Page 30 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

Snow dusts the courtyard, an unnatural quiet settling over the academy grounds. It doesn’t belong here. This place isn’t meant for soft things, for cold that lingers, for beauty that fades too fast. And yet, the world is covered in white, the sky heavy with more.

Orin stands a few feet away, his hand resting against the trunk of an old tree, fingers pressing into the bark like he’s listening to something beneath the surface.

I don’t rush him. Orin moves like time doesn’t matter, like the weight of his power demands patience. And then, the tree shudders.

I inhale sharply as the change ripples through it, a wave of something unseen but felt.

The deep green leaves flicker, twisting into rich shades of gold, crimson, burnt orange.

It happens all at once, spreading outward from where Orin touches, like he’s pulling the life from within and forcing it to age before my eyes .

The branches groan under the shift, shedding a few leaves in surrender.

Orin exhales, his breath curling in the cold. His eyes stay fixed on the tree, unreadable, like he’s watching something no one else can see.

I step closer, boots crunching softly over the snow. “How does it work?”

He’s quiet for a long moment before his fingers push back against the bark.

The ground beneath him darkens, the frost melting instantly.

The snow steams, vanishing as though winter itself has been rewound.

The tree shudders again. But this time, the colors reverse, sweeping back over the branches in a golden wave before fading into the deep, uncompromising green of summer.

The fallen leaves rise slightly, as if considering their return, before finally settling into the dirt.

I stare.

Orin lowers his hand, exhaling like the effort has cost him something unseen. His gaze flicks to the patch of earth at his feet, where the grass had withered and browned, the life stolen to fuel what he just did.

I look down, watching as the ground shifts again, new green blades sprouting, creeping outward until it’s like nothing happened at all.

I blink. “That was- ”

“Excessive,” Orin mutters.

I huff a quiet laugh. “I was going to say badass.”

He lifts a brow, finally looking at me fully. I grin, slow and genuine, and, fuck it, I clap.

Orin blinks, something flickering in his expression before he exhales, shaking his head. “You’re easily impressed. ”

I shrug. “I know what I saw.”

He studies me for a second longer before dragging his fingers through his hair, shifting his weight. The somber edge to him is more noticeable now, settling into his features like an afterthought.

I tilt my head. “You don’t like showing off, do you?”

He exhales again, quietly. “It’s not showing off.”

No, it’s more than that. I can feel it now. The push and pull. The cost of it.

Orin doesn’t just take. He returns. He balances the scale. But there’s something sad about it. Like he knows he’ll always be more hunger than satisfaction.

I open my mouth to say something else, but the sound of footsteps behind me makes me glance over my shoulder.

Riven.

I exhale, rolling my eyes. “Finally.”

He stops a few feet away, his gaze flicking from me to Orin before settling back on me.

He doesn’t speak immediately. And I already know this is going to be a fight.

Orin exhales, rubbing the back of his neck as he takes a step away from the tree. His gaze flicks between me and Riven, something almost sympathetic in the way his brows lift.

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

He shakes his head, already turning. “Good luck.”

I blink. “Wait, ”

But he’s already walking off, leaving me alone with him.

Riven stands a few feet away, arms crossed, expression unreadable. The wind tugs at his dark hair, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Doesn’t acknowledge me at all .

It’s been like this since I kissed him. Since he kissed me back and then threw me away like it didn’t mean a damn thing.

I cross my arms, mirroring his stance. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Nothing. Not a shift in expression, not a flicker of acknowledgment. Just that same carved-from-stone indifference he’s been perfecting since the trial.

Annoyance simmers low in my gut.

I tilt my head. “Do you think if you ignore me long enough, I’ll just disappear?”

His jaw flexes. Ah. So that gets to him.

I take a step closer, dragging my boot through the thin layer of snow. “Hate to break it to you, Riven, but we both know that’s not happening.”

Still, nothing.

My irritation sharpens. “Lucien told you to train me.”

His nostrils flare. “Yeah.”

A single word, bitten off, full of resentment.

I arch a brow. “And?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair before finally, finally, his eyes meet mine.

Something burns there. Frustration. Something worse.

He looks at me like I’m the last thing he wants to deal with, like he’s weighing whether it would be easier to throw me off a cliff than waste his time on this.

And good.

Let him be pissed.

Because I am .

