CHAPTER TEN
Roran counted Thalia's breaths like a miser counting coins, each shallow rise of her chest another moment stolen from the darkness that threatened to claim her.
Three days had passed since the magic had consumed her, three days of vigil beside this bed where ice bloomed across wooden beams and delicate vines spiraled through cracks in the stone floor.
Throughout it all, Thalia remained still, her face serene as though merely dreaming while the competing magics warred beneath her skin, occasionally sending arcs of blue-white electricity dancing between her fingertips like silent pleas for release.
Mari sat opposite him, her small hands folded in her lap, her posture a mirror of Thalia's own stubborn determination.
Though she was Thalia's younger sister, in the dim infirmary light, the family resemblance was striking enough that Roran sometimes caught himself thinking it was Thalia herself watching over her own unconscious form—an impossible duality that his exhausted mind conjured in the quieter moments between fear and hope.
"She used to sing to me," Mari said suddenly, breaking the silence that had stretched between them for the better part of an hour.
"When I was small and frightened of the storms that came in from the harbor.
She'd make up songs about brave little girls who rode the lightning and danced with thunder.
" A smile flickered across her face, there and gone like summer lightning.
"I never told her, but I stopped being afraid years before she stopped singing. I just loved hearing her voice."
Roran nodded, his eyes never leaving Thalia's face. "She never mentioned she could sing."
"There's a lot she doesn't mention." Mari's voice held no accusation, only a sister's resigned understanding. "Thalia holds everything close—her fears, her dreams, her pain. She's been taking care of everyone else for so long that she forgets she needs care too."
Roran thought of the times he'd caught Thalia pushing herself beyond exhaustion in the forge, the way she'd throw herself into danger without hesitation to protect others, the fierce pride that kept her standing when others would have fallen.
"She's the strongest person I've ever known," he admitted quietly.
"And the most stubborn," Mari added, a note of fond exasperation coloring her words.
"When we were children, she once stood in the rain for three hours waiting for a merchant to return and honor the price he'd promised our mother.
She caught a fever that kept her in bed for a week, but she got those extra copper pieces. "
The image brought an unexpected smile to Roran's lips—he could picture it clearly, a younger Thalia with that familiar determined set to her jaw, rain-soaked but unmoved.
"When we were at the training grounds," he found himself saying, "during our first year at Frostforge, she broke her wrist during a sparring session.
Didn't tell anyone for three days. Just wrapped it tight and kept fighting.
" He shook his head at the memory. "The instructors only found out when she collapsed during drills. Wolfe was furious."
"That sounds like her." Mari reached out, adjusting the blanket that covered Thalia's shoulders with a tenderness that made Roran's chest ache. "She never wants anyone to worry about her."
"Well, she's failed spectacularly at that this time," Roran said, the words emerging more sharply than he'd intended. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, feeling the grit of sleepless nights beneath his fingernails. "Sorry. I just—"
He never finished the thought.
Thalia's body jerked violently, her back arching off the bed as though pulled by invisible strings.
The sudden movement was so unexpected after days of stillness that Roran froze, his heart stuttering in his chest. A rattling gasp tore from Thalia's throat, too loud in the quiet infirmary, and her eyes snapped open, staring at the ceiling with a wild, unfocused intensity.
"Thalia?" Mari's voice cracked with shock as she leapt to her feet, her chair toppling backward with a crash that echoed off the stone walls. "Thalia!"
Roran surged forward, his hands hovering uncertainly over Thalia's trembling form.
The ice on the bedframe crackled, spreading outward in fractal patterns that raced across the wood like living things.
The vines at her feet shivered, unfurling new leaves that seemed to pulse with an inner light.
Between her fingers, arcs of electricity danced with renewed vigor, snapping and sparking in the cool air.
"Get your mother," Roran said, the words emerging as a command rather than a request. "Now, Mari!"
The girl hesitated only a moment before turning and bolting from the room, her footsteps receding down the corridor in a rapid tattoo that matched the frantic beating of Roran's heart.
"Thalia," he said again, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the fear that clawed at his throat. "Thalia, can you hear me?"
Her gaze shifted, focusing on his face with an intensity that made him want to step back.
