Page 79 of The Sin Binders Ascent

I don’t laugh. I can’t.

Because there’s no path forward. There’s no pathhome. And the one thing I’ve always had, my boys, my bond, my anchor, isn’t here.

Underfoot, the ground crunches in places it shouldn't, brittle, splintered bones woven beneath the topsoil like a forgotten graveyard. I can’t tell if they’re animal or something worse. The moss here is too thick, too slick, and it glows faintly underfoot, like it's feeding off whatever’s buried beneath. My boots sink into it with each step, leaving behind perfect depressions that pulse for a moment before sealing shut, erasing any trace we were ever here..

I need height. I need perspective. I need to see where the hell we are and how far the nightmare sprawls, but the treeshere aren’t meant for climbing. The bark is slick, smooth in some places like polished obsidian, in others it pulses like skin stretched too tight over muscle. No footholds. No lower branches. They rise in perfect, cruel columns that vanish into a dark canopy hundreds of feet above.

Theo watches me scan the treeline like he knows what I’m thinking.

“You planning on growing wings, princess?” His voice drips with lazy amusement. “Or should I toss you up and pray for the best?”

I don’t answer. I press my palm against the base of one of the trees, trying to draw from it. Power. Energy. Anything. But there's no pull. No hum. Just cold bark and a void where my magic should answer. It’s like I’ve been unplugged from the current that’s kept me alive for decades. My power doesn't just feelmuted, it feelswiped. Scrubbed clean.

I try again, this time calling to something small. Light. Flame. The kind of thing that once bloomed in my hands without effort. But the space between intention and creation is empty now. I feel the reach. The spark. Then... nothing.

The panic is sharp and fast, cracking up my spine like ice through glass.

“Don’t,” I whisper to myself.

Not now. Not in front of him. Especially not in front ofhim.

I clench my fists, breathing shallow and tight. I haven’t been this powerless since before I was theirs. Before the seven sins carved their marks into my soul and made me something no one else could be. And now? Now I’m just a girl lost in a world built on nightmares, cuffed to a man I didn’t choose, in a place that doesn’t want me.

Theo’s looking at me sideways, mouth tilted in that maddening way like he’s chewing on a secret. He doesn’t say anything smart this time, which somehow makes it worse.

There’s a canyon carved into the land, steep cliffs bleeding mist and shadow, the bottom invisible, as though it goes on forever. Beyond it, the terrain warps into jagged ridgelines shaped like the broken spines of monsters. Peaks curve like claws, the stone a deep violet with veins of molten gold pulsing through it. I swear theymove. Flex. Like the mountain range is alive.

To the east, I spot what might be ruins, arches twisted with vines that gleam like wet metal, doorways sunken into hillsides, half-swallowed by the land. There’s a road too, sort of. A trail of scorched black marks like something massive was dragged through, leaving scars instead of footprints. Something old. Something angry.

I don't say it, but I already know.

We're not just in another world. We’re in somethingelse. Something ancient. Somethingwaiting.

And I’m going to find out what broke it.

Or what it plans to do with me.

Theo steps up beside me like he’s got every right to stand that close, the weight of him always there now, like breath I can’t expel. His voice cuts through the oppressive hush of this world, low and too calm for what’s gnawing at my bones.

“So,” he drawls, but there’s no amusement behind it this time. “Is there a plan here, princess? Or are we just going to meander through death’s backyard and hope something eats us quick?”

I round on him so fast he actually takes a step back. “Do youevershut the fuck up?”

He lifts both hands, one dragged slightly by the cuff that binds us. “Just asking a question.”

I glare. “Yeah, well, maybe don’t ask stupid ones while we’re trapped in some gods-forsaken pit of hell with trees that breathe and magic that doesn’t work.”

For once, he doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t throw back something sharp or snide. His blue eyes study my face, too quiet, too patient, like he’s peeling me apart without needing to touch me. He’s good at that. Too good.

“I’m serious,” he says. “What’s wrong?”

I laugh, but it’s the brittle kind that threatens to break into something worse. “What’s wrong?” I whip my head toward the canyon, the dead forest, the mist churning through air that smells like ash and rot. “What thefuckdo you think is wrong?”

Still, he doesn't flinch. He just watches me with that maddening stillness, like he's waiting for the part I won’t say.

And gods help me, I feel it.

Because it’s not just the nightmare landscape. It’s not just the lack of magic or the fact that we’re stranded in a place that feels stitched together from all the worst pieces of forgotten realms. It’s the empty space where seven anchors to my soul used to be. It’s the terrifying silence where their thoughts should hum beneath my skin. It’s the ache of absence.

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