Page 52 of Burning Star

She doesn’t just see me. Sheknowsme. Every dark corner, every sharp edge, every frozen wasteland—and still, she chose me. She fought for me. Shesavedme.

“I don’t deserve this,” I repeat, frost glistening on my eyelashes as tears try to form. “I don’t deserveyou.”

“You deserve every single second of it, and every single part of me,” she tells me, water droplets dancing around her and warming the air around us.

The reflection ripples, showing me in countless small moments—the softness in my expression when I look at her, the way my body shifts to shield her from danger, and the way I orient myself toward her like a compass finding north.

“This is who you are to me,” she says. “Not perfect. Not flawless. But whole. Complete. Wortheverythingand more.”

Something inside me—something frozen and dark that’s been there since I watched my mother’s ice coffin being carried out of the palace—begins to crack.

And then, it shatters.

Frost flowers bloom around us, impossibly delicate and fiercely beautiful, summer and winter combined into one.

“I see you,” Sapphire says, her water joining my ice in spirals that catch the light. “And I love what I see.”

“Even the parts I tried to bury?” I ask, and the water glows, pulsing with light. “The ones I tried to freeze beneath layers of ice?”

“Especially those,” she says, and I close my eyes for a second, letting her love break apart every wall I’ve built since I was a child.

Finally, I surrender.

I pull her into my arms, ice and water exploding around us in a storm of light and magic. She clings to me just as fiercely, and when I open my eyes, the pool erupts into pure radiance, flowing into the altar’s gemstones.

“I accept it,” I say, my voice raw but unwavering, resting my forehead against hers. “I accept who I am through your eyes.”

The light intensifies, so bright it should hurt to look at.

And then Ghost and Nebula begin to stir, their bodies glowing with the same light that fills the chamber.

RIVEN

Ghost’s eyes snap open—sharpand piercing, clearer than I’ve ever seen them. He rises in one fluid motion, leaps from the altar, and lands in front of me, his paws silent against the temple floor.

“Ghost,” I say, and I drop to my knees, wrapping my arms around him, burying my face in his thick fur.

He smells like snow and pine, familiar and grounding.

“I thought I’d lost you,” I say, my voice muffled against him. “When I saw you on that altar, I thought I’d failed you.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes reflecting a wisdom that transcends language. Then he nudges my face with his nose, the gesture as familiar as breathing.

“You stubborn, impossible beast,” I choke out, wrapping my arms around his neck again. “Don’t you ever do something like that again.”

The snow leopard huffs indignantly, as if to point out that I’m the one who jumped into enemy territory and wandered into cosmic dimensions while he was sent to a lost temple and forced into an enchanted slumber.

“Fair point,” I say with a laugh, and just like that, everything between us is right again.

I’m barely wrapping my mind around it all when a soft gasp from Sapphire draws my attention.

Because on the altar, the cheetah—Nebula’s—eyes flutter open. They glow like they’re full of the cosmos themselves, blazing with the same primal intelligence that I recognize in Ghost. The ivy covering her body dissolves into pinpoints of green light that sink into her golden fur, becoming part of her, warmth radiating from her skin.

The cheetah rises gracefully, and when she turns, her gaze falls on Sapphire.

There’s no hesitation. No uncertainty. Just recognition, as if she’s been waiting for this moment for her entire life.

“Hello,” Sapphire says to Nebula, water droplets hovering in the air around her like suspended stars.

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