CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR #2
Thalia's momentary distraction nearly cost her.
The Warden, she fought, feinted left, then brought his blade around in a sweeping arc aimed at her ribs.
She twisted away, the black metal missing her by a breath, and countered with a thrust of her own.
The glacenite sword sank deep into the gap between the Warden's chest plate and shoulder guard.
He gasped, blood bubbling between his lips, then collapsed as Thalia wrenched her blade free.
Victory surged through her veins, bright and fierce, but it was short-lived.
As she turned to find her next opponent, a familiar dread began to claw at her chest—the glacenite's curse taking hold.
Her vision blurred at the edges, shadows lengthening into grotesque shapes that her mind insisted were real despite what her reason told her.
She forced herself to focus, to push through the growing unease.
Nearby, Rasmus wasn't faring as well. She watched in horror as he froze mid-swing, his eyes haunted as he stared at something only he could see.
The Warden he'd been fighting seized the opportunity, knocking Rasmus's blade from his nerveless fingers and sending him sprawling onto the frozen ground.
Thalia was moving before conscious thought, her legs eating up the distance between them as the Warden raised her sword for the killing blow.
She slammed into the woman's side, sending them both tumbling across the blood-slicked cobblestones.
The Warden recovered first, rolling to her feet with feline grace, but Rasmus had used the distraction to scramble away, his face ashen.
Before Thalia could engage the Warden again, a blur of movement caught her eye.
Zanaya darted forward, snatching up Rasmus's fallen glacenite blade with a fluid motion that belied her lack of training.
She hurled herself at the Warden with a primal scream, her attack so unexpected that it caught the woman off guard.
"Zanaya, no!" Thalia shouted, but the girl was already committed to her charge.
To Thalia's astonishment, Zanaya fought with a ferocity that seemed impossible for her slight frame.
She lacked technique, but made up for it with savage determination, driving the Warden back step by step.
There was no hesitation in her movements, no fear in her eyes—only cold fury and the memory of what the Wardens had done to her home.
All around them, similar scenes played out.
Defenders fell prey to the glacenite's curse, their minds assaulted by visions only they could see.
Some recovered, shaking off the phantoms through sheer force of will.
Others weren't so fortunate, left vulnerable in crucial moments, their weapons taken up by hard-eyed refugees.
Fear pressed against Thalia's ribs like a physical weight. Even as the alloy saved lives by standing against the Wardens' black metal, its curse was exacting a terrible price. Too many such collapses would shatter their defensive line entirely.
A flash of lightning arced across the sky, unnaturally elongated, drawn toward something massive moving among the Warden ranks. Thalia shielded her eyes, trying to make out what had attracted the bolt.
The ground trembled beneath her feet, a rhythmic shuddering that sent loose stones skittering across the cobblestones. Metallic crashes echoed through the valley, drowning out the sharp reports of electricity and the clash of blades.
Out of the storm strode a monstrosity that made Thalia's blood run cold.
A golem, but unlike any she had ever seen at Frostforge.
This construct stood nearly thirty feet tall, its frame built entirely from the Wardens' black metal.
Where Frostforge's golems moved with ponderous grace, this behemoth advanced with terrifying speed, each stride covering yards of ground.
"Founders, help us," someone whispered nearby—Senna, her face pale as she stared up at the approaching titan.
The golem swatted aside defenders like insects, sending bodies flying through the air to land broken and still among the rocks.
It hurled debris with the force of a catapult, crushing those too slow to dodge.
And with each movement, lightning danced across its obsidian frame, illuminating runes etched into the metal—storm magic, not cryomancy, giving it life and purpose.
"Fall back!" Wolfe's voice cut through the chaos. "To the portcullis! Now!"
The defenders retreated in as orderly a fashion as they could manage, helping the wounded and covering each other's withdrawals. Thalia found herself beside Kaine and Brynn, the three of them among the last to retreat as they covered the others' escape.
The golem reached the outer wall in three massive strides, towering over the portcullis like a mountain of malice. It raised one massive fist, electricity crackling between its fingers, and brought it down upon the gate with a force that made the very foundations of Frostforge shudder.
The ice-steel portcullis—forged by generations of smiths, reinforced by the academy's most powerful cryomancers—shattered inward like glass.