Page 31

“There it is,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the bubbling magma. “The Ember.”

Riven stands beside me, frost forming and melting around him in rapid cycles, his silver eyes reflecting the Ember’s glow. “It’s beautiful,” he says softly, and then his gaze flickers to me. “But nowhere as close to as beautiful as you.”

“Careful, Winter Prince.” I arch an eyebrow, my lips curving into a small smile. “Keep sweet-talking me like that and I might forget we’re standing next to a deadly pit of magma.”

“Then allow me to remind you,” he says softly, leaning closer, his breath cool against my ear. “Deadly situations have always been my preferred form of romance.”

Thalia clears her throat, pulling me out of my Riven- induced haze. “Do you mind saving the romantic banter until we’re no longer in mortal peril?” she says. “Unless you’re eager to join my soulmate in the afterlife.”

Her words slice through the air, and Riven tenses beside me, frost patterns crawling up his arms before shattering in the heat. Guilt pulses through our bond—raw, fresh, and volcanic beneath his composed exterior.

But I don’t have a chance to say anything, because the platform shudders, sending a spray of rocks skittering into the lava below.

“We need to move,” I say, my eyes fixed on the Ember hovering above the central platform—impossibly far across a sea of molten rock. “Now.”

The distance stretches before us, at least thirty feet of bubbling magma between our crumbling ledge and the stone pedestal.

“It’s too far to jump,” Riven says, his voice clipped. “Even with air magic, the heat would drag us down before we made it halfway there.”

Another tremor rocks the platform, more violent than the last, splitting the stone between my feet.

I leap back, nearly colliding with Thalia.

“Whatever we’re going to do,” Thalia says, “we need to do it now.”

My fingers find my Star Disc at my hip, and I flash back to the disintegrating tower in the Cosmic Tides— to the moment Riven and I leaped through nothingness to reach the spectral ship.

“The Star Disc,” I say, pulling it free. “It can glide us across.”

Riven’s eyes meet mine, understanding flooding through our bond. “Like in the Tides.”

“Exactly.” I grip the Disc tighter, its energy responding to my touch. “I’ll hold onto the edges, you’ll hold onto me, and we’ll use our air magic to propel us forward.”

Thalia’s expression darkens as she glances between us and the Ember. “It can carry three?” she asks.

I swallow, knowing the answer—and hating it.

“No,” I admit, the weight of it settling in my chest. “Only two.”

Riven’s frost patterns intensify, spreading across the ground at his feet and melting into steam.

I brace myself for him to say he’ll stay instead of Thalia. That he’ll sacrifice himself.

He says nothing. His eyes are simply locked onto the Ember, a sharp, dangerous glint in them that I don’t recognize at all. Because it’s not calculation. It’s certainty. If the choice was me or the world, he would let the world freeze over entirely.

The platform lurches beneath us, dropping several inches with a sickening crack.

Panic shoots through the bond, and then Riven’s arms are around me, pulling me flush against him, keeping me steady. His heart is racing—almost like for a moment there, he thought he’d lost me all over again.

I almost tell him not to worry about me—that I’m fine—but something holds me back. Because the fear pulsing through him from the bond is strong. It’s a living, breathing thing that scares me nearly as much as it scares him.

“It’s okay,” I tell him softly, steadily. “I’m okay.”

He exhales, as if he needed me to say it for him to truly believe it.

Which, in its own way, terrifies me. Because if this is how he got after a fake-out drop from a floating platform, what’s going to happen to him when the threat increases?

Will he be able to stop looking out for me enough to look after himself?

Or will his dedication to keeping me safe be what destroys him in the end?

“I know,” he says, his voice tight and barely audible, as if trying to reassure himself more than me. “Just stay close. Okay?”

“I’m right here,” I murmur, offering him the steadiness he desperately needs.

The tension leaves his shoulders, and his breathing steadies, clearing the fog of fear enough for his logic to resurface.

“Thalia’s right,” he says after taking a few more seconds to make sure I’m not about to slip through his fingers and fall into the magma below. “If either of us dies, the courts fracture. If the alliance falls?—”

“The Night Court wins,” I finish. “And thousands die.”

“Millions, eventually,” Thalia adds. “I knew what I signed up for when I took my oath to the Summer Court, and when I made the deal with Queen Lysandra to protect the two of you at all costs. This is my duty, and I will fulfill it.”

Another violent tremor shakes the platform, chunks of rock the size of my head breaking away and plunging into the lava with sickening hisses.

We have seconds—not minutes.

“Sapphire.” Riven’s voice is strained, his hand finding mine, holding it like a man grasping the edge of a cliff. “We need to go.”

I glance at Thalia, guilt filling my chest.

“Thalia...” My voice breaks on her name.

Her expression softens. “Tell them I found peace,” she says, her fingers going to a small ring hanging from a chain around her neck. “Tell them I wasn’t afraid.”

Riven’s turmoil pulses through the bond—a mixture of shame and resolve. And then the platform gives another sickening lurch, more stone breaking away beneath our feet.

“Go!” Thalia shouts, water erupting around her in one final, defiant display. “Now! ”

I position the Star Disc above my head, gripping it with both hands.

Riven steps behind me, his arms circling my waist, his chest pressed against my back.

“On three,” I say, gathering my air magic despite the stifling heat. “Don’t let go.”

“I’ll never let go,” he replies. “No matter what I have to do to stay with you and keep you with me… for me, it’ll always be you.”

