The corridor outside Dorian's containment room was too bright.
Not lantern-light—ward-light. Clean, unwavering, designed to erase shadows so no one could hide in them.
Astra's body wanted to fold anyway.
The six seconds were gone. The punishment arrived in full, hot and electrical, a debt collected without mercy. Her throat crest flared like it wanted to brand the inside of her spine.
Kael's hand crushed her wrist—anchoring, not hurting—and he didn't slow. He pulled her down the corridor as if speed could outrun a system that lived in her nerves.
Behind them, the room erupted.
Seraphine's voice cut through stone, holy and furious. Dorian's orders followed, silk-sharp and absolute. Boots answered both.
Astra's vision swam. The interface flashed in pale overlays that looked calm while her body burned.
TRACE: 24.6%WARNING: FORCE-LOCK ON NEXT VIOLATIONAUDIT STATUS: PRIORITYDUAL CLAIM: UNRESOLVEDTEMP CLAIM: KAEL RAITHE (CONTESTED)
Force-lock.
That meant the collar would stop bargaining. Stop glitching. Stop tolerating her cleverness. One more wrong move and the machine would slam shut like a jaw.
Kael leaned close without looking at her, voice low and controlled. "Eyes forward."
Astra swallowed copper. "My eyes are—"
"Forward," he repeated, and the second time it wasn't just instruction. It was the only stable authority in her world that didn't want to consume her.
Astra obeyed.
They rounded a corner into a gallery corridor lined with tall mirrors. Astra's reflection flickered in each one—pale, sweating, throat marked, eyes too awake. Kael's reflection loomed behind her—dark uniform, hard jaw, hand at her wrist like a promise and a threat.
Astra hated how her pulse responded to that image.
Heat didn't care about timing.
Kael didn't release her wrist even as the corridor widened into a junction—three hallways branching like choices.
He paused just long enough to listen.
Boots to the left. Fast. Dominion cadence.
A softer step from the right—robes, not leather.
Church.
Kael's jaw tightened. "They're splitting."
Astra's breath shuddered. "Good."
Kael flicked his gaze to her, a sharp sidelong cut. "Good?"
Astra forced a smile through pain. "If they're hunting me in two directions, maybe they'll fight each other first."
Kael's mouth tightened. "They'll fight after they catch you."
The mirrors showed movement behind them—black shapes rounding a far corner, crest-glow flashing like predator eyes.
Kael chose the center hall.
He moved them fast, turning Astra's body into momentum before her collar could decide to sabotage her knees. His grip was steady, precise, like he'd practiced dragging someone out of hell.
Which he probably had.
Astra's throat pulsed with Dorian's recall. Her legs twitched toward "home" even as Kael pulled her away. The sensation was obscene—like being tugged by invisible fingers under her skin.
Astra wanted to scream.
Instead she counted.
One… two…
Delay Loop wasn't hers to control, not safely. Touching the collar again would count as a violation.
Force-lock would bite.
So she did what Kael had taught her: she walked like she was obeying even when she wasn't.
They hit a narrow service passage between two opulent halls—no mirrors here, only stone. Kael shoved a panel aside, revealing a maintenance stairwell.
"Down," he ordered.
Astra's lips parted. Heat flared at the command—stupid, involuntary. She hated herself for it.
Kael heard her breath hitch. His jaw flexed. He didn't look at her. "Move."
Astra moved.
They descended into dimmer air, the manor's polished silence fading into the hush of old stone and dust. The further down they went, the more Astra felt the ward net change—less silk, more iron.
Her interface flickered.
ENVIRONMENT: HOUSE VEYRN SUB-NETSIGNAL: MEDIUMRECALL PATH: STRONGLUMEN INJECTION: RESIDUAL
Residual.
Seraphine's interference still scratched at the edges. Enough to make the collar jitter. Not enough to free her.
Kael stopped on a landing and pressed his palm to a ward plate. It flared, then opened a door into a low corridor lit by sparse torches.
Not a dungeon.
Something worse.
A place designed to move people quietly.
Astra's stomach turned.
Kael's voice dropped. "No talking."
Astra whispered anyway. "You brought me here before."
Kael's eyes flicked to her. "Yes."
"Why," Astra breathed.
Kael's gaze hardened. "Because it's the only route that isn't mapped by clerics."
Astra tasted blood on her tongue and forced her fear into a smaller shape. Strategy. Hinge. Leverage.
They moved down the corridor, Kael listening at every turn. Twice he paused and guided Astra into alcoves as patrols passed above—Veyrn guards in dark livery, crests muted.
Astra pressed into stone, Kael's body shielding her.
Too close.
His breath warmed her ear. His chest rose against her shoulder.
Astra's pulse jumped, heat threading through the terror like a cruel joke.
Kael's voice came low, almost a growl. "Don't."
Astra swallowed. "Don't what."
His hand tightened on her wrist—warning. "Don't use that right now."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "Use what."
Kael's gaze cut to her mouth, then away, as if looking was the real sin. "You know."
Astra did know.
