CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE #2
Senna renewed her assault, sending waves of frost up the golem's legs while Kaine darted in to strike at its knees with his hammer. The construct staggered, off-balance for a precious moment.
Brynn reached its shoulder, her face a mask of grim determination as she raised the ice spear. She had a clear shot at the seam in the center of its chest, the gap that Thalia had identified as housing the core. For a heartbeat, victory seemed within reach.
Then the golem twisted violently, one hand reaching up to swat at the irritant on its shoulder.
Brynn tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go.
The massive metal palm connected with her body, sending her flying across the hall to crash against a column.
She slid to the floor and lay still, her glacenite blades clattering beside her.
"Brynn!" Thalia's cry was lost in the thunderous sound of the golem's movements.
A blur of movement—Luna darting across the battlefield, her small form weaving between debris as she reached Brynn's side. With strength that belied her size, she dragged Brynn's limp form behind a fallen column, out of the golem's immediate path.
The ice spear Brynn had crafted lay on the floor, still intact, its crystalline surface reflecting the lightning that danced across the golem's frame. Thalia's gaze fixed on it, a desperate plan forming in her mind.
She reached for her cryomancy, feeling the familiar cold spread through her fingertips.
This was not a strong skill of hers, but desperation lent her focus.
She wouldn’t have been able to conjure the ice weapon herself, but she could manipulate it.
The ice spear rose shakily from the ground, hovering at her command, its tip aimed at the golem's chest.
Thalia thrust her hand forward, channeling momentum into the suspended spear. It shot forward like a bolt from a crossbow, its trajectory true despite the trembling in Thalia's limbs. The spear pierced the gap in the golem's chest, driving deep into the heart of the construct.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then lightning exploded outward from the wound, arcing in all directions as the contained storm sought escape.
The golem shuddered, its movements becoming erratic, then jerky, then ceased altogether.
With a sound like a mountain collapsing, it fell forward, crashing to the stone floor with such force that the entire hall trembled.
Silence fell, broken only by the distant sounds of battle from other parts of the academy and the hissing of electricity as it dissipated from the fallen construct.
Thalia staggered, her legs suddenly unable to support her weight.
Kaine was at her side in an instant, his arm around her waist, keeping her upright.
"You did it," he murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion and something that might have been pride.
Before she could respond, movement atop the fallen golem caught her eye.
A figure rose from behind the construct's head.
A Warden, but different from the others.
His leather cowl was adorned with silver lightning bolts, and electricity crackled between his fingertips as he surveyed the devastation.
A mage. Based on the fury in his eyes as he took in the fallen form of the construct, this was the mage who had been controlling its onslaught.
His gaze found Thalia, recognition and rage flashing in his eyes. Without warning, he thrust both hands forward, channeling a bolt of pure lightning directly at her heart.
Thalia had no time to dodge, no strength left to raise a shield of ice. She braced for pain, for darkness, for an end.
Instead, a familiar form materialized between her and the deadly strike.
Roran stood with his arms outstretched, his body absorbing the lightning that should have killed her.
The electricity coursed over his skin, illuminating him from within as he channeled the power, redirecting it toward the wall in a controlled arc that scorched the ancient stone but harmed no one.
The Warden mage froze, his attack faltering as he stared at Roran. His lips moved, forming words that somehow carried through the chaos of battle, clear as crystal and cold as ice:
"Rorik Stormchild."
Roran's birth name—a name Thalia had only heard once before, a connection to a past he'd kept hidden.
Roran's expression hardened, determination replacing his momentary shock.
He raised his hands, drawing on the storm that still raged above them, and sent a precise bolt of lightning toward the mage.
It struck with surgical accuracy, enough to render the man unconscious but not to kill him.
The mage collapsed atop the fallen golem, his silver-adorned helm rolling away across the stone floor.
"Are you alright?" Roran asked, turning to Thalia, concern evident in his dark eyes.
She nodded, unable to find words. Her mind reeled from what she'd just witnessed, from the name that had fallen from the mage's lips. He’d recognized Roran. Had he known him, somehow? Questions burned on her tongue, but they had no place here, not with battle still raging around them.
"We need to push them back," Kaine said, retrieving his hammer from where it had fallen. "The breach at the main gate is still open."
Senna appeared beside them, her breath coming in short gasps, but her stance still ready for battle. "Most of the fighting has moved to the eastern courtyard. They're trying to flank us."
