Page 15 of Frostforge, Passage Four

The great hall of Frostforge pulsed with the low murmur of hundreds of students, their voices bouncing off the ice-veined stone walls and dissipating into the vaulted ceiling above.

Thalia stared into her bowl of stew, watching the steam curl upward in lazy tendrils, carrying the scent of salted venison and winter herbs.

Each mouthful tasted like ash. Since the instructors had announced the Storm Chase would proceed despite Isle Warden sightings, a hollow dread had settled in her stomach, pushing away any semblance of appetite.

The kitchens’ predominantly Northern staff didn’t do much to help with that.

She glanced toward the high table where the instructors sat, their faces cast in sharp relief by the flickering torchlight. Wolfe occupied the center seat now — Maven's old position. The thought of the former head instructor sent a spike of cold rage through Thalia's chest.

"Stop poking at your food and come with me." Luna's voice, barely above a whisper, startled Thalia from her thoughts. Her friend had materialized beside her bench, face uncharacteristically grave. "Now."

Luna's fingers encircled Thalia's wrist, tugging her away from the table with unexpected strength. Thalia abandoned her bowl and followed, threading between clusters of students until they reached a shadowed alcove near the hall's side entrance.

"What is it?" Thalia asked, noting the tense set of Luna's shoulders.

Luna leaned closer. "She's been spotted. Maven. Near the coastal perimeter, not far from the fjord's inlet."

The words hit Thalia like a physical blow. Her lungs seized, vision narrowing to pinpricks of light. She gripped the cold stone wall behind her, steadying herself as the world seemed to tilt.

"That's impossible," she breathed, though she knew it wasn't. "She tried to kill me. She'd be a fool to come anywhere near Frostforge again."

Luna shook her head. "Maybe. Or maybe she's after something worth the risk."

"Who saw her?" Thalia demanded, her voice sharper than intended.

"No one I trust directly." Luna worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "It's secondhand, from crew on the supply ship that came in yesterday. They claim they spotted a woman matching her description on the shoreline, building a fire from driftwood.”

"Did they report it to Wolfe?"

"They reported seeing a woman. Not necessarily Maven." Luna shrugged. "You know how sailors talk — half truth, half tall tale."

But Thalia's mind was already racing ahead, conjuring the memory of her last encounter with Maven.

The instructor's single eye, cold and merciless as she prepared to sacrifice Thalia, too, bolstered the academy's defenses.

The Founder's Price — an ancient blood sacrifice that Maven believed would restore Frostforge's failing wards.

Thalia had barely escaped with her life.

And now Maven might be back.

"I need to know for sure," Thalia muttered, more to herself than to Luna.

"What are you thinking?" Luna's dark eyes narrowed, instantly suspicious. "Thalia, don't —"

But Thalia was already moving, striding across the hall toward the high table.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, but her steps remained steady.

Instructors Virek and Calloway were engaged in hushed conversation, while Marr stared fixedly into his goblet as if it held answers to questions he hadn't yet asked.

Wolfe sat alone at the center, her vivid green eyes surveying the hall with predatory awareness.

Thalia stopped before her, back straight, chin lifted. "Instructor Wolfe. A word, if I may."

Wolfe's gaze sharpened, her head tilting slightly. "Greenspire. It takes some nerve to approach the high table unbidden." A hint of amusement played at the corners of her mouth. "What troubles you?"

"I'd like to volunteer for reconnaissance," Thalia said, keeping her voice low. "To investigate the Maven sighting."

Wolfe's expression didn't change, but Thalia caught the subtle tightening of her fingers around her goblet. "What sighting would that be?"

"Near the fjord's inlet. Yesterday."

The head instructor leaned back, assessing Thalia with a calculating stare. "No reconnaissance missions are being sent to find Maven, Greenspire."

"With respect, that's a mistake." Thalia's palms were slick with sweat, but she pressed on. "She's dangerous. She knows Frostforge better than anyone. If she's back —"

"If she's back, she's one woman alone," Wolfe cut in, her voice like the edge of a blade — sharp enough to cut, but controlled.

