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I reach for him, needing to bridge the space between us, to offer some comfort in this nightmare. But my fingers barely brush his arm before time resumes.

Bodies fall. Blood spills.

I want to turn away, but something inside mecan’t.

Riven steps away, turning to survey the clearing with clinical detachment. “Let’s get this over with,” he says, moving away from me to gather some wood.

I swallow the hurt and follow his lead, channeling my energy into the grim task at hand. Nebula and Ghost patrol the perimeter, alert for any new threats.

When the work is finally done, Riven stands before the pyre, staring at Calder’s body. There’s so much death—and all of it because Calder couldn’t accept change. Couldn’t acceptme.

Flames crackle as they consume what’s left of the Winter Court guards. Neither of us speaks for what feels like an eternity.

“I thought some of them were my friends,” Riven says quietly, like he’s speaking to himself instead of to me. “As much as I could call anyone friends, at least.Being a winter prince never allowed much room for that. Friendship requires equals, and I’ve never been allowed equals. Especially when my father made it clear that I wasn’t deserving of love—or deserving of having anyone care about me as anything more than a deadly weapon for the Winter Court.”

“You have me now,” I remind him softly, stepping closer, needing to ease the ache radiating through our bond. “You’ll always have me.”

The moment the words leave my lips, the image of me standing over Riven’s body, blood-soaked dagger in hand, my eyes hollow with hate, flashes through my mind.

All rivers reach the sea eventually. No matter how many branches they take along the way.

That’s what she—the version of myself in the vision—said to me. And then there was the newest version of the nightmare, where she conjured that torch and burned Riven and Zoey’s bodies…

“What are you thinking?” Riven asks me, apparently feeling my troubled thoughts through the bond.

It’s moments like these that I wish I could lie. Or that I was at least as skilled as Riven is at spinning truths from lies.

“Sapphire?” he presses again, and something in his eyes tells me that he needs to know—that he won’t rest until I tell him.

“I was remembering the Tides,” I say simply, hoping to leave it at that.

“Whatwere you remembering from the Tides?”

“The visions,” I say softly. “The nightmare. The one of me…” I trail off and glance at the burning bodies.

“We shattered the Tides,” he says sharply, reaching for me and lacing his fingers through mine. “We carved our vows in blood and starlight. You won’t become her, just like how I won’t become that frozen shell of a king, alone on the throne.”

I exhale shakily, his words grounding me, like a tether to the present.

“I love you,” I say the only words that come into my mind. “I’m yours forever.”

Ghost rumbles low in his chest. Not a growl, but something softer. A sound of approval.

“As is Ghost,” I add, my eyes traveling up Riven’s sword to meet his gaze again. “And Frostbite.”

I can’t help but smile at that last part.

Riven breathes out a short, almost disbelieving laugh, as if the sound surprises him after all this ruin.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” He shakes his head, his eyes losing some of their haunted shadows.

“The fact that you named your favorite weapon when you were five?” I tease, squeezing his hand. “No, I don’t think I will. But it’s endearing. Honestly.”

“Then perhaps you should join in with yours.” He gestures to the Star Disc at my side. “That thing should have a proper name.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” he says, but there’s a hint of playfulness in his voice that tells me he’s trying—for my sake—to lift us both from the weight of what just happened. “How about Comet?”