Page 100 of The Sin Binder's Destiny

Silas flops down on a fractured slab of marble at the edge of the room, stretching his legs in front of him like he doesn’t care if this is a cathedral or a battleground. “You’re saying we’re stuck.”

Orin’s mouth tightens, but it’s Lucien who answers, his voice rough and clipped. “No one said that.”

That earns a flicker from Luna—her head snapping toward him, sharp and brittle, but she doesn’t speak. She’s listening now, whether she wants to or not.

Lucien glances at Orin, something unreadable in his expression. “If Branwen built this place as a copy,” he says carefully, “she wouldn’t have stopped with this.”

Orin arches a brow, quiet approval ghosting across his face. “Precisely.”

Lucien’s gaze doesn’t leave him. “She modeled the Hollow after the empire she lost. She was obsessive. Methodical. She wouldn’t have relied on a single exit.”

Silas groans dramatically, throwing his arms wide. “So what, she built a matching set? Great. Let’s just stroll through every cursed corner of this place until we trip over another door.”

But Orin shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “Not every corner.”

The weight in his voice is enough to quiet even Silas. We’re all watching him now, waiting, because when Orin starts thinking like this—carefully, strategically—it means we’re about to be asked to do something stupid and dangerous.

Luna uncrosses her arms, her voice steady but clipped. “You have a theory.”

Orin’s eyes slide toward her, thoughtful. “Branwen didn’t waste power. She wouldn’t have replicated safe places—the markets, the houses, the gardens. She would’ve rebuilt what mattered. The sites of power. The ones no one would dare to search.”

The implication hangs in the air between us like a knife.

Riven’s brow furrows, voice low. “The blood sites.”

Orin nods once, slow. “The places from the old world where the magic ran deepest. Where she made her first sacrifices. The ones she used to bind the empire in the first place.”

Lucien’s mouth curves into something sharp and hollow, like he’s already two steps ahead. “The Warden’s Keep.”

Orin glances at him, something grim settling in his eyes. “The Labyrinth under Veythra. The Rook’s Hollow.”

I exhale slowly, the names sinking into me like stones. We know those places. We bled in those places. They aren’t just dangerous—they’re cursed.

Silas slumps back on his slab, muttering under his breath. “Brilliant. I’ve always wanted to take a scenic tour of Branwen’s greatest hits.”

Luna’s arms drop to her sides, her eyes still locked on Orin. “You think she built another pillar in one of them.”

“It’s what I would’ve done,” Lucien says quietly, without looking at her.

The room stills at that, the weight of his voice hanging there like a blade suspended over all of us.

Luna’s gaze cuts to him, sharp and unreadable. I can feel the way her magic flares slightly in the bond, unsettled, uncertain.

She hates that he’s right.

Elias clears his throat beside me, glancing between them like he’s waiting for one of them to flinch. “So we’re going hunting.”

Orin gives a slow nod. “If we want to get out of this place, yes. We start with the Keep. If Branwen left herself another exit, that’s where it will be.”

Riven’s jaw flexes, his arms folding over his chest. “That place is a tomb.”

“We’ve walked through worse,” I murmur, glancing at Luna, letting my voice soften just enough to catch her attention.

She glances at me then, and something in her eyes eases, just slightly. Like she’s letting herself believe it for the first time in weeks.

But when she looks past me, toward Lucien, that softness vanishes.

He’s already looking at her.

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