Page 4

RIVEN

Blood wells from the cut, dripping onto the cosmic sand, dulling its sparkle where it lands.

Sapphire’s hand grabs my wrist, her eyes wide with horror.

“What are you doing?” she whispers, her fingers tightening around my arm, her nails biting into my skin.

I don’t reply. I don’t need to. Because she already knows. And the pain in her eyes—that unbearable mix of fear and accusation—is sharper than any dagger could ever be.

Instead, I stare at Cetus, searching his body for the wound I inflicted upon myself.

There’s nothing. Not even a scratch.

It didn’t work.

The realization hits like a gut punch—a final, cruel twist of the weapon dangling by my side. Because if removing myself from this nightmare could have ended it, I would have driven the blade deeper in a heartbeat.

Instead, I stare at the wound in my arm, hating it. Because this was meant to be a sacrifice. A way to spare Sapphire from the impossible choice that’s slowly destroying her.

Cetus smiles slowly, his lips pulling back to reveal rows of sharp, glistening teeth.

So eager to die, Winter Prince, he taunts. But your pain is just that—pain. Meaningless, futile, and so beautifully tragic.

He strikes again, lightning-fast, his claws raking toward Sapphire.

“No!” I shout, throwing myself over her, ice erupting from my palms to form a shield that shatters instantly.

The force hurls me aside, slamming me into the sand and knocking the air from my lungs.

When I look up, horror freezes my veins. Because Cetus has Sapphire pinned beneath one massive claw, pressing down, crushing her.

I stagger to my feet, ice solidifying in my hand as I mold it into a deadly blade.

Strike me, Winter Prince, Cetus goads me, pressing down harder on Sapphire, forcing a strangled cry from her lips. Kill me and watch her die.

Rage and desperation rush like frost through my veins. I want to rip him apart and carve into him until there’s nothing left but stardust and blood. I want to tear him from reality, to end him so brutally that the universe will forget he ever existed.

But I can’t.

And that makes me hate him—and myself—even more.

Sapphire gasps beneath his crushing weight, her fingers clawing at the sand, fighting for air.

But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.

And if keeping her alive means inflicting pain upon her now—if it means hurting her to save her—then I’ll become that monster. Because I can’t lose her. Not like this. Not ever.

I meet her eyes, my soul breaking apart.

“Forgive me,” I whisper, my voice fractured with anguish as I rush forward and drive my dagger into Cetus’s side.

Sapphire’s scream tears through me, shredding my heart to pieces.

Cetus recoils, roaring in pain, releasing her.

I hurry to Sapphire’s side and gather her broken body in my arms. She trembles against my chest, her breathing shallow, her life slipping through my fingers as I desperately try to hold onto her.

You will destroy each other, Cetus says, circling us hungrily, his blood spilling out of his wounds and staining his scales. It’s inevitable. Fate always wins in the end.

“No,” I growl, ice crackling around me, spreading outward as if it can drown this place in frost. “You’re wrong.”

Am I? Cetus tilts his head, watching me with ancient eyes. Look at her. See what you’ve done to her.

Everything left in me—which isn’t much—breaks when I do. Because Sapphire’s fading in my arms, her breathing shallow, her skin growing colder. Her blood stains my hands, her wounds a reflection of my failures, her life slipping away in rhythm with my shattered heart.

“You have to fight,” I whisper to her, trembling. “You have to kill him.”

She won’t, Cetus interrupts. And neither will you. The only question left is—will you end her pain, or shall I?

Fury roars to life inside me and explodes outward, savage and lethal, slicing through Cetus in a burst of glittering violence.

Sapphire convulses in my arms, fresh wounds ripping across her body, mirroring the ones I carved into the monster.

“No!” I choke out, horror consuming me as I hold her tighter, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice shaking, my soul fracturing, my entire existence breaking apart. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Cetus laughs, a cruel, weakened rasp. Even bleeding—even barely standing—he laughs.

Beautiful, he says, his voice echoing in my mind with sadistic satisfaction. Your suffering is exquisite.

I cradle Sapphire close, my grip desperate, as if holding her tighter can prevent the inevitable. But her blood stains my skin, and the darkness at the edges of my vision whispers the cruelest truth of all—every attempt I’ve made to save her has pushed her closer to death.

One more strike might kill her.

And one more strike can save her—if she’s the one who makes it.

“You just need to sit up,” I beg, praying to any god in the universe who might still care about me that she’ll listen. “Throw your dagger at his heart. Use your air magic to guide it. You’ll get it on the first try.”

She lifts a shaking hand, her bloodied fingers brushing my cheek, and I lean into the touch, starving for it.

“No,” she whispers again, her voice soft and fragile, already fading.

I close my eyes briefly.

Hold it together, I think, and then I open my eyes again, letting her see the agony that’s destroying me from within. Because maybe if she sees how shattered I am, she’ll fight for herself—for us.

“If you don’t do it, I’ll lose you.” My voice is hoarse, wrecked in a way that I didn’t know was possible. “And I’d rather you put a blade through my heart than watch you die.”

Her hand tightens around my wrist, but there’s no strength left in her grip. She’s barely holding on, barely here, barely breathing.

And it’s all my fault.

My gaze shifts to the cut on my arm, to my sacrifice bleeding onto the sand.

It’s deeper than I intended. Too deep.

Or maybe it was exactly what I intended. Because I’d rather bleed out next to her than live without her.

“It has to be you,” she chokes out, pleading with eyes bright from pain and grief. “You’re the one with the strength right now to do it. You have to be the one who lives.”

I exhale sharply and press my forehead to hers, desperate for any connection, for any warmth that might anchor us together.

I don’t accept what she’s saying. I can’t.

“I’m an insufferable, arrogant Winter Prince, remember?” I say roughly, tightening my hold. “I don’t take orders, I don’t listen, and I don’t play by anyone’s rules. So if you think I’m going to keep existing in an empty, meaningless version of reality that doesn’t have you in it, then you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

She’s silent for a moment, and I think she’s going to say okay.

I should have known her better.

“No,” she whispers fiercely, the single word sharp enough to pierce my heart. “You don’t get to choose this for me.”

There she is—my fiery, star touched princess who’s shattered pieces of my soul I didn’t know existed.

“Maybe not,” I say, my voice thick with emotion, “but I get to choose what I can live with. And I sure as hell can’t live without you.”

Leaving no room for argument, I lower us onto the cosmic sand, cradling her with the soul-crushing knowledge that this is the last time I ever will.