CHAPTER FOUR
Dust motes danced in shafts of pale light that filtered through the high, narrow windows of Frostforge's archives. Thalia's fingers traced the brittle edge of a yellowed page, her mind struggling to absorb the dense, archaic text before her.
Across the table, Kaine and Luna bent over their own ancient tomes, their faces etched with the intense focus that had sustained them through countless hours of fruitless research.
They moved through the labyrinth of forgotten knowledge with a surety that Thalia envied—knowing which threads to follow, which references might yield answers about the shadows spreading across their world.
She, meanwhile, felt like an intruder in this realm of dust and whispers, her presence more hindrance than help.
The archives stretched around them like a forgotten catacomb, shelves soaring into shadow-draped heights where the light couldn't reach.
Leather-bound spines lined every wall, some cracked with age, others gleaming with oils from hands that had sought their wisdom over centuries.
The air hung heavy with the scent of parchment and binding glue, tinged with the metallic hint of ink and the mustiness of paper slowly surrendering to time.
Thalia suppressed a sigh as she turned another page, her eyes glazing over strings of words that refused to form coherent meaning in her tired mind. She was a warrior, not a scholar—her hands more accustomed to the weight of a blade than the delicate pages of ancient texts.
"Here," Luna's voice cut through the silence, her finger stabbing down at a passage in the book before her. "Listen to this, Kaine."
Kaine looked up from his own research, ice-blue eyes sharp with interest. He leaned across the table, dark hair falling forward as he peered at Luna's discovery.
"'The threats of ancient times,'" Luna read, "'proved unable to be stopped by conventional means.
The founders of our sanctuary sought methods beyond mortal understanding, delving into magics that demanded sacrifice.
Thus was the Price established—a barrier against the advancing darkness, yet not its defeat.
'" She looked up, her dark eyes bright with excitement despite the grim content.
"It's talking about the Founder's Price, but it's more specific than anything we've found so far. "
Kaine's brow furrowed as he considered the passage.
"It confirms what we suspected—the Founder's Price was meant to slow the threat, not end it.
" His voice lowered, a roughness to his tone that betrayed his frustration.
"But it's still maddeningly vague. We don't even know if this 'threat from the sea' is the same as what the Wardens call the Deep Ones. "
"That's a good point," Luna tapped her finger thoughtfully against the page. "We're assuming the threat mentioned in these founder-era texts is the same entity, but 'Deep Ones' is Warden terminology. The mainland might have had different names for them."
"If they even knew what they were fighting," Kaine added, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw. "These texts read like the founders were facing something they barely understood."
Thalia's stomach knotted as she absorbed their exchange. Unable to be stopped. Not its defeat. The implications settled over her like a shroud. Were they facing an enemy that couldn't be truly vanquished? The thought chilled her more deeply than any winter wind off the Rimspires.
"Do either of you want some tea?" she asked suddenly, desperate to contribute something, anything, to their efforts. "I could brew something strong enough to keep us all alert for another few hours at least."
Both researchers nodded without fully looking up, already drawn back into the depths of their respective texts. "That would be helpful," Luna murmured, turning a brittle page with delicate fingers adorned with tiny metal rings.
Thalia pushed back from the table, welcoming the chance to stretch her legs and clear her head.
As she navigated between the towering shelves toward the small hearth at the far end of the archives, she couldn't shake the dread that had taken root in her chest. The Deep Ones—or whatever the founders had called them—had been a threat so great that the continent's greatest minds had only found ways to delay, not defeat them.
And now, generations later, they were returning—to a divided continent, its defenses fractured, its people at each other's throats rather than united against the darkness.
Was this, then, a losing battle? Were all their efforts—her own blood and sacrifice included—nothing but futile resistance against an inevitable end?
Lost in these grim thoughts, Thalia rounded a tall shelf and nearly collided with a figure hurrying in the opposite direction. She caught herself against the nearest bookcase, dislodging a small cloud of dust that swirled between them.
