Roran chuckled dryly."For what we're planning, I suspect 'third in the class at Frostforge' isn't going to be sufficient.Especially if I’m also bringing the storm-calling to the table."His expression sobered."We need another person, Thalia.Someone whose cryomancy is as natural to them as root-singing is to you, as storm-calling is to me.Someone close to you, who might be willing to do this."
"You mean Kaine," Thalia said, the realization sending a cold spike through her chest.She glanced down the corridor where Kaine and Jorik had disappeared, their voices still faintly audible though their conversation was indistinct."He’s just gotten his family back.You’ve seen him, since Jorik arrived… he’s been a different man.I can't ask him to join us, Roran.I can't ask him to..."Die.The word remained unspoken but hung between them nonetheless.
Roran grimaced and looked away from her.
"It's not just that," she continued, her voice dropping further."If I tell him what we're planning, he'll try to stop us.He'll insist on finding another way, even when we all know there isn't one."She shook her head."Besides, Kaine is a talented smith, but he’s far from the best cryomancer who might help us."
"Who is, then?"Roran asked, a furrow appearing between his brows.
Thalia let out a short, bitter laugh, the sound sharp against the stone walls of the corridor."Ironically, the best cryomancy student in our class at Frostforge was a Southerner.And actually, she’s already offered her help."She met Roran's gaze, her mouth twisting into an expression that wasn't quite a smile."We need to talk to Brynn."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The War Council chamber sat buried deep within Frostforge's heart, a circular room of weathered stone where ancient decisions had shaped the continent's fate for centuries.Kaine strode in beside Jorik, the weight of their findings pressing against his shoulders like a physical burden.Around the massive ice-steel table, instructors gathered like storm clouds before thunder—Wolfe at the head, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a severe knot; Virek with his spider-web scars visible on pale hands; Marr's dark eyes tracking their entrance with military precision.The air hung thick with unspoken dread, the knowledge that beyond these walls, something vast and ancient surged toward them through black waters—unstoppable as time itself.
"Ember.Report," Wolfe commanded, dispensing with formalities.Her emerald eyes fixed on him with the same uncompromising directness that had intimidated students for decades.
Kaine nodded, placing both palms flat on the ice-steel table.Its surface felt unnaturally cold beneath his forge-callused hands—a reminder of the magic that had gone into its making, the same ancient techniques they now desperately sought to recover.
"The Deep Tide continues to advance through the fjord," he began, his voice steady despite the exhaustion that pulled at him."The boundary in the water is about a mile from us now, and the coastline has been eroded inward by at least two leagues."
"And the larger entity Ashe reported?"Wolfe asked, her fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles whitened."This 'mountain' moving beneath the black waters?"
Kaine exchanged a glance with Jorik, whose presence beside him felt both novel and right, as though they'd stood together in councils of war their entire lives rather than being reunited mere weeks ago after years of separation.
"We confirmed its existence," Jorik said, speaking for the first time.Unlike Kaine, whose years at Frostforge had taught him to address the instructors with a mix of respect and confidence, Jorik's tone carried the edge of someone who no longer recognized their authority."Though 'mountain' hardly does it justice.It's moving slowly but deliberately.At current pace, it will reach Frostforge's fjord within the week."
A murmur passed through the gathered instructors—not quite panic, but the closest thing to fear Kaine had ever witnessed from these hardened veterans of Northern winters and Warden wars.
"The significant development," Kaine continued, drawing their attention back, "is what we confirmed about the effectiveness of hybrid magic against the Deep Ones."
He described their encounter—how Lyra and Erek had combined storm-calling and cryomancy in ways neither discipline alone had achieved, creating effects that seemed to genuinely harm the creatures that emerged from the black waters.
"The hybrid techniques confused them," Kaine explained, his hands sketching shapes in the air as he spoke."When faced with pure cryomancy or pure storm magic, they adapt quickly, develop countermeasures.But the combined forms—they struggle to defend against something they can't categorize."
"Like fighting two opponents at once who use different weapons," Marr observed, his dark brown eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Exactly," Jorik agreed."My people have been developing these techniques for months out of necessity.What began as experimentation has become our primary defense."
Silence fell over the chamber as the implications settled among the council.Kaine watched their faces—these instructors who had spent lifetimes mastering singular magical disciplines, who had built their identities around the purity of their chosen crafts.He saw the resistance in some expressions, the calculations in others.
Finally, Wolfe spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet with practiced authority."Do you believe these hybrid techniques will be sufficient to defeat the Deep Ones?To drive back this...mountain?"
Kaine felt the weight of every eye in the room.He could offer false hope—tell them what they wanted to hear—but false hope killed as surely as despair.
"No," he admitted, the word falling heavy as a forge hammer."They'll wound.They'll slow.They may even repel smaller incursions.But against what's coming?Against the full force of the Deep Tide?"He shook his head."No.We need something more permanent."
"And what would that be?"Virek asked, the cryomancy instructor's whispering voice barely audible yet somehow filling the chamber.
Kaine drew a deep breath."Thalia is working on a solution.Something based on what she learned from her experiences with the Founders' Price."
The reaction was immediate and visceral—a ripple of discomfort that passed through the chamber like a physical wave.Instructors shifted in their seats, exchanged loaded glances, fingers tightened on armrests.Wolfe's expression hardened into something like stone, while Marr's hand moved unconsciously to the hilt of the ceremonial dagger at his belt.
Kaine had expected this response.The Founders' Price had become a forbidden topic at Frostforge, spoken of only in hushed whispers and veiled references.He remembered his own first encounter with the term years ago, when his research into the academy's origins had led him to ancient texts where those two words appeared frequently, always sending senior instructors into concerned silence when he mentioned them.
"The Founders' Price," Wolfe repeated, each syllable precise and careful, "has been misunderstood for generations.It has led to...unfortunate interpretations."
"I know," Kaine said, meeting her gaze directly."But I believe I've pieced together the truth of it.The original texts weren't referring to the sacrifice of unwilling students, as later generations came to believe."
