CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR #2
They had crafted this plan during lunch earlier that day, heads bent close together over bowls of thin stew, voices low enough to evade the ears of nearby soldiers.
Luna would create a distraction while Thalia slipped onto the Crystalline plateau to speak with the Warden captives.
It was simple, dangerous, and exactly the kind of scheme Luna excelled at implementing.
"Follow me," Luna murmured, taking the lead. "I mapped out the guard rotations yesterday. We have a seven-minute window before the northern patrols cross paths again."
They moved through corridors rarely used by anyone but the most senior instructors, staying within the deepest shadows, pausing at each corner to listen for approaching footsteps.
Luna led with the confidence of someone who had spent years learning Frostforge's secrets, her movements fluid and silent despite the occasional creak of floorboards beneath their boots.
The staircase to the Crystalline plateau loomed before them, a spiral of stone steps disappearing upward into darkness.
Cold air flowed down like water, carrying the scent of snow and night sky—a reminder of the harsh environment awaiting them above.
Two guards stood at the base, their postures relaxed but alert, ice-steel armor gleaming dully in the low light.
"Wait here," Luna breathed, her lips close to Thalia's ear. "Count to thirty after I engage them, then slip past when they're focused on me."
Before Thalia could respond, Luna had stepped out of the shadows, her entire demeanor transformed. Gone was the furtive accomplice; in her place strode a flustered, irritated soldier, her steps loud and deliberate, her arms gesticulating wildly as she approached the guards.
"—absolutely ridiculous," Luna's voice carried clearly down the corridor, pitched to carry the perfect note of administrative frustration.
"I'm supposed to be sleeping right now, not running errands for Instructor Marr, but apparently someone assigned the wrong squad to night watch on the plateau, and now I have to sort out this mess before dawn. "
The guards straightened, caught off guard by this unexpected interruption to their quiet vigil. Luna thrust a parchment toward them—where had she gotten that?—and continued her tirade, drawing them away from their position beside the staircase entrance.
Thalia counted silently, watching as Luna deftly positioned herself between the guards and the stairs, her back to the entrance, forcing them to face away from it as well.
At thirty, Thalia slipped from her hiding place, heart thundering against her ribs as she darted past the distracted guards and up the first few steps of the staircase.
"—don't care if you've been standing here since dusk, the roster clearly states—" Luna's voice faded as Thalia ascended, the stone walls of the spiral staircase muffling sound with each turn.
Cold bit through her clothing as she emerged onto the Crystalline plateau, the vast expanse of polished rock glittering beneath a canopy of stars so bright and numerous they seemed to press down upon the earth.
Wind whipped across the exposed surface, carrying ice crystals that stung her cheeks and numbed her fingertips within moments.
Thalia crouched low, assessing her surroundings.
The prison camp stood at the plateau's center, a crude wooden palisade erected in haste, tall enough to prevent escape but allowing the brutal elements free access to those within.
Lanterns hung at intervals along its perimeter, casting just enough light for the guards to spot potential escapees.
Four sentries patrolled its circumference, their breath fogging in the frigid air as they stamped their feet against the cold.
Thalia skirted the edge of the plateau, using scattered boulders for cover, her movements deliberate and swift. The wind carried her scent away from the camp, a small mercy that prevented the guards' dogs from detecting her approach.
When she reached the northeastern corner of the palisade, where shadows pooled deepest between lanterns, she pressed herself against the rough wooden barrier, searching for any gap in its construction.
There, between two slats where the wood had warped in the cold, a space just wide enough to speak through. Thalia crouched beside it, her lips close to the opening.
"Hello?" she whispered urgently. "Is anyone there? It's Thalia—from the fortress-whale."
Silence answered her, stretching long enough that she feared no one had heard. Then came a rustle of movement from within, the soft scrape of footsteps approaching the fence. A face appeared in the gap—gaunt, weather-beaten, eyes wary in the darkness.
"You’ve returned," the voice murmured, barely audible above the wind. Other shapes materialized behind the first, word spreading through the camp in ripples of whispered Warden speech.
More faces pressed toward the gap, eyes gleaming in the darkness—some hostile, others merely curious, all bearing the unmistakable marks of exhaustion and exposure. Children peered from behind adults' legs, their small faces pinched with cold, eyes too large in hollow cheeks.
A man pushed forward, his weathered features marked with the elaborate facial tattoos that seemed to designate rank among Warden officers.
Thalia recognized him as Cassia's lieutenant, the one who had stood at her side during their first tense meeting aboard the fortress whale.
His hands were bound before him with the same anti-magic cuffs that had restrained Roran during his imprisonment, the metal glowing faintly with suppression spells designed to contain storm magic.
"Is Thrum'kith safe?" he asked, his accent thickening the words.
Thalia frowned, the unfamiliar term catching her off guard. "Thrum'kith?"
"The fortress-whale," he clarified, impatience edging his tone. "That is her name. In your tongue, perhaps... 'Strength of the People.' Is she safe?"
"Yes," Thalia assured him, relief softening her own voice. "Roran has been watching it—her—from shore. She remains in the fjord. Waiting for her people, I think."
The lieutenant's shoulders relaxed fractionally, some deep worry easing from his expression. Around him, others translated her words to those who didn't speak the continental language, murmurs of relief rippling through the gathered captives.
"I'm sorry," Thalia continued, the words inadequate against the reality of their situation. "This isn't what I promised you. This isn't what Cassia died for. But I swear I'm doing everything I can to change it."
He studied her for a long moment, measuring her sincerity against some internal standard. Finally, he nodded. "Perhaps you speak the truth. Perhaps not. But you should know—we have received messages. By gull."
Thalia's eyes widened. The Wardens were known to train seabirds as messengers, a practice mainlanders considered primitive compared to their own communication methods. "Messages? From whom?"
"From scouts to the south," he said, voice dropping lower. "The black waters have been sighted in shallower seas. Moving northward along your continent's coast. Near the city you call Southhaven." His eyes held hers, unflinching. "The Deep Ones advance toward your lands now, not just ours."
Ice that had nothing to do with the plateau's frigid air slid down Thalia's spine. The timing was wrong—too soon, too fast. She had believed they would have months, perhaps years, before the mainland faced a direct threat.
A sharp cry, seemingly of frustration, cut through the night—Luna's signal that the guards were returning. Thalia glanced over her shoulder, seeing lantern light sweeping the plateau's edge where the staircase emerged.
"I have to go," she whispered urgently. "But I won't abandon you—any of you. I promise."
Without waiting for a response, she ducked low and scrambled away from the palisade, her heart pounding against her ribs.
The black waters were spreading. The Deep Ones were coming.
And Frostforge's leaders remained willfully blind to the true threat, obsessed with fighting yesterday's war while tomorrow's destruction gathered strength in the depths.