"Ashe," she gasped, recognizing her friend's striking face framed by black hair streaked with red. "What are you—"
The words died on her lips as she registered Ashe's expression. The normally composed Northern warrior looked uncharacteristically disheveled, strands of hair escaping her severe braid, her green eyes wide with urgency.
"There you are," Ashe said, her voice tight. "The War Council is looking for Kaine. Is he with you?"
Thalia nodded, a new tension gripping her. "What's happened?"
Ashe glanced past her toward the main research table. "A raven from the South. Sunset Bay has gone completely silent. No word from the garrison, no signal from the lighthouse. Nothing."
The news struck Thalia like a physical blow. Sunset Bay was one of the largest Southern ports, home to thousands. For it to fall silent meant—
"There's more," Ashe continued, her voice dropping. "The commander who sent that raven indicated her soldiers are headed to Verdant Port next, to assist with evacuation."
"Verdant Port?" Thalia's voice emerged as a whisper. Her family had evacuated the city, and were with her here at the academy, but she still felt a tug in her heart, the pull of the tides in the familiar harbor. "Did the commander say how much time they have?"
Ashe shook her head, her expression grim. "The message was brief. But if she's already en route, the situation must be dire."
Thalia's heart hammered against her ribs. She turned without another word, leading Ashe back through the stacks to where Kaine and Luna remained absorbed in their research.
"Kaine," she called, her voice sharper than intended.
Both researchers looked up, their expressions shifting as they registered the tension in Thalia's face and the presence of Ashe behind her.
"The War Council wants you and I to report to the meeting chamber," Ashe said without preamble. "Now."
Kaine closed his book with care despite the urgency, a scholar's instinct even in crisis. "What's happened?"
As Ashe repeated the news about Sunset Bay and Verdant Port, Thalia watched the blood drain from Luna's face; Verdant Port was her home, too, a home she had not been able to return to for many months. Thalia reached out to quickly grasp her hand, a gesture she hoped would be some comfort. She could only hope her grip was firm despite the churning in her gut. Verdant Port had just freed itself from the Isle Wardens’ occupation; now, the city was facing a different, far worse danger.
"Is there any way the Council will let me join the meeting?" Thalia asked as Kaine gathered his notes. "If Verdant Port is at risk—"
Ashe and Kaine exchanged glances, a silent communication that Thalia had no trouble interpreting.
"It's unlikely," Kaine said finally, his deep voice gentle. "Your standing with Wolfe hasn't improved since yesterday."
"I want to come anyway," Thalia insisted, squaring her shoulders. "I'll wait outside if I must. I'm not accomplishing anything down here." She gestured at the open book before her, the pages of text she had read without comprehension.
Luna reached across the table, her fingers briefly touching Thalia's wrist. "Go," she said. "I'll continue here. There might still be something in these texts that could help us understand what we're facing."
Thalia nodded gratefully. She followed Kaine and Ashe through the winding passages of the archives, up the narrow stone steps that led to Frostforge's main level.
As they emerged into the vaulted corridor that led to the central keep, Thalia noticed a flurry of activity near the main entrance.
Soldiers bustled about, their movements urgent, their voices raised above their usual disciplined murmur.
"What's happening?" Kaine asked a passing guard, who gave him a quick nod of respect—former instructor status still carrying weight despite his own complicated standing in the academy.
"A merchant ship has arrived at the docks," the guard replied, gesturing toward the massive doors that led to the plateau beyond. "Senna is preparing a squadron to investigate."
Thalia followed Kaine and Ashe to the entrance, where five shaggy mountain ponies were being readied for the treacherous descent to the fjord below. Senna directed the preparations, her sharp features set in their usual stern lines, silver-gray eyes cold as the surrounding peaks.
"A merchant ship?" Kaine's brow furrowed. "That's not unusual enough to warrant this level of response."
Senna turned at his voice, her expression shifting minutely at the sight of him—something Thalia might have missed if she hadn't been watching closely.
Despite everything, the complicated history between Kaine and Senna remained a tangible thing, a current that seemed to charge the air whenever they occupied the same space.