The words stirred something in Roran's chest, a complex ache that was neither wholly pleasant nor painful.He thought of Shearwater—the small fishing village where he'd spent his childhood among adopted parents who had loved him despite not sharing his blood.He remembered the harbor at dawn, mist rising from the water as the boats set out; the smell of salt and pine; the weight of nets in his young hands as he helped the older fishermen haul in their catch.
What remained of it now?Had the black waters already claimed Shearwater, as they had so many other coastal villages?Were the people who had raised him—if any still lived—huddled in some inland refuge, or had they perished defending the only home they'd ever known?
The creak of the infirmary door interrupted his thoughts.Brynn Firstborn walked in, her tall frame silhouetted against the torchlight from the corridor.She paused in her confident stride as she caught sight of Thalia, motionless and unconscious; Roran could see the uncertainty in her expression, a hesitancy, as if seeing Thalia this helpless had caught Brynn off guard.
They’d been rivals in the early years at Frostforge, two Southern girls scrambling for survival in an academy dominated by the Reaches.But since their military placements at a remote Northern outpost—a blatantly disrespectful assignment for any Frostforge graduate, but particularly for proud, noble Brynn, who had graduated at the top of their class—tensions between them had cooled.They were still not friends, but they were undeniably close allies; Brynn had saved Thalia’s life more than once over the years, and she had been among Thalia’s co-conspirators in her efforts to free the Isle Wardens from their imprisonment on the Crystalline plateau.
Brynn hadn’t yet come to the infirmary in the aftermath of the attack.To see Thalia like this, unresponsive and vulnerable, must have been a shock for someone who had only ever known her as unyielding, relentless, and impossible to intimidate.
Brynn stopped at the foot of the bed, her usual poise faltering just long enough to reveal the depth of the blow.She did not reach out, did not speak.Her hands remained clasped behind her back, knuckles whitening as she stared at Thalia’s still form, as though committing the sight to memory—or bracing herself against it.
Then she straightened, the hesitation sealing itself away behind discipline and purpose.Her gaze lifted from Thalia and found Roran’s, sharp and intent now, carrying the weight of something unsaid.
She hadn’t come here out of sentiment.
"What is it?"Roran asked, already bracing himself for bad news.
For a moment, he thought she might notice his exhausted state, might spare him whatever blow she'd come to deliver.Instead, she straightened her spine and gave him the truth unvarnished, as she always had.
"I've just returned from scouting the fjord," she said."The black waters have retreated to a point, but no further.There's a sharp divide about half a mile from the academy—as though they've established a line they won't cross."Her mouth twisted."Or can't cross, thanks to whatever Greenspire activated."
Hope flared briefly in Roran's chest."Then the barrier is holding?"
"For now."Brynn's expression remained grim."But the waters aren't still anymore.They're roiling with massive shapes and forms—impossible to count or identify, even from the high vantage points."
The implication was clear, and it sent ice through Roran's veins despite the warmth of the infirmary."They're gathering their forces."
Brynn nodded."If you ask me, we ought to be preparing for an all-out assault.Useless as they are, the instructors seem to agree.And there's more."She hesitated, her gaze flickering to Thalia's still form before returning to Roran's face."Ravens have arrived from the Northern Reaches.Other strongholds inland have begun to fall to the Deep Tide."
"Inland?"Naj straightened, alarm sharpening his features."How far from the coast?"
"Farther than should be possible," Brynn replied."And the reports describe...disturbing behaviors.The tide doesn't just flow anymore—it divides, surrounds, and cuts off escape routes.It's as though it's learning from each encounter, becoming more strategic."She paused, the firelight casting deep shadows across her aristocratic Southern features."As if it learned from its attempt to attack Frostforge."
The words hung in the air like the moment before lightning strikes, charged with terrible possibility.Roran's mind flashed back to the academy's defenses shattering under the Deep Ones' assault—walls of enchanted ice-metal centuries old, reduced to nothing in moments.They had survived only because of Thalia's desperate gambit, activating ancient magic that no one fully understood.
If the Deep Ones returned in greater numbers, with deliberate strategy rather than blind aggression…
His fingers tightened around Thalia's, as though he could anchor her to this world through will alone.The academy, already damaged, its population swollen with refugees, its resources stretched to breaking—they had barely withstood the initial attack.What chance did they have against the final assault?
Roran looked down at Thalia's face, unchanged despite the dire news.Her expression remained serene, her mind wandering paths none of them could follow.
Wake up.Please, wake up.We can't do this without you.
Ican’t do this without you.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kaine's footsteps echoed against stone as he led Jorik through Frostforge's eastern corridor, the sound bouncing off walls that bore the scars of recent battle.Patches of newer stone interrupted centuries-old masonry where the Deep Ones' attack had shattered defenses thought impenetrable.Three days of furious repair work had sealed the worst breaches, but the evidence remained—stark reminders that their sanctuary was not as invulnerable as they had once believed.
He glanced at his brother walking beside him, still marveling at the solid presence of someone he'd thought lost forever.Jorik moved with the measured stride of a soldier, his eyes constantly scanning their surroundings, assessing threats and exits with practiced efficiency.
"The eastern wing houses most of the instructors' quarters," Kaine explained, filling the silence that had stretched between them."The student dormitories are in the southern section, though they're currently packed with refugees."
Jorik nodded, his gaze lingering on a section of wall where the stone had darkened, scorched by some terrible heat."How many people can Frostforge shelter at maximum capacity?"
"Before the attack?About a thousand," Kaine said, noting the tactical nature of the question.Not 'how beautiful' or 'how old,' but how defensible, how sustainable."Now, with parts of the southern wing compromised, maybe eight hundred.But we’re far over capacity already."
"And supplies?"Jorik's voice was quiet but insistent."Food stores, fresh water?"
