CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Thalia stood at the edge of the Crystalline plateau, watching morning sunlight spill across the remnants of battle.
Golems had cleared most of the amphitheater's charred wreckage, but evidence of the Wardens' assault remained—shattered ice-metal glinted like fallen stars against the frozen ground, each shard a reminder of their vulnerability.
She flexed her fingers inside her gloves, the weight of the new and improved ice-glacenite sword at her hip both a comfort and a burden.
The weapon might stand against the Wardens' black metal, but its cost was steep, paid in nightmares and phantom screams.
Her old squadron gathered around her—Felah hugging herself against the cold, Daniel shifting his weight from foot to foot, Rasmus standing rigid with hands clasped behind his back, ever the soldier.
Ashe and Brynn completed their circle, both scanning the plateau with wary eyes.
Not so long ago, this place had run red with blood.
"The refinements to the alloy should reduce the... side effects," Thalia said, her voice carrying in the crisp air. "But I can't promise they're gone entirely."
Rasmus raised an eyebrow. "What kind of side effects are we talking about?"
Thalia hesitated. How could she explain the terror of hearing Mari scream while seeing her mother dragged away by shadows? "Hallucinations. Visions. Things that aren't there."
"Sounds delightful," he muttered.
Thalia reached for the weapons she'd brought, laid out on a cloth to keep them from direct contact with the snow.
Three ice-glacenite swords gleamed with an inner light that seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat.
Beside them lay the captured Warden blades, their black metal absorbing the morning light rather than reflecting it.
"Felah, Rasmus, you'll use these." She handed them each an ice-glacened sword. "I'll keep the third for myself."
Felah's thin fingers wrapped around the hilt of her blade. The sword seemed too large for her slight frame, but Thalia knew appearances could be deceiving. Felah had survived two seasons at Frostforge; she was stronger than she looked.
"Daniel, Ashe, Brynn—you'll use the Warden blades.
" Thalia watched as they each picked up a black sword.
"Ten of these weapons—that's all we managed to salvage from the attack.
We need to be careful with them." She gazed across the plateau, where frost crystals glittered in the morning light.
"Let's see if our improvements to the glacenite make a difference.
Pair off—Daniel with Felah, Ashe with Rasmus, Brynn with me. "
The group separated into their assigned pairs, spreading out across the plateau to give each other space. Brynn twirled the black blade experimentally, her movements graceful despite the weapon's awkward balance. Her eyes narrowed as she settled into a fighting stance opposite Thalia.
"Don't hold back," Thalia said, raising her glacenite sword. The silver-blue metal caught the light, shimmering with an inner glow that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Brynn smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."
The black blade whistled through the air as Brynn lunged forward. Thalia parried, the weapons meeting with a clear, ringing note that echoed across the plateau. No disintegration. No failure. The glacenite held despite the tungsten included in the alloy.
Relief flooded through her as she pressed her advantage, forcing Brynn back with a series of quick strikes.
Around them, the other pairs had engaged as well.
Felah's movements were tentative but precise, while Daniel attacked with controlled aggression, his black blade a blur against her glacenite.
Nearby, Ashe and Rasmus circled each other warily, their weapons raised.
For three exchanges, four, five, everything worked perfectly. The metallic song of blade against blade rang out across the plateau, clear and strong in the morning air. Thalia felt a surge of hope. Perhaps they had done it. Perhaps they had found a way to counter the Wardens' advantage.
Then it began.
At first, it was just a flicker in her peripheral vision—a shadow where none should be, a movement that didn't belong. Thalia blinked, trying to clear her sight, but the distortion persisted. Her breathing shortened as an icy dread coiled in her gut, familiar and unwelcome.
Brynn's next strike nearly caught her off guard. Thalia blocked it at the last moment, her grip tightening without conscious thought.
"Something's wrong," Brynn said, her voice distant beneath the rushing in Thalia's ears.
"I'm fine," Thalia gritted out, but the lie tasted bitter on her tongue.
