Page 69 of The Sin-Binder’s Fate (The Seven Sins Academy #1)

The campus is unrecognizable. The battle has carved its mark into the land, gaping wounds of scorched earth, shattered stone, and bodies that will never rise again.

The Academy walls, once untouched by time and arrogance, bear the evidence of war in deep, jagged cracks.

Some buildings are still standing, but others?

Others are nothing more than crumbling husks, their insides gutted by fire and destruction.

Blood soaks the ground, some of it human, most of it not.

I step over a body, or what’s left of one, barely sparing it a glance.

A wraith, or something close to it. Its body has begun to dissolve, turning into a viscous black sludge that sizzles against the ruined stone.

The air is thick with the scent of death, of rot, of the magic that lingers long after it’s been spent.

It isn’t enough.

The bodies piled at our feet are only a fraction of what came for us. They just keep coming .

I extend a hand, and power ripples through the air. Shadows coil like living things, slamming into a cluster of wraiths that dared to linger too close. They shriek, their forms convulsing before they’re reduced to dust.

It’s almost too easy now. They’re weaker than they were when this began. Are they faltering? Are we? I don’t know if we’re winning. But we’re still standing. For now.

A familiar figure cuts through the smoke and ruin. Elias, barely looking like he gives a shit, swings his blade in a lazy arc, severing a wraith’s head from its body as if it were a minor inconvenience. The bastard doesn’t even break stride.

He meets my gaze. Shrugs. "Still breathing?"

I glance around at the battlefield, at the scattered remains of whatever this army was supposed to be, at the fury and exhaustion painted across every face still fighting.

"Unfortunately," I say dryly.

He snorts but doesn’t push it. Because we both know it’s not over.

I cast my gaze outward, searching for the one presence that should have made itself known by now. Severin. Where the fuck is he? He was here before all of this. Before the wraiths, before the assault, before the chaos. He started this. But now?

Now, he’s just, gone. And I don’t believe for a second that he’s fled. A chill runs through me, something colder than the night air, colder than the blood on my hands. Severin doesn’t run. He waits. He watches. And when he strikes, it’s never without purpose .

I flex my fingers, shadows still licking at my skin, curling like they can sense the unease I won’t voice.

Where are you, brother?

I hear them before I see them, footsteps pounding against broken stone, the sharp hitch of breath, urgency crackling in the air like a storm about to break.

Then, Luna. She comes into view first, Orin just behind her. Blood streaks her face, her clothes torn, her hair a wild mess like she’s been running through hell itself. Or maybe she has.

“Lucien, ” she stops short, chest rising and falling with exertion, her gaze locking onto mine like she’s about to tell me the one thing I don’t want to hear. “They’re gone.”

I straighten. Everything inside me stills. “Who?”

Luna swallows, her voice sharper now, clipped and panicked. “Riven and Silas.”

I exhale, slow and measured, forcing myself to push down the reaction coiling in my gut. “Impossible.”

“They’re gone.” She says it again, as if repeating it will make me understand the weight of it. And I do. But it doesn’t make sense.

I shift my attention to Orin. He’s paler than usual, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. If even Orin looks rattled, then, fuck.

I force my voice to stay even. “Did you try feeling for them through the bond?”

She nods quickly. “I already tried.” Her expression darkens, something raw creeping into her tone. “I can’t feel them anymore.”

That makes me stop. Not muted. Not weakened. Gone.

A cold, creeping dread coils inside my chest. That shouldn’t be possible. The bonds, our bonds, don’t just break. They don’t disappear.

Unless, Riven and Silas aren’t just missing. Have they’ve been taken somewhere beyond this realm? That realization slams into me like a physical force. The Academy binds us. We don’t leave these grounds. We can’t. We’ve been tethered here for centuries, bound by something older than any of us.

Yet, somehow, they’re gone.

“Lucien?” Luna’s voice is quieter now, but it doesn’t ease the edge in her tone. She’s searching my face, waiting for me to tell her she’s wrong.

I can’t.

Instead, I close my hands into fists, shadows curling at my fingertips, rage brewing like a slow, dangerous thing.

"Do it."

Elias doesn't hesitate. The world slows.

Not in a way the human eye can perceive, not a simple delay of motion.

No, this is deeper. The fabric of reality itself groans, time fracturing under his will.

The battlefield warps into a tableau of agony and ruin.