"She's lost her position, her allies, her resources. The Northern tribes want her head for her betrayal of Frostforge’s defenses, and the Southern Kingdoms would never harbor a Northern traitor.”

"She tried to kill me." The words escaped before Thalia could stop them, raw with remembered fear.

Wolfe's expression softened fractionally.

"I'm aware. But Maven is not our priority, Greenspire.

The Isle Wardens are growing bolder by the day.

Their ships press closer to our shores. They test our defenses with increasing frequency.

" She gestured to the hall full of students.

"Our priority is the education of soldiers. You are still a student."

"I'm a fourth-year," Thalia countered. "I've survived three trials. I know the terrain. I could —"

"You could remain focused on your studies," Wolfe interrupted, her tone final. "Maven is none of your concern."

Heat flushed Thalia's cheeks. None of her concern? The woman had threatened her life, had been willing to spill her blood in the name of a ritual Thalia still didn't fully understand. She wanted to argue further, but Wolfe had already turned away, effectively dismissing her.

Thalia retreated, frustration bubbling beneath her skin as she wove between tables back toward Luna, a cold certainty settled in her chest. If the instructors wouldn't investigate, she would.

If Maven was nearby, Thalia needed to know why.

Needed to know what the former instructor might be planning.

She slid back onto the bench beside Luna, who raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"They're not sending anyone to look for her," Thalia murmured, her voice taut with restraint. "They don't consider her a threat."

"Maybe she isn't," Luna said with a half-shrug.

Thalia stared at her abandoned stew, the surface now glazed with congealing fat. "Maybe."

But a reckless resolve had already taken root, hardening into certainty with each beat of her heart. Tonight, after curfew, she would go to the fjord herself. She would find evidence of Maven's presence — or absence — with her own eyes.

And if Maven truly had returned, Thalia would face her — this time on her own terms.

***

Thalia pulled the fur-lined hood lower over her face as she slipped through Frostforge's western service entrance, a narrow passage known only to kitchen staff and those who'd spent three years learning the fortress's secrets.

The night air bit at her exposed skin, sharp as a blade's edge.

No guards patrolled this section of wall — a gap in security she'd discovered during her second year — but she kept to the shadows regardless, her footsteps silent against the frost-crusted stone.

Overhead, the half-moon hung like a watchful eye, casting just enough light to make her path visible without betraying her presence to anyone who might be looking.

The descent to the fjord was treacherous even in daylight.

At night, with ice forming in invisible patches across the rocky path, it became a deadly gamble.

Thalia moved methodically, testing each foothold before committing her weight.

One misplaced step could send her tumbling down the jagged slope, and no one would find her until morning — if they bothered to look at all.

Her breath clouded before her in ghostly plumes as she navigated between jutting stones and gnarled roots.

The sparse pines that clung to the cliff face threw long, skeletal shadows across her path.

Beneath her, the fjord stretched like a ribbon of obsidian, reflecting the half-moon's glow in rippling silver.

By the time she reached the shoreline, her legs ached and her fingers had grown numb despite her gloves. But determination warmed her from within. If Maven were nearby, Thalia would find evidence of her presence.

She began to pace the water's edge, eyes trained on the rocky shore for bootprints, fire pits, anything that might betray human activity.

The night was eerily still, the silence broken only by the gentle lapping of water against ice-crusted stones.

Without wind, the cold seemed to solidify around her, pressing against her skin, seeping through her layers of wool and fur.

Thalia had nearly reached the bend in the shoreline when she saw it — a flash of light reflecting off the water, there and gone so quickly she might have imagined it. She froze, crouching instinctively. Another flash came, brighter this time, followed by a sound like the crackle of splitting wood.

She edged forward, staying low, until she reached a massive boulder near the shore's curve. Carefully, she peered around its edge.

The breath caught in her throat.

Roran stood at the water's edge, arms extended, fingers splayed.

Lightning — pure, wild lightning — coiled around his forearms like living snakes of pure energy, casting his face in stark relief against the darkness.

The electricity arced between his palms, dancing across his fingertips, reflecting in mesmerizing patterns across the still water of the fjord.