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Steam explodes outward as Thalia drives her sword deeper into the monster’s molten skin. Its fiery eyes widen, and then it gives one final, earth-shattering screech, collapsing into cooling stone.

Thalia stands over its remains, her blade embedded in its chest, her shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. Burns are already healing along her arms, and blood trickles from mending cuts across her face, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“He’s gone,” she says, her voice hollow as she yanks her blade free, her eyes glazed with grief. “Maeris is gone. Just… gone.”

A gust of wind scatters what remains of Maeris’s ashes across the crater floor, golden flecks of summer magic rising with them before dissipating into nothing.

Thalia looks… shattered. And my heart breaks for he r.

Because I know what that feeling is like.

The moment when you think the love of your life—your soulmate —is gone.

The devastation when you realize you’ll never see his beautiful eyes again, or have him give you that soft smile reserved only for you, or feel his heartbeat under your palm…

It’s the type of pain that empowered me to project my soul into Riven’s body and drag him back from death.

But there is no bringing Maeris back. He’s really, truly gone. And Thalia will have to live with that awful feeling—the devastation that I only had to endure for minutes—for the rest of her immortal life.

Riven’s eyes are fixed on what remains of the scattered ash, his jaw clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

“This is my fault,” he says, the words barely audible.

I move to his side, reaching for his hand. “Riven?—”

“No.” He jerks away, ice spreading out from the ground where he stands. “I was the one who split us up. I told Maeris and Thalia to take that monster while we handled the other one.”

Thalia turns, her eyes meeting Riven’s. For a moment, I think she might attack him—there’s something dangerous in her expression—but she simply stares, her grief too fresh for blame .

“I should have done it differently,” Riven continues, his voice rising. “ I should have?—”

“Stop,” I interrupt, stepping in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “You couldn’t have known what would happen.”

But even as I say the words, a small, treacherous part of me sees his point.

Riven and I together have more magic than either of the summer warriors individually. If we’d split differently, maybe Maeris would still be alive.

I hate myself for even thinking it. But the thought is still there. And now that it’s surfaced, I can’t push it back down.

Riven must see it in my eyes, because his expression hardens.

“You see it, too,” he says quietly. “You know I made the wrong call.”

I say nothing for a few seconds. Because firstly, I can’t lie, since I’m fae. Secondly, Riven would be able to feel it if I tried to dance around the truth. He knows me too well for us to play those sorts of games anymore. The soul fusing made sure of it.

“What I know,” I say firmly, keeping my eyes locked on his, “is that we were faced with two deadly monsters and had seconds to react. You made the best decision you could with the information you had.”

But Riven is already shaking his head, pacing now, frost spreading with each step. His hands curl into fists, his breath coming faster.

“I told you to fight with me, and the others to fight together,” he says. “I did that. I gave that order.”

His guilt radiates through the bond—a crushing, suffocating weight that threatens to pull him under. It’s not just sadness or regret. It’s condemnation. A deep, visceral self-loathing that makes my chest ache.

But telling him this isn’t his fault isn’t helping him feel better. Because no matter what I want him to feel, that isn’t how he feels. Repeating it to him won’t change that.

If I want to help, I need to understand where he’s coming from. I need him to communicate with me. To trust me with the pain instead of only the love and protection.

“Can you explain your logic to me?” I finally say, trying to sound as level-headed and calm as possible, despite the flames burning around us. “Help me understand why you made that call?”

He stops pacing, his silver eyes finding mine. The vulnerability there—the rawness—makes my heart stop.

He breathes slower now, thinking.

“Maeris and Thalia are centuries-old summer warriors,” he finally says, each word precise and deliberate. “Highly decorated, known for fighting in perfect sync. They’ve survived wars together. You don’t split up a bonded unit like that—it’s tactically unsound.”

I nod, encouraging him to continue.

“I assumed pairing them was the smartest call,” he admits. “They’ve survived together for far longer than I’ve been alive.”

“That makes sense,” I say gently. “Anyone would have made the same decision.”

His fingers curl into fists at his sides, frost cracking around them. “But in hindsight, experience didn’t matter,” he continues. “Elemental balance did. If I’d paired each of them with one of us, we could have balanced their water with our air and ice?—”

He breaks off, his shame sharpening through our bond.

“And there’s something else,” he says finally, his voice dropping. “I didn’t want you out of my sight. And that—” his voice cracks “—that is where I failed Maeris. I let emotion cloud my judgment, and he paid the price.”

I reach for him again, and this time, he doesn’t pull away.

His skin is ice-cold beneath my fingers, and all that does it make me hold him tighter, steadier. Because colder doesn’t scare me. Silence doesn’t scare me.

Losing him does.

“Listen to me,” I say, pouring all my conviction into my words. “You made a call based on decades of tactical knowledge. Like you said, Maeris and Thalia were a unit. It made sense to keep them together. This isn’t your fault.”

