21. Sapphire
Sapphire
“To go to the star?” I repeat. “As in, up there? In space?”
“That’s the only place stars exist,” he says simply, as if he’s suggesting a trip to Hawaii instead of one to outer space.
“I can’t astrally project that far.” I shake my head, the idea too absurd to comprehend. “I can only project to places I can see.”
He glances up at the star, then back to me. “You can see the star,” he points out.
“From a gazillion miles away!” I snap, glaring at him, waiting for him to say he’s kidding.
“I don’t think ‘gazillion’ is a technical metric term,” he says instead, actually having the nerve to smirk at his own statement.
I continue glaring at him, expecting him to take his idea back. To propose another—actually rational—idea. Or to do something other than just sit there, waiting for my response to an insane suggestion.
But he doesn’t take it back.
He’s truly, one hundred percent serious.
“Are you trying to kill me?” I finally ask.
“You won’t die,” he says, annoyingly calm. “Do you remember the night you broke into my quarters at the palace? My sword went right through your projected form. You weren’t harmed.”
I freeze, the memory flashing in my mind. The way his blade went through me, leaving no mark. No pain. As if I was a ghost.
“That was different,” I say, throwing my hands up in frustration. “I wasn’t leaving the planet.”
“But the principle is the same,” he says. “Your projection isn’t tethered by physical limitations. And every time you’ve used it, you’ve returned to your body. Every single time. No matter what.”
He’s right, but that doesn’t make the prospect any less terrifying.
I open my mouth to argue further, but a sharp, biting cold creeps across my skin.
The ice magic from our deal. It’s spreading over me like frost on glass, demanding that I fulfill the deal we made that I’d do everything I could to help him make the potion .
Right now, that means trying to reach the Midnight Star. Even if that involves launching myself into space to do it.
I glance back up at the star, terror rushing through me as the biting cold grows sharper, sinking beneath my skin, twisting through my veins like shards of ice. I clutch my arms, trying to shake it off, but the frost crawls faster.
Riven reaches out, his hands on my shoulders, although it does nothing to stop the cold.
“Stop fighting it,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine, as if he’s trying to ground me with his closeness. “The magic will hold you to our deal. If you keep resisting, it will kill you.”
“But what if I don’t come back?” I whisper, trembling from both the fear and the cold.
“You will,” he says with certainty. “You always have. And remember, I’ll be here. With you—the real you—keeping you safe.”
The frost tightens, making it hard to breathe.
Zoey’s face flashes in my mind—her terror as the night fae dragged her away. She doesn’t have time for me to be afraid. And I can’t help her until my deal with Riven is completed. Which means every second I waste is another second she’s in danger.
“Okay. I’ll try to go to the star,” I say, and the ice magic retreats, although the chill still feels etched on my bones.
Riven pulls me closer, one hand cradling the back of my head while the other wraps protectively around my waist. “I’ll be right here,” he promises. “Watching over you. Nothing will harm you while you’re gone.”
The owls hoot, and Ghost moves closer, as if they’re all promising to protect me, too.
I lean into Riven, drawing strength from his steadiness.
The owls silence again.
“If I get lost up there...” I start.
“You won’t.” His arms tighten around me, until the space between us feels like nothing. “You’ll find your way back. You always do.”
“But if I don’t?—“
He cuts me off with a kiss, fierce and desperate. It’s like he’s trying to pour all his faith, his strength, and his unshakable belief into me. And even though he represents all things winter, there’s a fire in the way he kisses me—a rawness that speaks to every unsaid thing between us.
When he pulls back, his eyes burn with an intensity that takes my breath away.
“You’ll be okay,” he says again. “You’ve survived everything else so far. This won’t be an exception.”
The conviction in his words seeps into me, warming me from the inside out, chasing away the last remnants of the ice magic’s chill. The fear is still there—it would take an irrational person to not be scared about astrally projecting into space. But I can do this, even if it means doing it while I’m scared.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
I hesitate for a second, but the look in his eyes—the unshakable trust, and the steady assurance—helps me steady myself.
“As ready as I think I can be,” I say, letting him pull me into his lap and cradle me in his arms.
