Page 28 of Frostforge, Passage Four

Night descended over Frostforge Academy like a heavy cloak, the darkness pressing against the frost-etched windows of Thalia's dormitory.

Outside, snow fell in a relentless whisper, each flake hissing softly as it struck the glass before melting into rivulets that refroze into intricate patterns.

Inside, the warmth of the hearth fire bathed the stone walls in amber light, the flames crackling as Thalia, Luna, and Ashe prepared for the brief respite of sleep.

"I've been trying to form a list of suspects," Luna said, pulling a woolen nightshirt over her head. Her voice emerged muffled before her face reappeared, her short dreadlocks slightly disheveled. “Those who hold authority at the academy and would stand to gain from betraying Frostforge.”

Thalia nodded, unlacing her boots with fingers still sore from that day's metallurgy exercises.

The constant manipulation of ice-bronze had left her fingertips raw and tingling with remnant magic.

"It must be an instructor. Only the instructors could move undetected like this, sow discord without drawing scrutiny. "

Ashe, already dressed in a long linen shift embroidered with her clan's crimson symbols, sat cross-legged on her bed, sharpening her hunting knife with methodical strokes.

The soft scrape of steel against whetstone punctuated their conversation.

"You're both forgetting Northern students know this place better than you ever will.

We don't need authority to move undetected, and ‘influence’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘authority.’"

A sharp rap at the door silenced them. Three quick knocks, deliberate and urgent.

Ashe's hand stilled mid-stroke. Her muscles tensed, coiled like a spring as her gaze darted toward the door. With fluid grace, she set the whetstone aside and adjusted her grip on the knife, its blade catching the firelight.

"Expecting someone?" Thalia asked, rising to her feet. Neither Luna nor Ashe answered.

The knock came again, more insistent. Thalia approached the door, aware of Ashe shifting positions behind her, ready to strike if necessary. Luna remained perfectly still, her dark eyes calculating, fixed on the wooden barrier between them and whoever waited outside.

Thalia's hand closed around the iron handle, cold against her palm despite the room's warmth. She pulled it open.

Senna stood in the corridor, her angular features taut with urgency.

Her breath came in quick, shallow bursts, as though she'd run across the academy.

Snow melted in her black hair, dripping onto the shoulders of her uniform.

In her arms, she clutched something wrapped in oilcloth, its edges dark with moisture.

But what drew Thalia's attention was the raven perched on Senna's shoulder, its obsidian feathers gleaming, head cocked at an inquisitive angle.

"You need to see this. Now." Senna pushed past Thalia without waiting for an invitation, her eyes scanning the room with military precision.

"By all means, come in," Thalia muttered, closing the door against the draft that followed in Senna's wake.

Luna had already cleared space at the common table, shoving aside books and half-finished metalwork projects. Ashe remained on her bed, knife still in hand, watching Senna with the wary gaze of a predator assessing another of its kind.

Senna placed the oilcloth bundle on the table and unwrapped it with careful fingers.

Inside lay a scroll of parchment, its edges damp with melted snow.

The wax seal was cracked, but still bore the faint impression of a sigil Thalia didn't recognize — not the Northern runes she'd grown familiar with, nor any Southern mark she knew.

The raven shifted on Senna's shoulder, its claws clicking softly against her metal pauldron.

Its feathers twitched and bristled, wings adjusting slightly as if agitated.

Beady eyes fixed on the scroll with uncomfortable intelligence, its head tilting to regard the parchment as though expecting the message to be reattached to its leg.

"I intercepted this about half an hour ago," Senna said, keeping her voice low despite the privacy of their room. "Near the eastern watchtower, where the ravens roost. This one had just taken off — and was heading for the sea, not the Reaches."

"And you thought of us immediately?" Thalia raised an eyebrow. "I'm touched."

"Don't be. I thought of the saboteur, and then I thought of you," Senna replied, her tone flat. "After what you told me about those messages, I've been watching the birds. This one was flying south-southwest. Not toward any settlement we typically communicate with."

