Page 34 of The Sin Binder’s Chains (The Seven Sins Academy #2)

The ground shifts beneath me, and I hate that I’m awake for this. Rocks scatter, the earth beneath us groaning like something alive, waiting, pissed the fuck off. It rumbles, low and warning, and I exhale through my nose, already done with whatever fresh hell this is.

Severin is such a sore loser. Honestly, fuck that guy.

I don’t even have the energy to pretend to care about whatever mind game he’s pulling now. Probably trying to fuck with Layla’s head, the same way he tries to fuck with all of us.

Gods, he’s exhausting.

Across from me, Silas stretches his arms over his head like he’s waking up from a nap, even though the ground is shaking.

He side-eyes me, casual as hell.

"Hey, Elias, why is the ground bumping?"

I blink at him. Stare.

I do not dignify that with a response.

Silas tilts his head, waiting.

The ground shudders again, a deep, ominous crack running through the rubble near our feet.

I sigh heavily, rubbing my face. “Because the Void hates us.”

Silas hums, nodding thoughtfully. “Seems fair.”

The rocks shift again. Louder this time. More pronounced.

Layla, who is decidedly too new for this level of bullshit, glances between us, brows furrowed. “Should we… do something?”

I wave a hand, already so fucking tired. “No, no, we should just wait for it to consume us whole. That’s the logical next step.”

Silas grins. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Oh, I’m dramatic?” I gesture at the literal cracking earth beneath our feet. “We are about five minutes away from the ground straight-up devouring us, and I’m dramatic?”

Luna appears next to Layla, arms crossed, watching me like she knows exactly how close I am to snapping.

“I think you’re just bitter,” she muses.

I narrow my eyes. “What exactly do I have to be bitter about, Evernight?”

She smirks, a slow, wicked thing that makes my life worse. “That I keep you up at night.”

Silas chokes on a laugh. Layla looks like she wants to be anywhere but here.

And I, Elias Dain, am going to walk into the nearest Void crack and let it take me.

I roll my shoulders, stretching lazily. “Wow. You got me. I lie awake thinking about you. Just you, Luna. Just your stupid , ” I wave my hand vaguely at her face. “ , face.”

Luna lifts a brow. “My stupid face?”

“Don’t get cocky about it.”

Silas pats my back. “Buddy, I think she’s already won this round.”

The ground shakes again, this time more violently, and I drag my hands down my face with a long-suffering sigh.

"Okay, fine. We should probably deal with this.”

Silas grins. “I vote we send Elias first.”

The ground splits beneath us, a jagged wound tearing through the stone, deep and raw.

A sound follows, one that doesn’t belong in this world, a low, guttural groan, like the Hollow itself is breathing, like the earth is caught in the moment before it chokes.

Something stirs beneath the surface, a shift, a pull, a wrongness so absolute it crawls up my spine like a living thing.

I sigh, long and slow, already done with whatever fresh hell this is going to be.

Across from me, Lucien is already armed, his blade catching in the dim glow of the Void, the sharp steel as unforgiving as he is.

Beside him, Riven stands coiled tight, rage simmering beneath his skin, hands flexing around the hilt of his weapon as if he’s already decided he’ll carve whatever comes out of that pit into nothing.

“Alright,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders, taking my sweet time assessing the absolute disaster unfolding before us. “So which one of us pissed off the Void this time?”

Before anyone can answer, something crawls out of the abyss.

It doesn’t walk. It doesn’t move like anything that should exist. Its body bends and stretches in ways that seem almost deliberate, as if it were made to unsettle, to wrong-foot those foolish enough to stare too long.

The glow of its too-many eyes burns the same molten red as fresh embers, its limbs shifting, joints clicking as it uncoils itself from the darkness like it’s been waiting for us.

I hear Luna step closer, magic curling off her skin, her breath measured, steady. She’s about to do something reckless.

I extend a hand, palm out, stopping her before she can. “Uh-uh, princess. Let me have this one.”

She doesn’t move back. Instead, she angles her head toward me, sharp eyes assessing, like she’s already doubting my capabilities. “You?”

I scoff, placing a hand over my heart. “Wow, the lack of faith is hurtful.”

Riven snorts, shifting his stance like he’s considering fighting me instead of the creature. “It’s realistic.”

Lucien doesn’t even look up from where he’s still tracking the monster’s slow movements. “Do you even know how to fight properly?”

The accusation is deeply offensive. I squint at him. “First of all, rude.”

