CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Dawn broke over Frostforge in shades of iron and ash, the sun a pale ghost behind storm clouds that hadn't been there when Thalia closed her eyes.
She stood before the academy's massive portcullis, her ice-glacenite blade cold against her palm despite the leather of her gloves.
The past day had blurred into a single, frantic moment—weapons distributed, battle plans hastily drawn, refugees herded to the innermost chambers.
Now, as the first light crept across the fjord's still waters, Thalia wondered if any of it would be enough.
Sleep had evaded her, as it had most of Frostforge's defenders.
After Wolfe had heard Roran and Kaine's report at the dock, the explanation for their mission cut short, the Head Instructor's face had hardened like the mountains themselves.
Her decision had been swift and absolute: they would not abandon the academy.
Not with thousands of refugees within their walls and more arriving daily, not with winter gripping the mountains in its merciless fist. They would fight.
And so they had prepared, transforming Frostforge from academy to fortress in a matter of hours.
Every able-bodied person was armed—students, soldiers, even some of the hardier refugees.
The forges had burned day and night, churning out glacenite weapons for those who could wield them without succumbing to the alloy's curse.
Provisions were gathered, barricades erected, and escape routes secured should the worst come to pass.
All that remained was to wait.
The sky split open with a crack that shook the very stones beneath Thalia's feet.
Lightning—jagged and unnatural—slashed across the heavens in strobing patterns of white and blue, too precise to be born of nature's chaos.
The bolts illuminated the fjord in sharp, painful flashes, revealing the silhouettes of ships where there had been none before.
"Thalia." Kaine materialized at her side, his face grim in the lightning's glow.
He'd spent the night in the forge as well, crafting weapons until his hands blistered.
Now those hands gripped an ice-glacened hammer, the handle wrapped in leather to shield his skin from the alloy's malice. "They're earlier than we expected."
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze from the spectacle unfolding across the water.
A wall of storm—identical to the one from her glacenite-induced hallucinations—crawled across the fjord, devouring the morning light.
It rose higher than the tallest mast, a living darkness that filled the valley before them, bristling with electricity.
Horns blared from the northern watchtowers—three long, mournful notes that echoed through the valley like the dying breath of giants. The signal was unmistakable: enemy forces approaching from the north. From the Golem Fields. A two-pronged attack.
"They're flanking us," she realized, the words bitter on her tongue.
"Not just from the north," Kaine said, pointing westward.
Thalia followed his gesture and felt her stomach drop. Dark shapes drifted through the storm clouds to the west—canvas balloons held aloft by wind currents that behaved too deliberately to be natural. The Wardens were manipulating the very air to position their forces.
"We're surrounded," she said, the words barely audible over the mounting wind.
"No." Kaine's voice hardened. "Not yet."
Below them, the courtyard had erupted into controlled chaos. Wolfe stood at its center, her commanding voice cutting through the din as she issued orders. "First and second battalions to the Crystalline plateau! Third and fourth, hold the main gate! Move!"
Squadrons broke away, racing to their assigned positions.
Thalia recognized faces among them—Felah, her thin frame now covered in leather armor slightly too large for her; Daniel, his bronze skin ashen with fear, but his jaw set in determination.
And there, a flash of familiar faces among the refugees she'd tried to train in swordsmanship.
Thalia had forbidden the teenagers from taking up arms with the rest of Frostforge's defenders, but some of the refugees, those of fighting age, had been permitted—or required—to join.
Thalia's chest tightened. They were so unprepared, despite the hours of training she'd crammed into the past weeks. But without them, Frostforge stood little chance of repelling the invasion.
At the crest of the mountain pass leading to the main gate, the first wave of Wardens appeared.
Even from this distance, Thalia could make out their distinctive silhouettes—tall and lean, their bodies wrapped in dark leather armor embedded with the same black metal as their weapons.
Their faces were obscured by leather helms etched with embroidered storm clouds, with only their eyes visible.
The golem sentries stationed at the pass lumbered forward to meet them. Thalia watched, breath held, as the constructs engaged—massive forms of ice-steel and brass, their joints creaking with each movement. For a moment, she dared to hope.
The hope died as quickly as it had been born.
The Wardens cut through the golems with terrifying efficiency, their black blades severing limbs and cleaving torsos as if the constructs were made of snow rather than enchanted metal.
One by one, the golems fell, collapsing into heaps of disintegrating components that sparked feebly before going dark.
Thalia let out a long breath; this wasn't a surprise, but it was terrifying to watch nonetheless.
They hadn't had time to build any constructs from ice-glacenite, and had decided the effects of the unknown alloy might be dangerous if used in a golem.
It had been the right choice, but now, Frostforge's defenders were on their own.
"They're coming," Thalia said, her voice steadier than she felt. "We need to get down there."
Kaine nodded, and together they descended to join the defenders gathering at the main gate.
Brynn was there, her twin daggers already drawn, her face a mask of fierce determination.
Luna stood nearby, her usually dreamy expression replaced by a sharp, calculating focus.
Senna paced among a group of Northern students, barking orders and adjustments with the authority of a born commander.
Thalia took her position at the center of the line, Kaine a solid presence at her right. The pendant he'd given her pulsed warm against her skin, matching the thundering beat of her heart. To her left stood Brynn, her stance deceptively relaxed, like a viper coiled to strike.
The first of the Wardens crested the final rise before the gate. Crossbow bolts arced from the parapets above, a deadly rain that felled several of the enemy before they could react. But for every Warden that fell, three more appeared behind them, an endless tide of black armor and flashing steel.
Then they were upon them, crashing against Frostforge's defenders like a wave against rocks. The air filled with the screech of metal on metal, the sharp reports of ice-magic colliding with storm, the grunts and cries of the wounded.
"Ice-steel users, fall back!" Thalia shouted, seeing how quickly the Wardens' weapons cut through the standard blades. "Use cryomancy, not blades!"
Those with standard weapons retreated several paces, their gloved hands already glowing with frost as they began to weave their magic. Lattices of ice sprang up across the battlefield—barriers that shattered against the Wardens' storm magic but slowed their advance nonetheless.
A Warden broke through the line directly in front of Thalia, his black blade slashing toward her throat.
She raised her glacenite sword to meet it, bracing for the impact.
The weapons met with a ringing clash that reverberated through her arms, but her blade held firm.
The Warden's eyes widened behind his helm, shock evident in the sudden stiffening of his posture.
Thalia grinned, savage and fierce. "Surprise," she said, and pushed her advantage.
The Warden recovered quickly, but Thalia was already inside his guard, her blade a silver-blue blur as she forced him back.
Around her, other glacenite wielders had engaged the enemy, their weapons gleaming in the storm light.
Brynn danced between two Wardens, her daggers flickering too fast to follow.
Senna fought with cold precision, each strike calculated and lethal.
Luna ducked and wove through the chaos, her small frame allowing her to slip past defenses and strike where least expected.
Kaine moved with economical grace, his hammer a devastating force each time it connected. His eyes were like steel, his expression calm even as he brought the weapon down on a Warden's helm with a sickening crunch.
Farther down the line, Thalia caught glimpses of Rasmus, Felah, and Daniel fighting back-to-back, their training evident in how they covered one another's weaknesses. Even some of the refugees had joined the fray, their fear evident in their eyes but their faces hardened with resolve.
To the west of the portcullis, the air swirled unnaturally around a single point.
Clouds and mist spun like a miniature hurricane, punctuated by brilliant flashes of lightning that struck with impossible precision.
At its center stood Roran, barely visible through the maelstrom he commanded.
Wardens who approached him were hurled back by gale-force winds or struck down by lightning called from his fingertips.