She knew how to lean in and make men forget the knife in their hand. She knew how to turn closeness into control. She'd done it to survive.
But Kael wasn't a client. He wasn't a guard with a baton.
He was a weapon that wanted to be gentle, and that made him the most dangerous kind.
Astra's voice softened. "You're the one keeping your hand on me."
Kael's throat worked. "So you don't fall."
Astra's breath brushed his jaw as she leaned half an inch closer—just enough to test, not enough to break. "And if I didn't fall."
Kael went still. His restraint trembled. His voice dropped to something rawer. "Then I'd have to choose what this is."
Astra's skin prickled.
Consent wasn't a word between them. It was a discipline. A boundary he held like a blade—sharp, deliberate.
Astra smiled despite pain. "Choose later," she whispered. "Live now."
Kael's eyes closed for a fraction of a second—like he hated how much he agreed.
Boots echoed from behind.
Closer.
Not guards.
Hounds.
Kael snapped back into motion, pulling Astra forward. "Run."
They ran.
The corridor opened into a larger chamber—an old service nexus with three exits and a low iron grate set into the floor. A faint draft rose from it, cold and wet.
Underway access.
Astra's interface flickered with recognition, like a predator smelling a familiar route.
UNDERWAY PROXIMITY: DETECTEDSIGNAL: LOWRECALL PATH: DEGRADED (POTENTIAL)
Kael went to the grate and yanked at the iron. It didn't move.
Locked.
Astra's stomach dropped. "Of course."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Lyra."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "You think she locked this too?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have to. The betrayal had a pattern now—doors closing at the wrong time.
Footsteps hit the corridor behind them—heavy, disciplined. Two sets. Maybe three.
Kael's hand slid to his belt. He didn't draw a blade. He didn't need theatrics. He needed seconds.
Astra's interface flashed again, harsh.
FORCE-LOCK WARNING: NEXT VIOLATIONSUGGESTION: COMPLIANCE MODE
Compliance mode.
Astra almost laughed.
The system offered surrender like a feature.
Kael crouched at the grate and pressed his wrist crest to a small ward notch. Authority flared.
The lock resisted.
Someone had keyed it higher than a Hound.
Kael's lips thinned. "Dorian."
The air shifted. A softer sound joined the heavy boots—robes brushing stone.
Church clerics entering from another corridor.
Seraphine was playing the same game: converge, corner, claim.
Kael stood, eyes scanning exits.
Three corridors.
All hunted.
Astra's collar pulsed, delighted by the closing net.
RETURN.
Her knees trembled.
Kael turned to Astra and leaned close, voice low and deadly calm. "If you violate again, it locks."
Astra swallowed. "I know."
Kael's gaze held hers. "Then don't touch the collar."
Astra's laugh was thin. "That's your solution. Don't touch the thing glued to my nerves."
Kael's eyes flashed. "My solution is keep you alive long enough to find a hinge that doesn't kill you."
Astra's chest tightened. Alive. Always alive.
Heat flared again—because wanting to live was intimate when someone else was fighting for it too.
Kael lifted his hand toward her throat, then stopped himself mid-motion, fist clenching. He couldn't soothe her collar without triggering Dorian's attention, without making himself a handle again.
He looked away like it hurt.
Astra stepped closer, slow, deliberate, and placed her hand flat against his chest—no pressure, no grab, consent made visible even in panic.
Kael froze.
Astra met his gaze. "If we die here," she murmured, "I'll haunt you."
Kael's mouth twitched—almost a smile, quickly strangled. "If we die here, you won't have the energy."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "Don't underestimate my spite."
Footsteps entered the chamber.
Rusk Dain stepped in first, like he owned the air. His crest glowed controlled and cold. Behind him were two Imperial Hounds—faces blank, posture perfect.
From the opposite corridor, Seraphine's clerics appeared—hooded, sunburst crests faintly luminous. Seraphine herself glided into the doorway behind them, gaze locked on Astra like a verdict already written.
The chamber turned into a triangle of power.
Astra in the center.
Kael at her side.
A door under their feet that wouldn't open.
Rusk's voice carried without effort. "Hound Raithe. Stand down."
Kael's body stiffened as the leash responded—subtle lock, a pressure under his skin.
Kael's jaw clenched. He didn't lower his head.
Seraphine's voice followed, calm as doctrine. "Subject Astra Vey. Kneel for sanctified containment."
Astra's collar jerked, caught between commands. Her spine lit with static.
Dorian wasn't here physically—yet his recall pulsed through her throat like a private hand.
RETURN.
Astra swayed.
Kael's hand caught her elbow, steadying. Not claiming. Saving.
Rusk's eyes flicked to Kael's touch. A thin smile. "Still attached."
Kael's voice was flat. "Still alive."
Seraphine stepped one pace into the chamber, robes whispering. Her gaze slid over Kael's uniform, then back to Astra's throat.
"You're destabilizing her," Seraphine said to Kael, as if he were a contaminant. "Your authority is not sanctified."
Kael's eyes flashed. "Your sanctity is another leash."
Seraphine's smile sharpened. "Leashes keep beasts from biting the innocent."
