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The fire crackles, and the weight of those words seems to sink into the bones of the others.
Lucien's hands curl into fists, but he doesn't argue.
"She buried us beneath Daemon Academy, in the stone itself, beneath the weight of the curse that would keep us locked there."
Luna's voice is steady, but I hear the sharp edge of something deeper, something she is keeping buried.
"How can two Sin-Binders exist?"
I expected the question. I did not expect the way it would settle into my ribs like a weight I cannot shake.
I exhale slowly. “I don’t know.”
A flicker of something in her gaze, frustration, unease, something dark and waiting.
I continue, keeping my voice even. “But if I’m right, then Caspian is still bound to Branwen.” I pause, looking toward Riven. “And Riven is safe, because he is bound to you now.”
Her fingers flex against her knee. “But she could take you and Lucien from me.”
Not a question.
A statement.
One laced with something dangerous.
“Yes,” I say, because I owe her honesty. “In theory, it might be possible.”
Lucien exhales through his nose, his gaze flicking toward me with that sharp, calculating intensity he wields like a blade. “If she is alive, then she is weaker than before.”
“Perhaps,” I allow. “But we do not know how long she has been free. Or what she has become.”
Luna’s jaw tightens slightly. “Then we need to find out.”
I should be used to this about her by now. The way she does not hesitate. The way she takes every problem as something to cut through, not something to avoid.
But still, I study her carefully. Because something has shifted in her. And I do not yet know what it will make her.
Lucien doesn’t wait for the conversation to spiral further.
His voice cuts through the embers of uncertainty like a blade. Precise. Absolute. “We need to get out of here first.”
Luna’s gaze snaps to him, sharp with defiance, resistance, but Lucien doesn’t give her room to argue.
“We are not hunting ghosts in the Hollow,” he continues, standing fluidly, his presence shifting from the careful strategist into something unyielding, immovable. “Not when we don’t know what else is waiting here. Not when we don’t even know if they’re still in this realm.”
Luna rises too, movements slower, more deliberate. “You’re saying we leave them.”
“No,” Lucien says, voice calm but edged. “I’m saying we find them without dying first.”
Riven’s eyes are dark, unreadable, but I see it, the way his fingers flex, the way his body is too still, like he’s barely holding himself back.
Silas exhales sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not to be the guy who agrees with Lucien, which, honestly, is a fate worse than death, but he’s got a point.”
Luna’s jaw tightens. She doesn’t look at me, but I know her focus is there, waiting for something, an answer, a reassurance, a reason not to turn this into a fight.
I offer none. Because Lucien is right. We cannot fight this war if we fall into whatever trap Branwen has set.
Luna inhales slowly, weighing it. “Fine,” she says, but it does not sound like acceptance.