Farah maintained her footing through sheer will, balancing on a section of deck that had not yet been consumed.Around her, passengers and crew alike were falling into the churning waters—some dragged down instantly by the shadows that awaited them, others struggling briefly before disappearing beneath the surface.
The mainland remained beyond sight, unreachable.The archipelago lay behind them, largely consumed.Farah of the Third Reef, captain of the Windreaver, last in a proud line of Warden sailors, stood alone on the disintegrating remnants of her command.The darkness rose around her, reaching with formless tendrils toward her boots.
In the final moment before the Deep Ones claimed her, Farah raised her useless cutlass toward the star-filled sky in a last gesture of defiance.The blade caught the light of distant stars, gleaming silver against the perfect darkness that rose to consume it.
CHAPTER SIX
The Crystalline Plateau shimmered under the afternoon sun, its ice-glazed surface reflecting light in blinding fragments.Thalia Greenspire circled Rasmus with measured steps, her boots finding purchase on the treacherous ground through years of hard-won experience.Sweat beaded at her temples despite the biting cold, her breath pluming in white clouds as she raised her training blade to parry his next strike.
Beyond them, nestled against the imposing face of Smith's Anvil, the hastily constructed walls of the prison camp stood as a constant reminder of promises unkept and divisions deepened.
Steel met steel with a ringing clash that echoed across the plateau.Rasmus pressed forward, his lean frame coiled with controlled power, dark eyes alert beneath the fringe of chin-length hair.He was good—better than when they'd trained together as recruits—but Thalia read his movements like familiar text, anticipating the feint to her left before he fully committed.
"Your shoulder telegraphs that move," she said, sidestepping and tapping his exposed ribs with the flat of her blade."Always has."
Rasmus grunted, repositioning himself with deliberate steps that, Thalia noted, angled her view directly toward the prison camp's main entrance.Not an accident.Their sparring was pretense—they both knew it—but necessary cover for her true purpose.
"Better?"he asked, raising his blade again while subtly widening his stance to block any watching eyes from tracking her gaze.
"Much," Thalia murmured, grateful for his understanding.
She let her attention split—enough on Rasmus to maintain the illusion of practice, enough on the camp to gather the intelligence she needed.The prison perimeter was simple but effective: walls of rough-hewn timber reinforced with bands of ice-steel, a single entrance guarded by two soldiers who changed position every two hours.Four watchtowers rose at the corners, each manned by a single archer with a clear line of sight to the plateau's edge.
Thalia ducked under Rasmus's horizontal slash, using the movement to scan the northern wall.There—a blind spot where the angle of Smith's Anvil created a shadow that would hide anyone approaching from the ridge path.The guards in the northeast tower would have their vision obscured by the rock face for approximately twenty feet of the wall's length.
She filed this observation away, though what she might do with it remained unclear.The War Council had made their position abundantly clear—the Wardens would remain imprisoned, their knowledge of the Deep Ones ignored, while the continent tore itself apart in pointless blame and recrimination.
"They've doubled the guard since yesterday," Rasmus commented quietly as they reset their positions, his words masked by the scrape of boots on ice.
Thalia nodded, catching her breath."They fear a rescue attempt."
"Or they want to be prepared for an execution order," Rasmus countered grimly.
The thought sent ice through Thalia's veins that had nothing to do with the plateau's biting wind.Prejudice ran deep in the North—she'd experienced it firsthand as a Southern cadet—but the hostility toward the Wardens transcended mere cultural tension.Generations of raids and battles had carved hatred into the bedrock of both societies.That the Wardens had been fleeing an existential threat all along seemed irrelevant to most.
Thalia advanced with a flurry of strikes, using the aggressive pattern to circle around Rasmus, positioning herself for a clearer view of the camp's eastern approach.The prisoners were invisible from this distance, kept in shelters within the walls, but she could track the movement of guards along the perimeter.Regular patrols, predictable rotations—both potential weaknesses.
"Twelve minutes between perimeter checks," she noted under her breath as their blades locked.
Rasmus pushed her back, then turned slightly, opening another angle of view while maintaining the facade of combat."The southern corner has the thinnest coverage.One guard, irregular checks."
Before Thalia could respond, movement from the direction of Frostforge's main entrance caught her eye.Ashe was crossing the plateau toward them, her purposeful stride and the rigid set of her shoulders suggesting news—and not the good kind.
"Company," Thalia warned, lowering her blade as Rasmus disengaged.
Ashe approached, her striking face grim against the stark white backdrop of snow and ice.The red streaks in her black hair caught the light like warning signals, the Northern clan custom suddenly seeming ominous rather than decorative.
"Didn't mean to interrupt your practice," Ashe said, though her tone suggested the sparring session was the least of her concerns.
Thalia sheathed her training blade, her breath still coming hard from exertion."What's happening?"she asked, not bothering with pretense.Ashe wouldn't have sought them out without reason.
Instead of answering immediately, Ashe gestured toward the edge of the plateau, where the sheer drop gave way to a panoramic view of the fjord far below."Ravens.All day.From every outpost still standing in the Northern Reaches."
Thalia followed her gesture, squinting against the glare of sun on ice.Sure enough, dark specks moved against the pale sky—messenger birds winging their way toward Frostforge's high towers with desperate urgency.
"Nothing good, I presume," Thalia said, her voice tight with dread.
Ashe's mouth thinned to a grim line."Three more coastal strongholds fell last night.There were few survivors."She crossed her arms, the leather of her gloves creaking with the motion."Scouts report areas of coastline consumed by what appears to be living shadow.Those sent to investigate the outposts within those regions haven't returned."
