Page 1 of Frostforge, Passage Four

Thalia folded linens with practiced hands, her fingers moving mechanically across the rough fabric while her eyes tracked dust motes dancing in the late afternoon light.

The splintered bench beneath her creaked with each shift of her weight, a forlorn sound that echoed down the empty alleyway where their herb shop stood shuttered and silent.

Wind whispered through the deserted streets of Verdant Port, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and dried herbs that clung to weathered walls — the ghost of what had once been a thriving, if destitute, harbor district, now hollow as a picked-clean shell.

She set aside a folded sheet and reached for another from the woven basket at her feet.

Three years ago, this alley would have been impossible to navigate at this hour — merchants shouting prices, sailors haggling, children weaving through the crowds with stolen fruits clutched in grubby hands.

Now, she could count on one hand the number of people she'd seen all afternoon.

A dog trotted past, ribs visible beneath matted fur.

It paused to sniff at an abandoned cart before continuing its lonely patrol.

Thalia watched it go, wondering who it had belonged to.

The butcher, perhaps, whose stall had been boarded up last winter.

Or maybe the fishmonger's boy, who'd left with his family when the last of the regular fishing boats stopped returning from the treacherous sea.

Thalia dipped a stained tunic into the cold basin beside her, scrubbing at a stubborn spot with knuckles that had grown harder since her time at Frostforge.

The water bit at the scars across her palms — silver lines that traced her history, forging ice-metal, the remnants of burns from the forges that marked the hands of every dedicated smith.

She worked the fabric between her fingers, listening to the oppressive silence of a port without ships, without trade, without life.

The door to their small house creaked open. Thalia looked up to see her mother emerge, another basket balanced against her hip. In the slanted sunlight, the new lines around her eyes seemed deeper, her shoulders more stooped than Thalia remembered from her brief visit home the year prior.

"Almost finished with that batch?" her mother asked, setting down the fresh load of washing. Her voice was softer than it used to be when she'd call out remedies and prices to a shop full of customers.

"Nearly." Thalia wrung the tunic with more force than necessary, watching cloudy water stream between the cobblestones. "These are holding up better than I expected."

Her mother's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I've been careful with the soap. What we have needs to last."

They fell into a familiar rhythm — Thalia washing, her mother taking each clean piece to hang across the lines strung between their home and the neighboring building.

The other houses on their street were still occupied, but barely.

Fewer faces appeared at windows. Fewer voices carried across rooftops. Verdant Port was dying by inches.

"I didn't open the shop today," her mother said after a while, her cracked, reddened fingers smoothing a wrinkle from a pillowcase. "Or yesterday."

Thalia paused mid-scrub. "The mid-week is still slow?"

"Every day is slow now." Her mother sighed, the sound as worn as her hands. "There's no point in burning the candles to sit in an empty shop. The last merchant ship docked three weeks ago, and the captain only wanted fever bark. Half the district has fled Verdant Port."

Thalia's fingers tightened on the fabric she held. "Because of the Wardens?"

Her mother nodded, her gaze drifting toward the distant harbor, though it was hidden behind buildings from where they stood. "The attacks at sea are getting worse. The harbor master's been warning that it might not be safe for trade vessels much longer."

Thalia remembered last year's frantic messages between Frostforge's instructors, the increased training hours, and the whispers among students.

The breach in the academy's wards had been sealed, but not before three students had been dragged into the night.

Their names had been carved into the ice-metal memorial wall, alongside all the others who had fallen to the Isle Wardens over the centuries.

"We'll manage," Thalia said, though the words felt hollow even to her. "People here will still need your remedies."

"Not enough to keep us fed." Her mother took the clean tunic from Thalia's hands.

"Mari outgrew her winter boots. I've been putting aside coins for new ones, but I've saved most of our money for her Selection in two years. At this rate..." She trailed off, reaching for another garment from the basket. Thalia felt her stomach clench. She had volunteered to attend Frostforge to allow her mother those savings, the opportunity to bribe the recruiters when Mari turned eighteen. It had never occurred to her that her family’s financial troubles would only worsen, that Mari’s bribe might come at the cost of food and clothing.

Thalia stood to help her mother hang the wet clothes.

Together they stretched a sheet across the line, the damp fabric heavy between them.

Beyond their quiet alley, the main street offered a clear view down toward the docks.

A procession of laden carts and tired families made their way inland, belongings piled high, faces taut with fear.

"Third group this week," her mother murmured, watching the caravan pass. "The Harbormaster's wife told me there were Warden ships spotted off Southhaven."

Thalia's breath caught. Southhaven was one of the largest cities along the Southern coast, its defenses legendary. If the Wardens were bold enough to approach within sight of it…. "How many ships?"

"Five, they say. The coastal watch fired warning shots, but the ships just changed course, didn't retreat." Her mother pinned another corner of the sheet. "Some say they're pushing further inland this year, testing our defenses everywhere."

The wind picked up, making the wet laundry snap like sails. Thalia imagined the Isle Wardens' vessels on the horizon, their bone-white hulls cutting through dark waters, their crews of pale, hollow-eyed warriors with weapons that drank light instead of reflecting it.

"The Nilssons left yesterday," her mother continued, nodding toward a house three doors down, its windows already boarded. "They're heading for Meadowlark. Jora says her cousin has land there, far from any coast."

