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She—the other me, the one from the vision—stands above Zoey and Riven’s broken bodies, dagger raised and ready. Blood’s splattered on her dress, and her eyes are hollow. Empty. No remorse in sight.

Because they’re also the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

Her expression is a mask of perfect calm. As if killing the people I love most in the world is nothing more than crushing an insect beneath her boot.

She reaches into the darkness and pulls out a torch, flames licking at the air. And from the way she stares down at Riven and Zoey’s bodies, the fire casting shadows across her face…

No, I try to scream, but the word claws at my throat, refusing to break through .

I try again.

Still, nothing.

All I can do is watch as this version of me smiles.

It’s not cruel—cruelty I could hate.

It’s knowing. Satisfied. Like this was always the plan.

“No,” I mouth again, the word silent and useless.

My chest tightens as panic, fury, and desperation swirl inside me, like an avalanche of sound trapped beneath skin and bone.

But still, my voice betrays me. My feet won’t move.

I claw at the invisible force holding me back—tearing at the magic, or the fear, or whatever the hell else is paralyzing me—but it doesn’t budge.

“Do you see now?” she asks, her voice soft and melodic, blending into the hiss and snap of the flames. “This is what we’re capable of. This is what we become. This is the power we’ll have.”

The torch leaves her hand, arcing through the air in slow motion, like a comet trailing destruction.

It hits Riven’s chest first, swallowing his body in an instant.

Then it spreads to Zoey.

I can’t move. I can’t scream. I can’t even cry. It’s like I’m drowning, my chest burning more and more with every passing second, and then?—

A sharp breath tears through my lungs as I’m jolted awake, my heart pounding, my body shaking .

Beside me, Riven sleeps soundly.

He looks younger in sleep, the razor-sharp edges of the Winter Prince softened by vulnerability. And as I gather myself together, I brush a strand of midnight hair from his forehead.

He’s here, I tell myself. Alive. It was only a dream.

It has to only be a dream. Because I would never take him from the world. I don’t care what that twisted version of my future self says. I couldn’t become her. I just couldn’t.

But as much as I want to hear Riven’s voice telling me that it’s okay—that he’s here, and he’ll always be here—I won’t wake him. Not when he’s finally found peace in sleep.

He’s been sleeping deeper since we gave his father the potion. Like he’s finally let himself stop waiting for disaster to strike.

I envy him in that peace. But after that dream… I don’t want to go back to sleep. I don’t want to be pulled into that nightmare all over again.

So, I slip out of bed, pulling a robe tight around me, and quietly step onto the balcony.

The cold hits me immediately.

It’s not uncomfortable. Not anymore, with the ice that’s been running through my veins since my soul fused with Riven’s. Now, his winter magic runs alongside mine, turning what should be discomfort into something almost... pleasant.

The Winter Court sleeps below me, peaceful and still. But I know better than to trust this calm. Because the Night Court is still out there, needing to be stopped.

Zoey’s still out there, needing to be saved.

I close my eyes, and for a moment, I see that vision from the Tides—that other version of Riven and me. The one where we laughed at our perfect wedding, surrounded by friends and family. Where his mother lived, and we never endured the trials that forged us.

There was an ease to their happiness. Something untouched by darkness.

They weren’t us, but at the same time, they were.

Will we ever have that? Or are we destined to always live on the edge of catastrophe, bracing for the next battle, the next betrayal, and the next impossible choice?

“You should be sleeping,” Riven says from behind me, low and soft.

I take a deep breath and savor the awareness of him—the way my body responds to his presence, even before he touches me.

“So should you,” I say, turning to look at him.

He stands in the doorway, moonlight dancing across the beautifully perfect sharp angles of his face. Even in soft linen sleep clothes, his body is all lean muscle and grace—the body of a warrior, of a prince... of my husband.

His lips quirk upward, eyes locked on mine.

“I was sleeping,” he says. “Then you left, and the bed got cold and emotionally empty.”

He gives me a small smile, but I can’t return it—not after the images haunting my mind from the dream.

“Sorry,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, trying and failing to shake it off . “I just needed…”

I trail off. Because what do I need?

I need to stop having that dream. I need to stop seeing Riven and Zoey dead at my feet. I need to stop feeling like I’m one terrible choice away from becoming her.

Riven crosses the balcony in three silent strides. His hands find my shoulders, his touch grounding me, pulling me back from the nightmare’s edge.

“I know that look,” he says softly. “You had the dream again.”

“It was worse this time,” I say, and his gaze sharpens, the sleepy warmth in his eyes turning alert. “She burned you. She didn’t hesitate. I love you so much, and she did that to you, and I couldn’t do anything to stop her, and…”

I suck in a sharp breath, my cheeks wet with tears. I don’t even know when I started crying, but they’re there, hot behind my eyes, more of them threatening to break free at any second.

Riven’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“You’re not her,” he says firmly, his lips brushing my temple. “You could never become her.”

“But what if I do?” I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. “What if everything we’ve been through turns me into someone you don’t recognize?”

“If that ever happened, I’d feel it,” he says, brushing away my tears. “Through our bond. I’d know.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I say.

His eyes flicker with amusement. “Says the girl who fused her soul with mine to bring me back from the dead.”

“That was different,” I say, although I can’t help smiling slightly.

“Yes, it was,” he agrees. “But the love between us? That’s the same. No—it’s stronger.” His voice deepens, conviction ringing through every word. “I love you, Sapphire Hayes. And I will never let this world—or anything else—take you from me.”

I press my forehead to his chest, letting the truth of his words fill the cracks the nightmare left behind.

