Frostforge, Passage Seven (Frostforge #7)

CHAPTER ONE

The ancient bells of Frostforge tolled across the Crystalline plateau, their bronze voices fracturing the brittle morning air.

Thalia Greenspire leaned against the rough-hewn battlements, her breath forming ghosts that dissolved into the wind.

The stone beneath her gloved hands radiated a deep, penetrating cold that seeped through the leather to numb her fingers—a sensation she had grown accustomed to during her long watches on the plateau's edge.

Behind her, the rhythmic footfalls of guards patrolling the makeshift prison camp scuffed against ice-crusted stone, each step a reminder of her failure to keep the promise she had made.

Three weeks. Three weeks of watching and waiting, of silent desperation as she sought some opening, some chance to fulfill her word to the Wardens imprisoned behind those hastily constructed walls.

Three weeks of doing nothing while Thrum'kith, the magnificent fortress-whale, remained bound in the fjord below, tethered to Frostforge's docks with ropes thicker than her arm.

Thalia could feel the stares boring into her back—Northern guards, hand-selected by Senna for their loyalty, watching her with suspicion that bordered on hostility.

They knew her face, knew her reputation.

The Southern girl who had brought enemies to their doorstep, who had smuggled Isle Wardens into their sanctuary.

Who continued to advocate for the very people who had raided their shores for generations.

She couldn't blame them for their distrust. Not entirely. But the knowledge that she was right—that they were all facing a threat far greater than the Wardens could ever be—ate at her like acid.

From her vantage point, Thalia could not see Thrum'kith in the waters below, but she felt the creature's presence like a weight on her conscience.

The fortress-whale had been searched, its remaining crew interrogated, its weapons catalogued and confiscated.

And Thalia, stripped of her rank and authority, could only watch it happen.

"I will not abandon you," she had promised Cassia's lieutenant. Empty words now, hollow as the wind; Cassia, the fortress-whale’s former captain, had been swallowed by the Deep Tide while fighting for her people’s escape, and Thalia had been unsuccessful thus far in attempting to free the imprisoned Wardens the captain had died to protect. Cassia’s lieutenant, a wiry man with sharp, dark eyes, likely had little trust for Thalia after her pledge had gone unfulfilled for so long.

A flicker of movement in the mountain pass below caught her eye.

Thalia straightened, focusing on the distant ridge where a line of figures had appeared, moving slowly through the snow.

Another caravan of refugees, trudging along the treacherous path that led to Frostforge's imposing entrance.

Even from this distance, she could see the armed guards flanking the group—more of Senna's soldiers, escorting survivors to safety.

Or what passed for safety in these desperate times.

Below, the massive ice-bronze golems stationed at the main gates shifted to attention, their crystalline forms catching the morning light as they heaved open the towering portals.

The refugees filed silently between them, hunched against the cold, their movements stiff and halting.

Most carried little more than what they could fit in a single pack—all that remained of lives abandoned in haste.

Thalia swallowed hard, her throat tight.

This scene had played out dozens of times since her return to Frostforge, each new wave of refugees swelling the academy's already strained resources.

The great halls, once spacious, now resembled crowded camps, with families pressed shoulder to shoulder, sleeping on blankets spread across stone floors.

The kitchens worked day and night, stretching dwindling supplies to feed hungry mouths.

The forge burned constantly, crafting weapons for those who could fight and tools for those who could work.

And still they came.

The first waves had been fleeing the Wardens—villages and towns razed by desperate invaders seeking a foothold on the mainland. But these recent arrivals were different. They fled something far worse.

Yesterday, Thalia had spoken with two survivors from Porpoise Key, a small fishing village on the southernmost peninsula.

They were the only ones to escape—watching from a neighboring town as black waters rose impossibly high, consuming the village in moments.

They described tendrils of shadow, reaching like living limbs from the darkened sea, pulling buildings and people alike into the depths.

The Deep Ones. The true enemy.

"A copper for your thoughts?"

The voice startled her from her reverie. Thalia turned to find Ashe approaching, her red-streaked black hair whipping in the wind. Unlike Thalia, Ashe still wore the silver insignia of an officer on her collar—one of the few in their circle who remained in the academy leadership's good graces.

"They wouldn't be worth that much," Thalia replied, attempting a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "How was the Council meeting?"

Ashe's expression tightened, the lines around her mouth deepening.

"As you'd expect. Endless arguments, little progress.

" She moved to stand beside Thalia at the battlements, her gaze tracking the last of the refugees as they disappeared into the fortress.

"I've just come from an emergency session.

Seven hours of shouting and still no decision. "

"They can't agree on what to do."

"Would you, in their position?" Ashe asked, her voice edged with uncharacteristic weariness. "Half the Council insists we evacuate immediately, head further north into the mountains. The other half believes Frostforge can withstand anything—even this Deep Tide."

Thalia's fingers curled against the stone, nails scraping ice. "And what do you think?"

"I think we're facing something none of us truly understands." Ashe's green eyes found hers, sharp and searching. "And I think you're one of the few who's seen it firsthand."

Thalia closed her eyes, unable to hold that penetrating gaze.