Thalia forced herself to focus, pushing aside both the glacenite's whispers and her questions about Roran's true identity. "Then that's where we go," she said, tightening her grip on her sword.
They moved as one, retracing their steps through corridors now littered with the aftermath of battle.
Defenders and Wardens alike lay where they had fallen, some still clutching their weapons in death's grip.
Those still standing rallied at the sight of them, drawing strength from the knowledge that the golem had been defeated.
As they emerged into the eastern courtyard, the full force of the storm hit them, rain and sleet driving horizontally on gale-force winds.
Wardens pressed the defenders from three sides, their black blades flashing in the lightning's glow.
Wolfe stood at the center of the defensive line, her ice-glacenite spear a blur as she cut down anyone who came within reach.
Thalia, Roran, Kaine, and Senna entered the fray without hesitation, their weapons finding gaps in the Wardens' armor with practiced precision. Roran called down lightning from the storm above, each bolt striking with devastating accuracy, forcing the attackers to divide their attention.
But as the battle wore on, the glacenite's curse intensified.
Thalia's vision swam with images that weren't there—distorted projections of Verdant Port in flames, the herb shop collapsing, the market square strewn with bodies.
Her mother's face, contorted in agony. Mari's thin form, broken and still.
She fought through the visions, each more terrible than the last, forcing herself to distinguish between hallucination and reality.
It was growing more and more difficult, her grim fears for her home and family forming a shroud over her true surroundings.
A Warden lunged at her, blade aimed at her heart. Thalia parried on instinct alone, her body responding to the threat even as her mind battled phantoms. She countered with a thrust that found the gap beneath his arm, dropping him to his knees.
Inch by agonizing inch, the defenders reclaimed their ground.
The Wardens, facing unexpected resistance from the glacenite weapons and Roran's command of the very storm they'd summoned, began to fall back.
First one, then another, then dozens retreating toward the shattered gate and the fjord beyond.
"They're running!" someone shouted—Daniel, his voice hoarse but triumphant.
A ragged cheer went up from the defenders, quickly subdued as they pursued the retreating enemy, determined not to allow them to regroup.
Thalia tried to follow, but her legs finally betrayed her.
She stumbled, her knees hitting the stone with bruising force, her grip still tight on the leather hilt of her sword.
The visions pressed in from all sides now, reality and hallucination blending until she could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.
Strong arms caught her before she could collapse completely—Kaine on one side, Roran on the other.
"Drop that blade," Kaine murmured, his voice seeming to come from very far away. "It's the glacenite. You pushed yourself too hard."
"The Wardens," she managed to whisper, her voice cracking with exhaustion.
"They're retreating," Roran assured her. "We've won. We've held Frostforge."
She wanted to believe him, wanted to take comfort in their victory.
But even as Roran gently pried her fingers from the leather-wrapped hilt of the glacenite blade, even as the sword clattered to the stone floor, Thalia couldn’t dismiss the visions of Verdant Port.
The smoke still curled behind her eyelids, the screams still echoed in her skull.
The weight of the battle—and the strange, pulsing influence of the glacenite—had left her mind raw, her thoughts frayed at the edges.
Kaine’s grip tightened around her shoulders, steadying her. "Look at me," he said, his voice low but firm.
Thalia forced her gaze up, her vision swimming.
Kaine’s face was streaked with soot and blood, his dark eyes sharp with concern.
She blinked, her gaze straying away for a moment, and once again saw Verdant Port’s ruin.
Her nostrils filled with the phantom scent of burning orchards, the sickly sweet char of fruit hanging in the smoky air.
She heard the cry of an unseen child, begging for their mother. Heard Mari, sobbing.
She closed her eyes, her teeth gritted until her temples ached, but couldn’t dismiss the visions.
Logically, she knew why. She had pushed herself too hard with the glacenite, and the visions would not fade as quickly as they had after a simple sparring session.
Such intense use of the weapon had left afterimages of horror imprinted in her mind, like patches of color in her vision after staring at the sun.
Despite this explanation, despite Thalia’s certainty that the images of fire and ash and bodies were nothing more than hallucinations, the dread still clung to her like a rime of frost. Because even if the devastation wasn’t here—even if she wasn’t there, in the city—Verdant Port’s destruction, its fall to the Isle Wardens, wasn’t a mere figment of the glacenite’s strange magic.
It was real. It had happened. And as long as she knew that, as long as her family's fate remained unknown, she would never be free of these ghosts.