20. Sapphire
Sapphire
After our close call with the shadow people, Riven, Ghost, and I continue following the stars until the sun begins to rise and forces us to stop.
We build another igloo, our magic working in harmony. The synch between us feels deeper than before—maybe because I’m not keeping a giant secret from him anymore, or because we’ve moved past his anger about my vampire side, or even because fighting a common enemy has a way of bringing people closer together.
Either way, when we settle into the igloo and he pulls me into his arms, there’s no hesitation. No walls between us. Just the kind of raw connection that makes me focus on the present moment and forget everything else.
But as I’ve been learning since falling into this realm, peace never lasts .
Not even in my dreams.
I wake before sunset with a gasp, my heart pounding, my body tense.
It takes me a moment to remember where I am—curled against Riven, his arm draped protectively over me, his breathing steady.
His eyes snap open the moment I move. “What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately alert.
“I saw her again,” I tell him. “The woman from the forest. She was in my dream.”
“What did she say?”
Like the last time, the words remain clear in my mind, even as the rest of the dream fades.
“To claim the wisdom shining far, you must journey to the Midnight Star,” I repeat, watching him closely, hoping it’ll make more sense to him than it does to me.
Instead, his brows draw together, making him look as confused as I feel.
“First, she told you that your soul must rise to claim your sight. And now this, about journeying to the Midnight Star.” His fingers absently trace patterns of frost on the ground between us, as if magic might hold the answers. “There has to be a connection.”
I nod, wrapping my arms around myself. “It feels like she’s trying to guide me—or warn me.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He snaps back to it, looking as determined as ever. “Let’s pack up and keep moving.”
We journey through the darkening forest, following the stars’ increasingly urgent song. My connection to them is stronger with each passing hour, as if we’re getting closer to something important. Something ancient.
Ghost’s pace quickens, as if he senses it, too.
“You’re quiet,” Riven eventually says over his shoulder.
“I’m thinking,” I reply. “About her. About what this all means.”
His posture stiffens slightly—a tell I’ve come to recognize. He’s thinking, too. Likely weighing every angle and every possible trap this riddle might spring.
Then, when the stars are singing so loudly that I’m almost drowning in the intensity of it all, the forest thins out.
“There,” I say, pointing to the clearing ahead.
Riven coaxes Ghost to a stop, and we slide off his back together. The moment my feet touch the ground, I feel it—a thrumming of magic that makes my skin tingle.
“Do you feel that?” I ask Riven.
“It’s magic,” he says what I already knew, scanning the area. “Powerful magic. Stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.”
“It’s her. The ancient woman,” I say without a doubt. “We made it.”
He takes my hand in his, and his touch is a promise—one that settles the storm brewing in my chest.
There are no words to express the way I’m feeling for him in this moment. So, I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his in a soft, unhurried kiss that carries the weight of everything unsaid.
His hand moves to the small of my back, pulling me closer as the rest of the world fades away. Before long, his magic stirs—a subtle drop in temperature, and mine answers in a ripple of air that swirls with growing humidity around us.
My fingers find the fabric of his cloak, clutching it tightly, as if I’m anchoring myself to him. Because that’s what Riven’s become throughout all of this—an anchor. One that holds me steady, even in stormy seas. It’s a love that doesn’t demand or rush, but that simply exists, powerful and undeniable.
When we eventually break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling in the cold.
“Sapphire,” he says, and my name on his lips is like a vow—a promise that he’ll support me, no matter what.
“Thank you,” I find myself saying. “For everything.”
With that, he stills, surprise crossing his eyes .
My stomach drops as realization crashes over me.
“You thanked me.” His eyes narrow in that calculating way of his, as if he’s already three steps ahead and weighing the consequences.
“I didn’t mean—” I start, but he cuts me off, holding up a hand.
“It doesn’t matter if you meant to or not.” His tone is serious, but there’s something beneath it—a glint of amusement. “Intent doesn’t factor into it. You said the words.”
I blink, unsure if I want to scream or groan. “So, what does that mean?” I ask. “Do I owe you now?”
His lips twitch, and I realize with growing horror that he’s fighting back a smirk. “You do.”
I gape at him. “You’re kidding.”
