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“Aren’t you afraid?Worried, at all?”she asked, unable to stop herself.

"About what?"Luna turned toward her, eyebrows raised in mock surprise."The Wardens?Frostforge?"

"Any of it.All of it."

“Of course.”Luna shrugged.“Fear is as much a part of life as breathing.It reminds us we're alive."

"Alive and sailing toward death,” Thalia replied, her voice more bitter than she’d intended.

"Doesn’t that make the reminder all the more valuable?"Luna grinned, and for a moment, Thalia felt the infectious tug of that grin pulling at the corners of her own mouth.

"Maybe for you.I just hope we make it there in one piece."

"Whatever happens, happens," Luna said with a nonchalant flick of her wrist."Worrying won’t change the outcome, will it?”

No.Thalia paused, the weight of Luna's words settling over her.No, worrying wouldn't change anything.She knew that.But still, the fear coiled inside her, tight and unyielding, as the ship plowed northward.

CHAPTER THREE

The ship sliced through the frigid waters of the fjord, a foreign world of ice and stone unfolding before Thalia's eyes.She gripped the frost-slick railing, her knuckles white with cold and apprehension.Each breath materialized in the air before her, small ghosts that dissipated into the endless white.This cold, vast, unforgiving place would be her home now.For as long as she survived.

The narrow fjord stretched before them like a river carved by giants, its steep walls rising hundreds of feet into the air.Ice clung to the dark rock in crystalline sheets, catching the pale northern light and fracturing it into glittering shards.Thalia pulled her thin cloak tighter around her shoulders, the fabric a poor barrier against the penetrating chill.In Verdant Port, even winter days carried the salt-scented warmth of the southern seas.Here, the air itself seemed hostile, each breath sharp in her lungs like swallowed needles.

"Half of them won't last the year," a voice muttered behind her.

“Aye.It’ll be a smaller group on the return trip, that’s for certain.”

Thalia didn't turn.She'd heard worse during the voyage — whispers from the crew, the casual cruelty of those who knew they wouldn't be the ones facing Frostforge's trials.Instead, she fixed her gaze on the looming mountains beyond the fjord.Somewhere in those peaks, the academy waited.The place that would either forge her into something powerful or break her completely.

The ship's wooden hull groaned against the ice-rimmed dock as sailors secured mooring lines with practiced efficiency.The deck lurched, and Thalia steadied herself against a nearby mast.Ahead, a contingent waited — figures draped in furs so thick they appeared more beast than human.As the gangplank lowered with a dull thud against the wooden dock, she distinguished instructors from guards by their stance alone.The instructors stood with fluid readiness, hands resting on weapons or crossed over their chests, while the guards maintained rigid positions, polearms held at perfect attention.

Behind them, a smaller group of students observed with predatory intensity — a handful of veterans, fourth-years whose survival marked them as the elite few.Thalia counted just eight of them; she shivered, wondering how many of their classmates had perished.

"Move, recruit!"The order snapped across the deck as a sailor shoved past her, breaking her reverie."They don't like to be kept waiting."

Thalia shouldered her small pack and joined the shuffling line of recruits disembarking.The moment her boots touched the dock, cold surged through the worn leather soles.The damp wood beneath her feet was rimed with frost that crunched with each step.She bit back a gasp, forcing her face to remain impassive even as the chill burrowed into her bones.

Ahead, a second cluster of recruits stood in orderly formation.These were Northerners; she could tell instantly from their stance, clothing, and their bearing.Where the Southern recruits huddled against the cold, wrapped in layers of inadequate clothes, the Northerners stood tall in fitted garments trimmed with fur, their cheeks flushed with health rather than wind-burn.Their hair was adorned with braids and metal clasps that caught the light, marking clan allegiances that Thalia didn’t understand.

At the head of the dock, a broad-shouldered woman with steel-gray braids surveyed them all with undisguised contempt.Her face, weathered by decades of northern storms, bore a latticework of fine scars, battle trophies rather than disfigurements.When she spoke, her voice carried across the dock without effort.

"I am Instructor Linnea.You will address me as such or not at all."Her gaze swept over them like a physical force."The journey to the academy begins now.Let this ascent serve as an indicator of what is to come.Those who cannot endure today will have little chance of enduring Frostforge."

She gestured to the caravan waiting beyond the dock, a line of wooden sleds hitched to compact, shaggy-coated ponies whose breath fogged in great plumes.Between the sleds stood more instructors, their fur-lined armor making them appear twice their actual size.

"Recruits’ belongings go in the first six sleds," Master Linnea continued.“Supplies in the latter three.We depart in ten minutes."

A flurry of activity followed her pronouncement.Southern recruits scrambled to surrender packs and secure places for their meager belongings, and sailors heaved bags of grain onto the three sleds at the end of the line.Thalia had even less than most of the recruits, too little to place on a sled.She watched the others wearily.Her legs already ached from the days at sea, her body unused to the cold that seemed to drain her strength with each passing moment.

As the chaos of organization swirled around her, Thalia noticed a girl standing apart from the other Southern recruits, her posture regal despite the biting cold.Dark hair cascaded over the shoulders of a fur-lined cloak that had clearly been tailored specifically for her journey north.Thalia recognized her instantly — Brynn Firstborn, a daughter of one of Verdant Port's foremost noble families.Thalia had seen her once, watching from the shadows as Brynn's family made their way through the market square, servants clearing a path before them.

Now, Brynn directed two instructors as they secured her elaborate luggage to one of the supply sleds.Her face was twisted in displeasure.

"This is absurd," she was saying, her voice carrying clearly in the crisp air."Do you have any idea who my family is?I was promised appropriate accommodations."

The instructor, a weathered man with a face like carved granite, stared at her impassively."Your name means nothing here, girl.You're a recruit, same as the rest."

"Hardly the same," Brynn scoffed, eyeing the line of other Southern recruits preparing for the march.Her gaze caught on Thalia, lingering on her threadbare cloak and worn boots."Frostforge is wasting space on half-starved runts while the best families in the South are eager to send their children."