“And you better believe I’m holding you to it,” I say, and then I begin counting before the magma beneath us can terrify me more than it already is.

“One... two...”

“Three!” we shout together, taking a running leap from the edge of the crumbling platform.

We drop.

My air magic explodes behind us, Riven’s joining mine, propelling us forward. The Star Disc catches the current, and suddenly we’re soaring, the Disc humming with energy as it guides our flight.

I look back in time to see Thalia press the ring to her lips and run to the edge of what remains of the platform, gathering her magic in a desperate surge. She leaps with all her strength, water erupting beneath her to boost her jump.

For a breathless moment, she soars through the air .

“She’s trying to follow us,” I cry, hope flaring in my chest.

But her water dissolves into steam, her momentum stalls, and she begins to fall.

“No!” I scream, reaching out with my air magic, trying to catch her, to push her toward us.

Riven’s grip tightens around my waist, his own magic lashing out alongside mine—but it’s not to help me save Thalia. It’s to push us faster. Further away from her, and closer to the Ember. Closer to survival.

My magic dissipates before it can reach her.

Thalia falls, our eyes meeting one last time—not with fear, but with a strange peace—before the lava closes over her.

I only half hear myself screaming as Riven guides us the last few feet to the central platform, his arms tight around me as we land hard on the stone.

“She’s gone,” I whisper, staring at the spot where Thalia disappeared. “It…”

Consumed her.

The magma pulled her in and swallowed her whole.

Riven’s body is rigid against mine, his magic dangerously still. When I look up at him, his face is composed, but his eyes—those beautiful silver eyes—are so haunted that it makes my heart stop.

“First Maeris, now Thalia.” His voice is too calm. Too flat. Like if he lets it shake, he might never stop. “Two Summer Court warriors dead because of me. This isn’t the best publicity statement for my new position as the Summer Prince, is it?”

Unlike usual, his wry sarcasm isn’t enough to cover his pain.

“No,” I turn to face him fully, gripping his arms. “This wasn’t your fault. Any of it. Thalia made her choice—just like Maeris did. They died for their court—for our court. For their duty.”

He just shakes his head. Not in defiance, and not in disagreement, but in refusal.

Refusal to believe. Refusal to feel. Refusal to let me see what it’s doing to him. And my heart hurts when I feel the bond mute slightly again, like ice re-forming over something cracked beneath.

Next to us, the Ember of Prometheus glows with ancient fire, bathing us in its otherworldly light. It pulses before us—once, then again—like it’s alive. Like it knows what it cost to be claimed.

“It’s responding to us,” I whisper, water swirling around my fingertips, ready to react if the flame turns hostile.

Riven steps closer, frost patterns forming beautiful, intricate designs across his palms. “Then let’s not keep it waiting,” he says, glancing at my satchel, where I’m keeping the container Lysandra provided us.

The vessel is deceptively simple—a crystal orb no larger than my palm, etched with ancient runes that pulse with summer magic. And when I open the lid, the fire comes to it. It’s like Pandora’s Box, but backward—instead of escaping, the fire is hurrying inside.

Once it’s all safely tucked away, the container seals with a soft hiss, the runes flaring and settling into a steady glow.

Riven and I are staring at it in awe when a violent shudder ripples through the chamber, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the platform beneath our feet.

“I think the Vault doesn’t appreciate us taking its treasure,” I say, securing the container in my satchel.

Riven’s gaze drifts to the spot where Thalia disappeared, his expression hardening—masking something that wants to crack through.

“We need to move,” he says. “Now.”

On the far side of the chamber, a narrow bridge of crumbling stone extends from our platform, arching over the lava toward what looks like an exit tunnel.

“That doesn’t look stable,” I say, eyeing the thin walkway with distrust.

“It’s not,” Riven agrees. “But it’s our only way out. I’ll reinforce the stone with ice for as long as possible. You keep your air magic beneath us. If the bridge starts collapsing, focus on lifting us upward, not forward. Okay?”

“Okay.” I nod and summon my air magic, wrapping it around us both as we step onto the brittle bridge. With each step, stone cracks beneath our weight, pieces breaking away to sizzle in the magma below.

Riven moves ahead, frost spreading from his feet to reinforce the stone. “Stay close,” he calls over his shoulder. “My ice won’t hold for long in this heat.”

I focus on keeping us stable, using currents of air to balance our weight and take pressure off the crumbling path. The bridge groans with each step, the sound echoing through the chamber.

We’re halfway there. Not much longer?—

A violent quake rips through the Vault, the pedestal where the Ember hovered splitting open, lava surging upward in a towering column. The stone beneath us begins to dissolve, Riven’s ice magic barely holding it together.

“Run!” he shouts, grabbing my hand.

We sprint across the disintegrating bridge, air and ice magic working frantically to keep us from plunging into the bubbling death below. My lungs burn with each breath, the heat intensifying as the Vault continues to collapse around us.

The platform ahead is just out of reach when the bridge finally gives way.

I push with everything I have—a desperate surge of air magic—propelling us forward .

We land hard on the edge of the platform, rolling to safety as the bridge crumbles behind us.

Panting, I look back at the ruined chamber, the Ember secure against my side.

“We made it,” I gasp, relief flooding through me.

But the relief is short-lived. Because the pedestal—now split in two—erupts in a fountain of molten rock, and a monstrous form rises from the fiery column, born of fire and stone.

A giant, twin-headed dog, its body rippling with veins of lava. And its eyes, which glow like pools of liquid fire, are zeroed in on us.