"Thirteen," Marr's voice carried from the mess hall entrance, where he stood with a ledger, marking names with grim efficiency."Thirteen fallen.Six students, four soldiers, three refugees."
Thalia's heart clenched.Thirteen was too many, but fewer than she had feared.Far fewer than the last major attack on the Crystalline plateau.Their preparations—the glacenite weapons, the evacuation of non-combatants to the deepest chambers, the defensive formations Wolfe had drilled into them—had saved countless lives.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a line of refugees emerged from the corridor leading to the kitchens.They moved slowly, the elderly supported by the young, children clinging to parents' hands or carried in strong arms.Zanaya was among them, her thin face smudged with soot but otherwise unharmed.She caught Thalia's eye and gave a small, determined nod before continuing to help an old woman with a walking stick.
Relief loosened some of the tension in Thalia's shoulders.The most vulnerable had been spared.Whatever else the Wardens had taken from them today, they hadn't claimed these innocents.
A sharp whistle cut through the murmur of voices.Instructor Wolfe stood at the center of the ruined foyer, her emerald eyes reflecting the torchlight, her shoulder still bandaged from the arrow wound she'd received during Roran's trial.The crowd fell silent, faces turning toward her with expressions ranging from exhaustion to wary hope.
"Frostforge stands," Wolfe said, her voice carrying to every corner of the hall without effort."Bloodied but unbroken.We have repelled an assault that would have leveled most strongholds.We have shown the Wardens that their black metal and storm magic are not enough to defeat us."
Her gaze swept the assembly, lingering on each face as if committing them to memory."This victory was hard-won, and we pay tribute to those who gave their lives in its achievement.They will be honored as the heroes they are."
Wolfe straightened, the movement causing her to wince slightly from her wound."But before we turn to our losses, I would recognize those whose actions gave us the chance to prepare, to fight, to survive."
She gestured toward where Kaine and Roran stood, somewhat apart from the main gathering."Kaine Ember and Roran Bright risked everything to bring us a warning of the Wardens' approach.Without their intelligence, we would have been caught unaware, with devastating consequences.Their courage gave us precious time."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.Thalia saw Kaine's jaw tighten, uncomfortable with the acknowledgment.Beside him, Roran stood perfectly still, his face a careful mask that didn't quite hide the turmoil in his eyes.Just a month ago, these same people had been ready to watch him die, convinced of his treachery.
Then Wolfe's gaze found Thalia, and something unexpected flickered in the instructor's expression—respect, perhaps even pride."And Thalia Greenspire, whose innovation with the glacenite alloy gave us weapons that could stand against the Wardens' black metal.Without her work, without her insight, we would have had no defense against their technology."
Thalia's cheeks burned as heads turned toward her.The praise felt unearned—a product of desperation rather than deliberate brilliance.She had stumbled upon the alloy's properties, had barely understood what she was working with until it was too late to consider the consequences.
"These three students," Wolfe continued, "exemplify what Frostforge was built to create: defenders with the intellect to understand our enemies and the courage to face them.Tonight, they have earned the academy's gratitude."
The acknowledgment from instructors who had always been stern taskmasters, distant and demanding, felt surreal after years of their ruthless training methods.Thalia caught Roran's eye across the crowd and saw her own discomfort mirrored in his expression—discomfort and something deeper, a confusion that bordered on anguish.How could he reconcile these words of praise with the memory of chains around his wrists, of a tribunal that had condemned him without hesitation?
A commotion at the eastern entrance interrupted the moment.Senna appeared, flanked by four members of her squadron, dragging a limp form between them.The Warden mage, still unconscious, his silver-adorned helm now removed to reveal a face as pale as moonlight, with runes tattooed across his forehead in faded blue ink.
"We found him where Roran left him," Senna announced, her voice carrying across the suddenly silent hall."He's alive."
Thalia felt Roran stiffen beside her.The mage's words—Rorik Stormchild—hung between them, unspoken but impossible to forget.
Virek stepped forward, something gleaming in his frost-scarred hands—the same storm-suppressing cuffs that had bound Roran during his imprisonment.With clinical efficiency, he clasped them around the mage's wrists, the metal emitting a soft blue glow as the enchantment activated.
Roran's face tightened, a muscle jumping in his jaw.Thalia wanted to reach for his hand, to offer some comfort, but the distance between them—both physical and emotional—felt suddenly vast.
"Secure him in the prison block," Wolfe commanded."When he wakes, we will learn everything he knows about the Wardens' plans for the continent.About why they've changed their tactics from raiding to occupation."
Her gaze hardened as she looked at the unconscious mage."This man has answers.And we will get them, one way or another."
***
Thalia ascended the spiral staircase of the north tower behind Roran, her fingers trailing along the frost-slick wall for balance.The glacenite visions had receded to whispers now, but exhaustion weighed her limbs like chains, each step an effort of will rather than muscle.Still, she had to be here—had to hear whatever the Warden mage might reveal about Verdant Port, about her mother and Mari.Sleep could wait.Answers could not.
The air grew colder as they climbed, their breath forming clouds that dissipated in the dim blue light of the cryolamps.This place was too familiar now—Thalia had walked these same steps to visit Roran in his cell, had felt the same oppressive weight of stone and ice pressing down from above.But now the roles were reversed.Now it was a true Isle Warden who sat chained within these walls.
"We shouldn't be here," Roran murmured, pausing on the last step.His dark eyes found hers in the half-light, concern etched in the furrow of his brow."Wolfe didn't invite us to this interrogation."
"I need to know," Thalia said simply.There was no room for argument in her voice, no space for doubt or hesitation.If the mage knew anything about Verdant Port, about what had happened to her family, she would hear it from his own lips.
Roran studied her face for a long moment, then nodded once.He understood the need that drove her, even if he feared where it might lead.
The corridor opened into a circular chamber flanked by cells on all sides.Most stood empty, their ice-barred doors hanging open.Only one was occupied—the furthest from the entrance, where three figures cast long shadows across the floor.Wolfe stood rigid as a blade, her back to the entrance, while Senna paced before the cell like a caged predator.Inside, seated on a stone bench with his hands bound by the storm-suppressing cuffs, the Warden mage watched their movements with detached amusement.
"You waste your breath," he said, his voice carrying the same strange accent Thalia had heard in his single utterance during the battle—musical yet harsh, like water rushing over broken glass."I have nothing to say to mainlanders."
"You'll speak," Senna spat, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword, "or you'll find that Frostforge has methods of loosening tongues that make even Warden tortures seem gentle."
