13. Sapphire
Sapphire
As the afternoon sun filters into the igloo, I wake to Riven’s arms wrapped around me, his steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath my ear. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days—a fleeting moment of peace I wish I could hold on to forever.
But it’s not his closeness that has my heart racing. It’s the dream still vivid in my mind—of the mysterious woman I encountered in the forest before I drank from the stream and fell into the fae realm.
The image of her is already fading, but what she said to me in the dream echoes in my thoughts: Above the earth and bound to light, your soul must rise to claim your sight.
I frown, the words settling over me like a puzzle waiting to be solved.
But I don’t have to solve them alone.
So, turning in Riven’s embrace, I find his silver eyes already open, watching me. There’s a softness there reserved only for me, in these quiet moments we share together.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs, his voice low and groggy.
“I had another dream.” My words tumble out, as if I’ll forget them if I don’t say them quickly enough. “It was her. The woman from the forest.”
His brow furrows as he sits up, the strands of his midnight hair catching in the light. “What did she say?”
I recite the line, each word clear in my memory.
“It sounds like a riddle.” He absently strokes my arm as he thinks. “Tell me exactly what you remember.”
I describe the dream in detail—the woman’s ethereal presence, the colorful galaxy that spiraled around us, and the way her words resonated through my very being.
As I speak, he listens intently, his expression thoughtful.
“When you project, your consciousness rises above your physical form,” he finally says. “That could be what she means by ‘above the earth.’”
“Maybe,” I say, since for a reason I can’t explain, I feel like there’s more to it than that. “But what about ‘bound to light?’ And ‘claiming my sight?”
“Perhaps it’s about discovering more of who you are.” His eyes search mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “You’re unique, Sapphire. A hybrid of fae and vampire—something that shouldn’t be possible. There could be abilities within you that we don’t understand yet. Like your projection ability, for one.”
“Does that scare you?” I ask softly.
“No,” he says, taking my hands in his. “Like I told you yesterday, being part vampire is just one aspect of who you are. It doesn’t define you. Identity isn’t a matter of circumstance, but of discipline. It’s in the choices you make, the integrity you maintain, and the principles you keep. You have the power to take what you’re given and sculpt it into what you become. And, luckily for you, you have an extremely talented, well-trained, irresistible winter prince to help you along the way. Some might even call that an unfair advantage.”
I can’t help but smile at that last part. Then I look down at my bracelet—the only thing I have from the mother I’ve never met—and I realize just how much his words hit home.
“I’ve spent so long wondering what things might have been like if she hadn’t left,” I admit, meeting his eyes again. “But maybe I’m not going to find myself by digging through the past. Maybe I’ll do it by looking toward the future.”
“A wise decision,” he says, his trademark smirk returning. “Although right now, I say we forget about both the past and the future, so we can focus on enjoying the present.”
Before I can reply, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine in a kiss that makes all my worries about who I am and the future in store for me disappear in a heartbeat.
When we part, I rest my forehead against his. “I love you,” I whisper.
“And I love you,” he replies. “Every single part of you.”
From there, the world outside the igloo ceases to exist—no mission, no looming threats, no unanswered questions. Just the comfort of his touch, the way his hands know exactly where to hold me, and the way he makes me feel grounded and weightless all at once.
Much later, as the sun’s starting to set, we lay on the thin sleeping roll with my head on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along my spine. There’s a comfortable silence between us—the kind that speaks louder than words.
I don’t want to step back into the reality waiting for us outside this space we’ve carved for ourselves. But the stars will come out soon, which means it won’t be long until we’re forced to leave our newfound sanctuary behind.
“We should pack up,” Riven says reluctantly, although he doesn’t pull away. “But first...” He meets my gaze again, serious now. “You should feed.”
I stiffen, remembering the last time I drank blood—from the dark angel, in the cave, with Riven’s back turned.
But he’s right. It’s been over twenty-four hours since then, and I need to keep up as much strength as possible. Sure, I can go around three days without feeding, but it’s hardly comfortable when I do.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s hunt.”
And so, we pry ourselves away from each other, pack up, and venture deeper into the forest.
Ghost pads ahead of us, and Riven moves beside me, scanning the terrain with practiced precision. There’s tension in his posture—a readiness for anything that might emerge from the shadows.
And despite the comforting things he told me earlier, I can’t get three specific words of his out of my mind. Not “I love you,” but “you should feed.”
Because even though he says he accepts the vampire side of me, the idea of him witnessing it again makes me want to shrink into the snow and disappear. But still, I keep going with my head held high, reminding myself that he loves me for me, and not for what I am.
After about an hour of careful stalking, Ghost freezes, his ears pricking forward .
Through the trees ahead, I spot a massive caribou, its antlers stark against the darkening sky.
Riven steps closer, his hand brushing mine. “You’ll need to be quick,” he says. “Ghost and I will keep watch.”
“Just try to not watch me,” I tell him, since I really don’t want him to see me bite a living thing and feast on its blood. Not after the shame I felt after pouncing on that dark angel after the storm and losing control.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” he says, which I take as an unfortunate—and irritatingly practical—no.
But there’s no time to argue. So, with a deep breath, I reach for my air magic, using it as a cushion below my feet as I move silently through the snow.
When I’m close enough to the caribou, I lunge.
My fangs pierce its neck, and the hot rush of blood floods my senses, easing the ache that’s been growing inside me since the last time I fed. The rush of power is nearly impossible to not get lost in.
Suddenly, something shifts in my peripheral vision.
I jerk back from the caribou and whirl toward the movement, trying to see where it’s coming from.
There. In the trees.
Dark shapes flicker between their trunks—but they’re not quite right. They’re just... shadows. Moving independently, without bodies to cast them .
Riven’s by my side in an instant.
“Tariaksuq,” he says, drawing his sword. “Shadow people. They’re said to appear as half-man, half-caribou, but only when killed. Until then, they’re nothing more than shadows.”
Before I can ask more, the nearest shadow lunges.
I dive to the side, rolling through the snow as more shadows converge on our position. It’s hard to make them out, but the clearest part of them is also the most alarming: their hands. Long and spindly, with claws capable of ripping a person to shreds.
Ghost snarls, positioning himself between me and the approaching threats.
“There are too many,” I say, counting at least fifteen of them circling us. Maybe more.
“Stay close,” Riven orders, his blade glowing with frost magic. “Back to back. What are the most important things I’ve taught you so far?”
My heart hammers as I tighten my grip on my dagger. “Stay strong. Adapt. And be unpredictable,” I say, already feeling the pulse of magic stirring within me.
I let it build, drawing on both sides of myself—the air magic that sharpens my senses, and the water magic that steadies my aim.
As I hone in on the power, one of the shadows darts toward Riven .
He pivots with inhuman speed, his blade slicing through the air and leaving a trail of ice in its wake.
The shadow recoils, its form twisting violently, and then a creature—half man, half caribou—is lying dead on the ground in its place. It looks so human—well, half human—that guilt twists in my chest at the sight of its mangled form.
“One down,” Riven says, his sword at the ready, his body and blade buzzing with magic and determination. “Five to go.”