Page 3 of Frostforge, Passage Four

Understanding flickered across Luna's face. "The forge?"

"I won't be long."

Ashe and Luna exchanged a look that Thalia pretended not to notice. They knew about Kaine, of course — not everything, but enough. Enough to understand why she might want to visit the place where he'd spent most of his time.

"We'll save you a spot at dinner," Ashe said, with a gentle squeeze of Thalia's shoulder that felt strange coming from someone usually so reserved.

Thalia watched them continue down the corridor, waiting until they disappeared around the bend before turning toward the staircase.

Her boots echoed against the stone steps as she began her descent, each footfall a hollow reminder of her solitude.

The air grew warmer with each level she passed, the chill of the upper floors gradually giving way to the heat that radiated from the academy's heart.

The Howling Forge. The place that had given her purpose when she'd first arrived, lost and terrified.

The place where she'd discovered her affinity for metal, for sensing the currents of magic within ore and alloy.

The place where Kaine had first noticed her, had first spoken to her with something other than the dismissive contempt most fourth-years showed to new recruits.

And now he was gone, graduated, moved on to whatever fate awaited those who survived Frostforge's brutal training. Without him, would the forge still feel like the one place in the academy where she belonged?

Thalia paused on a landing, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes.

The stone beneath her palm throbbed with the distant pulse of the forge — the great bellows breathing, the hammers falling, the heart of Frostforge beating on despite the wounds inflicted upon its outer shell.

She drew strength from that steady rhythm, straightened her shoulders, and continued downward.

By the time she reached the lowest level, sweat beaded on her forehead.

The corridor here was stifling, the air thick with heat that shimmered visibly against the rough-hewn stone.

The great iron doors of the forge loomed ahead, their surfaces etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly red from the constant exposure to heat.

Thalia hesitated, her hand hovering over the door handle.

She realized she was afraid — afraid that entering the forge without Kaine there would somehow make his absence real in a way that nothing else had.

She had managed to hold herself together during the long journey north, had maintained her composure through the assembly, but this — this might break her.

She steeled herself and pushed the door open.

Heat rushed out to greet her, a familiar embrace that wrapped around her like a living thing.

The forge spread before her, cavernous and alive with orange light and dancing shadows.

Furnaces glowed along the walls, their throats swallowing coal and spitting flame.

Apprentices and skilled metalworkers hunched over anvils, their forms silhouetted against the forge-light.

And then she heard it — a rhythm she would know anywhere. The distinctive pattern of hammer strikes, the particular tempo, and the weight that belonged to only one person.

Her heart lurched painfully in her chest as her eyes found him, stationed at his usual workbench in the far corner. Kaine. His broad shoulders hunched in concentration, muscles shifting beneath his thin shirt as he brought the hammer down again and again on a length of glowing metal.

She moved without conscious thought, weaving between the workstations, dodging the sparks that flew from nearby anvils.

He didn't look up, lost in the focus that always seemed to possess him when he worked.

It wasn't until she stood directly across from him that he paused, hammer suspended mid-strike.

His eyes, ice-blue and startling against his soot-streaked face, widened in recognition.

"Thalia."

Just her name, spoken in that low voice that had haunted her dreams all summer. She couldn't speak, couldn't find words past the tightness in her throat. Instead, she rounded the workbench and threw her arms around him, heedless of the sweat and grime that covered his skin.

For a moment, he stood rigid, then his arms encircled her, the hammer still clutched in one hand pressing awkwardly against her back.

"What are you doing here?" she finally managed, pulling back just enough to see his face without breaking their embrace. "I thought — you graduated —"

A rare smile softened his severe features.

"Instructor Wolfe was promoted to Maven’s old post. They needed someone to take over her forge duties.

" He shrugged, a gesture that attempted to downplay what they both knew was an unprecedented honor for someone so young.

"I'm good with metal. They asked me to stay. "

"As an instructor?" Thalia couldn't keep the wonder from her voice.

"Assistant instructor," he corrected, finally releasing her and stepping back to his anvil.

He set down the hammer and picked up a pair of tongs, adjusting the position of the cooling metal.

"Officially, I'm still learning. Unofficially.

.." He glanced around the forge, at the students who cast curious looks in their direction.

"I'm given a certain amount of freedom."

Thalia watched him work, the familiar rhythm of his movements both comforting and mesmerizing.

The moment stretched between them, filled with the heat of the forge and things unsaid.

When he looked up and met her eyes again, she felt that heat bloom inside her chest, spreading outward until her fingertips tingled with it.

"I'm glad you're still here," she said softly. "I didn't want to face this year without you."

The corner of his mouth quirked upward — not quite a smile, but something warmer than his usual stern expression.

Thalia stepped back, giving him space to work, but she remained nearby, content to watch him.

In the glow of the forge, with Kaine's steady presence beside her, the chill that had settled in her chest since her return began to thaw.