CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Heat pressed against Thalia's skin as she leaned over the wooden worktable, sweat beading along her temples before sliding down to collect at the hollow of her throat.
The vast chamber of the Howling Forge stretched around her, its towering ceiling lost in shadow despite the glow of dozens of furnaces that lined the stone walls.
Each forge breathed like a living creature—inhaling drafts of cool air before exhaling plumes of ember-flecked heat that painted the chamber in wavering oranges and reds.
The scent of scorched metal and ash filled her lungs with every breath, familiar now after years of training, yet the remnants spread before her on the table were anything but familiar.
Kaine had arranged the jagged pieces with methodical precision—the broken shards of Frostforge blades laid out like the fragile bones of extinct creatures.
Some were fractured into inch-long shards, their once-gleaming surfaces dulled and lifeless.
Others had been reduced to little more than glittering dust, barely recognizable as the weapons they had once been.
Each piece told the same story: the Isle Wardens had brought something new to the battlefield, something that rendered Frostforge's greatest advantage useless.
"It's not right," Thalia murmured, running her fingertip along the edge of a larger fragment.
No blade forged at Frostforge should shatter so completely.
The ice-metal was supposed to be indestructible, imbued with magic from the forge and the cryomancers who worked it.
She had seen ice-metal fracture in the past, but only as the result of deliberate sabotage to the weapons, impurities set into the metal.
Never had a well-forged, strong blade broken under assault.
Beside her, Kaine stood close enough that she could feel the solid warmth of him, a stark contrast to the clinical coldness of the broken weapons.
His presence had always been like that—steady, grounding, even amid the chaos of battle or the uncertainty that plagued Frostforge now.
His dark eyes narrowed as he adjusted one of the shards with a pair of tongs.
"No," he agreed, voice low and rough from hours of discussion. "It isn’t. And neither is this.”
He gestured to the intact black blade that lay beside the ruined weapons.
Unlike the silvery-blue gleam of ice-metal, the curved Isle Warden weapon seemed to devour light rather than reflect it.
Its edge was impossibly sharp, its surface unmarred despite the battle.
Where the furnace light fell upon normal objects, casting them in amber and gold, this blade remained stubbornly dark, as though it existed in a permanent shadow.
Thalia reached for it, then hesitated, her fingers hovering inches away. "Can I touch it?"
Kaine nodded. "I've examined it thoroughly. It won't harm you with casual contact. The danger seems to come when it strikes ice-metal directly."
She lifted the blade carefully, surprised by its lightness. For something so destructive, she had expected it to feel substantial, weighted with malice. Instead, it balanced perfectly in her hand, its hilt fitting her grip as though crafted for her.
"It feels... ordinary," she said, turning it to catch what little light it would accept. "But it's not. Not at all."
Kaine leaned closer, his breath warm against her cheek as he pointed to the edge. "Look at how clean the metal is. No nicks, no wear. Even after cutting through our defenses."
Thalia set the blade down, wiping her palm against her trousers as though to remove an invisible taint. She turned her attention back to the shattered Frostforge weapons, mind racing through possibilities.
"These weren't just broken," she said slowly, eyes tracking the pattern of destruction.
"When metal breaks, there should be stress lines, points of impact.
These look more like they... dissolved." She pointed to the finest pile, little more than sparkling sand now.
"This wasn't physical destruction. It's as if the magical lattice was unraveled, the enchantment stripped away in an instant. "
Kaine's eyes widened slightly, and he nodded, a strand of dark hair falling across his forehead as he bent to examine the remains more closely.
"You're right. The binding elements of the ice-metal—the very magic that makes it strong—has been undone.
" He straightened, rubbing a hand across the stubble on his jaw.
"It's not that the metal was physically stronger.
It's that it somehow destabilizes our enchantments. "
The implications crashed over Thalia like an icy wave from the northern seas. "If they can nullify ice-metal," she whispered, "then every weapon, every shield, every—"
"Every defense we have," Kaine finished for her, voice grim. "Including the golems."
Understanding dawned in Thalia's eyes. "That's how they attacked from the direction of the Golem Fields. The constructs would have engaged, but—"
"One strike from these blades, and they'd crumble," Kaine confirmed. "Just like these weapons did."
The magnitude of this revelation settled between them, heavy and foreboding.
Frostforge had relied on the superiority of ice-metal since its founding—weapons that held an edge longer, armor that withstood greater force, constructs that could fight tirelessly.
If the Isle Wardens had found a way to counter all of that with a single stroke…
Kaine reached for a loupe that sat among the tools scattered across the table. He held it to his eye, bending to examine the grain of the black blade with intense focus. As he studied it, his expression slowly hardened, the muscles in his jaw tensing visibly.
"I've seen this before," he said finally, lowering the loupe. His voice had gone flat, emotionless in a way that Thalia recognized as carefully controlled anger—or fear. “This alloy.”
"Where?" she asked, dread pooling in her stomach even before he answered.
Kaine met her gaze, his eyes dark with memory. "It's set into the walls in the chamber where Maven tried to invoke the Founders' Price."
Maven . Even after two years, the mere mention of the instructor was enough to make her throat tighten, her pulse quicken with remembered terror.
Images flashed through her mind—Maven's cold smile as she explained how the death of a gifted student would activate ancient defenses; the glint of her blade as she advanced; the moment when Thalia realized that to Maven, she was nothing more than a sacrifice.
The forge's heat suddenly felt oppressive, smothering. Thalia stepped back from the table, needing space, air, distance from the memories that name had dragged to the surface.
"The black metal was there? In that room?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady. "Are you certain?"
