Empty slot.
A knife she could load again.
Her trace was already screaming. Another write would be noticed. Another patch would paint her watermark even brighter.
But Kael was in a moving cage.
Astra's jaw tightened. "I'm storing one Ghost Command."
Kael wasn't here to say clean.
So Astra said it to herself.
"One," she whispered, and opened the slot.
Pain sparked immediate—small but sharp. Trace ticked.
TRACE: 77.0%
Astra stored it anyway.
STORE COMMAND: IF GUILD WITNESS SEAL INITIATES BROADCAST → SUSPEND BROADCAST FOR 6 SECONDS (DELAY LOOP SYNC)
A dirty hinge. A stolen breath.
Astra swallowed blood and looked at Orin. "On my word."
Orin's face was grim. "You give it, we move."
Lyra stepped up the stair and into the market's edge like she belonged there. Like she wasn't bait.
Astra watched her go with cold focus, refusing to feel the lingering heat on her mouth.
Then Astra followed—Juno and Orin flanking, shadows in the crowd's periphery. The old market was half closed at this hour, stalls shuttered, lanterns low. People moved like they didn't want to be seen, which meant they saw everything.
Astra kept her posture controlled. Not fleeing. Not hiding.
A client, not a subject.
The Guild loved posture.
So Astra gave it enough to misread.
A low hum pulsed down the lane.
Clean.
Measured.
A Guild grid rolling closer.
Juno's fingers tightened around her disks. Orin pressed his palm against a foundation stone as they passed, reading its scars like a language.
And Astra felt it—through the seal, through her collar, through the filthy air:
Kael.
A faint tug in her spine. A presence like a name spoken without sound.
Her interface flickered.
ANCHOR LOCATION TRACE: available (requires link open)WARNING: opening link exposes corridor
Astra didn't open it.
Not yet.
Ahead, a cart rolled into view—plain at first glance, but too even in its motion, too controlled in its lanterns. Two attendants walked beside it with slates. A third figure in black leather walked at the rear like a blade given legs.
Silex.
Astra's stomach went cold.
The cart's side panel bore a faint embossed mark—Guild geometry, subtle as arrogance.
VELLUM.
Orin exhaled. "That's it."
Juno's voice was barely a breath. "Where's Lyra."
Astra's eyes flicked left.
Lyra stood in the open near a shuttered spice stall, leaning casually against wood as if waiting for a lover. Her hood was down. Her throat was exposed.
A beacon offering itself.
Astra's chest tightened with something she refused to name.
The cart's hum shifted.
Its lanterns bent toward Lyra like sunflowers toward light.
The attendants' slates flickered.
Silex's head turned.
He saw Lyra.
And smiled—just barely.
"Now," Astra whispered.
Juno threw.
Two disks skittered low and fast, humming as they hit the lane stones. The Guild grid didn't collapse—Guild grids didn't "collapse."
But it stuttered.
Light lines hesitated. A clean curve became a question.
Orin slammed his palm to the foundation stone.
The lane beneath the cart shuddered.
A seam opened like a mouth.
One wheel dipped hard, the cart lurching sideways. Lanternlight flared. Slates hummed, angry.
The crowd gasped and scattered.
Silex moved instantly—hand to throat crest, eyes flat.
"Contain," he said.
The air tightened.
A lattice began to form.
Astra felt it reach for her seal like a hand reaching for a familiar wrist.
The witness seal vibrated, eager to report.
Astra's stored Ghost Command sat loaded.
Astra's breath stayed steady.
Orin hissed, "Go!"
Astra ran.
Not panicked. Not flailing.
A straight line, a blade line.
She hit the cart's side panel and found the seam—Guild craft was clean, but nothing was perfect. Her fingers found a latch.
Silex's gaze snapped toward her.
His mouth moved.
"Stop."
The word hit her like pressure, the grid trying to freeze her posture.
Her collar twitched. The seal hummed.
Astra didn't touch her collar.
She touched her choice.
Delay Loop icon flared in her mind like a weapon.
She triggered it.
Pain promised—delayed.
Six seconds of mercy bought with future suffering.
Astra ripped the latch.
The cart's side panel swung open—
—and clean white light spilled out, flooding her eyes.
Inside, Kael lay on a metal bench, containment lines hovering over him like a polite cage.
His head turned instantly.
His eyes met hers.
Dark. Furious. Alive.
Astra's breath caught so hard it hurt.
Kael's voice was a rasp. "Astra."
Heat surged through her—relief sharp enough to taste like violence.
Then she saw the slate mounted above his bench.
A Guild contract projection hovered there, half-signed, clean as a knife.
COLLATERAL BRIDGE: OWNER-COMPATIBLE COMMAND PATH — ENABLED (PENDING)REQUIRES SUBJECT CONSENT: ASTRA VEY
Kael's jaw clenched. "Don't."
Astra's blood went cold.
They weren't just caging him.
They were using him to build a leash into her.
Outside, Silex's boots hit stone—fast, closing.
Astra's witness seal vibrated violently, preparing to broadcast hostile flight again.
Her stored Ghost Command trembled, ready.
Kael's eyes burned into hers. "You don't sign."
Astra swallowed, throat burning around metal. "I won't."
Kael's voice went lower, rougher—truth forced through pain. "They'll take me anyway."
Astra stepped inside the cart, closer, close enough to feel his breath. She didn't touch his wrist crest casing. She didn't touch her collar.
She only let her eyes promise what her body couldn't yet deliver.
"Then we break their ink," Astra whispered.
Silex's shadow filled the doorway behind her.
His voice was flat. "Subject Astra Vey. You have interfered with an active audit."
Astra didn't turn.
Her interface flashed a clean prompt from the witness seal—hungry, eager, horrifyingly polite:
SIGN TO STABILIZE COLLATERAL — OR COLLATERAL WILL BE SEVERED.
And Astra felt Kael's containment lines tighten a fraction, like the system was already testing what "severed" would cost him.
Silex spoke again, closer now—iron in his calm.
"Choose," he said. "Sign… or watch him forget you."