CHAPTER FOUR
Thalia crept forward through the narrow alley, her shoulders brushing against the weathered stone of buildings she once knew by heart.
Verdant Port's familiar scent of salt and spice now mingled with smoke and fear, the air heavy with both.
The stolen Warden blade at her hip felt wrong—too light, too eager—its silver-blue glacenite edge humming with a magic that threatened to leak into her thoughts.
Behind her, Kaine and Ashe moved like shadows, their footfalls barely disturbing the broken shells and debris that littered what had once been a thriving marketplace thoroughfare.
This was her home, yet in the span of a season, it had become as foreign as the northern wastes of Frostforge had once been.
They moved in tight formation through the crooked passage, past abandoned stalls and barred windows.
Thalia led them through shortcuts she'd used as a child—narrow gaps between buildings, hidden paths that traced the city's secret geography.
Each familiar landmark now twisted by occupation struck her like a physical blow.
The herbalist's shop where she'd traded moonweed for her mother's remedies lay in splinters, its shelves overturned, dried plants crushed underfoot.
The tavern where sailors had once sung late into the night stood silent, its windows dark and shuttered.
"Something's wrong," Ashe whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant crash of waves against the harbor wall. "Listen."
Thalia paused, tilting her head. Beneath the constant murmur of the sea came muffled cries—human voices raised in fear or pain, then abruptly silenced. Her stomach clenched. She recognized the direction—too close to the square where her mother's shop had stood.
"We need to move faster," she breathed, but Kaine's hand closed around her wrist, restraining her.
"Wait," he murmured, nodding toward the mouth of the alley ahead.
Three figures had appeared, silhouetted against the dim glow of torchlight. Isle Wardens, their black armor absorbing what little light reached them. They moved with the arrogant swagger of conquerors, weapons held casually as they scanned the darkness.
"You there!" The tallest of them barked, his accent thick and harsh. He took a step forward, hand moving to the hilt of his sword. "How did you three escape?"
Thalia felt Kaine shift behind her, his massive frame uncoiling like a spring released. "Three sets of armor," he whispered, his Northern accent roughening his words. "Perfect."
Ashe smirked, the red streaks in her hair catching the faint light as she quietly readied her crossbow. "I prefer mine without holes, but it’ll do either way."
The Wardens advanced, drawing their weapons—curved blades of black metal that seemed to drink in the darkness around them. Thalia drew her ice-glacenite sword in response, the blade gleaming with an internal light that pulsed in time with her heartbeat. The guards exchanged amused glances.
"Look at that," the shortest one sneered, gesturing at her weapon. "Ice-wielders. They never learn."
Thalia understood their confidence. Standard ice-metal shattered on contact with the Wardens' black-forged weapons—she'd witnessed it herself during the battle at Frostforge. But glacenite was different, a discovery so new the enemy couldn't possibly know its properties.
The tallest Warden struck first, his blade arcing toward Thalia's head with killing force. She parried, bracing for the impact, for the shattering that didn't come. Instead, their blades met with a ringing clash that echoed through the alley. Sparks flew, but her weapon remained intact.
The guard's eyes widened behind his half-mask. "What—"
Kaine seized the moment of confusion, his warhammer swinging in a brutal arc that connected with the second guard's shoulder.
The impact drove the man to his knees with a muffled cry.
Kaine followed through with a swift kick that toppled the guard completely, then yanked the fallen Warden's sword away with his free hand.
The third guard recovered fastest, lunging toward Ashe with his blade extended. She stepped nimbly aside, her crossbow coming up in a fluid motion, but the confined space of the alley made a clean shot impossible.
Thalia found herself pressed back by the first guard's renewed attack.
He fought with brutal efficiency, each strike meant to kill.
She gave ground deliberately, drawing him deeper into the alley, away from potential reinforcements.
Her blade moved almost of its own accord, weaving a defensive pattern she'd drilled countless times at Frostforge.
The guard overextended on a thrust. Thalia twisted, letting his momentum carry him past her, then slashed across his exposed back. The glacenite blade sliced through his armor with surprising ease, drawing a strangled gasp from the man as he staggered forward.
