Page 35 of Frostforge, Passage Four

Dawn cast a gray light over the fjord, turning the frozen expanse into a mirror of the leaden sky above.

Thalia stood motionless on the docks, her breath clouding before her as she surveyed the aftermath strewn across the ice's white sheet.

Blood stained the surface in rusty blooms, melted craters marked where lightning had struck, and the detritus of battle — shattered weapons, torn clothing, abandoned shields — littered the frozen surface like discarded toys.

The silence pressed against her ears, broken only by the scrape of boots on ice and the occasional muffled command as students moved methodically across the fjord, counting the dead.

Ten first-years. The number echoed in her mind, hollow and accusatory.

Ten children who had come to Frostforge with dreams and determination now lie cold and still.

Among them was Sigrid, her copper hair unmistakable even from a distance when they'd found her.

The Northern girl had fled deep into the trees beyond the fjord's edge, but she hadn't made it far on her own.

They'd recovered her body hours after the battle ended, fingers still curled around the hilt of her weapon, face frozen in a snarl of defiance.

Thalia had shed no tears when she heard the news. The words had washed over her like ice water, leaving her numb and distant. The tears would come later, she knew, when she was alone in her bunk with no one to witness her failure.

Below the docks, medical teams worked with brisk efficiency.

The largely uninjured second- and third-years carried stretchers bearing the wounded back toward the academy.

Golems assisted where they could, their metal joints creaking as they lifted debris and cleared paths through the destruction.

One ice-brass construct, twice the height of a man, cradled a wounded student in arms that could have crushed stone.

Thalia watched it all with a detached awareness, as though viewing someone else's nightmare.

Her body felt leaden, her limbs disconnected from her will.

She couldn't look away from the red-stained ice, couldn't stop imagining Sigrid's final moments — alone, frightened perhaps, though the Northern girl would never have admitted to fear.

A warm pressure settled on her shoulder. She turned her head, muscles moving with glacial slowness, to find Kaine standing beside her. His blue eyes, normally so intense, had softened with concern. The scar that traced his jawline seemed more pronounced in the harsh morning light.

"You should get inside," he said, his voice low. "There's nothing more you can do here."

Something in his gentleness broke through the shell of her numbness. She stepped away, shrugging off his hand — not rejecting him, but rejecting the absolution his touch offered.

"I was responsible for them," she said, the words scraping her throat raw. "Sigrid may have hated me, but she was still mine to protect."

Kaine's exhale misted in the frigid air between them. "She made her choice, Thalia. She refused to listen to you. She abandoned the squad when you needed her most."

"She was eighteen," Thalia countered, her voice brittle. "Barely more than a child."

"So were you, when you came here." Kaine's gaze swept across the frozen fjord, taking in the aftermath of battle with the practiced eye of someone who had seen too much death. "Unity is strength. That's a lesson all Frostforge recruits need to learn early, or they won't survive."

The truth of his words did nothing to lessen the weight in her chest. Thalia swallowed hard, fighting to form the question that had been burning in her mind since the battle ended.

"Did Wolfe say where Roran—" The words faltered, caught in the vise of her throat.

"He's being kept in the keep’s prison wing," Kaine said, his expression carefully neutral.

Thalia blinked. "I didn't know Frostforge had a prison wing."

"I didn't either." Something shadowed his face then, some memory or knowledge he wasn't sharing.

A fresh wave of guilt crashed over her, even as a voice in the back of her mind insisted that Roran, too, had made his choice.

If he hadn't unleashed his storm magic the way he did, many more students would have died beneath Isle Warden blades.

The lightning that had arced from his fingertips had driven back the attackers long enough for the younger students to retreat across Virek's frozen path.

Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she had failed him, too. She had known his secret, had kept it close and guarded, and now it was exposed for all to see. The very power that had saved them had condemned him.

Kaine tentatively held out an arm, offering comfort without demanding she accept it.

