Page 34 of Frostforge: Passage Two

Thalia stood, the broken heart clutched in her palm."The metal in this framework is compromised," she said, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her."The same way the Northern student's project failed last week.It's not their craftsmanship that's the problem — it's the materials."

Wolfe's expression darkened."That's a ridiculous claim."

"Examine it yourself," she challenged, holding out the fragment of steel."This alloy is at least thirty percent impure.No amount of skill could make it hold a stable animation."

For a moment, she thought Wolfe might consider her words.But then the Instructor's face closed off, and she took the heart from Thalia without examining the steel."Return to your workstation and pack up, Greenspire.We're done for today."

"But—"

"That's an order."Her tone left no room for argument.

Thalia clenched her jaw and returned to her bench, carefully securing her half-completed silver heart in its protective case.Around her, the forge emptied of stunned students, leaving behind the scent of burnt metal and the echo of the boy's scream.

She packed her tools with methodical precision, each movement controlled despite the anger building inside her.This wasn't just inconvenient anymore — it was dangerous.Someone had nearly killed that boy, and the faculty were either blind to it or complicit.

As she left the forge, her resolve hardened like cooling steel.She wouldn't let this continue.If the instructors wouldn't listen, she'd find another way to expose the truth.Whatever it took, whatever the risk, she would not stand by while her fellow students were put in danger.

The silver heart in her bag seemed to pulse in response to her determination, a secret promise between craftsman and creation.She would find whoever was behind this, and when she did, they would pay.

***

The Crystalline Plateau glittered beneath the morning sun, its polished surface reflecting light like thousands of embedded diamonds.Thalia adjusted her grip on the practice sword, feeling the worn leather handle against her calloused palm as she circled Roran.Their breath misted in the cold air, two predators sizing each other up across the pale expanse of the training ground.This was her favorite part of the day — sparring with someone who never patronized her with fake victories, but who gave her the room she needed to practice.Roran grinned, his wild black curls tied back but still threatening to escape their binding, and lunged forward in a feint that Thalia had learned to recognize weeks ago.

She sidestepped, bringing her blade up to parry his follow-through strike.Steel rang against steel, the sound sharp and clean in the frigid mountain air.Unlike the stuffy confines of the Howling Forge, the plateau offered an endless expanse of sky and a horizon dominated by jagged, snow-capped peaks.The wind carried the scent of pine and frost, a bracing combination that cleared Thalia's mind of everything but the present moment.

"You're telegraphing your left side," Roran said, dancing backward as Thalia pressed forward with a series of quick strikes.He deflected each blow with economical movements, his footwork precise despite the slick surface."Watch your elbow — it drops about three seconds before you attack."

Thalia adjusted, keeping her arm tight against her body as she feinted right, then spun left.Roran caught her blade with the flat of his own, twisting in a move that should have disarmed her.She'd anticipated it, though, and countered with a grip change she'd been practicing for weeks.

Roran's eyes widened with genuine surprise."Nice!Where'd you learn that?"

"Watching you do it to the third-years," Thalia replied, unable to suppress a smile despite her concentration.She pressed her advantage, forcing Roran to retreat a few steps.

He laughed, the sound bright against the stark landscape."Always studying, aren't you, Greenspire?"With a fluid motion that seemed to defy the laws of combat, he slipped inside her guard and tapped her ribs with the flat of his blade."But you're still leaving this side exposed."

Instead of claiming the touch as a victory, Roran backed away, giving her space to reset.That was his way — turning every bout into a lesson, extending the practice so his partners got maximum benefit.Thalia had seen him do the same with other Southern students, never rushing to end a match when there was something to be learned.

"Again," he said, returning to ready position."Remember, it's not about strength.It's about —"

"— seeing the pattern before it emerges," Thalia finished, mirroring his stance."I know."

They moved together in a dance of advance and retreat, their blades catching the sunlight with each exchange.Roran had a natural grace that made even the most complex maneuvers look effortless.Despite the intensity of their sparring, he maintained a running commentary, pointing out openings and suggesting adjustments.

"Your footwork is improving," he noted as Thalia executed a perfect pivot to avoid his thrust."But you're still thinking too much.Feel the rhythm."

She tried to follow his advice, letting her body respond without conscious thought.For a brief, exhilarating moment, it worked — her blade moved as if of its own accord, finding the perfect angle to slip past Roran's guard.

Roran's face broke into a wide smile."There it is!That's what I've been talking about."

"Enough playing around, Bright!"Instructor Maven's voice cut across the plateau like a whip crack.She stood at the edge of the training ground, her single amber eye fixed on their match with visible disapproval."Either finish it or switch partners.This isn't a dancing lesson."

The joy drained from Roran's face.His posture shifted subtly, shoulders tensing as he glanced toward Maven, then at the other students who had paused their own matches to watch.Some were openly staring, their expressions ranging from curiosity to barely concealed hostility.

"Yes, Instructor," Roran replied, his voice suddenly formal.

Before Thalia could blink, he executed a lightning-fast sequence that ended with her sword clattering to the frozen ground.The move was precise, efficient, and completely unlike the instructive style he'd been using moments before.This was Roran as Maven wanted him to be — ruthlessly effective, no wasted motion, no mercy.

Maven wasn’t even watching.She’d already turned her attention to another pair of combatants.

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