Thalia's mind flashed back to that confrontation two years ago—Maven standing over her with a ritual blade, intoning words in an ancient tongue as Kaine fought to reach them through the collapsing tunnel.The chamber had been old, far older than the academy built above it, its walls lined with strange mechanisms and runes that seemed to drink in the light.
Maven had been convinced that activating the Founders' Price—a legendary defense system that required blood sacrifice—was the only way to protect Frostforge from the Isle Warden attack raging above.Thalia had managed to temporarily power the wards using energy from a storm spirit rather than blood, but this solution had proven short-lived; the defenses lay dormant once more.
"I've been examining the chamber," Kaine continued, oblivious to the turmoil his words had stirred in Thalia."The excavation revealed something we missed before.Sections of the walls are inlaid with metallic runes, concealed beneath layers of stone until now."
Thalia plunged her half-formed blade into the cooling trough, watching steam rise in a hissing cloud."And you've been translating them," she said.It wasn't a question; she knew Kaine's obsessive nature when it came to this research.
He nodded, finally looking up to meet her eyes."Fragments, yes.The language is old, predating the Northern kingdoms as we know them now.But like other texts from that era, it warns of a 'threat from the sea,' repeated often enough that I believe it was central to the chamber's builders."
"The Isle Wardens," Thalia said automatically, as she had in past discussions of such warnings.The sea-dwelling mages with their storm magic had been enemies of the continental nations for generations.
Kaine frowned, his brow furrowing."I don’t know.The timing doesn't work.Frostforge and its keep predate the current conflict with the Isle Wardens by centuries.The chamber itself might be older still."
“Frostforge predates the current conflict,” Thalia pointed out.“That doesn’t mean it predatesallof the conflicts the continent has had with the archipelago.”
"Maybe," Kaine admitted, his voice troubled."But I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something important.The Founders built Frostforge as a defense against something they feared deeply—something they were willing to sacrifice lives to defeat.I just want to understand what it was."
Thalia returned to her work, lifting the cooled metal to examine its shape before placing it back in the flames to reheat.The thought of Kaine spending hours in that cursed chamber, poring over the same runes that had driven Maven to attempted murder, made her stomach twist with anxiety.Last time he had delved too deeply into the Founders' Price, he had nearly sacrificed himself to activate it, showing a disregard for his own life that still haunted her.
"You're pushing yourself too hard," she said, her voice softer than she'd intended."The forge work alone is enough to wear anyone down.This research on top of it..."
Her concern hung in the air between them, more naked than she'd meant it to be.Kaine set down his hammer and moved closer, reaching for the tongs in her hand.His fingers brushed hers as he took them, and suddenly she was acutely aware of his proximity—the heat radiating from his skin, mingling with the forge's fire; the intensity of his gaze as it met hers over the glow of their half-formed blades.
For a heartbeat, the roar of the forge seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the distant rhythm of hammers.Thalia felt an almost magnetic pull toward him, a desire to close the small distance between them and lose herself in the comfort of his embrace.She knew from experience that Kaine's kiss could transport her, could make her forget about anything, if only for a moment—and right now, there was so much she wanted to forget.
But Kaine was the one to break the moment.He leaned back, a deliberate, if reluctant, motion.She stared at him, confused.
"You're carrying too much right now to know what you truly want," he said gently, his voice steady despite an undercurrent of regret."With Roran imprisoned, and your family's whereabouts unknown..."He trailed off, shaking his head slightly."I can’t do this.It would feel like taking advantage of your pain."
Thalia felt heat rise to her cheeks that had nothing to do with the forge.A tangled rush of emotions swept through her—gratitude for his consideration, embarrassment at being so transparent, frustration at the barriers that seemed to constantly rise between them.She wanted to argue, to tell him that she knew her own mind better than he did, but the words caught in her throat.Because beneath her indignation, she recognized the truth in what he said.