For a moment, Thalia stood rigid, pride and grief at war within her.

Then something crumbled, and she allowed herself to lean into him, just for a moment.

His warmth was grounding, the weight of his arm strong across her back — but it did nothing to soften the guilt gnawing at her ribs.

She had thought she wouldn't cry until she was back in her bunk, shielded from the world's judgment, but the tears began to fall now, something raw inside of her ripped open by Kaine's gentleness.

They slid silently and hot down her cold cheeks as she stared out at the field of ice that had become a battlefield, then a graveyard.

"We should have seen it coming," she whispered, the words barely audible over the wind that curled around the docks. "The note, the ravens, the sabotage — all of it was leading to this."

Kaine's arm tightened around her shoulders. "No one could have predicted this. Not even the instructors saw it coming."

But someone had, Thalia thought. Someone had sent a message with the time and place of the Command Challenge. Someone within Frostforge had betrayed them all — and now Roran was paying the price.

She pulled away from Kaine's embrace, wiping the tears from her face with a sleeve stiff with frost. The numbness was receding, replaced by something hot and sharp that cleared her mind like a blade through fog.

"I need to see Wolfe," she said, her voice steadier than she expected. "Now."

Kaine studied her face, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded. "I'll take you to her."

As they turned away from the dock, Thalia cast one final glance at the frozen fjord. In the pale light of dawn, it resembled nothing so much as a broken mirror, each shard reflecting a fragment of the destruction they had all survived — and that some had not.

***

Thalia stood alone, fists clenched at her sides, listening to the muffled debate of instructors who held Roran's fate in their hands. The words were indistinct through the thick wood of Wolfe’s office door, but their tone was clear enough — clipped, authoritative, final.

Without allowing herself a moment to reconsider, Thalia raised her fist and pounded on the door, the impact sending a jolt of pain up her arm that she barely registered.

The voices inside fell silent. Footsteps approached, measured, and unhurried.

The door swung open to reveal Instructor Virek, his slight frame silhouetted against the glow of lanterns within.

The spiderweb of scars across his hands seemed to shimmer in the light as he regarded her with an unreadable expression.

"Greenspire," he said, his whispering voice colder than the fjord outside. "This is a closed meeting."

"I need to speak with Instructor Wolfe." Thalia fought to keep her voice steady. "About Roran Bright."

Virek's gaze flicked over her shoulder, as if expecting to find Kaine or another student lurking in the shadows. Finding no one, he stepped back, a reluctant invitation.

The disused classroom beyond had been transformed into an impromptu war room.

Maps of the fjord and surrounding territories covered a large table at its center, weighted down with brass instruments and carved stone markers.

Lanterns hung from hooks in the low ceiling, casting pools of amber light that did little to soften the grim faces of the assembled instructors.

Wolfe stood at the head of the table, her emerald eyes sharpening as they fixed on Thalia. Calloway and Marr flanked her, the former's silver-streaked dark hair pulled back severely, the latter's scarred face impassive.

"I apologize for the interruption, instructors," Thalia said, the formal words at odds with the fire in her veins. "But I need to speak on behalf of Roran Bright."

"Your concern for your fellow student is noted," Wolfe replied, her tone making it clear that noted did not mean valued . "However, this matter is beyond your jurisdiction."

"He saved dozens of lives." Thalia stepped forward, uncaring that she had not been invited to approach. "The lightning he summoned held the Wardens back longer than any weapon could have. Without him, more students would be dead."

"And yet," Calloway interjected, her icy blue eyes boring into Thalia, "only Isle Wardens wield storm magic.

Northern law is explicit: all Isle Wardens are to be executed upon capture, never harbored.

" Her words fell like stones into a still pond, the ripples of their implications spreading through the room.

Thalia felt her pulse quicken as Calloway held her gaze. Calloway had sent Marr up there, into the path of the oncoming Isle Wardens. Had she known the attack was coming? Had she deliberately placed Marr in danger while remaining safely below?