Thalia exchanged a sharp glance with Luna, whose expression had shifted from suspicion to intense curiosity.

Carefully, Thalia lifted the scroll, unrolling it between her fingers.

The parchment was finer than standard military communications, the ink a peculiar shade that looked almost blue in the firelight.

The message read:

Nails (twelve) - Oats (mold in south bin) - Rakes (four broken) - Tack (needs oiling) - Halters (replacements overdue). Training of the bay mare continues as planned to finish before the term's end.

Thalia frowned, reading it twice more. "What is this supposed to be? A supply list from the stables?"

"That's what I thought at first," Senna said, her voice tense. "Frostforge has mountain ponies in the stables, but… no bay mares."

Luna had moved closer, reading over Thalia's shoulder. Her fingers traced the air above the parchment, not quite touching it. "Look at the first letter of each item in the list," she whispered.

Thalia's eyes tracked back to the beginning. N-O-R-T-H. North.

"It’s a code," Luna continued, her voice barely audible. "The message itself appears innocent — maintenance needs, stable concerns — but it's concealing something else entirely."

"What does it mean?" Thalia asked, looking between Luna and Senna.

Luna shook her head, forehead creasing in concentration.

"Impossible to say without more information.

This is just one message, likely one of many — we have almost nothing to build from.

But the fact that someone is passing information through coded messages at all.

.." She trailed off, her implication clear.

“It’s our saboteur,” Thalia realized. “The one who received the missive from the gull.”

"'North' definitely indicates something's happening," Luna continued, tapping at the parenthetical notes.

"Why else would they put it in code? And I'd wager there are further instructions buried in these numbers and details.

Twelve what? What's significant about the south bin?

Four broken rakes could mean four targets, four ships, four people… ."

"Or it could be a legitimate supply request with a coincidental first-letter pattern," Ashe offered, though she didn't sound convinced.

"No," Luna said firmly. "It’s not. And the code itself is a bad sign. The saboteur knows someone might be intercepting their messages. They're being cautious, which means they're on guard."

Thalia stared at the parchment, its innocent-seeming words now sinister in their ambiguity. "So what do we do?"

Luna pondered for a moment, her dark eyes distant.

"You should talk to Wolfe," she said finally. "I know we’ve avoided talking to instructors, but whatever this is, it’s a sign of imminent escalation.

Show her both messages we've intercepted. See how she reacts, watch for signs that she’s the traitor — it's due diligence, if nothing else. "

"And in the meantime?" Thalia asked.

"We keep the raven," Luna declared, a smile slowly spreading across her face. "Birds like this are trained to return to their sender. It could be useful in the future."

Ashe groaned, flopping back on her bed. "And where exactly are we supposed to hide a raven? In case you've forgotten, pets aren't exactly permitted in the dormitories."

"It's not a pet," Luna said brightly, extending her arm toward the bird. To Thalia's surprise, it hopped from Senna's shoulder to Luna's forearm without hesitation. "It's evidence."

Ashe sighed deeply as the raven took flight across the room, its wings beating the air before it settled on the windowsill with a loud, grating caw.

***

The hallway to Wolfe's office stretched before Thalia like the throat of some ancient beast, its stone walls worn smooth by centuries of passing shoulders.

Sconces flickered at irregular intervals, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for her ankles as she walked.

The coded message felt impossibly heavy in her pocket, as though the parchment had transmuted to lead.

Each step echoed against the vaulted ceiling, announcing her approach to anyone who might be listening from the shadows.

Thalia paused before the iron-banded door, her reflection distorted in the polished metal nameplate that read Instructor Wolfe, Head of Academy.

Her heart drummed against her ribs, a staccato rhythm that seemed too loud in the hushed corridor.

She lifted her hand to knock but hesitated, palm hovering inches from the wood.

Who could she truly trust here? The question had plagued her since her first day at Frostforge. Now, with coded messages passing through the academy and saboteurs targeting her team, the answer felt more elusive than ever.

She rapped her knuckles against the door, three sharp sounds that seemed to reverberate through her bones.

"Enter," came Wolfe's clipped command from within.