"What of weapons?"Kaine asked, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the room."The glacenite proved effective, but its side effects are problematic for extended combat."
Wolfe nodded."I've been considering that.The constructs we lost in the battle were ice-steel, which the Wardens' black metal rendered useless.But glacenite golems might withstand their weapons."She turned to Kaine directly."Your expertise in both metallurgy and construction design would be invaluable for such an endeavor.Would you be willing to draw up a blueprint?"
Kaine's expression remained impassive, but Thalia caught the slight straightening of his shoulders—pride at being asked, perhaps, or simply determination."Yes, I would."
Thalia could remain silent no longer.The discussion of walls and weapons and waiting felt like chains tightening around her throat while her family languished in a prison camp.She leaned forward, her chair scraping against stone.
"What about the Southern coast?"she asked, her voice tighter than she intended.All eyes turned to her, but she pressed on."Purely defensive tactics only prolong suffering.The Wardens hold Verdant Port and other cities as prison camps.People—our people—are being held there, processed like cattle.We can't just hide behind walls and wait for the next assault."
A heavy silence fell over the room.Thalia's heart hammered against her ribs, but she held Wolfe's gaze, refusing to back down.
"What would you suggest?"Marr asked, his tone deceptively mild.
"A force could infiltrate," Thalia said, the words tumbling out now, fueled by desperation."Small, fast, focused on liberation rather than conquest.Hit the prison camps, free the captives, disrupt their operations."
More silence.Then, softly, Roran spoke."She's right."All eyes shifted to him, and he continued with growing confidence."The Wardens are extending their supply lines, stretching their forces thin between attacks along the Southern coast.Whatever the prison camp’s defenses look like, it’s likely not impenetrable.We could—"
"A charming fantasy," one of the other instructors interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain."And how many of our limited resources should we divert to this suicide mission?How many soldiers can we spare from our damaged defenses?"
"A small team may be all we need," Thalia insisted, leaning forward."Precise strikes at vulnerable points."
"Based on what intelligence?"Virek asked, his icy eyes narrowing."You'd have us send our best fighters into enemy territory blind?"
The conversation deteriorated rapidly, voices overlapping as instructors dismissed the proposal as reckless, overly ambitious, a fool's errand.Heat crept up Thalia's neck, frustration building behind her eyes.
"You don't understand," she said, her voice cutting through the din."Verdant Port is my home.My mother and sister were there when it fell.I can't—" Her voice cracked, emotion threatening to overwhelm her."I can't just sit here and do nothing."
The room fell silent once more.Wolfe's expression softened fractionally, then hardened again with resolve.
"Your personal stake in this matter is precisely why you should recuse yourself from this discussion, Greenspire," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument."Your judgment is compromised by emotion, which is understandable but unacceptable in strategic planning."
The rebuke stung like a physical blow.Thalia opened her mouth to protest, but Wolfe raised a hand, silencing her.
"You are dismissed," the instructor said, her voice gentler now but no less firm."Please wait outside until we've concluded our business."
Humiliation burned in Thalia's cheeks as she rose from her chair, the legs scraping against stone with a sound like bones breaking.She caught Roran's eye as she turned to leave—saw sympathy there, and something like determination.Then she was moving, stiff-legged, toward the door, her pride the only thing keeping her spine straight and her chin high as she exited the chamber where her family’s fate was being decided without her.
***
The door to the instructors' chamber closed behind Thalia with the finality of a tomb being sealed.She stood motionless for a heartbeat, two, willing her limbs to remember how to move as humiliation scalded her throat.Dismissed—like a child throwing a tantrum, like a soldier too green to understand strategy, like someone whose judgment couldn't be trusted.Her boots struck the stone floor with vicious precision as she descended the spiral staircase, each step punctuated by the echo of Wolfe's words:Your judgment is compromised by emotion.
Compromised.As if caring about her family was a weakness rather than her greatest strength.
She paced Frostforge's frigid corridors, barely registering the curious glances from passing students.Let them stare.Let them whisper.It didn't matter what they thought of her red-rimmed eyes or clenched fists.What mattered was that while she wandered these stone halls—safe, fed, sheltered—her mother and Mari might be trapped in some Warden prison camp, suffering horrors she couldn't bear to imagine.
Her feet carried her downward, through narrow passageways and across empty training rooms, until the air grew warmer and the distant ring of metal on metal reached her ears.The Howling Forge—her sanctuary within Frostforge's cold embrace.Here, at least, she knew her place.Here, her hands could be useful even when her voice went unheard.
The forge's familiar heat enveloped her as she descended the final staircase, wrapping around her like an embrace.Braziers blazed along the walls, casting long shadows across tools and half-finished projects abandoned during the battle.Most smiths were occupied with repairs elsewhere in the academy, leaving the forge eerily quiet save for the constant hum of the ventilation system that gave the place its name.When the wind blew from the north, it created a mournful howl as it rushed through the mountain's complex system of shafts and tunnels.
Thalia moved to her usual workstation, slipping off her jacket and rolling up her sleeves.She didn't have a project in mind—didn't need one.The simple act of working metal was enough, a meditation that required all her focus and none of her heart.She stoked the coals until they glowed white-hot, then selected a bar of iron from the storage bin.Not ice-metal, not glacenite, just ordinary iron with no magical properties.No hallucinations.No whispers.Just metal that could be bent to her will.
She worked in silence, losing herself in the rhythm of hammer on anvil, each strike harder than necessary.The bar began to flatten beneath her blows, shapeless, purposeless, a conduit for her rage rather than a thing of beauty or function.Sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her spine, but she didn't pause, didn't wipe it away.The physical exertion was a release, each impact vibrating up her arm and into her chest, where her heart still ached with the knowledge that she had failed.
Failed to convince the instructors.Failed to help her family.Failed, as she had so often failed since arriving at Frostforge, to be enough.
Time blurred, measured only in the changing color of the metal as it cooled and the ache in her muscles as she reheated it and struck again.One hour became two, became three, and still she worked, pouring all her frustration into the shapeless lump of iron.
"I thought we'd find you here."
