The effect of Frostmark sounded simple - create a layer of frost on touch. Compared to Silent Moon's complexity, it felt almost insulting in its plainness.
He knelt and pressed his bare palm against the ashen ground.
Nothing happened.
Cel frowned, staring at his hand. The ash remained unchanged - gray and lifeless as before.
Then understanding struck.
'Right. An authority.'
Unlike summoning Silent Moon, which responded to pure intent, authorities required something more fundamental. Divine Energy - the wellspring of power that existed within every human.
Its capacity was largely fixed at birth, determined by bloodline and heritage. Growth was possible, but only through years of grueling work, and even then, the gains were painfully small. What separated the great from the mediocre wasn't just the size of that pool, but control. Precision. The ability to channel Divine Energy without waste.
The nobles held an advantage before they ever began training. Generations of Chosen bloodlines had concentrated their divine essence, passing down both larger pools from birth and inherited aptitude for wielding it. They started with more power and natural talent - experience was all that remained to cultivate.
Cel's jaw tightened.
At least he could be thankful for that much. Even if his father had cast him aside, even if the Sun Clan had deemed him worthless - he still carried noble blood. His divine essence should be above average at minimum. And his control…
Maybe that was something he had talent for. A consolation prize for his complete lack of combat ability.
He closed his eyes and reached inward, searching for the Divine Energy within him.
A void stared back.
Cel's brow furrowed. He concentrated harder, diving deeper into himself. Past the surface awareness, past the physical sensations of his body. Trying to find that spark of divinity the Moon Goddess had woven into his soul.
Nothing.
'What...?'
Panic flickered at the edges of his thoughts. Every Chosen One could feel their Divine Energy, even if they couldn't control it well. It was fundamental - like knowing you had a heart beating in your chest. You didn't need training to sense it.
It was simply there.
Unless…
'I couldn't be that talentless, could I?' The thought made his stomach clench.
To lack combat skill was one thing. To be denied even the most basic awareness that separated Chosen from normal humans?
That would be a new kind of failure entirely.
He tried again. Reached deeper. Concentrated until his head throbbed.
Still nothing.
Just the hollow echo of his own consciousness.
Cel's eyes snapped open. His breath came faster, chest tightening.
This was bad. Really bad.
If he couldn't sense his Divine Energy, he couldn't channel it. And if he couldn't channel it, authorities were useless. Not just Frostmark - every authority he might ever gain. Locked away behind a wall he couldn't breach.
Panic clawed up his throat. His hands trembled.
'No. No, there has to be—'
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. The sharp pain cut through the spiral of fear.
'Breathe. Think.'
There had to be another way. There was always another way. He'd survived a year of torture, survived the trial, survived death itself. He wasn't going to give up because of this.
'Fine. Forget sensing it directly.'
If he couldn't sense his divine energy directly, he'd try it the same way he'd summoned Silent Moon. Pure intent. Just... reach for it.
He pressed his palm to the ash again and focused - not inward this time, but on the authority itself. On Frostmark. On the power the goddess had granted him.
Cold erupted beneath his hand.
Cel yanked his palm away with a hiss, clutching it against his chest. Ice burned through his skin - not the gentle chill of winter, but searing, bone-deep cold that felt like his hand had been plunged into frozen water.
He stared at his palm. The skin was pale, almost bloodless, but undamaged. Just... cold. Painfully cold.
And where his hand had been, frost sprawled across the ash in delicate spirals.
The patterns were intricate - woven like lace into the cracked earth. Thin veins of ice crystallized the ash beneath, shimmering with pale blue light. Beautiful. Alien.
Cel flexed his aching fingers,
'Of course. Of course it hurts me too.'
Not just his enemies would feel the frost's bite. He would too. Every time he used it.
Another weakness. Another cost.
Cel clenched his jaw and pressed his palm to the ground again.
The cold slammed into him instantly - vicious and sharp, like knives of ice driving through flesh. His fingers went numb. Pain lanced up his wrist, into his forearm. He forced himself to hold it there, breathing through gritted teeth as frost bloomed outward in a circle.
A brittle sound whispered up from the earth - like glass forming beneath snow. The temperature dropped. The frost continued spreading, spiraling across cracked ground in delicate patterns until it reached the limits of his focus - then stopped, holding its shape with unnatural stillness.
His palm burned. Not with heat, but with cold so intense it felt like fire eating into bone.
Cel pulled his hand away, gasping.
The frost lingered, unmoving, etched into the ground like a mark left by divine breath. He flexed his fingers slowly, feeling sensation return in painful tingles. When he touched the frozen surface, it was smooth, almost slick, but not wet. The ice didn't melt. Not even slightly.
His breath misted white before him.
Not simple ice then. Permanent frost, frozen into the world itself.
Yet even as the frost formed, he'd felt nothing inside him shift or drain. No awareness of the power he was using.
Why couldn't he feel his Divine Energy? Every other Chosen could.
He pushed the thought aside. It didn't matter right now. The authority worked. That was enough.
Cel's fingers curled into a fist.
He'd admired the frost's beauty long enough. Now he wanted to see if it was more than decoration.
