Page 23

The plane touches down, and my stomach lurches at the impact, my hands gripping the armrests so tightly that water leaks between my fingers.

I’m in another country. Not just a different state, but an entirely different country. We flew across an ocean. And now I’m in Sicily, Italy, thousands of miles from the small corner of the world I’ve ever known.

“Mount Etna awaits,” Riven says beside me, his voice low and steady.

But I can’t tear my gaze away from the scene in front of us to look at him. Instead, I keep staring out the window at the landscape that looks nothing like Maine—the rolling hills, the Mediterranean vegetation, and the quality of light that seems completely foreign.

I’ve only ever seen places like this in the movies Zoey and I would watch on our sleepovers, dreaming of adventures I didn’t think I’d ever have.

“I never thought I’d leave Presque Isle,” I whisper, mostly to myself. “And now I’m in Italy.”

Riven’s fingers find mine, his frost soothing against my skin. “It can be our first of many international adventures, Starlight,” he says, and even though this particular adventure involves entering a dangerous volcano to retrieve an ancient artifact, I smile.

T meets us at the cabin door, her wild hair moving in a breeze that doesn’t seem to touch anything else.

“This is where I leave you.” Her strange eyes shift between storm-gray and electric blue as she looks at each of us in turn. “I’ll be waiting here when you return with the Ember.”

“We appreciate your assistance,” Riven says formally, but there’s an edge to his voice that warns against further commentary.

T gives us a mocking bow, the air crackling around her as she steps aside to let us disembark.

The drive to Mount Etna takes just over an hour, and I spend most of it with my face practically pressed against the window, absorbing every vivid detail rushing past. Compared to the simple, muted buildings of Presque Isle, the architecture here feels alive, full of intricate stonework and painted in warm Mediterranean colors.

Even the landscape shines with color and motion, from lush groves of citrus trees to cobblestone streets filled with people dressed in clothing brighter and more expressive than anything I’ve seen back home.

It’s so magical that if someone told me we’d already crossed back into the mystical realm, I’d believe them.

“You look like a child at Christmas,” Riven observes, amusement warming his voice.

“This is all so... different,” I say, not even bothering to hide my wide-eyed wonder. “The Summer Court, the Winter Court, even the Wandering Wilds—they all still felt connected to my world. But this...” I gesture at the passing scenery. “This feels like I’m on another planet.”

Riven doesn’t respond at first.

When I glance over, he’s staring out the opposite window. Not at the view, but through it, as if he’s seeing something far beyond what’s there.

His expression is calm, but too still. The kind of stillness that usually means he’s bracing for something—or brooding about something.

“Are you okay?” I ask, touching his arm.

“I’m fine.” He gives me a tight smile. “Just recalibrating a lifetime of instinct telling me to avoid climates that get warmer than ice water.”

I laugh softly, relieved by the humor, but also noticing the tension in him that doesn’t fully ease.

“Just think of it as thawing out decades of stubbornness,” I offer with a small smile, although as I study him and feel the ache quietly pulsing in the deepest part of our bond, my love for him is suddenly laced with something else— protectiveness.

He needs me. I’ve known it since he sacrificed himself in the Cosmic Tides, but ever since he killed his guards in the clearing, there’s been something different about him.

Something that makes me want to reach for him and promise him that I’m here for him no matter what, that I love him unconditionally, and that together, we can get through anything.

“Careful, Starlight,” he warns, his silver eyes flashing with the sort of wild desire that makes my body feel like it’s about to be set aflame. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might thaw completely.”

My breath quickens, and I’d be on his lap kissing him in a heartbeat if we were alone. Instead, I call on the ice magic I now share with him, trying and failing to cool down.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I ask, scooting closer to him, needing him to know I’m here for him. “Because right now, I’m hoping it’s the second.”

Thalia glances over at us from her place in the passenger seat and frowns.

“This is a journey to the Pyros Vault—not to your honeymoon destination,” she says, although from the way she rolls her eyes, I have a feeling she’s not totally annoyed at us.

“How about you follow through on that dethawing promise later? In private?”

“A valid request,” Riven says to her with a knowing smirk. “After all, I suppose it would be unfair to distract my wife with my charm until after we’ve faced the life-threatening danger.”

Thalia nods in satisfaction, but for the rest of the drive, I stay curled against Riven like I’m afraid he’ll vanish if I blink. After losing him in the Cosmic Tides, I don’t think a day will go by that I’m not grateful that he’s here—solid, breathing, and mine .

But beneath that gratitude lies something else. Fear from the part of me still wonders how long he’ll stay that way—the part of me that haunts me every night in my dreams.

At the thought of the cruel version of myself from the nightmare, I lean closer into Riven, letting him ground me in the reality of the present.

He pulls me tighter, saying nothing, but I feel it through the bond: that fierce, aching devotion that wraps around me like a vice.

It’s so overwhelming in its intensity that it almost hurts to breathe.

Just as I start to drown in it, he eases off—enough to let me catch my breath, but not enough to pull away.

But it’s too late. I already know. What he feels for me is more than love.

It’s an unspoken language of its own, one that whispers to me in heartbeats and pulses through him with every breath he takes.

It’s all-consuming, almost feral in its protectiveness, and deeper than anything I’ve ever known.

“You feel it, don’t you?” He lowers his voice, brushing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “The way it keeps growing, like a storm I can’t control.”

