CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Thalia led her reluctant allies down the winding stone staircase into the Howling Forge, their footfalls echoing despite their attempts at stealth.
The central furnace still burned, its amber heart casting long, dancing shadows across walls of ancient stone.
She felt the weight of their doubt pressing against her back, heavier than the experimental blade hidden beneath her cloak, heavier even than the fate hanging over them all.
But doubt was a luxury they could no longer afford, not with black waters rising in the fjord below, not with the Deep Tide advancing on all sides.
"I still don't understand why we couldn't just talk about this somewhere less.
.. forbidden," Felah whispered, her slight frame huddled into itself as if trying to occupy less space.
Her dark eyes darted between workstations and shadowed corners, searching for threats that might emerge from the darkness.
"Because words aren't enough anymore," Thalia replied, her voice low but firm as she led them deeper into the forge. "You need to see it. To understand what we've created."
Behind her, Brynn scoffed quietly. The sound carried across the cavernous space despite her attempt at discretion. "Created without permission, you mean. With prisoners who should still be in their cells."
Thalia didn't slow her pace or turn to look at Brynn.
She'd expected resistance, especially from those like Brynn who had been raised in privilege, taught from birth to value order and hierarchy.
When Thalia had convened the allies she had at Frostforge in secrecy, in one of the common rooms at midnight, she had hesitated before sending word of the meeting to Brynn, but had ultimately decided to do it.
Brynn was abrasive, a force of personality, and had never seen eye-to-eye with Thalia—but she was also a fierce fighter, skilled beyond any of her peers, and willing to break the rules for the sake of victory.
"If waiting for permission is your priority,” Thalia murmured, “feel free to return to your quarters. The Deep Ones won't wait for the Council's approval before they consume us all."
Brynn let out a quiet huff, but kept pace with the group; Thalia hid her smile. Brynn would be a contrarian every step of the way, but she would never turn her back on this small, burgeoning alliance.
Luna moved ahead, navigating through the darkened forge with the fluid grace that always made her appear more substance than shadow.
"We agreed to fight for humanity, not for Frostforge," she reminded them, her voice barely audible above the perpetual growl of the central furnace. "All of us. At the end of the last meeting. The instructors’ dictates don’t matter.
All that matters is survival, peace, and whatever it takes to achieve it. "
Rasmus grunted in agreement, his Northern accent thickening in the chill air. "I’m not convinced about working with Wardens. But I’m here."
Thalia led them to the secluded workbench where she, Naj, and Kaine had labored in secret.
The space looked ordinary at first glance—tools arranged with care, scraps of metal in neat piles, the surface wiped clean of evidence.
But to her eyes, trained by years at the forge, the subtle signs of their work remained.
A discoloration on the stone floor where electrical discharge had scorched the rock.
A faint, lingering scent of ozone beneath the usual smoke and metal.
"What exactly are we looking at?" Daniel asked, his tall frame bent forward in curiosity as he examined the empty workbench. The purple bruise around his eye from the mess hall brawl had faded to a sickly yellow, but the wariness in his gaze remained sharp and clear.
Thalia glanced at Kaine, who stood slightly apart from the others, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression betrayed nothing, but she read the tension in his shoulders, the alertness in his stance.
He'd been here from the beginning, had helped forge the blade even before Naj's involvement.
His silence now felt like permission, like trust that she would find the right words to convince the others.
With deliberate movements, Thalia reached beneath her cloak and withdrew the sheathed blade. The leather scabbard seemed to drink in the forge's dim light, giving no hint of the weapon it contained. She placed it on the workbench with the reverence one might afford a religious relic.
"This," she said simply, "is what happens when we stop fighting each other and start fighting together."
She unsheathed the blade with a single fluid motion.
In the forge's amber glow, the weapon came alive—its surface catching the light in ways that defied ordinary reflection.
Veins of electric blue pulsed through the ice-glacenite, creating patterns that shifted like liquid lightning beneath a frozen surface.
Frost formed along its edge, then sublimated into delicate spirals of vapor that twisted away before disappearing.