Without hesitation, he brought his fist down onto the frozen surface.
The frost shattered instantly.
Fragments exploded outward like glass striking stone. The impact sent a sharp crack through the air, and shards scattered across the ash in glittering sprays.
Cel stared at the broken pieces.
Disappointment settled heavy in his chest.
'That's it?'
One punch. Just one, and the frost had given way like it was nothing. He hadn't even used his full strength.
His shoulders sagged slightly. So much for trapping enemies or using it as a shield. If it couldn't even withstand a single hit from him, how was it supposed to hold against someone actually trying to break through?
Frostmark was beautiful. Intricate. Cold enough to bite.
But ultimately... fragile.
Just like the Moon Goddess's reputation suggested. Weak. Unremarkable. Powers that paled in comparison to other Chosen abilities.
Cel flexed his hand, watching the last fragments of frost glitter in the crimson light.
"Useless," he muttered.
Then he turned his gaze toward the horizon, where the wasteland sprawled endlessly forward - empty and gray.
His mind shifted to more immediate concerns. Water. Food. Without either, he'd be dead long before finding any rift.
His restored body felt strong now - whole in a way it hadn't been for over a year. But that strength was an illusion. Starvation would claim him just as quickly as it had in that cell if he couldn't—
A shriek split the air.
Cel's head snapped up, every muscle locking tight.
The sound was high and sharp - like metal dragged across bone. It echoed through the wasteland, alien and wrong, making his skin prickle with instinctive dread.
His hand moved to summon Silent Moon, even before he consciously decided to do so.
The blade materialized in his grip, moonlight coalescing into solid steel. Four crescents ignited along its length with soft white radiance.
A tremor ran through the ground.
Ash jumped and scattered as stone cracked beneath his feet.
Something burst from the earth perhaps fifty steps away. Gray dust billowed in thick clouds.
Cel dropped into a low stance, weight balanced, blade raised.
The creature slithered free with spasming, desperate movements. Stone-like skin - rough and ancient as the earth itself - covered a serpentine body that twisted and coiled. Its upper half carried limbs that sent unease crawling up his spine
Arms. Grotesquely human in shape but stretched far too long, ending in clawed fingers that dug into ash with frantic purpose.
But it was the head that froze his breath.
No eyes. No nose. Just a mouth - a wide, circular maw ringed with concentric rows of needle-thin teeth that flexed and contracted with each labored breath.
The thing hauled itself forward in violent bursts, its entire form trembling with urgency. Its head whipped side to side in erratic motions, as if trying to sense something through the ash.
It didn't move toward him. Didn't even seem aware of his presence.
Cel remained perfectly still, watching the creature scrabble past with growing recognition.
That motion - the uncoordinated scramble of limbs, the raw instinct driving it forward without thought or direction.
He'd moved like that in the crystal maze. Blind with terror. Running from something far worse than himself.
The realization settled cold in his chest.
The creature wasn't hunting.
It was fleeing.
Ash exploded.
A shriek tore from the creature before the ground beneath it gave way to a circular maw - wide enough to swallow a house whole. Jagged teeth, wet with something black and steaming, slammed shut around the smaller beast with horrifying precision.
The shriek cut off mid-sound.
Shockwaves rippled through the ash. Cel staggered, throwing an arm up to shield his face as debris scattered in every direction. Stone splintered. Dust billowed in thick clouds.
When the air cleared, the predator had surfaced.
Cel's eyes widened.
The thing dwarfed everything. Worm-like in form but bloated, armored in fractured plates of obsidian-black that pulsed with inner heat.
No eyes. No limbs. Just that gaping maw ringed in saw-like fangs that glinted even in the dying light.
The creature twisted once - an avalanche of scale and muscle that made the ground buckle beneath its weight.
Then it plunged back into the earth.
Stone sealed behind it like water closing over a dropped pebble. The rumbling faded. The ash settled.
Silence crashed down.
Cel stood frozen, blade still raised, every muscle locked tight. His breath came shallow and too fast. His pulse hammered against his ribs.
The massive predator had surfaced close enough to perceive him. Close enough to turn. Close enough to devour.
But it hadn't.
It devoured the fleeing creature and vanished without acknowledging his existence.
'Huh?' Confusion burned through his paralysis.
He'd been right there. Visible. Vulnerable.
So why had it ignored him?
Minutes passed. Cel's breathing gradually steadied, though his grip on Silent Moon's hilt never loosened. His eyes swept the fractured ground where the creature had vanished, searching for movement, for any sign it might return.
Nothing stirred.
The ash drifted lazily through the air. Silent and empty as before, the wasteland offered no answers.
Only when his legs began to ache from holding his stance did Cel finally allow himself to relax. The tension drained from his shoulders. His breathing deepened.
Gone. The thing was gone.
His mind churned, trying to make sense of what he'd witnessed. The pattern, the rule that had kept him safe while the other creature died.
But no answer came. No sudden insight. No clear answer.
For now, he needed to keep moving. Find water. Find shelter.
He took a step forward—
The ground beneath his feet collapsed.