Thalia watched her mother's hands as they worked — once steady and sure when measuring herbs and mixing tinctures, now trembling slightly as she pinned up a small shift that could only belong to Mari.

"I've been thinking —" her mother began, then stopped herself, shaking her head.

"What is it?" Thalia asked, though she already suspected.

Her mother's shoulders sagged. "I've been thinking we should leave, too."

The words hung between them, heavier than the wet laundry. Thalia had known this moment would come — had dreaded it during her months at Frostforge, where rumors of coastal towns being abandoned reached them with increasing frequency.

"Take Mari inland," her mother continued, her voice gaining strength as she finally spoke the thoughts aloud. "Maybe to Meadowlark, or further. The Midland Provinces haven't seen Warden raids in decades."

Thalia picked up another garment from the basket, buying herself time before responding. "What about the shop? Father's —"

"Walls and herbs won't keep us safe if they come." Her mother cut her off gently. "Your father would understand."

They worked in silence for several minutes, the rhythm of their movements at odds with the weight of unsaid words between them.

Thalia thought of the herb shop, the small rooms behind it where she'd grown up, every square inch of space that her father had fought to keep, the worn wooden counter where her mother had taught her to grind valerian root and steep fever bark.

The idea of strangers breaking down their door, of flames consuming those memories, made her stomach clench.

"The trouble is," her mother finally said, "I haven't been able to save much. What little coin comes in goes to food, and I wouldn’t dare touch the bribe. They’re saying the recruiters have followed refugee caravans; fleeing Verdant Port wouldn’t spare us the Selection.

And the journey inland isn't cheap. There's no guarantee of work once we arrive.

" She hung the last small garment — one of Mari's tunics — and wiped her hands on her apron.

"Some nights I lie awake thinking we should flee immediately.

Other nights, I wonder if we're safer with a roof over our heads than on the open road with winter coming. "

Thalia understood the impossible calculation her mother faced.

Stay and risk the Wardens' advance, or leave and risk starvation and exposure.

She glanced down the street to where Mari was playing a skipping game with the neighbor's daughter, her sister's laughter a rare bright sound in the gloomy afternoon. Still, Thalia felt a pang of sadness watching her. Mari was fifteen now, no longer the young child she had been when Thalia had first been recruited to Frostforge. In three years’ time, she would be of age, and the Selection would come for her.

"When would you go?" Thalia asked, her voice carefully neutral.

Her mother looked at her then, really looked at her, with the penetrating gaze that had always seen through Thalia's childhood fibs. "That's part of what I've been struggling with. You're due back at Frostforge tomorrow."

The unspoken question settled like a stone in Thalia's chest. Her fourth and final year at the academy loomed before her — a year of advanced metallurgy, combat training, and cryomancy.

"I could stay," Thalia said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. "Help you pack. Protect you and Mari on the road." Her fingers curled around the edge of the laundry basket, knuckles whitening. "Three years at Frostforge have taught me what I need to know. I could keep you safe."

Even as she spoke, she felt the weight of her academy oath pressing down on her, the certainty of consequences if she failed to report to the docks in the morning. Desertion wasn't tolerated. Not when every trained fighter was needed for the war effort.

Her mother's expression softened, but her eyes remained resolute. "You made it this far, Thalia. Don't throw it away now."

"But you and Mari —"

"Will manage," her mother interrupted firmly. "We always have." She reached out to touch Thalia's cheek, her work-roughened palm warm against Thalia's skin. "If you don't report to the docks tomorrow, they'll come looking for you. You know that."

Thalia did know. Frostforge didn't let its investments go easily. Students who tried to flee were hunted down, dragged back in chains to face discipline or worse. The academy's reach was long, its memory longer.

"Besides," her mother continued, her voice gentler, "what you're learning there might be the thing that saves us all in the end. The Wardens won't stop at the coast. And I hear the military offers a stipend to all ranked officers. It won’t be much, but it will help."

Thalia stared at the cracked stones beneath her feet, watching a line of ants march determinedly along a seam in the cobbles.

She wasn't just a student anymore — she was a weapon being forged for a specific purpose.

Her path had been set the moment she'd volunteered for the Selection three years ago, sparing her mother the cost of a bribe and ensuring Mari would never face the same choice.

She looked up at the quiet street, at the dust-filmed windows and empty market stalls.

At Mari, laughing as she hopped across a chalk pattern, still clinging to those last vestiges of childhood that Thalia had already lost at her age.

At her mother's tired face, still beautiful despite all of the hardships she’d faced.

"I'll write to you from Frostforge," Thalia said finally. "Let me know where you go. If... when you go."

Her mother nodded, relief and sadness mingling in her expression. "We won't leave right away. There are preparations to make, things to sell." She picked up the empty basket. "We have time yet."

But Thalia could hear the uncertainty in her voice. None of them knew how much time remained — not for Verdant Port, not for the coastal kingdoms, not for any of them.

As her mother turned to go back inside, Thalia's gaze drifted toward the harbor, where the masts of the few remaining ships stood like bare winter trees against the darkening sky.

Somewhere beyond that horizon, the Isle Wardens were gathering their forces, testing defenses, planning their next assault.