“Oh, I’m not.” The smirk finally breaks free, and the guardedness melts away, replaced with that infuriatingly cocky expression I’ve come to know all too well. “You thanked a fae, Sapphire. And now, you owe me. But don’t worry. I’m sure I can come up with something that’s… mutually beneficial.”
Heat rushes to my face, and now that the relief’s settling in, I glare at him. “You’re impossible,” I say, even though my heart’s already racing with anticipation about what favors he might ask of me.
“And you’re predictable,” he shoots back. “But I’m going to wait until the time is right to tell you what the favor will be. It’ll be far more enjoyable that way. Plus, I think I’m going to like seeing you squirm.”
The tension between us crackles like the frost underfoot, but instead of feeling strained, it feels alive. Electric.
His grin turns wicked, and he steps back, his hand still holding mine. “Now, come on,” he says. “Let’s see what this Midnight Star of yours has in store for us.”
With that, we walk forward together, with Ghost trailing behind us.
My breath catches the moment we step into the clearing. Because in its center sits a pond unlike anything I’ve ever seen—a perfect mirror of the night sky, so pristine that it’s impossible to tell where the reflection ends and reality begins. Especially because the stars shimmer brighter here, creating twin constellations both in the sky above and the water below.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, immediately drawn to the pond’s edge.
Riven follows, joining me as I kneel beside the pond. He doesn’t speak right away, but I feel his eyes on me, watchful and calculating as I reach out to skim my fingers along the surface.
I close my eyes and reach out with my magic, trying to connect with the pond’s energy. The water responds, swirling gently around my fingers, but it feels… resistant. Like it’s holding something back .
Frustration prickles across my skin and into my bones.
This isn’t working.
“It’s not giving me anything,” I say, opening my eyes as I pull back my hand.
Riven leans closer, scanning the surface of the pond, as if he’ll be able to see something I didn’t. “Maybe it’s not the water we’re supposed to focus on,” he eventually says. “Maybe it’s the stars.”
I tilt my head back, looking at the endless expanse of night above. The stars are brilliant, their light piercing the cold darkness, but they give me nothing—no pull, no guidance. The song I felt earlier is still there, faint and elusive, but it refuses to sharpen into clarity.
“I don’t think they’re telling us anything, either.” I huff, lowering my gaze back to the water.
Riven exhales slowly, his frustration written in the tightness of his jaw. “Then what are we missing?” he asks.
“It’s here. I know it is.” I shake my head, trying to shove down my own rising frustration. “The magic is practically buzzing, but it’s like it’s waiting for something. Or someone.”
As if on cue, a low hooting sound echoes through the clearing. It’s soft at first, but then another joins in, and another, the sound building in a strange, haunting harmony .
I glance at Riven, and his hand moves to the hilt of his blade. “Owls,” he says quietly, his voice both alert and wary.
I reach for my dagger, too. I wouldn’t usually think owls would be dangerous… but who knows in this realm?
Who. Knows.
I chuckle at my accidental internal joke.
The hooting grows louder and closer, until the forest is alive with it. Then, as if on cue, the owls emerge. They perch on the low branches around the clearing, their golden eyes glowing like molten light, fixed on us, like they expect us to do something.
I tighten my grip on the hilt of my dagger. “That’s not creepy at all,” I mutter.
“They’re watching,” Riven says. “Waiting.”
“For what?”
As if in answer, the owls fall silent, their collective gaze turning toward the pond.
“Look,” Riven says, glancing back down at the water.
I follow his gaze, and my breath catches at what I see. Because the stars reflected in the pond are no longer a mirror of the sky above. They’re shifting, rearranging themselves into a new pattern.
A clock, its face formed by constellations. The hands point to twelve, and at the top, a single star glows brighter than the rest. It’s unlike any star I’ve ever seen—bluer, fiercer, and more alive.
In the center of the clock, the constellations align into the silhouette of a woman, her arm outstretched, pointing to the glowing star.
“The Midnight Star,” I say, recalling the messages from my dreams. “Above the earth and bound to light, your soul must rise to claim your sight. To claim the wisdom shining far, you must journey to the Midnight Star.”
“Your soul must rise.” His gaze snaps to me, more intense than ever. “She’s telling you to use your magic. Your astral projection. To go to the star.”