His voice had changed, a tremor entering the previously steady tone.Fear, Thalia realized.Whatever waited beyond the fog, it frightened even this battle-hardened mage.
"Try us," Wolfe pressed, sensing weakness.
The mage's eyes slid past her to Roran.A smile spread across his face—a grim, cryptic smile that sent shivers down Thalia's spine.
Before anyone could react, the mage lunged forward with startling speed.His bound hands shot out between the ice bars, grasping the blade of Senna's sword where it hung at her side.She jerked backward, but too late—he had already pulled the weapon close enough to impale himself upon it, driving the glacenite through his chest with a single, violent motion.
Blood sprayed across the ice bars, across Senna's shocked face.The mage's body convulsed once, then slumped against the cell door, held upright only by the sword that pierced him.
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
The summons came at dawn, delivered by a first-year whose cheeks still bore the roundness of childhood.Thalia's name, spoken alongside Kaine's, Roran's, and Senna's, carried the weight of both honor and dread.The instructors' meeting room—a chamber she'd only heard of in whispers—now awaited her presence.As she climbed the spiraling staircase to the third floor of the keep, each step echoed against stone worn smooth by generations of boots, the sound a hollow reminder of her smallness within Frostforge's ancient walls.
Kaine appeared at the landing, his face drawn with exhaustion.Neither had slept since the mage's suicide, with all of its implications.The image of his body slumped against the cell bars was seared into Thalia’s mind.
"You look terrible," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting in the ghost of a smile.
"As do you," she replied, grateful for the moment of normalcy amid the chaos.
They continued the ascent together, silent save for their breathing.At the top waited Roran and Senna, framed in the archway of a massive oak door banded with ice-metal.Roran's expression brightened at the sight of Thalia, though shadows lingered beneath his eyes.Senna merely nodded, her posture rigid as always, betraying nothing of her thoughts.
"Ready?"Roran asked, his voice soft.
Thalia wasn't, not really, but she nodded anyway.The mage's final words—and his desperate act to silence himself—had left her mind churning with questions.What waited beyond the fog?Why would he rather die than speak of it?
The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing a chamber that made Thalia's breath catch in her throat.Vaulted ceilings soared overhead, their beams carved with intricate patterns that told stories of battles long past.The walls were lined with weapons—not the practical, utilitarian blades of the training grounds, but ornate pieces inlaid with precious metals and rare gemstones.Ice-metal gleamed from every surface, catching the light of crystal lamps and refracting it into patterns that danced across the stone floor.
At the center stood a massive table hewn from a single slab of granite, its surface polished to a mirror shine.Around it sat the instructors—Wolfe at the head, her wounded shoulder still bound in bandages; Marr to her right, his scarred face impassive; Virek beside him, frost-scarred hands folded neatly before him.Other instructors filled the remaining seats, their gazes heavy as they watched the newcomers enter.
"Sit," Wolfe commanded, gesturing to the empty chairs at the far end of the table.
Thalia sank into the nearest seat, acutely aware of the disparity between her battle-worn clothes and the grandeur surrounding her.The chair was cold against her back, unyielding, as if testing her resolve.
Wolfe wasted no time on pleasantries."Frostforge has withstood four major assaults in three years," she began, her emerald eyes sweeping the assembly."First, the infiltration by Isle Warden sympathizers under Maven's command.Then the attack during the Command Challenge that revealed Calloway's treachery, and the attack on the Crystalline plateau during the tribunal.And now, this direct assault on our walls."
She pressed her palms flat against the table, leaning forward."This pattern suggests a coordinated, escalating campaign against the academy.Each attack has tested a different vulnerability—our trust, our training methods, our physical defenses.The Wardens learn from each failure and return stronger."
"We currently house thousands of refugees," Marr added, his voice carrying the weight of his years as an admiral."Making us an even more tempting target."
Thalia's throat tightened at the mention of refugees.Her mother and Mari might be among them, if they had survived the fall of Verdant Port.If they had escaped.If, if, if—the word beat in her mind like a drum.
"The mage's interrogation revealed something troubling," Wolfe continued."He spoke of 'those with potential,' indicating that the Wardens are seeking specific individuals among the Southern population."
"Potential for what?"Virek asked, his voice sharp.
Senna's lips pressed into a thin line."He didn't elaborate,” she said.“But the prison camps along the Southern coast suggest they're processing people, categorizing them in some way."
"Which makes Frostforge an even more critical target," Wolfe said, breaking the silence."We house refugees, whom they clearly see as resources to claim."
Thalia's hands curled into fists beneath the table, thinking of her mother, of Mari.Did they show the potential the Wardens were looking for?Had they been taken?
"Frostforge has stood for centuries," Marr said, straightening in his chair."It has weathered worse storms than this.Our walls may be damaged, but they stand.Our defenses may be tested, but they hold."His voice carried the certainty of one who had commanded fleets against impossible odds."We are resilient."
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the table, a current of stubborn Northern pride that even Thalia found herself drawn to despite her Southern roots.For all its flaws, Frostforge was a fortress unlike any other—built into the mountain itself, protected by generations of cryomancers, inhabited by the continent's finest warriors and craftsmen.
"Nevertheless," Wolfe said, "we must prepare for the worst.I propose a strictly defensive posture for the immediate future.Rebuilding and reinforcing our walls, shoring up our magical wards, seeking non-violent ways to reactivate the Founders' Price defenses."
"And preparing for siege conditions," Virek added, his whispery voice barely audible."Our supplies must be cataloged and rationed."