They exchanged another flurry of blows, but Thalia's focus was fracturing. The edges of her vision blurred, and behind Brynn's determined face, she glimpsed flashes of the storm-wall from her earlier hallucination—black clouds churning against a fractured sky, lightning splitting the darkness.
A muffled scream pierced through the vision—Mari's voice, high and terrified. Thalia's heart clenched, but she forced herself to remember that it wasn't real. Mari wasn't here. This was the glacenite's effect, less potent than before but still present.
"Greenspire," Brynn's voice cut through the haze. "Your guard is slipping."
Thalia blinked hard, struggling to stay present. She blocked Brynn's next strike and countered with a thrust of her own, but her movements lacked their usual precision. The hallucinations were milder than before, manageable if she concentrated, but still distracting.
A sharp gasp drew her attention to her left. Felah had stopped mid-strike, her sword arm trembling so violently that the blade wavered in the air. Her face had drained of color, and her eyes were wide with terror at something only she could see.
Daniel had lowered his weapon, his brow furrowed with concern. "Felah? What's wrong?"
But Felah didn't seem to hear him. Her breath came in short, panicked bursts, and her knuckles had whitened around the hilt of her sword.
On the other side of the plateau, Rasmus had dropped his weapon entirely. He had backed away from Ashe, his hands raised as if to ward off a blow, his face contorted in silent anguish. Whatever he was seeing had driven him beyond words.
"Stop!" Thalia called, lowering her own weapon. "Everyone, stop!"
She drove the tip of her glacenite blade into the frozen earth and strode toward Felah, who had sunk to her knees, still gripping her sword. Daniel knelt beside her, hands hovering uncertainly, afraid to touch her in this state.
"It's not real," Thalia said, gently prying Felah's fingers from the weapon. "Whatever you're seeing, it's not real. It's the glacenite."
Felah's gaze snapped to Thalia's face, recognition slowly dawning in her eyes. "I saw... I saw my brother," she whispered. "The day they came for him. The Selection..." She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.
Brynn had gone to help Ashe with Rasmus, who was still backing away from invisible assailants. His breath came in harsh gasps, and sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cold.
"Rasmus," Ashe said firmly, standing in front of him. "Look at me. Focus on me."
Slowly, Rasmus's eyes cleared, his panicked gaze fixing on Ashe's face. "I was back there," he said, his voice hoarse. "The night the Wardens came to my village. I could smell the burning…."
Thalia felt a stab of guilt. She had known the risk, had experienced it herself, yet she had asked them to wield these weapons anyway. The improvements to the alloy hadn't been enough to rid the weapons of their horrible effect.
It took several minutes before both Felah and Rasmus were calm enough to join the others. They gathered in a loose circle, their breaths forming white clouds in the cold air.
"The hallucinations are still an issue, then," Thalia said, voicing what they all knew. "Less intense, perhaps, but still present."
“It looked that way,” Ashe said grimly. “Do you think it’s possible to fight through it?”
A movement at the edge of the plateau caught Thalia's attention before she could respond.
Zanaya stood there, watching them, a group of refugee teenagers from Verdant Port clustered behind her.
Their faces were thin, their eyes haunted, but they watched the weapons training with undisguised interest.
Zanaya stepped forward, her gaze fixed on the glacenite sword Thalia had embedded in the ground. "Can I try?" she asked, her voice quiet but steady.
Thalia hesitated. "These weapons are dangerous, Zanaya. Not just because they're sharp, but because of what they do to your mind. It would be better to learn with normal steel first."
But Zanaya's expression remained determined. "I want to help defend Frostforge. If these are the weapons that work against the Wardens, I need to learn to use them."
There was something in her eyes—a hardness that shouldn't be there in someone so young. It reminded Thalia of herself, of the determination that had driven her to volunteer for the Selection to save her family.
"A few minutes," Thalia conceded. "Just to see how it affects you."
She retrieved her glacenite sword and offered it to Zanaya. The girl took it with both hands, adjusting her grip clumsily. The blade dwarfed her, but she held it steady, her thin arms surprisingly strong.
