Page 115 of The Sin Binders Ascent

I freeze.

Theo’s hand comes down on my shoulder, light but firm. “Wait.”

I nod, just once.

The surface ripples in front of me. A slow shift, like something massive rolling just beneath. I don’t see it, but I feel the pulse of it, the drag of water pulling sideways where there should be stillness.

He moves beside me, positioning himself between me and the center of the river, and it’s not protective in a chivalrous way. It’s more like instinct. Like something ancient in him recognizes that if anything’s going to try to devour us, it should come through him first.

I glance at him, and for a breath, we hold each other’s eyes.

“Don’t get killed,” I say, voice low.

“Depends,” he murmurs, that grin flickering again, smaller now. “Will you cry at my funeral?”

“Only if someone plays ‘Careless Whisper’ during the procession.”

He laughs, the sound wrong for this place, sharp and human and alive.

The water stirs again.

He narrows his eyes, scans the surface, and then jerks his chin toward the far bank.

“On three.”

I tighten my grip on nothing, on phantom weapons and muscle memory and everything I used to be.

“One,” he says.

“Two.”

The water explodes. It doesn’t ripple or churn or warn, it detonates. One second I’m running, the next I’m airborne, weightless for a blink, and then the force of it hits me. Hard. Something slams into my side with the weight of a charging beast, and I go under. The water rushes over my head, thick andchoking, stinging my eyes with whatever the hell it’s made of. It’s not just water. It tastes wrong. Heavy. Sweet. Like it’s trying to rot my teeth the second it touches them.

I surface gasping, coughing up a mouthful of it, and I see the shape.

Massive. Thick-bodied. Covered in pale, glistening scales that shimmer like oil-slicked armor. The creature’s back cuts through the water like a boat hull, ridged with bony plates that rise and fall with each thrash of its body. Its head is enormous, jaws lined with rows of mismatched teeth, some too long, some curled inward, as if it’s been feeding on things it wasn’t designed to eat. Its eyes are black. Not dark. Not soulless. Just black. Reflective and ancient, and completely indifferent to what we are.

It’s a crocodile, at least in the way nightmares remember them. But it’s wrong. Too big. Too fast. It shouldn’t move like that in water, so still. It shouldn’t behere.

Theo is already moving. He cuts across the water toward it like the laws of resistance don’t apply to him. The scythe forms in his hand mid-motion, the weapon curling into existence like smoke solidifying into steel. The blade gleams sharp and curved, not polished but alive, pulsing with that deep, hunger-born magic of his.

The creature lunges for him, jaws splitting wider than they should, a bellow escaping its throat that shakes through the water in a low, guttural wave. Theo drops beneath the strike at the last possible second, sliding under the arc of its snapping head, and he comes up swinging.

The scythe bites into its flank with a wet, crunching sound, not slicing butripping, the blade pulling through scale and sinew like it’s cutting through memory. The beast howls, twisting in the water so violently that a surge crashes against me, knocking me backward.

I stagger, trying to find footing, but the riverbed is slick and uneven. My boots sink into soft muck that shifts beneath me like something breathing. My hands curl into fists, useless fists, and I hate how light they feel. I reach for my magic like it might come back if I want it hard enough. Nothing. Just that empty hum under my skin, the hollow space where power used to burn.

Theo calls out, not a warning, not even my name, just a sound, guttural and sharp, as the creature’s tail snaps around and hits him in the side. He grunts, the impact sending him flying back into the water with a vicious splash. The beast follows, head lowering again, teeth snapping inches from his ribs.

I launch forward, plunging through the waist-deep water, every step a fight. My body is screaming. My balance is gone. I reach him just as the croc-beast twists again, jaws already opening for another strike. I grab Theo by the back of his shirt and yank. I don’t know what I thought I could do, but I do it anyway.

He shoves me behind him without looking, one hand grabbing my arm, pushing me back.

“Stay down,” he snarls.

The beast surges forward again, and this time, Theo doesn’t dodge.

He meets it.