Kaine nodded slowly. "Inlaid in the floor and walls, as runes.
I didn't make the connection until now." He hesitated, watching her carefully. "We should examine it. Compare it to this blade. If it is the same metal, that means the Founders knew about this alloy. And if there’s a connection between the Founders’ Price chamber and the Isle Wardens’ weapons—"
"We need to investigate it," Thalia finished, the logic of it clear despite the cold knot of fear in her chest. She took a deep breath, then another, but couldn't force the next words past her lips for several heartbeats.
Finally, she managed it. "I don't want to go back to that place."
The admission cost her. Thalia had faced countless dangers since coming to Frostforge—she'd survived the brutal training, fought Isle Wardens, even defied her commanders to return here when Roran needed her.
She wasn't someone who ran from challenges.
But the thought of returning to that chamber, with its ancient symbols and the bloodstained ritual circle where Maven had intended to end her life.
.. The memory alone made her hands tremble.
Kaine moved closer, his expression softening as he watched her struggle. Without hesitation, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, solid and warm. The gesture wasn't pitying—he knew better than that—but supportive, an anchor against the tide of painful recollections.
"I understand," he said quietly, and she believed him. If anyone could understand facing the ghosts of the past, it was Kaine, with his own dark history that he rarely spoke of.
Thalia leaned into him slightly, drawing strength from his presence. His scent—forge smoke and pine and something distinctly him—enveloped her, familiar and comforting. When had that happened? When had his proximity become something that eased rather than heightened her tension?
"Do you think less of me?" she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. "For not wanting to face it?"
Kaine's arm tightened around her shoulders.
"No," he said firmly. "Not at all." He turned to face her fully, both hands coming to rest lightly on her upper arms. "Thalia, I've seen you fight when others fled.
I've seen you stand your ground when it seemed impossible to win.
You're as fierce as anyone who's ever walked these halls. "
His eyes held hers, unwavering. "But courage isn't about never feeling fear. It's about acknowledging it and finding a way forward anyway. And sometimes, that means taking time to heal before confronting what hurt you."
His words settled into her, easing something tight in her chest. "It was two years ago," she said. "I should be past it by now."
"Time doesn't erase everything," Kaine replied. "But you're not the same person you were then, either. You're stronger now. Wiser." A small smile touched his lips. "More stubborn, if that was even possible."
The unexpected jest broke through her tension, and Thalia found herself smiling back, albeit shakily. "Says the man who spent three days straight trying to perfect a brand-new forge technique rather than admit Instructor Wolfe's method might be better."
"It wasn't better," he insisted, the familiar argument a welcome distraction. "Just... more conventional."
Thalia laughed softly, the sound echoing oddly in the vast forge chamber. When was the last time she had laughed? Before Roran's trial, certainly. Before the Isle Warden attack. It felt strange, almost forbidden, in the wake of all that had happened.
Yet also necessary.
She leaned into Kaine, no longer caring if anyone might see.
After the battle, after nearly losing Roran, after everything—what did it matter if others saw her seeking comfort?
His arms circled her, pulling her closer, and she rested her forehead against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath layers of rough-spun fabric.
"We'll find another way," he murmured into her hair. "We don't have to go into that chamber if you're not ready. There must be other sources of information about this metal."
Thalia shook her head, craning her neck to look up at him. “No. You’re… you’re right. If the information is there, we need to see it.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there with an intensity that made her breath catch. For a moment, neither of them moved, suspended in the space between friendship and something more. Then, slowly, deliberately, Kaine leaned down.
His lips met hers gently, a question more than a demand.
Thalia responded instantly, rising onto her toes, her hands sliding up to his shoulders.
Even as she pulled him closer, something knotted within her chest, like a tangle of thorns growing in her ribcage.
Less than a day ago, she’d been kissing Roran.
As Kaine’s hand came up to cradle her jaw, his thumb stroking her cheek, she tried to block out the memory of her moment with Roran, to lose herself in the simple comfort of his touch.
But even as she enjoyed the feel of Kaine pressed up against her, the scent of him—slightly acrid from the furnaces’ smoke, mingled with the earthy aroma of hot metal—she couldn’t help but compare the details.
Kaine’s kiss was gentle, seeking, unhurried, less fierce than Roran’s had been.
Where Kaine was steady earth and controlled fire, Roran was wild wind and sudden lightning.
The kiss she’d shared with Roran had been a raw, unvarnished truth.
This, with Kaine, felt like a beautifully spoken question to which she no longer knew the answer.
When they parted, Kaine didn't pull away. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed as though committing the moment to memory.
"I've wanted to do that again for a long time," he admitted quietly.
Thalia smiled despite herself, a small, fragile curve of her lips. "What changed? You stopped me before, when I tried."
He opened his eyes, meeting her gaze directly. "You were vulnerable then. Worried about Roran. I didn't want to be something you turned to just to forget your pain." His thumb traced the line of her jaw, feather-light. "I didn't want to be a distraction. Especially from him."
"And now?" she asked.
"Now," he said, "I think we've both faced enough that we know what's real and what's just an escape." His fingers trailed across her cheek. “I won't pretend I wasn't jealous, since you came back to Frostforge. He had your full attention, and I wanted it.”
The confession hung between them, honest and unadorned. Thalia felt the thorns within her stir at his words, the prickle of anxiety threading its way through her chest. Only hours ago, she’d been kissing Roran, craving Roran’s closeness.
And now, with Kaine’s touch burning against her skin, his admission lingering in the air between them, she couldn’t ignore the truth: her heart didn’t belong to just one of them. Neither of them would have her full attention, not while the other still held a piece of her soul.