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They’recourtingher.

And that’s the problem.

We don’t need a hundred futures, a hundred promises. We need one door. One escape. One way out that doesn’t split us apart or send us spiraling into realms that never knew us. But none of these pillars are labeled, and no one’s brave—or reckless—enough to try one blind.

“We’re running out of space to breathe.”

They all turn toward me. Not sharply. Not like they didn’t already know. But it pulls them back. Grounds them. Because we’ve been pretending we were safe here. We’re not.

“We’ve bought time,” I say, gaze on the edge of the cavern where shadow flickers too long in the corners. “A few days at most. But they’re close.”

Elias groans dramatically, slouching back against a pillar like the weight of reality just flattened him. “Gods, I forgot we were still on thevengeful exes tour.”

Silas perks up like a child told his least favorite aunt is arriving. “Do you think Devena’s with them? Or—wait—Talia.Remember how she used to scream my name during spells?”

“I remember how she screamed when you blew up her garden,” Elias mutters.

“That washerfault,” Silas insists, grinning. “She told me I couldn’t summon envy through orgiastic ritual and Iproved her wrong.”

“I can’t believe we ever slept with anyone before Luna,” I mutter, half to myself, half to the damned pillars. “Gods, what the fuck were we thinking?”

“Trauma,” Elias offers.

“Delusion,” Riven says.

“Desperation,” Silas sighs. “Also, I had a concussion for most of the Academy years, so I don’t think mine count.”

But none of us laugh.

Because this isn’t new.

The other Sin Binders—the women who came before—have been circling us since the second Luna lit the Hollow’s magic like a goddamn match. They weren’t saints. Most of them weren’t even people, not really, not by the end. They were power made obsessive, shaped by magic they never should’ve carried, bound to us because we were too young, too stupid, too addicted to the wrong kind of pain.

We didn’tchoosethem. Not like we chose Luna. And now they’re hunting her.

We’ve seen the shadows moving on the edges of whatever realm Branwen left behind. Heard the laughter that doesn’t belong to any of us. The way this place warps when Luna gets too close to something real, something not born from the Hollow’s design. The other binders don’t want herescaping.They want herclaimed.Or gone.

“It's not about power anymore,” I say. “They want herremoved.”

Lucien nods once. Sharp. Certain. “They see her as the end of them.”

“Sheisthe end of them,” Riven says.

Luna turns then, gaze sweeping all of us—anchoring on me last, like she knows the question I’m about to ask and hates it just as much.

“How much time do we have?” she asks.

Orin steps forward finally, quiet but never hesitant. “If they’ve found the chamber, not much.”

“You can’t pick yet,” I say, moving to her side again. “Not until you’re sure. Not when this realm is still shifting beneath our feet.”

“You think it’ll shiftmore?” Elias asks. “What, like, grow teeth? Spit fire? Throw in a musical number?”

“Probably just hurl our worst regrets back at us,” I say. “That seems to be its theme.”

“I regret sleeping with Talia,” Silas says.

“You don’t regret that,” Elias mutters.