“Do you want to control it?” I ask, since now that I’ve felt the magnitude of its intensity, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

“No,” he whispers, and when his eyes meet mine, the world shrinks to the space between us. His gaze is a gravity I can’t fight—silver, storm-dark, and locked entirely on me. “You’re the only thing that makes sense to me—the only thing worth keeping. All I want anymore is you.”

My breath leaves me all at once from the desperation in his voice—from the way it feels like he needs me to understand , to accept his unrelenting, all-devouring love as a law that can never be undone.

Words aren’t enough. At least, not any that I can find. So, I reach for his left hand, turning over his palm and tracing the letters onto the scar of frost and starlight I once carved into his skin: I love you.

His breath hitches, and he leans in—just barely. A fraction of a breath. A slow, aching tilt of his head. Close enough that if I move half an inch, our lips will touch.

He doesn’t close the gap, but he wants to. I see it in the way his jaw flexes, in the flicker of doubt and need in his eyes, and in the frost patterns he’s creating that are crawling up my arms.

Instead of a kiss, he brings my hand to his heart, holding it there as if he’s imprinting its steady rhythm into my soul.

I’m here, the gesture seems to say. And I’m not going anywhere.

I’m lost in the silver depths of his eyes when Thalia clears her throat, yanking us out of the moment.

The temperature in the car drops by several degrees. I’m not sure if it was my doing, or Riven’s. Likely both.

Neither of us speaks for the rest of the drive.

But we don’t let go of each other, either.

There’s no need. Not with the bond humming between us, a powerful, wordless confirmation that I just glimpsed something far beyond love—something limitless, intense, and almost frightening in the magnitude of how completely it consumes him.

It would scare any normal person.

Luckily for both of us, I’m a star touched fae vampire princess who brought her soulmate back from the dead, which puts me far out of any possible realm of “normal.” And I love him with every single part of my heart and soul.

We eventually park at Mount Etna and make our way up a narrow hiking path, following coordinates Maeris says will lead us to the hidden entrance.

Tourists cluster in designated viewing areas far below us, but our journey takes us to a secluded section closed to the public—one that security seems blissfully unaware we’re passing.

Apparently, the eyes of mortals typically slip over our kind.

It’s their unconscious way of protecting their minds from the knowledge that they live amongst powerful supernaturals.

After about an hour of climbing, we round a bend and stop.

Before us stands a massive stone, twice my height and nearly as wide, its surface covered in ancient carvings.

At its center is the image of a monstrous figure—part human, part serpent, with giant wings spreading out from its back.

The carving ripples in the heat, as if the creature might break free at any moment.

“Typhon,” Maeris says, looking to me, since I must be the only one who doesn’t know who—or more like what —this Typhon is. “The Father of Monsters. One of the most powerful creatures of ancient myth. He fought Zeus himself, and it took all the god’s might to imprison him beneath Mount Etna.”

“It’s said that Typhon’s rage is what causes the volcano to erupt,” Thalia adds in a tone that feels way too lighthearted for the topic at hand.

I instinctively reach for the Star Disc at my hip. “We won’t have to fight him, right?” I ask, unable to move my gaze away from the monstrous figure on the stone. Because yes, we’re powerful supernaturals, but that monster would surely take an entire fae army to defeat—if even.

I turn to Riven. “Did you know about this?” I ask him, unable to believe he’d keep something like this from me.

“I’ve heard of Typhon, yes,” he says slowly. “In children’s tales. Because Typhon is a myth. We have nothing to worry about with him.”

“Your soulmate is correct,” Maeris adds, waving it off. “The stories about Typhon are myths.”

Eventually, I nod in acceptance. Riven would never let us walk into a fight with a monster we have no way of beating.

“How do you know what’s a myth in a world where so many myths are real?” I ask, directing the question to all three of them.

Thalia scoffs. “Because we know what’s reasonable and what’s not,” she says, as if the answer should be obvious.

“A monster whose hundreds of heads in the shapes of wild beasts brush the stars, with innumerable arms, dozens of hands, and vipers from the thighs down to the ground is obviously a myth. He would have overtaken the world if he wasn’t. ”

“Well, when you say it like that…” I mutter, my focus dr ifting back to the ward stone. “How do we get through?”

“Blood,” Thalia says simply, drawing a small blade from her belt. “We each contribute. According to the texts in our ancient library, the stone will recognize the magic in our blood—it’s how the entrance knows we’re worthy to attempt the trials.”

Before we can further discuss, Maeris is in front of the stone, slicing his palm and letting a single drop of blood fall onto it. Thalia follows suit. Riven takes the blade next, making a clean cut across his palm and letting a few drops of his blood fall.

The scent hits me instantly—sharp, alluring, and delicious. But I won’t taste. Not after what happened last time. Not after…

“It’s okay, Starlight,” he says quietly, frost magic cooling the air between us. “I know. I trust you.”

His voice is soft but sure. And even though his blood still calls to me like a siren song, his trust silences the hunger.

“I love you,” I tell him, and then I take the blade and draw it across my palm, wincing at the sting. My blood—a mixture of water, air, frost, and star magic—falls onto the stone, a drop of crimson against the ancient gray.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then, the carving of Typhon begins to glow, pulsing with a deep, fiery light that spreads outward like veins of lava. The air before the stone shimmers, distorting the landscape beyond.

We all look at each other, waiting for the go ahead.

“Now,” Maeris commands, and we step forward together.

The moment we cross the threshold, the world shifts around us. The air grows thick with magic, pressing against my skin like a living thing. Colors intensify, sounds deepen, and the weight of the mortal realm falls away.

This place isn’t just old. It’s sacred.

And it’s watching.