Zanaya gave the sword an experimental swing, the motion awkward but earnest. Then another. And another. Her face remained composed, focused on the weight and balance of the weapon rather than any unseen terror.
Eventually, Thalia cleared her throat. "Do you feel anything?" she asked. "Like the blade is draining your energy? Do you hear anything strange?"
Zanaya shook her head. "No. Should I?"
Thalia exchanged a glance with Brynn, whose eyebrows had risen in surprise. "The glacenite causes hallucinations," she said. "Even if they're taking a while to set in, you should be feeling their effects to some degree."
One of the other refugees stepped forward—a boy with a scar running down his cheek. "Let me try," he said.
Felah, watching with wary eyes, held out her glacenite sword. The boy took it and mimicked Zanaya's motions, his form equally unrefined, but his expression clear and focused.
"Nothing," he confirmed after around a minute of waving the blade. "It feels like any other sword."
One by one, the refugees tried the glacenite weapons. None of them showed any signs of the distress that had afflicted Thalia and her companions. They wielded the blades awkwardly, inexpertly, but without fear.
"How is this possible?" Ashe murmured, watching as a girl no older than fourteen parried an imaginary blow with Rasmus's sword.
Thalia studied their faces—the hollow cheeks, the shadows beneath their eyes, the wariness that never quite left their expressions. And suddenly, she understood.
"Their nightmares are more recent," she said quietly. "The fall of Verdant Port. The Wardens. Death and destruction all around them. What more can the glacenite show them that they haven't already seen in these past months?"
Brynn nodded slowly. "Constant fear has dulled the alloy's mental toll. They're... inoculated against it."
"Let them train with us," Thalia decided. "If they can use the glacenite without suffering its effects, they might be our best defense against the next attack."
The refugees formed pairs, mirroring the stance and basic movements that Thalia demonstrated.
Their enthusiasm was palpable, but their inexperience was equally evident.
Footwork that should have been fluid was clumsy and hesitant.
Guards were held too high or too low. Strikes lacked power and precision.
Thalia paced along the sidelines, calling out corrections and feeling the pressure mount with each passing moment. They might withstand the weapon's curse, but without proper technique, they'd be cut down in seconds against a trained Warden.
"Zanaya, keep your elbow in! You're exposing your side," she called, then pivoted toward another pair. "Don't lock your knees. Stay flexible, ready to move."
Brynn appeared at her side, watching the chaotic practice with a critical eye. "Frostforge's defenses are fractured," she murmured. "Half our fighters are too green, the rest are too vulnerable to the alloy's effects."
"We have no choice but to work with what we have," Thalia replied, though she couldn't deny the truth of Brynn's words.
"The Wardens won't wait for us to be ready."
"I know."
They watched in silence as the refugees continued their awkward drills. Despite their determination, it was clear that they were far from combat-ready. Weeks of training might give them a fighting chance, but Thalia doubted they had weeks.
Finally, as the sun climbed higher in the sky, she called a halt to the training.
Weapons were lowered, and breaths came ragged in the cold air.
Felah and Rasmus staggered away, pale and sweating, the lingering effects of the glacenite still evident in their unsteady movements.
The refugees stood tired but steady, unmarked by the alloy's mental assault.
Thalia stripped off her gloves, her fingers stiff with cold. They still weren't ready. The Wardens' next assault would test every weakness she'd seen today, and she wasn't confident they would survive it.
A sudden, rhythmic thrum against her chest pulled her from her thoughts. The pendant Kaine had given her pulsed with a steady beat, warm against her skin. She pressed her palm against it, feeling the metal vibrate with life.
Kaine. Her fingers closed around the pendant.
The pendant's pulse was strong and regular, and at once, Thalia knew what it meant. He was alive. He was out there. And somehow, inexplicably, Thalia knew that the rhythm that ticked within the pendant, like a small, metallic heartbeat, was a deliberate signal from him.
He was returning to Frostforge. He was close.