“I feel it, you know,” I whisper. “Your love. In everything you do.”

“I’ll never stop showing you,” he says. “Because I spent too long thinking I didn’t deserve to love you, or to be loved by you. Now, I know I do. And I’m here for you, always, until the end of time.”

His hands slip lower, one settling at the curve of my back, the other brushing the scar on my palm—the one he gave me when we sealed our vows in the Tides.

He traces those same eight letters onto my skin that he did in the ocean at Montauk: I love you.

My throat tightens. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

“I’ll allow it,” he says dryly. “As long as they’re tears of love and not more post-nightmare trauma.”

I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You really know how to ruin a moment.”

“Yet you married me anyway,” he says with that smirk I’ve come to love all too much.

“I love you,” I tell him, and then, rising on tiptoes, I kiss him—slow and intentional. There’s no urgency. Just the steady, reassuring pressure of his lips against mine.

His magic responds, ice and water swirling around us in a dance that mirrors the emotions flowing through our bond. And as we kiss, the world falls away until there’s nothing but us, standing together under the star-filled sky of endless winter.

When we break apart, I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It’s the most reassuring sound in the world. It’s a reminder that we survived the impossible—the dryad’s deal, Eros’s lead arrow, the Cosmic Tides, and so much more.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Everything that’s coming next,” I tell him, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “The Night Court. Zoey. All of it.”

His expression hardens. “We’ll get her back.”

“How?” The word comes out more desperate than I intend. “We don’t even know what condition she’s in, if they’ve hurt her, if she’s even?—”

“One step at a time,” he interrupts, catching my hands in his. “First, we go to the Summer Court for our diplomatic mission to publicly establish our alliance, and to pool our resources. Then we take it from there. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, steadying myself—grounding myself in him.

He pauses for a few heartbeats, drinking in every inch of me.

“I’m going to keep you safe, Sapphire,” he says, the sharpness in his eyes intense enough that it could cut through realms. “No matter what creatures from nightmares jump out at us, I’ll keep you safe, through all of it. I swear it.”

“I know you will,” I say, giving him a small smile. “But as a reminder… I’m not exactly defenseless myself.”

“You do look so incredibly sexy when you throw that Star Disc,” he says, his vibe easily shifting to match my own.

“And you look so incredibly sexy when you do… anything,” I say, since it’s impossible to pick only one.

“Then it’s a good thing we’ll have an entire carriage to ourselves for three days straight while we make our way to the Summer Court.” He smiles mischievously, his fingers skimming my waist. “Plenty of time and privacy to fully appreciate each other.”

“A carriage?” I pull back, blinking at him. “You mean a horse-drawn carriage through the fae realm?”

A small smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, a carriage,” he says. “How else did you expect us to get there?”

“Portaling to the mortal realm, stealing a car, and entering the Summer Court through Central Park?” Magic stirs beneath my skin, responding to my frustration. “Wouldn’t that be faster?”

“Faster, yes—assuming there are no roadblocks to slow us down. More strategic, no. We’ll have a royal entourage.

” Riven shakes his head, as if suggesting anything else is appalling.

“It will show the Summer Court that we’re strong and united.

Besides, fae avoid entering the mortal realm when possible.

We’re not…” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “We don’t belong there.”

“So, Zoey stays captive for longer because fae are allergic to roads and highways?” I frown, my voice rising. “We both know how to drive. And, for your benefit, I’ll let you DJ this time around.”

“You’d really submit yourself to… what did you call it again?” he asks, giving me a knowing smirk as he thinks. “A brooding orchestral piece to match my whole frozen heart aesthetic?”

I smile at his perfect recollection. “I happen to love your frozen heart aesthetic,” I tell him, trailing a finger up his chest. “Especially when that heart melts for me.”

“I will always melt for you,” he says quietly, serious again. “And I never told you, but that third song—the one you settled on…”

I tense. “What about it?”

“I hated it because it worked. Because it drowned me out.” His voice is raw now, stripped of every defense. “And in that moment, I needed to be drowned out. Because if you’d let me speak, I would have said something I couldn’t take back.”

A pause stretches between us. The kind that doesn’t feel peaceful, but earned.

“What would you have said?” I ask, breathing slower as I wait.

“I would have told you that I loved you,” he says. “That even though I didn’t remember loving you before that dryad’s deal, I’d already fallen in love with you again.”

I stare at him, heart pounding, because there’s nothing clever to say to that. No comeback sharp enough to hide the way my chest feels like it’s splintering open from the intensity of his words.

He pulls me back into his arms again, and as always, I sink into him as if he’s where I’m meant to be.

“Come back to bed,” he murmurs against my hair. “You need rest.”

“And if the dream comes back?” I ask.

His arm tightens around me. “Then I’ll wake you up and remind you that you’re the woman who brought me back from death.

The woman who saved her best friend from drowning when they were children.

The woman who defied a king, fought gods, and who has the capacity to love deeper than anyone I’ve ever known.

” His voice drops lower. “The woman who will never become the monster in her dreams—because she questions whether or not she could.”

I lean back to look at him, surprised by the fierceness in his eyes. “What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means that the ones you should fear are those who don’t doubt their capacity for darkness,” he explains. “Not the ones who are haunted by it every night in their dreams.”

I reach up, cradling his face between my hands.

“If I ever forget who I am, it’ll be because I gave every last piece of myself to you,” I tell him. “Because I love you, Riven Draevor. I always have, and I always will. ”

With that, I let him lead me back inside, and we settle beneath the sheets, his arms wrapped securely around me.

I might never be able to escape the visions of what I could become.

But at least I’ll never have to face them alone.