Page 8 of Frostforge: Passage Four
"The instructors have gone too far," Morrigan muttered, her normally melodious voice sour with contempt."Putting Southerners in command of Northern first-years?It's an insult to tradition."
"Hiring Marr was the beginning," Einar replied."A Southern instructor at Frostforge… it signals the academy no longer values strength — only appeasement."
Murmurs of agreement rippled through the room.Thalia pressed her palm against the wall, as if she could push through the stone and confront them.
"The Southerners need to be taught a lesson," Ragna sneered, her voice a venomous whisper."A reminder of their place."
More agreement, like the rumble of distant thunder.Thalia's breath caught in her throat as Einar spoke again, his words precise and cutting.
"Especially the Isle Warden."
The blood in Thalia's veins turned to ice.Roran.They were talking about Roran.Last year's rumors hadn't died as she'd hoped; they'd merely gone underground, festering like infected wounds.
"Greenspire is so quick to defend him," Einar continued, disgust dripping from every syllable."The Southerners treat him like one of their own.It only shows how they weaken our ranks.We can't let this go on."
A tremor worked its way through Thalia's body — not fear, but fury, burning hot against the academy's perpetual chill.She'd heard enough.Her fingers found Luna's sleeve, tugging gently.Luna nodded, and they retreated down the hall, each step careful and measured until they reached the relative safety of the stairwell.
The stone steps were cold beneath them as they sat side by side, their breath clouding in the frigid air.Thalia's mind raced, replaying Einar's words, calculating the threat they posed.
"I can't believe they're targeting Roran again," she finally said, the words bitter on her tongue."And it sounds they're planning something — something to put the Southerners in their place.'"Her fingers curled into fists."We need to warn him."
Luna's expression remained carefully neutral, her dark eyes reflecting the dim light from the corridor."The rumors about Bright have gotten worse since the break."
"Worse?How?"
"People are saying he returned to the Isles during the off-season," Luna replied, her voice low and measured."That he's feeding information about Frostforge to the Wardens."
"That's absurd," Thalia hissed."He was tracking their movements, not joining them."
"I know."Luna's gaze was steady, unflinching."But not everyone wants facts, Thalia.They just want someone to blame for their fear."
Thalia leaned back against the stone, exhaustion suddenly weighing on her like a physical burden."He's not as safe as he thinks he is, is he?"
"No."Luna shook her head, the metal rings in her locks clicking softly."He's on thinner ice than he believes."
"The Northerners still think he's a spy.Even after everything last year — even after he nearly died fighting the Wardens."
"Being stabbed by the enemy doesn't prove as much as you'd think," Luna murmured."Not when people are determined to see betrayal."She paused, studying Thalia's face."Einar's comment about Southerners treating him like one of their own—that's not entirely accurate, is it?"
Thalia's jaw tightened.Luna, as always, saw too much."No.Most of the other Southerners keep their distance.They're… still uncertain about him."
"Which means if Einar and his friends decide to move against Roran —"
"I might be the only one who stands with him," Thalia finished, the realization settling heavily in her chest.
Luna reached over, her fingers finding Thalia's in the darkness."Not the only one," she corrected softly."But you should talk to him.Warn him.Soon."
Thalia nodded, squeezing Luna's hand in silent gratitude.Tomorrow, she decided.She would find Roran tomorrow and make him understand.The Northern students weren't just harboring suspicions — they were planning something.And this time, they might not stop at mere whispers and glares.
As they rose to return to their rooms, Thalia cast one last glance down the corridor toward the common area.The voices had fallen silent, but the threat they carried lingered in the air, as tangible as the frost creeping across Frostforge's ancient stones.
***
The mess hall's warmth hit Thalia like a physical force as she stepped through the arched doorway, a welcome reprieve from Frostforge's biting corridors.Steam rose from copper cauldrons along the far wall, carrying the bland scent of Northern porridge that never quite satisfied her Southern palate.Her eyes swept across the crowded tables, past clusters of first-years huddled together like nervous prey, past instructors with their ramrod postures and watchful gazes, until she found him — Roran, alone at the end of a long table, spooning porridge into his mouth with theatrical reluctance.
She wove between the tables, ignoring the occasional glances that followed her path.Three years at Frostforge had taught her to recognize the weight of stares — the curious, the dismissive, the hostile.Today, they seemed heavier somehow, charged with something beyond the usual Northern disdain for Southern students.
Roran spotted her approach and his face brightened."There she is," he called, his voice carrying just enough to turn a few nearby heads."Come suffer this Northern excuse for breakfast with me.I swear they make it bland on purpose."He gestured to the gray mass in his bowl."Remember when breakfast meant freshly sliced fruit?Smoked fish on nut bread?I’d kill for some nut bread."
