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"Things get lost at Frostforge all the time," Senna said, her voice deceptively soft."Gloves.Tools.Trinkets from home.Sometimes people, too.Everything has consequences here.Remember that."

Before Thalia could respond, Senna turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing in the empty forge.The heavy door swung shut behind her with a definitive thud, leaving Thalia alone once more in the silence.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The great hall of Frostforge lay hushed in the pale morning light, a stark contrast to the boisterous energy that had filled it during Thalia's first weeks at the academy.Frost-laced windows filtered the weak winter sun into ghostly beams that illuminated rising steam from bowls of unseasoned potatoes — their third such breakfast this week.Thalia stared at her meager portion, mapping the constellation of salt crystals sprinkled across the bland surface, her stomach's protests almost audible in the unnatural quiet.

She glanced up, surveying the hall through strands of black hair that had escaped their tie.Where once students had mingled freely, clear divisions split the long tables: Northern students clustered near the hearths, their postures rigid and voices low, while Southerners huddled together at the opposite end, shoulders hunched against the perpetual chill.The middle ground between them stretched empty and uninviting, a no-man's land that grew wider each day.

Thalia's spoon scraped against her wooden bowl, the sound unnaturally loud.She winced, drawing several sharp glances from nearby students whose conversations faltered briefly before resuming in even more hushed tones.Two weeks into the supply shortages, and already the academy felt transformed—hallways once filled with the competitive but mostly good-natured chatter of first-years learning their craft now echoed with whispered accusations and the occasional heated argument, quickly silenced by patrolling instructors.

Thalia scooped the last bit of potato into her mouth.The bland starch sat heavy on her tongue, but she chewed dutifully.Food was food, and she'd grown up on far worse in Verdant Port's slums.

A fit of coughing drew her attention to a second-year student being led from the hall, her face flushed with fever despite the room's chill.The winter fever had started among the kitchen staff before spreading to the upper-year dormitories.Now even first-years were falling ill, their bodies weakened by diminishing rations and the relentless cold.

Thalia touched the small pouch of herbs at her waist, a habit that had become a ritual since she'd begun helping in the infirmary.The meager collection — mostly alpine mint and silverleaf scraped from rocky outcroppings during her rare free hours — was barely enough to ease symptoms, nowhere near enough to cure.But it was something, a small defense against the helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her.

"You'll wear a hole in that pouch if you keep fiddling with it," came a voice behind her, startling Thalia from her thoughts.

Ashe slid onto the bench beside her, setting down her own bowl of potatoes with a grimace.The Northern girl's red-streaked black hair was pulled back more severely than usual, highlighting the sharp angles of her face and the dark circles beneath her green eyes.Despite her obvious fatigue, she sat with the straight-backed posture typical of her clan, refusing to let her exhaustion show in her bearing.

"I keep hoping I'll find something more potent on the academy grounds," Thalia replied, dropping her hand to her lap."The fever's spreading faster than the healers can manage."

Ashe nodded, her expression grave."I’ve noticed.”

"Has Instructor Maven said anything more about when supplies might arrive?"Thalia asked, already knowing the answer.

"Nothing beyond platitudes about 'holding fast' and 'weathering the storm.'"Ashe's voice dropped even lower, forcing Thalia to lean in."But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

The Northern girl's eyes darted around the hall, making sure no one was watching them too closely.

"What is it?"Thalia prompted when Ashe remained silent.

Ashe sighed, her breath forming a small cloud in the air between them."There's talk among the students from the Reaches.Ugly talk."She poked at her potatoes, appetite apparently gone."Some are saying the Southerners are hoarding supplies — medicine, food, even blankets meant for the common stores."

Thalia's brows drew together."That's ridiculous.We're all on the same rations.If anything, Northern students have an advantage with their cold resistance."

"I know that," Ashe said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice."I'm not the one saying it.But tensions were already high before the supplies were cut off, and now..."She shrugged, a sharp, jerky motion."Fear makes people irrational.And hunger makes them desperate."

The hall suddenly felt colder, the air heavy with more than just the perpetual chill of Frostforge.Thalia thought of the whispers she'd heard in her own dormitory — Southern students muttering about Northern privilege, about how the academy clearly favored those born to the ice.

"The Southerners are none too pleased, either," Thalia admitted."Luna overheard some second-years claiming that Northern students were getting extra portions because they're 'built for survival' and the rest of us are just —" she mimicked the sneering tone she'd heard, "— 'deadweight dragging down the academy.'"

"None of that is true," Ashe said firmly, meeting Thalia's eyes."I wanted you to know because...well, I consider you a friend.One of the few I've made here.And I don't want to see you caught in the middle of something ugly."

The admission warmed Thalia despite the surrounding chill.Friendship was a fragile thing at Frostforge, where competition and survival were the priorities for most.That Ashe would reach across the cultural divide between them meant more than the Northern girl probably realized.

***

The infirmary's air hung thick with the mingled scents of illness and herbal remedies — bitter alpine mint competing with the metallic tang of fever sweat.Thalia moved between the rows of pallets with practiced steps, her fingers already reaching for the worn herb pouch at her waist.Three more students had arrived overnight, their faces flushed with fever despite the room's chill, bringing the total to fifteen.Not counting those trying to weather the sickness in their own dormitories, too proud or afraid to admit weakness.

"You're early today," noted one of the healers’ assistants, a fourth-year with perpetually ink-stained fingers.She looked up from her ledger, dark circles beneath her eyes betraying how little she'd slept."The healers are meeting with Instructor Maven about requisitioning more blankets.They said to tell you not to push yourself too hard."

Thalia nodded her acknowledgment without pausing in her preparation.The warning was well-intentioned but irrelevant; she couldn't walk away from suffering, not when she possessed even the smallest means to alleviate it.She'd grown up watching her mother work herself to exhaustion helping Verdant Port's poorest residents, refusing payment they couldn't afford.Some lessons ran too deep to ignore, even at Frostforge.

"I found more silverleaf by the eastern ridge," Thalia said, laying out her morning's harvest on the preparation table."And frost lichen growing under the bridge supports.Not much, but enough to bring down at least two students' fevers."

The assistant eyed the modest collection with poorly disguised relief."The healers will be glad to hear it.We're nearly out of the academy's supplies."