Before I can further defend my vast and complex skillset, the creature lets out a low, rattling growl, the sound rippling through the air, and then, it moves.

Fast.

Too fast.

Most people wouldn’t react in time. Most people would already be dead.

But I am not like most people.

I shift, just enough, the movement precise, measured, letting its claws slice through empty air. It lunges again, trying to correct, to tear through me, but I move with it, sidestepping cleanly, avoiding its next strike like I’m bored with this already.

A grin pulls at my lips.

Because this? This is the part I like.

The creature lets out a frustrated snarl, its claws scraping against the stone, digging trenches into the ruined ground. I don’t let it recover. Pivoting smoothly, I bring my blade up in a single, clean arc, steel meeting flesh, or whatever this thing is made of, and something gives.

A sickening sound follows.

The thing shrieks, guttural and raw, but it’s already too late.

The strike is clean. Precise.

Its head drops from its shoulders.

The rest of its body slumps seconds after, collapsing with a dull, final thud.

I flick the blood from my blade and glance back at the others, barely winded. There’s a beat of silence. Then, Silas starts clapping, slow and mocking, because he’s incapable of being normal.

"Wow," he says, grinning like an idiot. "I’m actually kind of impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

I tuck my blade away, unbothered, superior, flawless. “What can I say? I contain multitudes.”

But Luna is watching me differently now.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t roll her eyes or smirk or make some biting remark to put me back in my place. She just looks at me, gaze calculating, like she’s rethinking whatever she thought she knew about me.

So, naturally, I wink at her. “Told you to let me have that one.”

And gods help me, she smirks.

The moment stretches too long, a thin, razor-sharp thread of quiet that should have been my first warning.

Luna’s smirk lingers, slow and knowing, and I should have known better, should have known that silence never means safety in this gods-forsaken nightmare realm.

The ground beneath us gives one final, violent tremor, and then it erupts.

A fracture splits the ruins apart, jagged and raw, sending debris and stone clawing at the sky.

The force of it nearly knocks me off my feet, and from the darkness beneath, something massive and wrong begins to rise.

It moves like it’s dragging itself from the depths of hell, a writhing thing of shadow and sinew, its limbs shifting and reforming as if it hasn’t quite decided what shape it wants to take.

Lucien moves first, as he always does. His blade is already drawn, slicing through the air in a single, efficient motion, steel glinting as it finds its mark.

He is precise. Lethal. But the thing, whatever the fuck it is, does not die.

It does not recoil or scream. It does not fall apart beneath his practiced, deadly strike. Instead, it laughs.

The sound is not made of breath, not formed from lungs or throat, but rather an unnatural, disembodied thing, something that skitters through the ruins, settling into the marrow of my bones like sickness. I grimace.

“Oh, great,” I mutter, flexing my grip around my blade, already too tired for this shit. “It talks. Because that’s exactly what I needed tonight, some ancient horror monologuing at me.”

Silas, still grinning like a damn idiot, twirls a dagger between his fingers and elbows me lightly, unbothered by the massive, reality-breaking creature looming before us. “C’mon, you love this stuff.”

I shoot him a flat look. “I absolutely do not.”

Riven, who has never had a patient bone in his entire body, is already done waiting.

Without hesitation, without even the barest hint of strategy, he lunges forward, all brute force and sharpened rage, a snarl ripping from his throat as he aims for the thing’s center.

His blade finds its mark, buries deep into the writhing mess of limbs and shifting flesh.

But the thing moves with him.

Its body shifts, bending around the wound, swallowing the steel like it’s a mere inconvenience. And then, it opens its mouth.

Not a normal mouth. Not something natural. But a jagged, gaping wound in the fabric of reality, lined with too many teeth, stretching wide enough to swallow him whole.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. One second I’m watching, the next, I’m moving.

I grab Riven by the collar, yank him back hard, and the creature’s massive jaws snap shut around nothing but empty air. The sound is a sickening, wet crunch, the force of it vibrating through my bones, and I am deeply grateful that I am not currently scraping Riven off the ground in pieces.

Riven lands hard on his feet, wild-eyed and furious, his breath ragged from the near miss. He turns, jaw tight, rage radiating from him in thick waves. “I had it handled.”

I level him with a flat, unimpressed stare. “Oh yeah? Because from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to get eaten by a giant void-mouth. And as funny as that would have been, I’d rather not explain to Luna why I let you get chomped.”