There was something wrong with her eyes—they seemed too bright, too aware, as though they were seeing through him rather than at him.
The irises flickered between her natural deep brown and an electric blue that reminded him of storm-touched skies.
Her lips parted, cracked from days without water, and her voice emerged as a rasp, each word seemingly dragged from the depths of some great distance.
"Three... becoming one," she whispered, the words hanging in the air between them like smoke. "The barrier cannot hold without... three becoming one."
Roran leaned closer, relief and confusion warring within him. "Thalia, it's me. It's Roran. You're safe in the infirmary. Do you remember what happened? Do you know where you are?"
She didn't seem to hear him. Her fingers clutched at the blanket, then at empty air, before finally finding his forearms and gripping with surprising strength for someone who had been unconscious for days.
The electricity that had been dancing between her fingers now coursed through her hands and into his skin, but where others might have been burned by such a current, Roran merely felt a familiar tingling warmth—his storm-caller blood recognizing its kin.
"Three becomes one," she repeated, more insistent now, her nails digging into his flesh. "Ice to bind, storm to strike, earth to heal."
"Thalia, you're not making sense." Roran placed his hands over hers, trying to gentle her grip without breaking the contact that seemed so important to her. "What are you talking about?"
The ice on the bedframe cracked suddenly, shards falling to the floor like broken glass before reforming, spreading further up the wall behind the bed in intricate patterns that resembled nothing so much as ancient runes.
The vines grew more agitated, curling around the bed legs and reaching toward Thalia as though drawn by some invisible force.
Through it all, electricity continued to flow from her hands into Roran's arms, the current growing stronger with each passing moment.
He recognized the strength of the electrical discharge—if Thalia had grabbed anyone who wasn’t a storm-caller, they’d be on the ground from the force of the shock. "Thalia, you need to calm down. The magic—it's getting stronger."
Footsteps pounded in the corridor—multiple sets, running fast. Mari burst through the door first, followed closely by Celeste, their mother's usually composed features tight with a mixture of fear and desperate hope.
"She's awake!" Mari cried, rushing back to the bedside. "Mother, she's awake!"
Celeste moved with the practiced efficiency of a healer who had seen too many crises to be overwhelmed by emotion. She pressed a hand to Thalia's forehead, fingers searching for her pulse at the throat, eyes narrowing as she took in the magical manifestations surrounding her daughter.
"Her heart is racing," she reported, her voice clinical despite the tremor that ran beneath it. "And her temperature is elevated—at least two degrees too high." She looked up at Roran, questions in her eyes. "Has she spoken? Is she lucid?"
Before Roran could answer, Thalia's grip on his arms tightened painfully, her gaze locking with his. For a moment—just a moment—clarity seemed to return to her eyes, the strange blue light receding.
"Roran," she said, his name emerging as a command that demanded attention. His heart leapt at the sound, hope surging through him like a wave—only to crash against the rocks of disappointment as she continued, "The boundaries weaken. Three becomes one. The seal fades."
"What does that mean, Thalia?" he asked, leaning closer, desperate for some sign of recognition, some hint of the woman he knew. "What seal?"
Her eyes seemed to look through him, beyond him, to some distant point only she could see. "Ancient foundations. The Founders' Price. If freely given... if the price is willingly paid..."
The door burst open again, admitting Luna and Ashe. Both women froze momentarily at the threshold, taking in the scene before them. Then Luna was moving, her usual affected distraction replaced by focused urgency as she approached the bed.
"She's conscious," Luna observed, her eyes cataloging the ice, the vines, the electricity still arcing between Thalia and Roran's joined hands. "But not present. Not fully."
"Get Kaine," she said to Ashe without turning. "He'll want to be here."
Ashe nodded once and was gone, her long strides carrying her swiftly back into the corridor.
A stab of annoyance shot through Roran at the mention of Kaine—of course Luna would think of him first, would assume his place at Thalia's side was as important as Roran's own.
The feeling was petty, unworthy, and he pushed it aside as quickly as it had come, focusing instead on Thalia's increasingly agitated state.
