CHAPTER THREE
Dirty water sloshed against the flagstones as Thalia dragged her mop across the endless expanse of Frostforge's eastern corridor.
The acrid sting of lye burned her nostrils, its harsh scent a constant reminder of how far she had fallen.
Five years of blood and sacrifice, of forging her body into a weapon and her mind into a shield, reduced to this—scrubbing floors while the darkness crept ever closer to their shores.
Her knuckles whitened around the wooden handle as a pair of Northern cadets strode past, their boots leaving muddy prints across her half-dried work without so much as a glance of acknowledgment.
Thalia bit her tongue until she tasted copper. Once, such disrespect would have earned these first-years a week of night watches on the Crystalline plateau. Now, she was beneath their notice—a cautionary tale, a whispered warning of what happened to those who defied the Council's will.
She plunged the mop into the bucket with unnecessary force, sending a spray of dirty water across the stones.
The Council had made their judgment clear in yesterday's confrontation.
Her humiliation in the mess hall still burned fresh in her memory—Wolfe's cutting dismissal, Virek's cold disdain, the weight of hundreds of stares as she walked away with her dignity in tatters.
And for what? For daring to suggest that survival might require cooperation with their supposed enemies?
The sound of quick, light footsteps pulled Thalia from her brooding.
Luna appeared around the corner, her short dreadlocks adorned with tiny metal rings that caught the torchlight as she moved.
Despite everything, Thalia felt herself smile at the sight of her friend—Luna's presence had been a constant comfort since their first year at Frostforge.
But as Luna drew closer, Thalia's smile faded. The other woman's normally animated features were drawn tight with worry, her dark eyes darting up and down the corridor.
"What is it?" Thalia asked, abandoning her mop against the wall.
Luna reached her, breathing heavily as though she'd been running. "I overheard something," she whispered, voice pitched low despite the empty corridor. "Something the Council hasn't announced yet."
Thalia glanced around, then pulled Luna into a shallow alcove where a suit of ceremonial armor stood sentinel. "Tell me."
"I was delivering messages to the North Tower when I heard Instructor Ironhelm talking with Senna in one of the side chambers." Luna's fingers twisted nervously around one of her metal rings. "The military outposts along the Northern coast—they're abandoning their positions."
Thalia's heart stuttered. "What? All of them?"
"Not all, but many. Commanders are ordering their forces to retreat inland, to mountain strongholds." Luna leaned closer. "They're defying direct orders from Frostforge to hold their positions. Several unit commanders have already been arrested for insubordination."
Cold dread settled in Thalia's stomach. "Did they say why? Is it the Deep Tide? Has it reached the Northern coast?"
"They didn't say explicitly, but..." Luna hesitated. "Senna mentioned 'black waters' being spotted near Whitethorn Bay. Ironhelm was furious, saying the reports were exaggerated, that the soldiers were deserting out of cowardice rather than genuine threat."
"Cowardice," Thalia repeated, the word bitter on her tongue. "As if Northern soldiers are known for abandoning their posts without cause."
The implication was clear. If hardened Northern troops—raised on stories of glory in battle, trained from childhood to stand their ground—were retreating inland, something truly terrifying must have driven them from the coast.
"When did this happen?" Thalia demanded.
"The reports came in just before dawn." Luna glanced back toward the corridor. "The Council's been in emergency sessions all morning. I don't think they intended to make it public yet."
Fury rose in Thalia's chest, hot and choking.
She slammed her palm against the stone wall, the sting of impact grounding her momentarily.
"While they argue behind closed doors, the tide advances.
The Wardens tried to warn us about this for decades, and we've wasted precious time fighting the wrong enemy. "
Luna caught Thalia's wrist before she could strike the wall again. "The Council is paralyzed," she agreed quietly. "Half want to evacuate deeper into the mountains; the other half insist Frostforge can withstand anything. Meanwhile, no one is actually preparing for what's coming."
Thalia pulled away, storming back to her abandoned mop.
She kicked the bucket, sending it clattering across the flagstones, dirty water spreading in a dark stain.
"I told them," she hissed through clenched teeth.
"I stood before them yesterday and told them exactly what's coming.