Her feelings for Kaine had always been complicated, entwined with her feelings for Roran in ways she hadn't fully untangled.And now, with both her family and Roran in peril, her emotions were a storm-tossed sea, too turbulent to navigate safely.She could see the consternation in Kaine’s expression, the way his brow furrowed as he wrestled with his own emotions.He wanted her—that much was clear.When he had said Roran’s name, he had nearly choked on it, his jealousy evident in the set of his jaw.
"The metal needs reheating," she said finally, deflecting the moment with practicality.She gestured to the cooling strip of steel on Kaine's anvil, where their work had been interrupted.
Kaine nodded, accepting her retreat with grace.He returned to his station, and after a moment's hesitation, she did the same.They resumed their work in silence, the rhythm of hammers on metal filling the space where words had failed.
Yet as they worked, Thalia found herself stealing glances at Kaine, watching the focused intensity with which he shaped the metal, the careful precision of each blow.There was a steadiness to him that she envied—a certainty of purpose that seemed unshakable even in the face of chaos.And despite his rejection of the moment they'd shared, she felt oddly comforted by his presence, by the simple act of working alongside him in the forge's warm embrace.
The blades took shape beneath their hammers, curved and deadly, a perfect matched pair.And as Thalia lost herself in the familiar motions of the forge, she allowed herself to believe, if only for these few hours, that some things in her world might still remain solid and true, even as everything else threatened to crumble into ash.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Thalia's breath came rapidly, clouding before her in the bitter morning air as the procession of soldiers moved with grim purpose across the Crystalline Plateau.Many pairs of boots crunched over frost-rimed grass toward the wooden amphitheater that loomed beneath the Smith's Anvil.Thalia kept her eyes fixed on the temporary structure, its weathered planks and hastily erected beams stark against the mountain's ancient stone.This wasn't the first time she'd seen such a construction on the plateau—similar ones appeared each year for the Forge Gauntlet—but never had one filled her with such dread.
Senna marched at the head of their formation, her back rigid as a blade, silver-gray eyes scanning the line of students ahead of them.Her uniform was immaculate, the ice-steel pins of her rank glinting in the morning light.Thalia followed with the rest of the soldiers, trying to ignore the weight of Senna's occasional backward glance—sharp and assessing, as if measuring Thalia's reaction to what was about to unfold.
"Eyes forward, Greenspire," Senna called without turning her head, her voice carrying over the whisper of wind across the plateau."This is a military proceeding, not a social gathering."
Thalia bit back a retort and fixed her gaze ahead, though her mind raced like a trapped animal seeking escape.Six days since she'd seen Roran in his cell.Six days of patrol duty and inventory counts, of training novices and repairing equipment.Six days of hoping for news that never came.
The amphitheater grew larger as they approached, its wooden skeleton thrown into sharp relief by the morning sun.Unlike the more hastily constructed viewing stands for the Forge Gauntlet, this structure bore marks of careful planning—solid foundations dug into the frozen ground, tiered seating arranged with military precision, a raised dais at its center ringed by tall poles bearing Frostforge's crest: a hammer striking a stylized mountain peak, sparks of ice rather than fire flying from the impact.
Everything about it spoke of permanence, as if the tribunal had been an inevitability from the moment Roran had first set foot in Frostforge.Perhaps it had been.
Students filed into the amphitheater ahead of them, arranged by year—first-years on the highest tiers, looking wide-eyed and uncertain; second-years just below them, their faces apprehensive; third and fourth-years closer to the front, their expressions more guarded, more aware of what the day's proceedings truly meant.Many of the older students had known Roran personally.Some had fought alongside him during the Isle Warden attack last term.
Thalia searched their faces as she passed, looking for any sign of sympathy, any hint that they might see the injustice unfolding before them.But most avoided her gaze, their eyes cast downward or fixed firmly ahead.Those who did meet her eyes looked away quickly, as if her anguish might be contagious.
