Ahead, the instructors' high table stood on a raised dais—a position that once symbolized authority and wisdom, now seeming like the separation of those who made decisions from those who suffered them.
Instructor Wolfe's silver-streaked hair caught the firelight as she leaned toward Virek, their heads bent close in conversation.Neither had touched the food before them—real meat and fresh bread, Thalia noted bitterly.
She felt gazes shifting, following her trajectory.Conversations died.A spoon clattered against stone.By the time she reached the steps of the dais, the mess hall had fallen into a taut silence that stretched like an overtightened bowstring.
Wolfe sensed the change, her sharp emerald eyes lifting to find Thalia standing before the table.Surprise flashed across her features before settling into cold composure.
"Greenspire," she said, her voice carrying in the unnatural quiet."You have business with the high table?"
Thalia's pulse hammered against her ribs, but she kept her face impassive, her stance steady.She had survived five brutal years at Frostforge; she would not be cowed now.
"I have business with the War Council," she replied, loud enough for her voice to reach the farthest corners of the hall."Since I've not been invited to join any meetings since its new designation, I thought I might address its members here."
Virek's pale face tightened, frostbite scars across his hands whitening as he clenched his fists."This is hardly the time or place for whatever grievance you wish to air," he said, each word precise and cold as the ice magic he wielded."Return to your duties, Greenspire."
"There is no other time for me, Instructor Virek."Thalia held her ground, feeling the weight of hundreds of eyes upon her."Not when I'm barred from Council chambers.Not when decisions affecting all our lives are made behind locked doors."
Wolfe set down her knife with deliberate care, the metal chiming softly against her plate.Her face remained unreadable, a mask perfected through years of command.
"Speak then," she said."But consider your words carefully."
Thalia drew a steadying breath, scanning the high table where other instructors watched her with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.Instructor Solberg's weathered face was twisted in distaste, while Marr observed with calculating interest.
"The Wardens imprisoned on the Crystalline plateau must be released," Thalia stated, her voice clear and firm."They should be allowed to return to Thrum'kith and given a role in our defense planning."
A ripple of shock passed through the mess hall.At a nearby table, a Northern soldier spat on the floor.A few whispers reached Thalia’s ears.Traitor.Sun-rotter.
"These particular Wardens are not part of any invasion force," Thalia continued, ignoring the growing hostility."They've been fleeing the Deep Tide for years, watching their islands disappear beneath black waters.They understand our enemy better than anyone on the mainland.They could help strengthen Frostforge's defenses against what's coming."
Instructor Solberg slammed his fist against the table, sending goblets rattling."This insolence borders on treason," he snarled, bushy brows drawn together."You would have us arm our sworn enemies and welcome them into our stronghold?After all they've done?"
Thalia met his glare unflinching."I would have us survive, Instructor.While the rest of you remain mired in prejudice, I'm offering the only viable path forward."
"Releasing our sworn enemies on academy grounds is our best option?"Wolfe asked, her voice dangerously soft.The scar across her cheek seemed to deepen in the harsh light.
"It is," Thalia answered without hesitation."Because there's a greater enemy on the horizon.One that will devour Warden and mainlander alike if we don't stand together."
The silence grew heavier, punctuated only by the crack and hiss of flames from the remaining braziers.Thalia became acutely aware of her isolation—standing alone before the high table, separated from allies by the invisible barrier her confrontation had created.
Instructor Virek's thin lips curved into a joyless smile."Many of us believe these 'black waters' and disappearing coastal towns are nothing more than Isle Warden sorcery," he said."A new form of storm magic, perhaps—one they've turned against our shores after failing to penetrate our defenses directly.The most likely explanation for the tragedy at Porpoise Key."
"It isn't Warden magic," Thalia insisted, frustration threading through her voice."The Isle Wardens are fleeing the Deep Tide, not creating it.I witnessed them in the archipelago firsthand, abandoning their homes as islands were swallowed by darkness.The people aboard Thrum'kith had nothing to do with raids on the mainland—they were refugees, like the ones filling this hall right now."
She gestured toward the crowded tables."They were trying to survive the devouring of the archipelago, just as these people are trying to survive the destruction of their coastal homes."
Movement in the crowd caught her eye as Roran stepped forward, his wild mass of black curls pulled back from his face.His warm brown skin seemed paler than usual, tension evident in the set of his shoulders.Thalia felt a surge of both gratitude and apprehension at his approach.
"I can corroborate Thalia's account," he said, his voice steady despite the hostility directed at him."I also witnessed the Deep Ones attacking the fortress-whale.They aren't a Warden fabrication—they're something ancient and terrible, something that threatens us all."
Solberg's face flushed crimson."You dare speak here?"he snapped, rising halfway from his seat."Warden blood runs in your veins, boy.Your standing in this academy is probationary at best."
"Indeed," Virek added, his whisper-soft voice somehow more menacing than Solberg's shout."Unless you wish to shake what little trust the War Council has graciously extended to you, I suggest you remain silent."
He leaned forward, pale eyes fixed on Roran."You should be grateful Frostforge allowed you to live at all.Hold your tongue and remember that mercy is conditional."
The mess hall went utterly still.The firelight guttered in the braziers, shadows stretching long across the stone.Roran's jaw tightened, but he lowered his gaze, fists clenched at his sides.
Thalia felt fury coil in her chest, hot and venomous.The familiar rage that had sustained her through years of Northern disdain, of being looked down upon for her Southern birth, her poverty, her struggled progress in ice magic—all of it condensed into this moment.
