CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Thalia raced through Frostforge's corridors, her lungs burning with each desperate breath.
The sounds of battle faded behind her—the clash of hybrid blades against void-entities, the crackle of storm magic, the cries of the wounded and dying.
None of it mattered now. If her suspicion was correct, if the Founders had built more than just a fortress against their enemies, then the only hope for anyone's survival lay deep beneath the mountain's heart, in a chamber she'd once been dragged to as a sacrifice.
Daniel's face flickered through her mind—there one moment, gone the next, consumed by perfect darkness. How many others had already suffered the same fate outside the walls? How many more would follow if she failed?
Her boots echoed against stone as she descended a spiraling staircase that few knew existed.
The main passages would be clogged with wounded being carried to the infirmary, with soldiers rushing to reinforce failing defenses.
This hidden route, discovered during her clandestine meetings with the Wardens, would take her beneath the Howling Forge, into depths where even the most veteran smiths rarely ventured.
The air grew warmer as she descended, carrying the mineral scent of deep earth and the faint tang of ancient magic.
Torches burned in iron sconces at increasingly distant intervals, their light swallowed by shadows that seemed almost tangible.
Thalia's hand remained wrapped around her hybrid blade's hilt, the weapon's vibration a comforting rhythm against her palm.
A distant rumble shook dust from the ceiling—another section of Frostforge's defenses crumbling beneath the massive void-entity's assault.
Thalia quickened her pace, taking the worn stone steps two at a time.
If her theory was wrong, if the chamber held no solution, then she was abandoning her comrades in their moment of greatest need.
The thought lodged in her chest like a splinter of ice-steel.
The staircase ended abruptly at a narrow passage hewn directly from the mountain's bedrock.
No decorative stonework here, no hints of human artistry—just ancient granite, cool and indifferent to the crisis unfolding above.
Thalia traced her fingers along the wall as she walked, her current-sensing ability detecting faint traces of energy that had seeped into the stone over centuries.
The pathways grew stronger as she progressed, confirming that she moved in the right direction.
After what seemed an eternity of walking through near-darkness, the passage widened into a small antechamber.
Three archways stood before her, each marked with runes that glowed faintly blue against the dark stone.
Thalia paused, straining to remember which path Maven had dragged her through all those months ago—a memory she'd tried desperately to suppress, to bury beneath layers of more urgent concerns.
The central archway. It had to be. The runes there burned brighter than the others, pulsing with a rhythm that matched the hybrid blade at her hip.
Thalia stepped forward, passing beneath the archway into a perfectly circular chamber carved from living rock.
The sounds of battle—the screams, the crashes, the thunder of Roran's storm magic—vanished completely, as if they existed in another world entirely.
The silence pressed against her ears with physical weight, making her breath sound unnaturally loud.
The chamber's walls rose in a smooth curve to form a domed ceiling thirty feet above.
Every surface was covered in intricate patterns—not decorative, but functional.
Runes and sigils flowed into one another, forming unbroken circuits that spiraled from floor to ceiling.
At the center of the room, a circular depression had been carved into the stone floor, its edges marked with symbols that seemed to shift subtly when viewed from the corner of one's eye.
And there, precisely where Thalia remembered, was the stain—a splash of rusty brown that marred the otherwise pristine stonework.
Maven's failed attempt to invoke the Founders' Price using Thalia's blood.
At the time, Thalia had thought it merely the insane act of a desperate woman seeking power.
Now, with the Deep Ones breaching Frostforge's defenses, she wondered if Maven had understood more than anyone realized.
Storm energy suddenly crackled along her hybrid blade, startling her with its intensity. The weapon responded to the chamber, to the ancient magics embedded in its walls, the two forces recognizing one another across centuries of dormancy.
Thalia's hands trembled as she lifted the blade, watching blue-white electricity dance along its length.
The chamber's energies and the storm magic infused within the glacenite were in conversation, resonating at frequencies she could sense but not fully comprehend.
The blade had become harder to control, as if her distraction had weakened her grip on the opposing forces contained within the metal.
"Enough," she whispered, her voice swallowed by the chamber's unnatural acoustics. This place hadn't been built for fighting. It had been built for something else entirely.
With sudden decisiveness, Thalia tossed the hybrid blade aside. It clattered against the stone floor, its storm energy momentarily flaring before settling into an erratic pulse. She would need both hands for what came next. Both hands, and perhaps more than just her blood.
Thalia moved to the center of the chamber, where the circular depression awaited.
She crouched beside the ancient bloodstain, her fingers hovering just above its surface.
Maven had tried and failed to activate whatever defense the Founders had built into Frostforge's foundations.
What made Thalia think she could succeed where an instructor had failed?
The answer whispered through her mind in Naj's weathered voice: "The Wardens sought to capture Frostforge and gather mainlanders with the 'natural attunement' ability because they believe that Frostforge is more than an academy—it's a magical defense system that can be powered by this particular magical bloodline. "
Her current-sensing ability. The rare talent that had helped her mother create more potent remedies in their small herb shop, that had later given her an edge in metallurgy at Frostforge. The ability she hadn't even known was special until the Wardens revealed its significance.
