice held a hint of amusement, a contradiction to the somber atmosphere. "These two are different, though... Frost is different."
Cloud's brows knitted together as his eyes flickered toward Tim, searching for the meaning behind those words.
Tim only smirked before raising a hand, summoning a soft, golden sphere of light. Within its ethereal glow, an image slowly formed—Silvermist.
She stood in an open courtyard, the sky above her dark with impending snowfall. Ezekiel stood across from her, his stance patient, his voice guiding.
Silvermist's expression was tense, her brows furrowed in determination as she tried—again and again—to control the swirling energy in her grasp. Yet each time, it fizzled out or lashed wildly, forcing her to step back, panting.
But she did not stop.
Even as failure clawed at her, even as exhaustion threatened to consume her, Silvermist pushed forward.
Tim's lips curled, his tone light with amusement but layered with something deeper.
"Frost is fighting for his apprentice something you have not done before," he said, his fingers tightening around the sphere as it pulsed faintly, "and as I can see, his apprentice is doing the same."
Cloud's chest tightened at the sight before him. He saw something familiar in Silvermist—not just the way she trained relentlessly, not just the way she pushed forward despite her weaknesses. It was something deeper. A fire in her eyes that Sapphira had never possessed.
Sapphira had once been his partner, his apprentice, his greatest regret. She had been filled with sorrow, with longing, with a desire for knowledge that had ultimately led to her downfall. But Silvermist… she burned.
Tim chuckled, tossing the sphere into the air before it vanished into tiny flecks of stardust. "I feel like they have a strong bond," he mused, watching Cloud's expression shift. "Something that even mistakes, differences, sins—even emotions—couldn't break."