CHAPTER NINE
The warning horn's echo died across the plateau, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Thalia tore her gaze from Naj's weathered face, her mind racing as she calculated the distance back to the gate. Three sharp blasts followed by that sustained call—not a drill, not a practice. Real danger.
She had minutes, perhaps less, before the entire academy mobilized, before every path would be crawling with guards who would not look kindly on a prisoner camp infiltrator.
Regardless of what threat approached Frostforge's walls, she would be of no use to anyone if she were caught here, stripped of what little freedom she still possessed.
"Go," Naj urged, sudden urgency replacing the defeated resignation in his eyes. "But remember what I told you about the black metal. And return when you can."
Thalia nodded once, a promise without words, then turned and sprinted toward the fence.
Behind her, the Wardens scattered like startled birds, returning to their shelters, erasing any evidence of their gathering.
She reached the weakened section of fence and dropped to her knees, extinguishing her lantern with a quick twist. The sudden darkness blinded her momentarily, but her fingers found the gap she'd created, the snow still loose from her earlier passage.
She wriggled through the narrow opening, metal edges catching at her cloak, scraping against her shoulders.
A jagged point snagged her cheek as she pushed through, drawing a warm trickle of blood, but she had no time for caution.
The horn sounded again as she emerged on the other side, its call somehow more desperate than before, urging greater haste.
The plateau stretched before her, a vast expanse of treacherous ice bathed in cold starlight.
In daylight, with training partners and instructors watching, she had learned to navigate this unforgiving terrain.
But night transformed the familiar into something alien, turned every shadow into a potential pitfall.
She tucked her lantern into her belt—too risky to light it now—and set off at a crouching run, ears straining for the sound of boots on ice or the telltale creak of guard patrols.
Movement caught her eye—a flash of torchlight from the direction of Frostforge's main gate.
Guards emerging, their silhouettes sharp against the golden light spilling from the keep.
Thalia dropped flat against the frozen ground, the cold biting through her clothing as if eager to reach her skin.
She lay motionless, counting her own heartbeats as the patrol moved along the eastern edge of the plateau, their voices carried to her on the night wind.
"—said it's the black waters—"
"—reaching the lower valley already—"
The fragments she heard chilled her more deeply than the ice beneath her body.
Black waters in the valley. The Deep Tide, advancing faster than anyone had anticipated.
She waited until the guards passed beyond hearing, then rose and continued her desperate journey toward the gate.
Each step required concentration; the plateau's surface was a patchwork of solid ground and near-invisible sheets of black ice that could send her tumbling with a single misstep.
Halfway across, she was forced to divert her path as another patrol emerged, this one heading directly toward the prison camp.
She veered toward a formation of ice-crusted boulders, wedging herself between two massive stones as the guards passed within arm's reach, their breath forming ghostly clouds in the frigid air.
"You think it's true?" one whispered. "About the darkness swallowing Edgewater Pass?"
"My cousin was stationed there," the other replied, voice tight. "Haven't heard from him in days."
Once they passed, Thalia resumed her course, pushing her pace despite the treacherous footing. The upper gate came into view—still unguarded, though likely not for long. The shift change she'd exploited would soon correct itself as the academy responded to whatever threat had triggered the alarm.
She reached the massive wooden portal, eased it open just enough to slide through, then pulled it closed behind her with trembling fingers, careful not to let the heavy bolt slam into place.
Inside, Frostforge had awakened like a disturbed hive.
The normally hushed corridors hummed with movement as students, soldiers, and refugees emerged from quarters, voices rising in a confused blend of questions and fears.
Thalia joined the flow, pulling up her hood to hide her face and the telltale scratch on her cheek.
No one paid her particular attention—she was just another body swept along in the current of humanity surging toward the main hall.
She passed the entrance to the dormitory level, catching glimpses of disheveled people stumbling from sleep, children clutched in protective arms, elderly supported by younger family members.
Their faces bore the haunted look of those who had already fled once and now feared they must do so again.
Thalia's chest tightened. These people had come to Frostforge seeking sanctuary from the very threat that now approached.
What hope remained if the darkness reached even here?
The press of bodies thickened as they neared the main hall. Shoulders knocked against Thalia, voices rose in pitch around her, questions flying without answers to catch them.
The great doors stood open, golden light spilling into the corridor as people funneled through, finding spaces wherever they could in the already crowded hall.
Thalia slipped through the press of bodies, working her way along the wall where shadows might hide the evidence of her recent trespass.
The hood of her cloak remained up, obscuring her features without appearing conspicuous among the many refugees who kept their heads covered against Frostforge's perpetual chill.
The hall's vaulted ceiling seemed to trap the sounds below, magnifying them into a storm of frightened voices.
Children wailed, families called out to separated members, soldiers barked orders that went largely unheeded in the chaos.
The air hung thick with the scent of too many bodies pressed too close—unwashed skin, fear-sweat, the mustiness of blankets hastily abandoned.
On the raised dais at the far end, several members of the War Council had already assembled.
Virek stood with his thin arms crossed, pale face set in lines of rigid control.
Solberg paced the edge of the platform, his bulky frame tense as a wound spring.
Marr and Senna spoke in urgent conference near the back, their gestures sharp with disagreement.
But it was Wolfe who commanded Thalia's attention—the head instructor stood at the center of the dais, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a severe knot, her scarred face cast in harsh relief by the torchlight.
Perched on her shoulder, incongruous yet somehow fitting, was a raven of unusual size.
Its feathers gleamed blue-black in the light, its head tilted as though listening to the chaos below with intelligent interest. One of Frostforge's messenger birds, Thalia realized.
The bearer of whatever news had triggered the alarm.
Wolfe raised her hands, and the hall's din ebbed slightly, though it did not cease entirely. Too many frightened people, too many unanswered questions.
"Frostforge Academy," Wolfe began, her voice cutting through the remaining noise with practiced authority. "You have been summoned in response to intelligence of grave import. I will speak plainly, as this situation allows no time for gentle words."
The raven shifted on her shoulder, talons flexing against the leather of her uniform. Thalia's gaze fixed on the bird, wondering what terrible message it had carried through the night to bring them all to this moment.
"Two hours ago, this messenger arrived from our western outpost in the foothills," Wolfe continued, gesturing to the raven. "The black waters that have claimed our coastal regions have been observed advancing inland, following the courses of rivers and streams toward the mountains."
A ripple of fear passed through the assembly. Thalia's fingers curled into fists at her sides as she read the implications in Wolfe's careful words. The Deep Tide was no longer confined to the coasts. It had found paths to reach them, even here in the mountains' embrace.
"The advance has accelerated beyond our previous estimates," Wolfe stated, her voice level despite the horror of her words. "Observations suggest the phenomenon moves more quickly along waterways than overland, but both progressions have increased in speed."
A refugee woman near the front, her face lined with the weariness of multiple flights from multiple homes, called out in a voice that cracked with desperation: "Then we must leave! Evacuate before it reaches us!"
Her cry unleashed others, voices rising in a chorus of terrified agreement.
"Evacuate now!"
"We must flee deeper into the mountains!"
Wolfe waited, her emerald eyes scanning the crowd, allowing the panic to crest and begin to recede before she spoke again. The raven on her shoulder remained unnaturally still, as if it too understood the gravity of this moment.
"Silence," she commanded finally, and the word fell like a blade across the remaining shouts.
"Listen carefully, all of you. The black waters have been observed not only to our west but also to our east. Reports indicate the phenomenon has already reached the headwaters of both the Rimspire and Blackroot rivers. "