A gust of wind cut through Thalia's layers, and she suppressed a shiver.The cold was bitter even by Frostforge standards, a deep, penetrating chill that seemed designed to remind Southerners of their foreignness in this harsh land.Thalia had long since learned to endure it, but today it felt personal, as if the mountain were deliberately trying to drive her away.
When the bell rang to signal the end of her watch, Thalia descended from the wall with legs stiff from standing motionless in the cold.Her replacement, a broad-shouldered Northern woman with a scar bisecting her left eyebrow, nodded curtly as they passed on the narrow stairs.No words were exchanged; none were needed.The routine of Frostforge was as rigid as the ice that encased its outer walls.
She made her way to the quartermaster's storerooms, where her afternoon would be spent checking and rechecking inventory lists against the actual supplies.It was mind-numbing work, but that was precisely why Thalia had requested it.Counting sacks of grain and barrels of preserved fish left little room for thoughts of Roran's hollow eyes or her mother and sister's uncertain fates.
The hours bled together as they had for days now—morning watch on the walls, afternoon inventory in the storerooms, evening training rotations with the newer recruits.Every other night, she was assigned to patrol the corridors.The work left her muscles aching and her mind mercifully blank.By the time the evening meal was called, Thalia could barely keep her eyes open, exactly as she'd intended.
"You look terrible," Luna observed as Thalia collapsed onto the bench beside her in the mess hall."Have you been sleeping at all?"
Thalia reached for a bowl of the thick stew that constituted dinner at Frostforge—heavy on root vegetables, light on meat, and seasoned with little more than salt."Enough," she lied, spooning the bland mixture into her mouth without tasting it.
Luna's skeptical expression made it clear she didn't believe this."The first refugees from Verdant Port should be arriving soon.Maybe there will be news."
Thalia nodded, not trusting herself to speak around the sudden tightness in her throat.The hope that her mother and sister might be among the refugees was too fragile to voice aloud, as if speaking it might cause it to shatter like thin ice beneath a heavy boot.
"I have the night off," Luna continued, her tone deliberately light."Brynn convinced Instructor Marr to let her lead an advanced combat session with some of the senior students.I think he's hoping she'll wear herself out enough to stop pestering him about her rank."
A ghost of a smile touched Thalia's lips."Sounds like Brynn."
"What about you?"Luna asked."Plans for your first free evening since we got back?"
Thalia pushed her half-eaten stew away."Sleep, maybe."The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.Sleep hadn't come easily since their return to Frostforge, and when it did, it brought dreams of storm-wracked seas and burning ports, of Mari calling her name as waves closed over her head.
Luna's gaze softened."You should find something to do with your hands," she suggested."It always helps you think."
Thalia didn't respond, but as she left the mess hall, Luna's words echoed in her mind.Something to do with her hands.Before she quite realized where her feet were taking her, Thalia found herself descending the spiral staircase that led to the Howling Forge.
The heat hit her like a physical blow as she stepped through the arched doorway—a welcome assault after days spent in the bitter cold.Sweat beaded instantly on her forehead, and she shed her outer layer, draping it over her arm as she made her way deeper into the forge's fiery heart.
The forge was alive with activity even at this late hour.Students moved between stations, their faces gleaming with sweat in the orange glow of the fires.The air throbbed with the rhythm of hammers striking anvils, punctuated by the hiss of hot metal plunged into cooling troughs.The familiar smell of scorched iron, coal, and the unique tang of ice-metal washed over Thalia, and for the first time in days, something in her chest loosened.
She headed straight for Kaine's station, navigating the maze of workbenches and forges from memory.He was where she expected to find him, bent over his anvil, hammer rising and falling in a precise cadence that sent sparks dancing across his workstation.His dark hair was pulled back from his face, damp with sweat, and his sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle from years of smithing.The ice-metal blade taking shape beneath his hammer glowed like captured sunlight.
Thalia stood watching him for a moment, letting the familiar sight wash over her like a balm.Kaine worked with a focus that seemed to shut out the world around him, yet as she waited, he looked up as if sensing her presence.Their eyes met across the forge, and something flickered in his ice-blue gaze—surprise, perhaps, or relief.
He didn't ask why she was there.He simply set down his hammer, wiped his hands on a rag tucked into his belt, and reached for a second pair of tongs.He held them out to her with a slight upturn of his lips that wasn't quite a smile but conveyed understanding nonetheless.
"I could use another set of hands," he said, gesturing toward the anvil with a nod.
Thalia stepped forward, taking the tongs from him.Their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange, and she found herself oddly aware of the contrast between his calloused palm and her own."What are we making?"she asked, though she could already see the answer taking shape on his anvil.
"Battle scythes," Kaine replied, returning to his work."Northern design, but with some modifications.The curve needs to be just right, or the balance is off."
Thalia nodded, recognizing the design from previous seasons.The slender, curved blade was one of Kaine's older creations—elegant and deadly, with a channel running down its spine that could be filled with cryomantic energies by a skilled wielder.She'd helped him forge similar weapons during her training at Frostforge, before graduation had sent her to the front lines and him back to the forge.
Kaine pointed to a bar of metal heating in the forge's heart."That one should be ready.We'll need a pair."
Without further instruction, Thalia slipped into the familiar rhythm of the forge.She retrieved the glowing bar with her tongs, laying it across the smaller anvil adjacent to Kaine's.The metal sang as her hammer struck it, a pure, clear note that resonated in her chest.With each blow, she shaped the formless bar into the beginning of a blade, stretching and thinning it with practiced precision.
For a time, they worked in companionable silence, the symphony of the forge washing over them.Thalia felt the day's tensions begin to ebb, replaced by the focused calm that metalwork always brought her.Her body remembered the motions even after months away, muscles falling into patterns engraved by years of practice.Strike, turn, strike again.The rhythm was meditative, the concentration required leaving no room for thoughts of Roran's fate or her family's uncertain status.
"I've been continuing my research," Kaine said after a while, his voice casual as he examined the edge of his blade."Into the Founders' Price."
The words landed like a stone in still water, sending ripples through Thalia's hard-won calm.Her hammer faltered mid-swing, and she had to adjust her grip to avoid striking at the wrong angle.The Founders' Price.The very phrase dredged up memories she'd tried to bury—of hidden chambers beneath Frostforge, of ancient mechanisms designed to harness blood sacrifice, of Instructor Maven's face twisted with zealous determination as she prepared to spill Thalia's blood to activate the academy's defenses.
"Why?"The question escaped her before she could temper it, sharper than she'd intended.
If Kaine noticed the edge in her voice, he gave no sign of it.His eyes remained on his work, his hands steady as he shaped the glowing metal."Because I don't think we understood what we found," he said."Not fully."
