They emerged from the structure just as a massive section of it collapsed inward, sending a geyser of sparks and flaming debris skyward.The battlefield spread before them, the fighting having drawn closer to the keep's entrance.The ice barrier was failing in places, Wardens pressing through the gaps, their black weapons flashing as they cut down defenders.
Roran stepped forward, his movements fluid and purposeful.He raised his hands once more, and this time, the response was immediate and overwhelming.The clouds overhead churned faster, the spiral tightening, its center directly above him.Wind whipped across the plateau, strong enough to stagger the combatants.Both Wardens and Frostforge defenders paused, looking up in confusion and alarm.
Lightning flickered between the clouds, a web of brilliance that illuminated the battlefield in stark relief.Static electricity crackled in the air, raising the hair on Thalia's arms, making her skin tingle with its proximity.
Roran's voice carried across the plateau, amplified by the wind itself: "Enough!"
The single word hung in the air like a physical presence.Then the storm broke.
Lightning struck with precise, devastating accuracy—not at random, but targeted specifically at the Isle Wardens.Bolt after bolt seared down from the clouds, striking with such speed that they seemed almost simultaneous.Wardens fell, their bodies smoking, their weapons dropped from nerveless fingers.
Those who had survived the initial assault turned their attention from the beleaguered defenders to this new threat.Storm mages among them raised their hands, attempting to seize control of the tempest Roran had unleashed.The clouds wavered, the pattern of lightning faltering as competing wills fought for dominance.
Roran stepped forward, his feet leaving the ground as wind lifted him several inches into the air.His eyes glowed with an inner light, and electricity crackled along his arms, jumped between his fingers.He was the eye of the storm, the calm center around which destruction orbited.
He brought his hands together in a sharp clap, and the sound that followed was not the mere collision of flesh against flesh but the explosive crack of thunder directly overhead.The Warden mages staggered as their connection to the storm was severed, the backlash of disrupted magic sending them to their knees.
The defenders of Frostforge, seeing their enemies falter, rallied with renewed vigor.Brynn's voice rose above the chaos, sharp with authority: "Forward!Push them back!"
The cryomancers surged over their ice barrier, their hands wreathed in frost as they pressed the sudden advantage.Students who had been retreating now turned, finding courage in Roran's display of power, in the sight of Wardens falling beneath precisely targeted lightning.
Thalia stood transfixed, watching as Roran directed the storm with gestures that seemed almost like a dance—fluid, graceful, terrible in their effect.This was what the tribunal had feared, what they had sentenced him to death for: not just the ability to wield storm magic, but to master it in ways that outstripped even those born to the Isle Wardens' traditions.
A Warden broke through the line, charging directly at Roran with a black-bladed sword raised high.Thalia moved to intercept, but before she could take two steps, a bolt of lightning struck the attacker, the impact lifting him off his feet and hurling him backward.He did not rise.
The tide of battle had turned.The Wardens, faced with mounting losses and the unleashed fury of a storm mage more powerful than their own, began to fall back.Their retreat was disorganized at first, individuals breaking off from groups, abandoning positions they had fought to gain.Then, as if responding to some unheard command, they withdrew in greater numbers, moving back toward the edge of the plateau from which they had first appeared.
"They're running!"someone shouted, the voice thick with disbelief and dawning hope.
Senna appeared through the chaos, blood streaming from a gash across her cheek, her uniform torn and scorched, but her silver-gray eyes bright with fierce exultation."Forward!"she called, raising her fist."For Frostforge!"
The cry was taken up by voices across the battlefield: "For Frostforge!"
The defenders surged forward, pressing their advantage, driving the retreating Wardens before them.The storm continued to rage overhead, but more selectively now, lightning striking only at clusters of resistance, at Wardens who turned to make a stand.
Thalia watched as the invaders were pushed back across the plateau, their numbers diminishing with each passing minute.Victory, so recently unthinkable, now seemed not just possible but inevitable.And at the center of it all stood Roran, conductor of the tempest, channeling its fury with the precision of a master craftsman.
As the last of the Wardens disappeared over the edge of the plateau, a ragged cheer went up from the defenders.The sound seemed to break through Roran's concentration.The wind that had sustained him gentled, lowering him to the ground.The lightning ceased, though the clouds continued to churn overhead, a reminder that the storm had not truly passed.
Thalia rushed to his side as he swayed, exhaustion suddenly evident in every line of his body.His skin was ashen beneath its natural brown tone, and his eyes had lost their unnatural glow.The electricity that had crackled along his arms faded, leaving him looking smaller somehow, more human.
"Roran," she said, reaching him just as his knees buckled.
He collapsed against her, and she bore his weight, easing him to the ground.His body trembled with exhaustion, his breathing shallow and rapid.Using so much power after days of imprisonment and deprivation had drained him completely.
"It's over," she murmured, cradling his head against her shoulder."They're gone.You saved us."
Roran's laugh was barely more than an exhale, his voice a thread of sound against her ear."And you saved me."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sunlight fractured through the dissipating storm clouds, casting harsh light over the debris strewn across the Crystalline plateau.Thalia picked her way through the battlefield, boots sliding on patches of melted ice and scorched grass.Each breath filled her lungs with the acrid tang of ozone and burning wood, the smells of storm magic and destruction mingling into something that tasted like victory and defeat all at once.Her limbs moved mechanically, carrying her forward while her mind struggled to process the devastation around her—the price paid for Frostforge's salvation.
As she moved through the aftermath, Thalia wondered distantly if the Isle Wardens had known about Roran’s tribunal and chosen their window of attack accordingly.Certainly, they wouldn’t do so to defend Roran; she had heard them call him “traitor” enough times to know that.But almost the entire academy had been present on the plateau, the students without any weapons or armor.The soldiers had been armed, as always, but certainly not prepared for the ambush—and with the black blades that had shattered ice-metal like it was as fragile as glass, the Wardens must have liked their chances of cutting through the academy’s extemporary defenses.
They almost had.They would have, if it hadn’t been for Roran.Perhaps that was the ultimate reason why the Wardens had chosen their moment.Their attacks on the academy had been foiled by Roran’s storm magic before; if they knew Roran would be rendered helpless, his power suppressed, it was the perfect opportunity to strike.Frostforge, in its fear and hatred of the archipelago, had played right into its enemies’ hands.
Bodies lay where they had fallen—some in the distinctive black and midnight blue leathers of Isle Warden armor, others in the familiar uniforms of Frostforge.Too many of the latter.From where she stood, Thalia counted at least twelve recruits and soldiers who would never rise again, their faces frozen in expressions of surprise or determination or fear.
