CHAPTER TEN
The darkness of the Howling Forge pressed against Thalia's skin like velvet, the cavernous space eerily silent without its usual symphony of hammers and hissing steam.
Only the deep-throated growl of the central furnace broke the quiet, its amber glow casting long shadows that seemed to breathe with each fluctuation of the flames.
Beside her, Luna shifted restlessly, her slight form barely visible in the gloom as she peered down the forgotten service tunnel for what must have been the hundredth time.
"This is insanity," Luna whispered, her fingers tapping an erratic rhythm against her thigh.
"Complete, utter insanity." Despite her words, a nervous energy animated her movements, her dark eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like excitement.
"Breaking prisoners out of their camp, sneaking them through service tunnels, experimenting with forbidden magic—we're collecting transgressions like others collect seashells. "
Thalia didn't respond. Her attention was fixed on the narrow mouth of the service tunnel that snaked away into blackness, her ears straining to catch any hint of approaching footsteps.
This particular passage connected the forge to the mines beneath Frostforge, rarely used except by workers transporting ore in the early morning hours.
Most guards and students didn't even know it existed—a blind spot in the academy's otherwise vigilant security.
The perfect pathway for smuggling in those the Council had deemed enemies.
If Ashe had managed her part.
If the guards at the prison camp had followed their usual patterns.
If no one had spotted them crossing the Crystalline plateau.
Too many ifs. Thalia's jaw tightened as she calculated and recalculated the risks.
Her fingers found the hilt of her ice-glacenite blade, the familiar weight offering little comfort.
She had faced battle before, had stood against Isle Warden raiders and academy instructors alike, but never had she so directly defied Frostforge's authority.
Never had she so deliberately undermined the Council's decisions.
And yet what choice remained? The black waters advanced from all sides. Evacuation was impossible. And the only people who understood their enemy remained imprisoned, their knowledge wasted while humanity tore itself apart with blame and recrimination.
"Ashe is late," Luna murmured, breaking into Thalia's thoughts. She craned her neck to peer deeper into the tunnel, her small frame tense with anxiety. "She should have been here by now."
"I know." Thalia felt a prickle of panic climb her spine. Had something gone wrong? Had Ashe been discovered? Or worse, had she decided the risk was too great and abandoned the plan entirely?
Luna began to pace, her steps soundless against the soot-stained stone. "Maybe she couldn't get past the guards. Maybe Rasmus wasn't able to create the distraction. Maybe—"
"Luna." Thalia's voice was soft but firm. "We wait. As planned."
Luna nodded, though her nervous energy remained undiminished.
She resumed her pacing, occasionally muttering to herself, words too low for Thalia to catch—probably calculating odds and contingencies, as was her way.
For all her apparent distraction and peculiarity, Luna possessed the sharpest mind Thalia had ever encountered.
She saw patterns where others saw only chaos, predicted outcomes that seemed impossible to foresee.
The minutes stretched like hours. Thalia found herself counting her own heartbeats, trying to match their rhythm to the steady pulse of the central furnace. Sixty beats. One hundred. Two hundred.
Then—a sound. The faintest scrape of boots against stone, so soft it might have been imagination. Thalia tensed, her hand tightening around her blade. Luna froze mid-step, her head cocked like a curious bird.
A flicker of light appeared in the tunnel's throat, wavering and dim, but unmistakable against the perfect darkness. Thalia held her breath. The light grew stronger, illuminating the rough-hewn walls of the passage. Then came the sound of multiple footsteps, measured and careful.
"It's them," Luna breathed, relief and renewed tension warring in her voice.
Ashe emerged first, her striking face severe in the torchlight she carried, red-streaked black hair pulled back in a tight braid that emphasized her sharp features.
Behind her came three figures—Naj, his weathered face unreadable, and two other Wardens, a man and woman whose wariness showed in every line of their bodies.
Their hands were bound before them with metal cuffs etched with intricate runes that glowed faintly blue in the dim light—Virek's handiwork, designed to suppress storm magic.
A flicker of disappointment passed through Thalia. "They're still wearing the cuffs," she whispered to Luna, unable to keep the dismay from her voice.