Thalia lowered her fingers to the stain, the dried blood of whoever Maven had sacrificed before attempting to use Thalia herself. The moment her skin made contact with the stone, a shiver raced up her spine, trailing icy anticipation in its wake.
The runes carved into the floor—lines and whorls, symbols even Kaine had been unable to decipher—suddenly registered against her current-sensing awareness as conductors.
The entire chamber was a machine, like the ice-metal golems that patrolled Frostforge, its components etched in stone rather than forged in metal. It was designed to channel energy.
Thalia spread her palms flat against the floor, opening her senses wider, pushing her awareness deeper into the stone beneath her.
The chamber had been built atop a nexus of natural energy currents, a place where the mountain's inherent magic gathered and flowed like underground rivers.
The Founders hadn't created this power; they had discovered it, had built Frostforge specifically to harness it.
As her awareness expanded through the stone, Thalia detected something massive slumbering far below—a core of pure energy, like a massive golem heart buried beneath the chamber floor, dormant but not dead.
It pulsed with a rhythm that felt similar to the energy signatures within the hybrid blades.
The strength of ice-metal, the wild power of storm magic.
Whatever the Founders had built, it was designed specifically to counter the darkness that now threatened to consume them all.
Maven had been certain of one thing—activating this defense required blood. But not just any blood. It needed the blood of someone with Thalia's specific ability, someone who could sense and direct the currents that flowed beneath Frostforge's foundations.
Thalia glanced toward her discarded blade, its edges still flickering with storm energy. Her blood spilled on this ancient altar, and whatever power the Founders had hidden might awaken.
Might awaken. Thalia couldn’t be sure if it would work. She could feel no connection between the stone, the latent power, and the crust of dried blood on the floor.
Outside these walls, her friends fought and died against an enemy that could not be defeated by conventional means.
Kaine, Roran, Luna, Ashe, Brynn—all of them holding the line against extinction while Thalia crouched in this silent chamber, deliberating.
If she had to die to protect them, she would do it gladly.
But she couldn’t do it until she knew it was the only way.
She pressed her hands more firmly against the stone, focusing her current-sensing ability not on reading the energies, but on connecting with them.
If the chamber was a machine, then perhaps she could become part of its mechanism—not just the sacrifice that powered it, but the conduit that directed its force.
The moment she made this mental shift, energy surged up through the stone into her palms. Not painful, but overwhelming—like plunging hands numbed by winter into scalding water.
Thalia gasped as the current flowed through her arms, spreading throughout her body with increasing intensity.
The runes around the chamber's perimeter flared to life, their blue glow brightening until it hurt to look directly at them.
Far below, the dormant core stirred. Thalia sensed it awakening, responding to her presence, to the specific resonance of her ability.
Energy that had lain dormant for centuries began to flow through channels carved into the mountain's very bones, seeking the conduits that would direct it outward, against the enemy it had been designed to combat.
And Thalia was the key, the final component needed to complete the circuit. Her current-sensing ability didn't just allow her to perceive the energy—it made her the perfect vessel to channel it, to direct its flow with precision that no mechanical device could match.
The chamber's runes shifted from blue to white as more power surged through the stone, through Thalia, through the intricate patterns that covered every surface.
The temperature rose sharply, the air itself seeming to vibrate with contained force.
Thalia's skin tingled, then burned, then went numb as her body struggled to process the energy flowing through it.
Too much. It was too much for any human to contain. Thalia's vision blurred, darkness creeping in from the edges as consciousness threatened to slip away. But she couldn't let go now. Whatever was happening, whatever defense the Founders had built, it needed her to complete its activation.
Laughter bubbled up from her chest, surprising her with its sudden emergence.
Hysterical, perhaps, or simply the body's response to overwhelming sensation.
She was going to die here, alone in this chamber, serving as the circuit that powered Frostforge's final defense. Just as Maven had intended all along.
The irony wasn't lost on Thalia, even as her thoughts grew increasingly fragmented. The instructor she'd hated, the woman who had tried to sacrifice her in this very chamber—she had been right. Not in her methods, perhaps, but in her understanding of what lurked beneath Frostforge's foundations.
White light filled the chamber, pouring from the runes, from the floor, from Thalia herself as the energy found its channel.
Her body arched backward, her hands still pressed against the stone as forces beyond comprehension coursed through her small frame.
She could feel her consciousness being pulled apart, stretched thin across currents that extended far beyond the physical chamber.
"I'm sorry," she tried to say, thinking of Kaine, of Roran, of all those she would leave behind. But her voice was lost in the roar of power that filled her ears, her mind, her entire being.
The last thing Thalia registered before darkness claimed her was a sudden shift in the energy's flow—no longer moving through her, but emanating from her. As if she had ceased to be the conduit and had become the source itself.
Then, mercifully, nothing.