I've seen it with my own eyes! But they'd rather cling to old hatreds than face the truth. "
"Thalia—" Luna began.
"We're running out of time," Thalia cut her off, voice rising despite herself.
"The Northern coasts, the Southern coasts—how long before the black waters reach Frostforge's fjord?
Days? Weeks? And what will the Council do then, when it's too late for evacuation, too late for preparation?
" She laughed, a harsh sound with no humor in it.
"Maybe they'll finally listen to me when the Deep Ones are breaking down our doors. "
Luna grabbed Thalia's arm, fingers digging into her sleeve. "Keep your voice down," she warned. "The walls have ears, especially now. You're already walking on knife's edge with the Council."
Thalia took a deep breath, forcing her rage back down into the pit of her stomach where it could simmer without erupting. Luna was right. Another outburst would only push her further from any chance of influencing events.
"We need to find Kaine and the others," Thalia said more quietly. "If the North is being affected now, things are accelerating faster than we—"
A deep, reverberating toll cut through her words, the sound so powerful it seemed to vibrate in her bones. Then another. The great bronze bells of Frostforge, calling everyone to assembly.
Luna's eyes widened. "That's the general muster. Everyone in the keep is being summoned."
The third bell sounded, its resonance fading into an ominous silence. Thalia and Luna exchanged a single, grim look before breaking into a run toward the main hall.
The corridors filled rapidly as they ran, streams of people—soldiers, students, instructors, refugees—all flowing in the same direction.
Thalia and Luna pushed through the crowd, dodging past slower-moving groups, ignoring the protests that followed in their wake.
For a summoning this urgent, lateness would not be tolerated.
As they neared the main hall, the press of bodies became suffocating. The crowd bottlenecked at the massive double doors, everyone jostling for position. Thalia caught fragments of worried conversation, speculation flying wild—invasion, evacuation, surrender.
"There's too many," Luna said, standing on her toes to peer over the crowd. "The hall can't hold everyone since the refugees arrived."
Thalia scanned the throng, then spotted a gap in the crowd near the eastern service entrance.
"This way," she said, pulling Luna through the crush of bodies.
They skirted the edge of the main doors and slipped through the smaller side entrance, emerging into the cavernous space of Frostforge's main hall.
The scene that greeted them stole Thalia's breath.
The hall's vaulted ceiling seemed to strain under the weight of noise and bodies packed within its ancient walls.
Where normally neat rows of benches would accommodate formal assemblies, now stood a heaving mass of humanity.
Students sat cross-legged on the floor, while soldiers lined the walls, their faces grim beneath the flickering light of wall-mounted torches.
Refugees huddled in family groups, children clinging to parents with fearful eyes.
The air hung thick and stale, a miasma of sweat, fear, and too many bodies in too little space. At the far end of the hall, the raised dais where the instructors normally sat stood bare save for a single lectern.
Thalia elbowed her way further in, searching the crowd for familiar faces. A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and she spun, muscles tensing—only to relax at the sight of Kaine's imposing figure. His ice-blue eyes held a warning, though his expression remained carefully neutral.
"You've heard," he said, voice low enough to be masked by the surrounding noise.
Thalia nodded. "Luna overheard Ironhelm and Senna talking."
Ashe materialized from the crowd, her red-streaked black hair pulled back in a severe braid.
"The news is worse than what's circulating," she murmured, leaning in close to their small circle.
"Three coastal outposts completely abandoned.
The reports say the water rose like a wall of night, swallowing everything in its path. A tidal wave of void."
A hush fell over the hall as the side door to the dais swung open.
Instructor Wolfe strode out, her silver-streaked hair gleaming in the torchlight.
Behind her came Virek, Solberg, and Marr, their faces masks of grim determination.
Senna followed, along with a dozen senior officers Thalia recognized from the academy's defense forces.
Wolfe reached the lectern, her emerald eyes sweeping the crowd. The silence deepened, even the children falling quiet under that penetrating gaze.
"Frostforge stands at a crossroads," she began without preamble, her voice carrying to the farthest corners of the hall. "I will speak plainly, as there is no time for gentle words. Reports have reached us of abandonment of posts along the Northern coastline."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, quickly silenced by Wolfe's raised hand.