Luna gave her a sharp look. "Of course they are," she murmured back. "We may want to trust them, but we're still Frostforge soldiers. They're still prisoners. And they have every reason to turn their magic against us." She paused, her voice dropping lower. "We can’t afford to take any risks."
Thalia swallowed her objection. She truly believed that Naj wouldn’t harm them, not even if it meant a chance to escape; she knew she could trust him, and was fairly certain he trusted her, too.
But it had been difficult enough to convince Ashe and Luna to help, even with these precautions.
Thalia knew better than to push her friends’ comfort too far.
Ashe approached, her expression drawn with tension. "Two hours," she said without preamble, her voice barely above a whisper. "That's all we have before the next shift change. And we need to be back at least thirty minutes before that happens."
"Rasmus?" Thalia asked.
"On guard at the camp as planned. He'll cover for my absence if needed, and hopefully no one will notice theirs." Ashe glanced back at the Wardens. "But Senna takes his place at the shift change. If we're not back by then..."
She left the sentence unfinished, but Thalia understood the implications.
Senna, with her rigid adherence to Northern traditions and her hatred of all things Warden, would raise the alarm instantly.
And once discovered, there would be no second chances.
No opportunity to explain their actions or justify their defiance.
"Thank you, Ashe," Thalia said, meeting her friend's eyes with genuine gratitude. Despite Ashe's Northern heritage and the conflicts of loyalty she must feel, she had chosen to help. Had risked everything to bring the Wardens here.
Ashe nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Just make it worth the risk."
Thalia turned to the Wardens, studying Naj's face in the flickering torchlight.
His eyes held the same steady intensity she remembered from the prison camp, though his frame seemed thinner, his once-powerful shoulders diminished by weeks of captivity and poor rations.
Still, he carried himself with quiet dignity, his gaze direct and unwavering as it met hers.
"What is this about?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Thalia took a deep breath. "The black waters have been sighted at the mouth of the fjord. They're advancing up tributaries, moving inland faster than anyone predicted. Frostforge is surrounded."
Naj's expression didn't change, though something flickered in his eyes—not surprise, but a weary confirmation of expected doom. "I warned you this would happen," he said simply. "What do your people make of this development?"
Thalia grimaced. "The Southerners blame the Isle Wardens for bringing this curse upon us. The Northerners blame both the South and the archipelago—the South for weakness, the Wardens for malice."
A wry smile twisted Naj's mouth. "They have cast us as co-conspirators, have they?"
"Not exactly," Thalia replied, shaking her head. "It's more complicated. The North sees the South as a liability, a dangerous weakness in the continent's defenses. They believe Southern incompetence and sympathies for the Wardens has allowed this threat to advance unchecked."
"And are these sympathies real?" Naj asked, his gaze sharpening.
Thalia met his eyes steadily. "They are for me."
Silence stretched between them, weighted with unspoken questions. Finally, Naj gestured at their surroundings with his shackled hands. "Why have you brought us here, to these caverns?"
"This is a service tunnel for the Howling Forge," Thalia explained. "I've been working on something. Something I need your help with." She nodded to Ashe and Luna. "Follow me."
She led them through the shadows of the forge, past dormant workstations and cooling troughs where steam no longer rose.
The central furnace provided the only real illumination, its heart glowing like a captured sun behind iron grates.
Their footsteps echoed softly against stone as they moved deeper into the cavernous space, toward a secluded workbench Thalia had prepared earlier.
"I've been testing the properties of the black metal weapons," she said as they reached her workstation. "The ones confiscated from Isle Warden attackers."
Naj stiffened visibly, a low hiss escaping through his teeth as his gaze fell upon the lead-lined case at the center of the bench.
"You shouldn't play with such forces," he said, voice hard with sudden intensity.
"Some of my people may have been foolish enough to forge that hungering void into their weapons, but that doesn't mean we should fight their idiocy with more idiocy. "
The other Wardens had drawn back, their faces tight with what Thalia recognized as fear—not the anxiety of prisoners in enemy territory, but something deeper, more primal. Fear of the black metal itself.