Page 193 of The Sin Binder's Destiny

He darts between two pillars, laughing, and I swear it echoes like blasphemy in this cursed temple of futures. His boots skid across the smooth stone floor, and I see the flash of another coin fall from his coat and bounce once before rolling off into the dark.

He’s faster than he looks. But not faster than me.

I snarl and break into a sprint, the bond to Luna flaring hot in my chest as I cut down a side row, moving parallel to him. Caspian shouts something behind me—probably mocking encouragement—and Luna? She doesn’t stop me. Sheneverstops me when it’s about Silas. Because she knows I won’t kill him.

Probably.

Silas ducks under a low-hanging arch of pillar roots, spins, and throws something in my path. A coin. It hits the floor andglows—a burst of magic that flares up like an old trap awakening. I leap straight through it, let the pulse hit me, let itburn.

“CHEAP TRICKS DON’T WORK ON ME!” I roar, already closing the gap.

He looks over his shoulder, laughing breathless and high.

“Theywork just finewhen they’re sexy, Riven!”

“YOU’RE DEAD!”

“I mean—only on the inside!”

I lunge. Tackle. We crash down into the dust between two pillars so close together their runes flash red in warning, reacting to proximity. I slam him down hard, pinning him by the throat with one hand and driving the other into his coat.

A handful of coins spill loose. Gold. Silver. Bronze. Even one crusted in blood.

He stares up at me, panting, pupils blown wide. Not afraid.

Never afraid.

“I needed something to hold onto,” he says quietly. “In case she—”

I snarl. “She’s notgoinganywhere.”

Silas doesn’t answer. Just looks at me, and for once, there’s no joke. No grin. Just that terrifying depth under all the madness. That deep, quiet truth he doesn’t say out loud.

HeneedsLuna. Like I do.

Like wealldo.

I release his throat and shove the coins into his chest, one by one, hard enough to bruise.

“You carry these again,” I say, voice low, “you better be ready for what they do when they start carryingyouback.”

I stand. He stays on the floor a second longer. Then, slowly, he laughs.

“Gods, I love it when you get all poetic and feral. If I die in this realm, I want that on my tombstone.”

“Your tombstone’s going to sayHere Lies Silas, He Had It Coming.”

He grins and rolls to his feet. And when we walk back to the others, runes still flickering—Luna’s watching us. Expression unreadable. But her hand brushes mine as I pass her. Not to stop me. Just to remind me.

I’m still hers.

I pass another crest, this one carved too sharp. The outer loop of the wrath sigil fractured into something jagged, almost desperate. Wrong. Another illusion, meant to mimic and mislead. Branwen’s final middle finger from beyond the grave.

And then Elias lets out a sound I’m convinced was designed to echo forever and haunt the dead. A single, raggedhowlof laughter. It bounces through the chamber like thunder rolling over bone. Everyone stops. Even Luna lifts her head, startled. Elias is doubled over, bracing himself against one of the pillars, shoulders shaking. His voice comes out in gasps, barely coherent.

“Oh gods—no, no—someone—Silas, come here!You need to see this. I think your crest’s growntits.”

There’s a beat of silence.

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