He abandoned me after that kiss. Refused to look at me. Pretended it didn’t happen. And now I’m supposed to just stand here and act like that’s fine?

I step forward again, tilting my chin. “If you’re so miserable about it, why don’t you just get this over with?”

His eyes darken, that barely contained something flickering hotter. For a second, I think he might just leave. That he’ll walk away and let Lucien deal with it. That he’ll choose avoidance over whatever the hell this is.

But then, his lips curl in something vicious.

“You wanna fight?” His voice is low, rough. “Fine.”

The ground shudders. It starts as a deep, humming vibration beneath my boots, a warning buried in the bones of the earth. Then, cracks. Small at first, slithering through the snow-dusted stone beneath us like veins splitting open.

Riven moves.

Fast.

I don’t even see him start, I just feel the shift, the way the air snaps with the force of him pushing off, the ground caving slightly where he was standing just a second before.

And suddenly, he’s coming at me.

I run. Because what else can I do? I twist, pushing off with everything I have, darting across the courtyard toward the trees. Snow clings to the stone paths, and my boots slide slightly before I catch my footing, my breath coming fast, my pulse pounding,

The Earth moves. The cracks beneath me deepen, and I feel him behind me, the sheer weight of his presence pressing down, his power snarling through the ground itself.

I barely manage to dodge when something slams into the space I was just standing in, a rock. No, not a rock, a massive chunk of stone, torn straight from the ground and hurled with enough force to shatter against the nearest tree.

Holy fuck.

I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

Because Riven isn’t playing. This isn’t a lesson. This is him. The living, breathing embodiment of Wrath, a force that doesn’t just strike, but destroys.

I push harder, lungs burning, every breath sharp as ice. My heart slams against my ribs as I weave through the tree line, the crunch of snow and snapping branches behind me too close.

I risk a glance over my shoulder, he’s right there. His eyes, wild, burning, lock onto mine as he reaches out, and the earth erupts beneath me.

The ground tilts, the roots I’d just sprinted over ripping free, twisting violently as the soil shatters apart. My ankle catches, and then I’m falling. I hit the snow hard, skidding slightly before pushing up, scrambling to keep moving,

Too late.

A fist grabs the back of my jacket, yanking me up, forcing me to turn, then Riven slams me against the nearest tree.

My breath shatters out of me. Everything is still moving, the world still shifting under the force of his power, but he’s not letting me go.

His grip is bruising, his fingers twisted into my jacket, and when I manage to drag my gaze up to his, I wish I hadn’t.

Because this isn’t the Riven I’ve argued with, the one who glares at me like I’m an inconvenience.

This is something else. This is a hurricane barely contained in human form, rage carved into muscle and bone, into the way his chest heaves, the way his jaw clenches, the way every inch of him is wired to destroy.

My pulse hammers.

I swallow hard, trying to breathe through the weight of him pinning me in place. “You’re, ” My voice comes out wrecked, barely more than a breath. “You’re really bad at training.”

His grip tightens.

Not in warning.

Not to hurt me.

But because he wants to. Because this, this storm inside of him, this violence, isn’t something he turns off.

It’s what he is. And I should be scared.

I should be terrified of the way the earth still trembles beneath us, the way his power snarls against my skin, waiting for him to decide whether he’s finished or if he’ll level the entire fucking courtyard just because he can.

But I’m not.

I’m angry.

I shove at his chest, barely making him move, but he lets me go, more from surprise than anything else .

I glare up at him, breathing hard. “What the fuck was that?”

Riven exhales sharply, like he’s still caught in it, like he needs a second to pull himself back from the edge.

And when he does, When his eyes shift, when that raw violence settles just enough, He smirks. Smirks. And I hate how much it makes my stomach drop.

“You ran,” he murmurs, voice low, rough with satisfaction.

I want to hit him.

Instead, I drag in a sharp breath and grit out, “What was I supposed to do? Fight you?”

His smirk deepens. “Exactly.”

I stare at him. “Are you insane?”

“Probably.”

He tilts his head slightly, watching me too closely, like he’s still deciding whether I’m worth the effort. Like he likes that I’m still standing here, still glaring at him instead of breaking apart like the ground beneath us.

I swallow back the anger clawing at my throat, forcing myself to stay steady. “So what, you were trying to kill me?”