Astra laughed once, broken. "Innocent."
Seraphine's eyes cut to her. "You are suffering."
Astra's throat burned. "You caused half of it."
Seraphine didn't deny it. "Suffering clarifies."
Astra swallowed bile. "So does a knife."
Rusk lifted his hand slightly—Dominion command pressure gathering like thunder. "Enough."
The two Hounds behind him shifted, ready to move.
Seraphine's clerics mirrored the motion, ward signs already forming.
A fight here would be quick, precise, and very public in the way the manor could never forgive.
Kael leaned close to Astra, voice low. "Can you trigger Delay without touching the collar."
Astra's breath hitched. "No."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Then we need another hinge."
Astra's eyes flicked to the floor grate again.
Underway access. Signal low. Recall degraded potential.
A physical hinge.
A lock keyed above Kael.
But locks had two weaknesses.
Authority—
or damage.
Astra's gaze slid to the wall torches—old oil lamps. Fire. Smoke. Chaos.
Trace would spike if she did anything "unauthorized."
Force-lock would bite on the next violation.
Unless…
Unless the violation wasn't hers.
Unless it was the system's fault.
Astra's mind sharpened.
"Kael," she whispered.
He didn't look at her. He listened.
Astra's mouth moved close to his ear, intimate by necessity. "Can your leash be made to misfire."
Kael's breath stuttered. "What."
Astra's eyes stayed on the grate, on the torch brackets, on the ward notch. "Rusk is enforcing you."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Yes."
"If he over-enforces," Astra murmured, "does the governor spike."
Kael's eyes narrowed, understanding hitting like a blade. "It can."
Astra's pulse hammered. "Then make him spike."
Kael's mouth tightened. "That will hurt."
Astra looked up at him. "Everything hurts."
For a heartbeat, Kael's gaze softened—just enough to be human.
Then it hardened again, because softness was expensive.
Kael stepped one pace forward into the chamber, placing himself between Astra and Rusk like a declaration.
Rusk's eyes narrowed. "Raithe."
Kael raised his chin. "Captain."
Rusk's voice turned colder. "Stand down."
Kael didn't.
The leash tightened. Kael's shoulders locked, jaw clenching as pain flashed briefly behind his eyes—controlled, swallowed.
Astra saw it and hated how her chest tightened.
Seraphine's gaze sharpened with interest. "He's resisting enforcement."
Rusk's mouth twitched. "He's failing it."
Kael spoke through clenched teeth, voice steady anyway. "If you want the subject, you'll have to kill me in front of the Church."
Seraphine's lips curved. "That's not a deterrent you think it is."
Rusk's eyes glinted. He lifted his hand higher.
Command pressure slammed down on Kael like a boot on a throat.
Kael's body jolted—pain spiking through his governor. Astra saw the split-second tremor, the subtle flinch he tried to hide.
Her interface flickered at the edge of her vision, as if it couldn't resist showing her the cost.
KAEL RAITHE — GOVERNOR LOAD: HIGHWARNING: LEASH SPIKE IMMINENT
Kael met Astra's eyes for a heartbeat.
A silent question.
Are you sure?
Astra nodded once.
Yes.
Kael inhaled.
Then he did something suicidal and precise: he pushed back harder against Rusk's enforcement—one clean act of disobedience designed not to win, but to overload the governor.
Rusk's crest flared brighter in response, reflexively escalating.
The leash spiked.
Kael's face went white for half a second.
A sharp, invisible snap rippled through the chamber—like a cord pulled too far.
Rusk's expression flickered.
Not pain.
Surprise.
His enforcement wavered.
Just a hair.
And that hair was the hinge Astra needed.
She grabbed the oil torch from the wall—not her collar, not a system violation she'd already been warned against, but a physical object—and slammed it down on the ward notch beside the floor grate.
Glass shattered.
Oil splashed.
Fire bloomed.
Smoke punched upward.
The ward notch hissed and sparked as heat and oil disrupted its runes.
Astra's interface screamed.
VIOLATION DETECTEDFORCE-LOCK: INITIATING— ERROR: WARD DESYNC— ERROR: ENVIRONMENTAL INTERFERENCELOCK STATUS: STUTTERING
The system didn't lock cleanly.
It stuttered.
The grate's ward seal popped with a sharp crack, and the iron lock clicked—half-releasing as the net tried to reassert itself through smoke and heat.
Kael moved instantly, hauling Astra back from the flare. His hand went around her waist—brief, necessary contact that made Astra's breath catch in the worst possible way.
Rusk shouted, "Seize—"
Seraphine's clerics surged—
And the floor grate finally gave, the iron lifting as smoke rolled and the system's lock stuttered on the edge of snapping shut forever.
Kael looked down into the dark opening.
Then back at Astra.
His voice was low, rough. "Jump."
Astra's collar pulsed RETURN one last furious time, as if Dorian's command itself was screaming through the flames.
Astra smiled anyway—small, vicious—and stepped into the open throat of the underways as the interface blinked a final warning in cold white letters:
FORCE-LOCK: 99% — COMMITTING.