Bodies are frozen mid-motion, the arc of severed limbs and the trajectory of spilled blood halted like a grotesque painting.

The Wraiths caught in the radius flicker between states of existence, their forms twitching, struggling to break free of Elias’s hold.

But they won’t. Not until he lets them.

Elias barely moves at the center of it, his body going rigid, his normally lazy expression hardening into something cold, lethal, godlike.

Veins of black web down his throat and arms, bleeding into his skin like ink in water.

His power is a devouring thing, pulling from his own life force, draining him just as much as it drains the world around him.

And still, it isn't enough.

Orin steps forward.

And then, everything starts dying. The earth beneath us decays in an instant, collapsing into ash, drained of every last drop of vitality.

The bodies littering the battlefield shrivel, their flesh withering as Orin feeds.

The nearby trees rot at their roots, leaves curling into nothingness, their very existence siphoned into him.

And Orin? He thrives on it.

I can hear him, a low, guttural exhale as he takes more, more, more.

It floods him, his form flickering between something humanoid and something far more monstrous, his teeth too sharp, his pupils blown wide as his power reaches beyond the physical and into the raw life force of everything around him.

It's a goddamn abyss, a void swallowing the battlefield.

I can feel it in my bones. Weakened. Elias is faltering, his limbs twitching violently from the effort, and Orin, Orin is nearing the edge of his own limits.

And that's when the sky burns. A hiss, then the first fire arrow lands.

The impact is like a sun igniting against the ground, flames roaring outward, devouring anything in their path. Another follows, then another, a goddamn storm of fire raining down. The ground ignites, buildings crumble, the Academy itself groans as the onslaught slams into it.

Luna gasps. I shove her behind me. And I feel it, the piercing agony as the arrow slams into my back.

The force of it drives me forward, heat flaring across my spine, the scent of burning flesh filling my nostrils.

My flesh. I grind my teeth, refusing to make a sound, refusing to let her see, Because she’s already reaching for me. I grab her wrist before she can.

"Stay behind me," I grind out, my voice raw with the weight of pain.

Her breath is shaky. "Lucien, "

I tighten my grip. Not now. Not when the flames are rising. Not when Elias is nearly spent, not when Orin is on the verge of losing himself to the hunger clawing inside him.

I flick my gaze up. Through the smoke, the fire, the wreckage. And beyond it, a figure watching.

Severin.

He's finally made his move.

The fire rages. It creeps along the battlefield, slithering across stone and corpses alike, curling upward in hellish fingers as it devours the remnants of what once was Daemon Academy’s sacred ground.

Elias grits his teeth, his power stalling. His pupils are nearly nonexistent, swallowed by the abyss of his magic, and his body shakes with the effort of keeping the world fractured. He’s slipping.

Orin isn’t faring much better. The ground around him is nothing but blackened ruin, drained beyond recognition. His breathing is ragged, his body trembling from the sheer amount he’s siphoning. He’s past the threshold of safety, past the point where he can stop without consequence.

And then, Severin steps into the flames like they were made for him .

"Quite the mess you've made, brother," he muses, surveying the battlefield like it's a work of art. His voice is velvet stretched over steel, smooth but unforgiving. There’s something unhinged in the way he watches me. Something patient. Something victorious.

I straighten, ignoring the pain flaring down my spine. I won’t give him the satisfaction.

His smile widens. "You look like you’ve lost something."

Ice spikes in my chest.

Severin tilts his head, feigning thought. Then, he reaches into his coat. And tosses something at my feet. The silver insignia of Daemon Academy, twisted, scorched, and unmistakably belonging to Silas.

Luna gasps behind me. My jaw locks.

"It’s not possible," I say, my voice devoid of anything but cold certainty.

Severin shrugs, effortless. "And yet," he gestures to the ruined crest, "here we are."

I keep my expression blank, but my mind is already dissecting the truth. The bond should hold. It cannot be severed. The only way to break it, is to take them out of this world.

Which means-

Severin’s grin sharpens. "Tell me, Lucien, how much do you want them back? "

He takes a step forward, the fire curling around his boots, and his gaze shifts, lands on Luna.

She stiffens.

He notices.

"Ah," he exhales, amused. "There it is."

I move, just enough to block her from his view.

Severin hums. "You’re predictable."

"Get to the point," I snap.

He lifts a brow, mockingly affronted. "Always so impatient. But fine. You want them back?" His voice dips into something softer. Something cruel. "Give me the girl."