Victory surged through her veins—then faltered as the first whispers of glacenite's influence crept into her mind. A voice, distant yet achingly familiar, called her name. Thalia... help us... please…
Mari's voice, frightened and small, exactly as it had sounded when they were children and thunderstorms rattled their windows.
Thalia's skin crawled with the terrible intimacy of the hallucination. On the ship, she’d been able to push the glacenite-induced visions aside, focus on her immediate surroundings.
But here, surrounded by the ghosts of her former life, they felt immediate, personal.
The momentary distraction nearly cost her. The guard recovered faster than she anticipated, whirling with unexpected agility despite his wound. His blade sliced the air inches from her face.
"Thalia!" Kaine's voice cut through the phantom cries in her head. He surged forward, intercepting the Warden's next strike with the captured black sword. The weapons met with a sound like shattering glass, and the guard stumbled back, suddenly disarmed.
Ashe's crossbow twanged. The bolt took the disarmed guard in the throat, finding the narrow gap between helmet and gorget. He collapsed without a sound, blood pooling black in the dim light.
"Are you alright?" Kaine asked, his pale eyes searching Thalia's face with an intensity that made her look away.
"I'm fine," she muttered, fighting to center herself as Mari's imagined cries faded. "Just the weapons. The hallucinations. It's even worse here than at Frostforge."
She leaned against the wall, forcing steady breaths as Ashe efficiently dragged the bodies—two unconscious, one dead—behind a stack of abandoned crates. The Northern woman moved with practiced ease, as though disposing of bodies were no different than stacking firewood.
"We need to move quickly," Ashe said, already stripping armor from the nearest guard. "Someone will have heard that fight."
Kaine knelt beside the fallen Wardens, his hands moving with surprising deftness as he unbuckled straps and removed pieces of the distinctive black armor, mostly leather, with plates of the dark metal.
"These two are closer to your size," he noted, setting aside the dead guard's bloodied gorget.
"The armor's adjustable, but there's a limit. "
Thalia pushed away from the wall, joining them in the grim task.
The armor felt wrong against her skin—cold in a way that had nothing to do with temperature, as though the metal itself rejected her touch.
She forced herself to ignore the sensation, tightening straps and adjusting buckles until the disguise was complete.
"Keep your face covered," Kaine advised, helping her secure a scarf across her lower features. His fingers brushed her cheek, lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. "It’ll stop the Wardens from noticing that you’re an imposter."
Thalia nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she tucked the last of her hair beneath the helmet. Through gaps in the buildings, she could see smoke trailing above the rooftops near the harbor—black smoke that spoke of destruction rather than cooking fires or forge work.
"We should split up," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Cover more ground that way. I need to find my family."
Kaine frowned, the expression stark against his pale Northern skin. "That's not a good idea. Especially since the glacenite is affecting you more strongly here."
"All the more reason to work quickly," Thalia countered, frustration edging her words. She knew he meant well, but his concern felt stifling. "This is my home, Kaine. My fight."
"Our fight," he corrected quietly.
"We'll cover more ground separately," Ashe interjected, practical as always. "And we're less conspicuous alone. Three guards moving together draw attention."
Kaine's jaw tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. "Three hours," he said. "We meet back at the cove in three hours, no matter what we find. If one of us doesn't return—"
"We will," Thalia cut him off, unwilling to voice the alternative. "Three hours. I'll check the market square and move up into the slums. Ashe, take the docks and the harbor district. Kaine—"
"I’ll head east," he finished, with a nod in that direction.
They stood in a tight circle, three false Wardens with stolen weapons and desperate hearts. Thalia met each of their gazes in turn, finding steely resolve in Ashe's green eyes, barely masked concern in Kaine's pale blue ones.
"Three hours," she repeated, then turned away, stepping out of the alley's shadows and into the occupied streets of her former home.
***
The borrowed Warden armor chafed against Thalia's shoulders as she moved through streets she had once run down as a child. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighted not just by the unfamiliar black metal plates but by the devastation surrounding her.