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I glance at him, arching a brow, waiting.

He doesn't make me wait long. "She set a girl's dress on fire."

Elias lets out a wheezing laugh across from me, almost choking on his drink, and Silas—because of course he's listening even when he pretends not to be—leans in from where he’s practically draped over his chair, grinning like the idiot he is. "Oh, that wasso good. Right in front of everyone."

Riven’s smile turns crueler. "All because Elias smiled at the girl."

I snort before I can help it, shaking my head as the memory sharpens. I hadn't thought about that night in months—notsince the chaos that followed, since we crawled back into our own personal hell. But now, sitting here, with Luna a few tables away pretending not to watch us, the image lands clear as blood on fresh snow.

Luna, bored and restless, holding a spark in her palm like it meant nothing. That sharp little smile on her mouth when she watched the flames crawl up silk and lace. And Elias, standing there slack-jawed, eyes wild, because the girl wasn’t the one on fire—it was him.

"She didn’t even blink when she did it," I murmur, the corner of my mouth twitching despite myself.

Riven’s voice is dry. "No. She smiled."

Elias groans dramatically, slumping in his chair. "I told you all, she’s terrifying."

"That’s not what you said when you were in her bed last night," Silas adds, sing-song, earning himself a sharp kick from under the table.

I lean back, my gaze sliding toward Luna again. She’s laughing at something Caspian said, her head thrown back, a smile on her lips that none of us deserve. And it twists something deep in me, something low and sharp that I refuse to name.

Because that’s what she does—she sets things on fire. And we’re all standing too damn close to the flames.

Riven catches my glance and, without missing a beat, mutters under his breath, "She’ll burn us alive before she lets anyone else touch us."

I nod once, eyes still on her. "Good."

Because I know exactly what’s coming. And I’ll take her flame over the cold hand of the grave any fucking day.

I drain what’s left in my glass, the liquor biting sharp and bitter down my throat, but it does nothing to numb the knot tightening in my chest. It’s not the kind of ache drink will drown.

"Let’s focus on getting out of here," I say flatly, leveling him with a look that leaves no room for argument. "Not on things that might not be true."

“It wasn’t just a rumor,” he says, rolling his glass between his fingers without looking up. “The oracle in the summoning circle told us.”

That makes me pause.

My gaze drifts to him, slow, weighted, because if Riven is mentioning an oracle at all, it’s worse than I thought. Those fucking creatures don’t speak unless it’s carved in fate, and they don’t lie. Not to us.

Elias mutters something under his breath, slumping forward onto the table like he can fold himself in half and disappear. “Why is it always the creepy old oracles? Can’t we get a sexy one for once?”

Silas barks a laugh, sprawled sideways in his chair like the disaster he is. “What, you wanna flirt your way out of a prophecy?”

“I’d die trying,” Elias deadpans, then grins without looking at me because he knows I’m ignoring them.

My gaze stays pinned on Riven. His mouth is a grim slash, his jaw tight. He’s waiting to see what I’ll do with the information. He always is.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly, and let the weight of it settle inside me like a stone in my chest. Two hundred twenty Sin Binders buried in this realm. Every one of them capable of crawling back out of the grave now that Branwen’s leash is gone. Every one of them with unfinished business.

And they’ll be looking at us.

At Luna.

Because if the gods gave her this graveyard, it means they’re not done with us yet.

But I shrug, lazy and cold and unaffected, because that’s the only way I know how to carry it. “Doesn’t matter,” I say, voice flat. “We can’t fight ghosts until we get out of here.”

Orin glances at me from across the table, and I see it—the wisdom behind his eyes, the way he’s cataloging the weight I just slid over all of us and pocketing it for later. He knows exactly how bad this will get. He’s already thinking ten moves ahead.