"If the price is willingly paid," Thalia insisted, her voice rising with each word. "Three must become one to hold back the tide. To rebuild what was broken."
"What is she talking about?" Luna asked, leaning forward with keen interest. "This sounds like—"
"I have no idea," Roran admitted, frustration edging his words. "She keeps repeating the same fragments. Nothing coherent. Nothing that makes sense."
Luna's brow furrowed, her sharp mind visibly working through possibilities. "Three becoming one... the three magical disciplines perhaps? Cryomancy, storm-calling, and root-singing?" She gestured to the ice, the electricity, the vines. "The physical manifestations certainly suggest as much."
Celeste had procured a cup of water from somewhere and was now trying to coax Thalia into drinking. "Small sips," she murmured, her healer's hands steady despite the fear evident in her eyes. "That's it, my brave girl."
Roran, still caught in Thalia's grip, managed to shift his position to help support her head as she drank.
The contact seemed to calm her somewhat, the frantic energy that had been building since she awoke gradually ebbing.
The ice stopped its rapid spread, the vines curled back toward the floor, and the electrical current flowing through her fingers diminished to a gentle hum.
"The ancient seal fades," Thalia whispered, her voice steadier now but still distant. Her gaze met Roran's, and for the first time since she'd awakened, he felt she was truly seeing him. "The Deep Tide rises. What was bound will be unleashed."
"What seal, Thalia?" he asked softly, hope kindling again at this sign of lucidity.
Before she could answer, the door crashed open with enough force to rattle the hinges.
Kaine stood in the opening, his broad frame silhouetted against the corridor's torchlight, his face a mask of barely contained emotion.
Behind him, Ashe appeared winded, as though she'd had to run to keep pace with him.
"Thalia." Her name emerged from his lips like a prayer and a demand combined.
He crossed the room in three long strides, shouldering past Roran with enough force to break Thalia's grip on his arms. The sudden separation left Roran feeling bereft, the absence of her touch a physical ache that matched the spike of irritation at Kaine's presumption.
Kaine gripped Thalia's shoulders, his large hands gentle despite the desperation evident in his posture. "Are you alright? Can you hear me?"
"She's disoriented," Roran said, stepping back to make room but refusing to retreat entirely. "She hasn't been making sense since she woke up. Just fragments. Phrases about 'three becoming one,’ whatever that means.'"
Kaine straightened, his jaw tightening as he turned to face Roran. There was something in his expression beyond the expected concern for Thalia—a grimness, a weight of knowledge that sent a chill down Roran's spine.
"Ashe and Luna found me when I was already on my way here," Kaine said, his voice pitched low.
"I have news. News that can't wait, even for this.
" He gestured to Thalia, who had settled back against her pillows, her eyes half-closed but still flickering with that strange blue light.
The magical manifestations had receded further—the ice melting away, the vines withdrawing to small curls at the foot of the bed, the electricity now just a faint shimmer around her fingertips.
"What news?" Luna asked, moving closer, her attention divided between Thalia and Kaine.
Kaine drew a deep breath, his gaze sweeping the room before settling back on Roran.
"The coastal scouts—or what passes for coastal these days, with the black waters pushing further inland every day—they've seen something.
Something rising from the depths, far out at sea. Within the black waters themselves."
A cold dread pooled in Roran's stomach, his throat suddenly dry. "A Deep One?"
"The largest yet," Kaine confirmed, his voice dropping further until they all had to lean in to hear him. "The size of a mountain, they said. Moving slowly but steadily toward the shore. Toward Frostforge."
"Gods," Ashe breathed, her warrior's composure momentarily cracking. "How long?"
"Days. Maybe less." Kaine's hands clenched at his sides. "It's gathering the black waters before it like a wave, building momentum. When it reaches us—"
"The price, willingly paid," Thalia's voice cut through the conversation, suddenly strong and clear. They all turned to find her sitting upright, her eyes now fully that electric blue that spoke of storm magic flowing through her veins. "The seal. It… it will hold. Only if….”
For a moment, she trailed off, her brow furrowing with frustration like she was struggling with words that wouldn’t come.
Then, at last, she breathed, “Only if the sacrifice is freely chosen."