Could Calloway be the traitor they’d been looking for? Or was it someone else in this room, one of the other instructors, quietly pulling strings while the rest of Frostforge remained blind?

Thalia's attention shifted to Virek, who had returned to his place at the table. His discomfort was evident in the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his scarred fingers twitched against the map's surface. He would not meet her eyes.

"Laws exist for a reason, fourth-year." It was Marr who spoke now, his voice quiet but firm. "The prohibition against storm magic dates back to the founding of this academy."

A wave of disappointment crashed through Thalia. She had expected better from Marr — had hoped that as a Southerner, he might show more compassion, more willingness to see beyond rigid Northern traditions. The betrayal stung more sharply than she'd anticipated.

"Let’s not forget," Wolfe said, drawing Thalia's attention back to her.

The Head Instructor tapped a finger against a scrap of parchment on the table — the coded message Thalia had brought forward days ago.

"Someone within these walls was in communication with the Isle Wardens. This attack was no coincidence."

Thalia frowned, taking another step closer to the table. "What do you mean?"

"In the aftermath of the battle, more of this code has become clear to us." Wolfe's voice was measured, her expression grave. "NORTH indicated the slope of the fjord where the Command Challenge would take place."

"And 'twelve nails,'" Calloway added, "referred to the number of fourth-year squads participating in the trial."

The implication settled over Thalia like a physical weight. Someone had betrayed them — had sent detailed information about the Command Challenge to their enemies, ensuring the attack would come when they were most vulnerable, most divided.

"The intended recipient of this message is a traitor," Wolfe continued, her gaze unflinching.

"We must assume that this raven was sent by Isle Wardens who were already in communication with someone at Frostforge.

And given the storm magic we witnessed on the battlefield, Bright is our most obvious suspect. "

"That's absurd!" The words burst from Thalia before she could temper them. "Roran fought against the Isle Wardens. He put himself between them and the first-years. He did more than anyone to hold the attackers at bay."

"Or perhaps," Calloway suggested, her tone glacial, "he was playing both sides — positioning himself as a hero while ensuring his true allies could escape once the battle turned against them. He may have done the same during the skiff race."

"He was injured defending us," Thalia countered, her hands trembling with barely contained fury. "He could have drowned saving Rasmus during the skiff race. If he were working with the Wardens, why would he risk his life repeatedly for Frostforge students?"

A heavy silence followed her outburst. The instructors exchanged glances, some questioning, others resolute. Wolfe straightened, shoulders squaring as she made her decision.

"Thank you for your input, Greenspire." Her tone made it clear the discussion was over. "The investigation will be thorough. Until then, the prisoner remains where he is."

Dismissal rang in every syllable. Thalia stood frozen, fists clenched so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. The injustice of it burned through her veins like acid, eating away at whatever respect she had maintained for the instructors standing before her.

Without another word, she turned and strode toward the door, her boots striking the stone floor with sharp cracks that echoed her fury.

She shoved the door open, barely registering the grunt of surprise from whoever stood on the other side, and stormed into the corridor.

Her vision blurred, whether from unshed tears or rage, she couldn't tell.

"Thalia!" A familiar voice called after her, followed by quick, light footsteps. Luna appeared at her side, her dark eyes wide with concern. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Thalia opened her mouth to respond, but the words tangled in her throat. Luna's expression softened, and she gently took Thalia's arm, steering her away from the instructors' door.

"Not here," Luna whispered, casting a meaningful glance back at the room Thalia had just left. "Whatever they said, we'll figure it out. But not here, where the walls have ears."

Thalia allowed herself to be led away, her mind racing. The instructors believed Roran was the traitor — that he had somehow coordinated with the Isle Wardens despite fighting against them. It made no sense, but she knew from the set of Wolfe's jaw that logic would not sway her, not without proof.

And proof, Thalia realized with sudden clarity, was exactly what she needed to find.