Every point where we touch feels electric—his arms around me, my head tucked beneath his chin, and his steady heartbeat against my ear. Despite everything we’ve done together, this feels different. Deeper. Like we’re sharing a level of trust more precious than ever before.
“I’ve got you,” he tells me. “You’re safe with me—always.”
“I know,” I say, and I let out a slow breath as his arms tighten around me.
With that, I turn my gaze back to the Midnight Star. Its light pulses, bright and beckoning, and I feel its pull deep in my chest. As if it’s calling me home.
Keeping my eyes locked on the star, I dig inside myself and reach for my magic .
It stirs slowly at first, like a ripple over my skin. But it’s not enough. Not even close to it.
So, I draw more, pulling it upward and forcing myself to go deeper. As I do, the air around me shifts, humming with power. It’s radiant and luminous, and I feel it in my veins, my bones, my blood, and in my soul.
The Midnight Star’s glow intensifies, sending tendrils of light cascading toward me. The threads of starlight aren’t physical—I can’t touch them—but I can feel them, an intricate web connecting me to something so ancient it’s beyond comprehension. It’s like touching the heart of the universe—a dizzying, overwhelming rush of power that blurs the edges of who I am, where I begin, and where I end.
“Breathe,” Riven says, as steady as always. “You’re in control. You’ve got this.”
The threads of light around me grow brighter, wrapping around me like a cocoon, binding me to the star’s glow. It feels otherworldly, like stepping outside of time—outside of reality itself.
All the while, I keep my gaze locked onto the star.
Then, I let go.
In less than a second, I’m surrounded by endless darkness.
Stars streak past me like comets, and panic claws at my throat as I realize I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t? —
I snap back into my body with a gasp, sitting up and burying myself into Riven’s chest.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his arms tightening around me. “You’re safe.”
I’m trembling, my breaths coming in sharp, shallow gasps as I cling to the sensation of being back in my body. Ice cold terror rushes through me at the memory of that infinite darkness—a darkness so consuming that it felt like being erased from existence itself.
“You’re okay,” Riven repeats. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”
My chest heaves as I force air into my lungs, the crushing weight of what I just experienced still pressing down on me. But once I’m able to pull back and look at him, he leads me through some relaxation exercises like the ones he gave me when he was helping my mind calm so I could sleep at the beginning of our journey, and soon, I’m okay.
Well, as okay as someone can be after being trapped in the vacuum of space.
“What happened?” he asks when I’m finally able to think again.
“I missed,” I say simply.
“Missed?” His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I was in space. Just... floating. There was nothing around me. No air, no ground, no—” I break off, unable to articulate the sheer terror of that void .
“Maybe we should try something else,” he says carefully. “Find another way to?—”
“No.” The word surprises me as it leaves my lips. “I was in space, Riven. Actually in space. And I survived. I’m not physically hurt. I’m not dead. I just...” I glance up at the Midnight Star, sizing it up. “I aimed wrong.”
“Sapphire—”
“I can do this,” I say, and this time, I believe it. “I just need to try again.”
The owls shift on their perches, their eyes reflecting the starlight as they watch us. Waiting.
Riven’s mouth opens like he wants to argue, but then he stops, studying me.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I’m sure.”
“All right.” He gives me a half-smile and cups my face, and right now, I think I’m more confident about this than he is. “Then let’s do this.”
He cradles me against him again, and I inhale deeply, focusing on the Midnight Star.
My magic comes faster this time, flooding my veins with so much power that it feels like I might burst from it.
Again, I let go.
I’m surrounded by blinding, radiant, all-encompassing light. I can’t see, can’t think, can’t? —
I snap back into my body with a gasp, my heart pounding as I re-orient myself.
Riven’s hands are on my face instantly, his eyes scanning me with a mix of worry and relief. “What happened?” he asks after determining I’m okay.
“I missed again,” I say simply. “It was bright.”
He frowns, his jaw tightening. “We can stop?—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I’m trying again.”
“Then try again,” he says, apparently knowing better than to argue with me by this point, and he holds me tighter, as if he can help me find my way.
This time, when I call on my magic, it sears through me like liquid starlight, filling every inch of me until there’s nothing left but the glow overhead.
Again, I let go.
And then, miraculously, I’m there.
On the Midnight Star.