His gaze remains locked on where our fingers are intertwined, refusing to meet my eyes.

Thalia’s voice cuts through the tension, surprising us both. “She’s right,” she says, and when I look at her, I find her standing over what remains of Maeris, her expression unreadable.

I swallow, unable to find words. Because what could I possibly say? That everything will be okay? That Maeris died a hero? That his sacrifice will be worth it after we save the world from the Night Court and the Blood Coven?

Those words would feel empty. Because right now, none of that matters—not when the remains of her soulmate are scattering away in the wind. Not when those specks of ash might be the last parts of him she’ll ever see.

And so, I respectfully wait for her to continue, as grateful as ever for Riven’s hand in mine.

“Maeris and I have fought together for centuries. No one would have split us up.” Thalia’s eyes harden.

“So, stop your self-pity, Winter Prince. Maeris died because these monsters were designed to kill, and today, one of them succeeded. If you want to honor him, help me complete this mission so his death wasn’t for nothing. ”

Riven stares at her, his frost curling back inside him, his thumb tracing light patterns across my palm.

I love you.

As he traces the letters, I feel his guilt shift—not disappearing, but changing. Becoming something more complex. More resolved.

“You’re right,” he finally says to Thalia, and I squeeze his hand, the bond pulsing with shared love and determination.

He’s not the only one who loves with everything he has.

“We’ll make it count,” I promise, although whether I’m speaking to Riven, Thalia, or the scattered ashes of Maeris, I’m not entirely sure.

Thalia spins around without another word, heading for the crater with determined steps. Her shoulders are rigid, her body radiating grief that she’s trying to contain through sheer willpower alone.

I stay back with Riven, watching her go. Through our bond, I can still feel his guilt, raw and heavy. It’s deepened after what I said. Hardened into something dangerous.

“What’s really wrong?” I ask him softly.

He stares at the place where Maeris fell, his silver eyes reflecting the embers still floating in the air. He’s so quiet that I don’t expect him to say anything. Not here, not when what he’s struggling with is so fresh .

“Maybe it wasn’t just strategy,” he admits, his voice so low I have to lean in to hear him. “Maybe I just made the wrong call.” His eyes find mine, and the anguish in them steals my breath away. “Maybe I just wanted to protect you.”

The confession hangs between us like smoke. Too fragile to hold, and too thick to ignore.

“My love for you,” he continues, clenching and unclenching his fist, those delicate, beautiful frost patterns crawling along it, “became Maeris’s death sentence.”

I step closer, my chest aching for him, my heart pounding from the sheer intensity of his love.

“I wanted to be fighting with you, too,” I tell him, gentle but firm, needing him to believe me.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. I know it’s been drilled into you as a child, and that’s something that’s going to take years, or even decades, to overcome, but emotions—love—they’re not a weakness, Riven. ”

“No,” he says, his voice sharp as the ice forming around us.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.

That’s the problem. I don’t care—not at all.

Because the only thing I care about is you.

The rest of the world, and everyone else in it, can freeze for all I care.

Having you with me is the only thing that matters now.

It’s the only thing that will ever matter. ”

He shakes his head and trails off, our bond dulling again—like a light being dimmed, or a sound suddenly muffled.

I could push. I could draw him back out, like when I dragged his soul back to his body in the Cosmic Tides, and remind him that our love has saved us time and again.

But I don’t.

He’ll come back when he’s ready. This isn’t like before, when the dryad stole his love or when Eros’s arrow poisoned my heart. This is Riven processing his guilt the only way he knows how—by retreating inward.

And that’s okay. It’s more than okay—I want him to do it. I want him to work through what he’s feeling. We all carry our pain differently. That’s one of the beautiful, messy parts of being alive.

What matters is that we always come back to each other in the end.

Nothing in this universe is strong enough to drive us apart.

And if anything ever does try… it will regret it for the rest of its existence.

Because the side of Riven I just saw while he was fighting that monster could destroy everything that ever gets in our path, without hesitation or remorse.

It’s dangerous, but I know exactly what fuels it—an unbreakable, all-consuming love, fierce enough to shatter worlds and rewrite destinies.

“Let’s go help Thalia,” I say gently, my water magic still reaching for him, even as I step away. “And Riven… I love you. I’m here for you when you’re ready. I’m always here for you.”

His eyes flick to mine, gratitude in their silver depths. And as I turn to follow Thalia, I let my fingers brush Riven’s—a fleeting touch, but one that says everything words can’t.

I’m here. I understand. I love you anyway.

And through our bond, as dulled as it is, I feel the faintest echo in response.

It’s flickering, fragile, but beneath that fragility lies the fierce promise of something unbreakable. Something that will always lead us to the only home we have left—each other.