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My stomach lurches as my platform rises, separating me from Sapphire and Thalia.

When it stops, I’m facing an obsidian throne covered in frost that shouldn’t be possible in this infernal heat. Sitting upon it, watching me with silver eyes so like my own, is the Lonely King from the vision in the Cosmic Tides.

But here, in this chamber, his face is lined with cruelty rather than emptiness. His eyes are flat and dead, holding cold calculation and absolute power. And his crown isn’t one of ice. Instead, it’s made of sharp, obsidian daggers that gleam like death in the fiery chamber around us.

In his hand, he holds a blade the same size as mine. Dark blood drips from its edge, sizzling as it falls to the stone, and shadows dance along its length like living things.

“Is this supposed to scare me?” I ask, ice crawling over my own blade. “Some twisted reflection to make me doubt myself?”

The Lonely King doesn’t respond. He simply stands, his movements unnaturally fluid, and steps down from his throne.

Magic surges through me, and I charge forward, Frostbite aimed at his heart. My strike is perfect—the culmination of decades of Winter Court training—but he parries it effortlessly, his corrupted blade meeting mine with a sound like breaking glass.

“Too predictable,” he finally speaks, his voice a hollow echo of my own. “You always were.”

His tone, his words… it’s like hearing my father speak to me, before the potion stabilized his mind.

But I won’t let him derail me. I can’t. I was victorious against my father in the Frost Arena, and I can be victorious against the Lonely King, too.

So, I press the attack, channeling more ice into my strikes, turning the air around us frigid despite the volcanic heat.

Each blow is met with equal force, each strategy countered before I can execute it. It’s like fighting my own shadow—one that knows my every move before I make it. Because he does know my every move. He’s made of every decision I’ve made. Every silent calculation. Every deadly blow.

And the more power I pour into my attacks, the stronger he grows.

“You can’t win through strength,” the Lonely King says, deflecting another attack with contemptuous ease. “I’m everything you were trained to be. Everything you still could be, if you abandon your biggest weakness.”

He glances at Sapphire, who’s fighting her shadow self with her starlit beauty that I love with my entire soul.

As if he can read my mind, he laughs—a cold, empty sound that shakes me to the core.

“I’m your future, Riven,” he says. “The only possible outcome for a Winter Prince who thought he could defy nature. You may have stopped time, but you didn’t stop me.”

Stopped time.

Executed my guards while they were frozen.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Didn’t feel anything more than my undying need to save her—my Starlight, the only thing that matters anymore. The only thing I won’t let myself lose.

“You’re wrong,” I growl, and I lunge again, channeling water and ice together in a technique Sapphire and I developed after our souls fused .

Surprise flickers across the Lonely King’s face, and his parry comes a fraction too late, Frostbite slicing across his forearm.

Darkness spills from the wound, returning to solid form almost immediately.

His expression hardens.

“You’ll never save her,” he says quietly, his voice cutting through the roar of the magma below. “You’ll only bury her beside the others.”

My rhythm falters, and his corrupted Frostbite slashes across my chest, cutting through fabric and skin. Pain flares, hot and sharp, but I tighten my grip on my sword’s hilt, forcing myself to ignore it.

“Is that what you tell yourself?” I demand, circling him carefully now. “That everyone you loved died because you couldn’t save them?”

His eyes narrow. “Love makes you weak. It clouds judgment. It leads to failure.” His voice drops lower. “Our father was right to have hardened you.”

I flinch at his words as my father’s lessons, brutal and unforgiving, echo in my mind.

The weight of them, the shame of never being enough—never being cold enough, controlled enough, or perfect enough.

Not until I killed my own men. Not until I stopped time and became the weapon he tried to forge me into.

“Maeris died because of you,” the Lonely King presses his advantage, both with blade and words. “ Everyone you love will die because of you. She’ll be scared of what you become. She’ll hate you. Maybe not yet, but she will. And then, when she does, you’ll be ruined. You’ll become me.”

Ice surges through my veins, and I strike wildly, slashing with no rhythm, no control. Just raw force that never seems to be enough.

“You should have stayed cold,” he continues, each syllable precise and cutting. “The Winter Prince. The perfect weapon. Instead, you let her in. You let yourself feel.” His lip curls in disgust. “And what has it cost you already?”

With a gesture of his hand, ice erupts from the platform beneath me, climbing up my legs and locking me in place. I struggle against it, but this ice isn’t like mine. It’s unyielding and absolute. My own magic can’t melt it.

The Lonely King approaches slowly, savoring his victory.

“You failed Maeris,” he says softly, his corrupted version of Frostbite gleaming in the volcanic light as he raises it to deliver the killing blow. “You’ll fail her, too.”

“No,” I growl, my voice steady despite the ice creeping up my waist. “I’m not you. I never will be you.”

“You will when she leaves you,” he says without so much as faltering.

“She won’t leave me,” I say, power flaring hot inside me. “You don’t get it, do you? Her love isn’t something fragile enough to break. It’s fierce enough to rewrite destinies and shatter curses. It’s powerful enough to save even someone like me.”

“Are you blind, boy?” The Lonely King sneers.

“I am you. I’m the culmination of all your past actions and all your future mistakes.

And trust me when I say that when she leaves, your heart will freeze so completely that you’ll never feel warmth or love again.

Numbness will be your only escape from the pain of losing her.

Especially when you realize you never deserved her at all. ”

My first instinct is to scream. To say he’s right. To repeat what my father drilled into me more times than I could possibly count.

But then my mind drifts back to the Lost Temple, when I saw myself the way Sapphire sees me.

I remember the reflection of a man I didn’t recognize at first—a man radiant with quiet strength, fierce loyalty, and unbreakable devotion.

Not a perfect weapon, but something far more powerful: someone worthy of being loved.

And at the memory, strength surges through me again, unstoppable and absolute.

Because Sapphire loves me—not despite who I am, but because of it.

And that love is stronger than any ice, any fear, and any shadow.

“Love isn’t about deserving,” I say steadily, my voice hard as steel as I keep my gaze level with his.

“It’s about choosing, over and over, even when it’s hard.

And Sapphire chose me. She sees everything I am, every mistake I’ve made, and she still chose me.

Your fear doesn’t stand a chance against that. Nothing does. And it never will.”