The group fell silent, their skepticism momentarily forgotten as they leaned closer, drawn by the blade's unearthly beauty. Ashe reached out instinctively before catching herself, her hand hovering above the weapon without touching.
"What is it?" she breathed, the red streaks in her dark hair catching the forge's light like distant flames.
"A hybrid," Thalia answered, watching their faces. "Ice-glacenite infused with storm magic. Two traditions, two magics that have always been considered opposites, enemies. But when properly combined..." She gestured to the weapon. "They create something stronger than either alone."
Brynn's eyes narrowed as she studied the blade, her initial disdain giving way to reluctant interest. "You forged this with the Warden prisoner? The one called Naj?"
Thalia nodded. "I provided the metallurgy and cryomancy. He provided the storm magic. It took several attempts before we found the right method—the storm magic has to establish its own pathways through the metal first, then the cryomancy follows those channels, reinforcing rather than opposing."
"Can you show us what it does?" Brynn asked, her tone sharpening with challenge. "Beyond looking pretty, I mean."
The question Thalia had been dreading. She hesitated, then decided that honesty would serve her better than pretense. "I can't," she admitted. "Not properly. The blade requires storm magic to activate fully, and I don't possess that ability."
Brynn's mouth twisted into a smirk. "So you've created a weapon you can't even use? Brilliant strategy."
"Naj was able to wield it," Thalia countered, her voice steady despite the flush of embarrassment that heated her neck. "And with his help—with the help of the other stormcallers from Thrum'kith—we can learn enough of their techniques to use these weapons effectively."
Brynn laughed, the sound harsh in the forge's hush. "Learn storm magic? You might as well suggest we learn to breathe underwater or fly through the air. Storm magic is bloodborn, Thalia. It runs in Warden veins. Not ours."
"That's not entirely true," Thalia argued, her fingers tightening around the blade's hilt.
"Yes, Wardens have a natural affinity for it, but they still train to hone those skills.
Roran is living proof that the division isn't absolute—he has Warden blood, yet he's mastered cryomancy as well as storm magic. "
"Roran is the exception that proves the rule," Brynn retorted. "He has Warden parents. A storm mage bloodline. Without that heritage, he never would’ve learned to wield lightning."
Daniel stepped forward, his expression thoughtful. "Is that really true, though?" he asked, addressing Brynn directly. "I've seen Wardens practicing their arts. It looked like discipline and training, not just something they were born knowing how to do."
Brynn turned on him with the practiced disdain of nobility addressing a commoner. "And what would you know of magical affinities, dock boy? The markets of Southhaven hardly qualify you as an expert on ancient bloodlines."
"Enough," Thalia cut in before Daniel could respond.
"This isn't about who was born with what abilities.
It's about survival. About finding any advantage against the darkness that's coming for us all.
" She took a breath, forcing herself to remain calm.
"I have a rare ability—current-sensing. It lets me perceive energy flows in metals, in natural materials.
It's how I became adept at metallurgy despite being Southern-born.
No one knows exactly why some people develop this sensitivity and others don't. But I know it can be taught, at least partially.
I've helped others learn to recognize currents they couldn't perceive before. "
Kaine spoke for the first time since they'd entered the forge, his deep voice drawing all eyes. "She's right. Thalia helped me refine my own current-sensing. I've always had some ability, but she showed me how to focus it, how to read subtleties I missed before."
Thalia felt a surge of gratitude at his support, unexpected but welcome.
"Storm magic isn't as chaotic as it appears," she continued.
"There's a pattern to it, a structure that reminds me of the currents I sense in metals.
I believe we can learn enough—not to become stormcallers, but to channel what's already present in these blades. "
Luna, who had been keeping watch near the forge's entrance, suddenly raised a hand in warning. "Someone's coming," she hissed, her body going still as she listened. "Multiple footsteps. Heavy boots."
Thalia froze, her mind racing through possibilities. The Howling Forge was usually deserted at this hour, the night crew minimal and focused on maintaining the central furnace rather than patrolling the outer workstations. A deliberate search, then? Had they been discovered?