The memory surged unbidden—dark waters churning outside Thrum'kith's reinforced viewing ports, the pressure of fathoms pressing against enchanted glass.

The sudden appearance of those tendrils, blacker than the deepest night, moving with terrible purpose.

Cassia's face, set with grim determination as she sealed herself in the airlock, knowing she would never return.

"I can't be too angry at their indecision," Thalia admitted, opening her eyes to the harsh daylight. "I don't know what I would argue for, if they would let me into those meetings." Her voice hardened. "Which they won't."

The last remark hung between them, the sting of her demotion still fresh.

Luna and Brynn remained on probation after abandoning their northern posts.

Roran walked the academy halls under constant suspicion, his Isle Warden heritage marking him as untrustworthy in the eyes of many.

And Thalia—Thalia had been stripped of duties and rank, assigned to menial tasks, her voice silenced in matters of importance.

"What would you choose?" Ashe asked quietly. "If it were your decision to make?"

Thalia stared out at the jagged mountains surrounding them, their peaks lost in clouds that threatened snow. "I've seen what these things can do. I watched an island disappear into black waters. I saw..." Her voice faltered. "I saw things in those depths that shouldn't exist."

She turned to face her friend fully. "But I also know we can't evacuate everyone. There are too many now—children, elderly, injured. People who wouldn't survive a journey through the Rimspires in winter."

"Exactly." Ashe nodded grimly. "That's been my argument in the Council.

We stay and fight, not because we're certain we can win, but because we have no choice.

" Her hand came to rest on the hilt of her sword—a gesture so natural Thalia doubted Ashe was even aware of it.

"We can't abandon those who cannot flee. "

The words struck Thalia like a physical blow.

She remembered what she had seen aboard Thrum'kith—the desperate fight to escape the encroaching darkness.

The terrible moments when Cassia had sealed herself outside, using her storm magic to create a barrier between the Deep Ones and the fortress-whale carrying her people to safety.

One life sacrificed for many. One captain giving everything to save her crew.

"You're right," Thalia whispered. "We can't sacrifice our humanity to survive."

The realization settled in her chest like a stone.

Weeks ago, in the dim light of one of Frostforge's common rooms, she had made a pact with her closest allies—Roran, Kaine, Luna, Ashe, and the others.

Their loyalty was not to the North or South, not to academy or crown, but to people.

To the preservation of life in the face of this existential threat.

To flee now, abandoning the weak to save the strong—it would break that oath before they had truly begun to fulfill it.

Thalia's gaze drifted across the plateau to the prison camp.

Within those walls were the people who knew most about the enemy they faced.

People whose entire civilization had been retreating from the Deep Tide for generations, whose desperate and often vicious tactics against the mainland had been born from the terror of extinction.

People to whom Thalia had promised help.

"As more refugees bring evidence of the true threat," she said, voice hardening with resolve, "the Council will have to listen to me. They'll have to free the Wardens."

Ashe's expression tightened. "You think Wolfe will suddenly change her mind because a few fishing villages have been swallowed by black waters? Every life in this academy has been upended by Warden violence."

"This isn't about vengeance or past grievances," Thalia insisted. "This is about survival. Frostforge won't survive while this factionalism persists." She straightened her shoulders, decision crystallizing. "I'm going to speak with Wolfe. Again. Today. To demand the release of the Wardens."

"Thalia..." Ashe lowered her voice, glancing at the guards nearby. "You're already walking on the thinnest ice with the academy leadership. One wrong step and you could find yourself in that camp instead of just barred from Council meetings."

"I'm used to the disdain of Northerners," Thalia replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "I've endured it since the day I arrived at Frostforge." She pushed away from the battlements, brushing frost from her gloves. "I can handle the hostility of people whose lives I'm trying to save."

Ashe didn't answer immediately, her eyes searching Thalia's face.

Then she sighed, a plume of white unfurling in the frigid air.

"At least wait until this evening. Let me speak with some of my allies on the Council first. There are a few who might listen, who might support limited cooperation with the Warden prisoners. "

Thalia hesitated, torn between the urgency burning in her veins and the wisdom of Ashe's caution. Another day of waiting, of doing nothing while the threat crept closer to their shores. Another day of breaking her promise.

But rushing in without allies would only ensure her failure.

"Until this evening," she agreed reluctantly. "But no longer. I made a promise.”

A gust of wind swept across the plateau, carrying the distant sound of hammers from the Howling Forge below—the steady rhythm of weapons being crafted for a war few understood. Thalia turned back to the battlements, her gaze finding the distant horizon where sky met mountain in a blur of white.

Somewhere beyond those peaks, beyond the fjords and cliffs and frozen wastes, the darkness was spreading. The Deep Tide was rising. And Thalia, stripped of authority and allies, barred from the rooms where decisions were made, could only stand watch and wait for her moment to act.

But that moment would come. It had to. She had made a promise not only to the Wardens, but to herself—to preserve what made them human in the face of the inhuman. To find a path forward through cooperation rather than conflict.

And if the Council wouldn't listen to reason, she would find another way.